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826aliensapocalypseactivism · 11 months

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αφροκεντρικός

Laila Y.

Tuesday, June 21, 2103, 06:47 P.M.

“Diza, I don’t think this is a good idea,” he muttered from behind me. I ignored him, looking from side to side, making sure that nobody was watching us from a distance. I stumbled over a branch but managed to keep my balance and prevent myself from falling. I heard him inhale sharply from behind me and I closed my eyes in slight irritation, muttering a string of curses and asking myself why I decided to bring my brother along with me. I opened my eyes and began moving again, hopping over the wide tree roots, and clinging to the tree bark as I made my way through the small passageway.

Surrounding us was nothing but tall, sky-scraping trees and bushes with bright, colorful flowers. It was nearly impossible to walk through the plants on the side. If you attempted to, you would be met with splinters and scratches from the branches sticking out. There was only one passageway that pointed north, and it was a very thin one. I had to squeeze my shoulders in as I walked to avoid brushing past any rash-inducing plants, which were unfortunately very common in this area.

Every time I looked up, it was as if the branches and leaves never ended. In the distance, I could see small birds gliding above the greenery. I looked down to see the thin passageway. It was covered in large tree roots that I had to hop over, along with the occasional critter to which I’d stop straight in my tracks to avoid them. Aside from our own heavy footsteps and heavy breathing, I could hear the faint chirps and calls coming from the endless abyss of the sky. I inhaled deeply through my nose and could smell the green, pine-fresh scent of the life around me.

“Diza…,” my brother whispered again. His breath shook with clear exhaustion from walking for so long. I couldn’t blame him. Still, his complaining got on my nerves.

“Menene, Haji, what is it?” I managed to say as calmly as possible, letting out an exasperated sigh.

“Do you even know where you’re going? We’ve been walking for like-- tsine, an hour? It’s gonna get dark and Ma’s gonna bite our asses for this.”

“I was going to leave myself before you insisted on coming,” I muttered.

“And I told you you must’ve been stupid to think I was gonna let you walk out here alone.”

“Thanks for that,” I said with a sarcastic smile, ending the conversation there. From then, I heard an unforgivable amount of cursing on my name come from behind me and I had to hold back the urge from laughing. My brother has always been one to worry and it did get annoying when I was trying to have fun, but I appreciated the intention nonetheless. Somehow, he’s always the one worrying about me and he isn’t even the older one-- I am technically, by a few minutes, but my mother always told me I was the more responsible, “big-sibling-like” twin. It was true. Haji was a reckless, yet anxious, pubescent 16-year-old boy who constantly got into trouble.

When Haji was 10, he got into his first fight at school with another boy. I don’t even remember what the fight was about, and I doubt Haji remembers either. Regardless, the boy had said something to him that pissed him off. Quoted from his teacher, Haji’s face went blank for about 5 seconds as if he was processing what the boy had said to him. Haji then turned around and walked about 6 steps away from the boy, making him think the situation wasn’t going to escalate.

The boy turned around and went about his business until he felt a tap on his shoulder, and when he turned around, he was instantly met with a textbook to the head. That day when Haji came home, he probably got three dozen spankings on his behind from Mama. She made him promise to never do anything like that ever again. Three weeks later, he was sent home early for tackling another boy and making his nose bleed after he pulled his ear in class.

Haji got into so many fights for the next several months, Mama got him a counselor to talk about his feelings, but it didn’t work. During those meetings, Haji would turn away from the counselor and keep his big mouth that was usually running a marathon, closed. He would rather sit there for the duration of two and a half hours kicking his feet rather than just talk to the counselor.

Two months after Haji’s 14th birthday, he came home, clearly coming from another fight, to which Mama didn’t even have a reaction. He walked into the living room as I was watching TV and she was walking to the kitchen from the hallway and ran into him. She glanced at him– and looked at him up and down with a look of clear disappointment on her face. I was staring at both of them by now. I heard her let out a sad sigh, then saw her walk away and disappear into the kitchen. Usually, he would say something cocky, something along the lines of, “Well, y’all seem happy to see me,” but today was different. He didn’t say anything at all. He observed the room around him, looked at me for a few seconds as I stared right back at him, then walked away to his room, not even a smirk in sight.

That was the last time he ever came back to that house with even a bruise.

Nobody has any idea of what happened that day that caused Haji to just switch. Mama for one didn’t care. She was just happy to not have to give spankings anymore; her arthritis caught up to her over the years.

“Diza, I swear to God.”

“Shut up! We’re here,” I said as I stopped to finally see what we’d traveled all this way for. In front of us, stood a medium-high, brick wall that seemed to stretch for miles and miles to the side of us. A grin began to grow on my face before I heard a scoff from behind me.

“This is what you wanted to see?” Haji managed to breathe out. “We walked an hour to see a brick wall?”

I rolled my eyes. As smart as Haji could be in school, he sure as hell lacked common sense. I turned around to face him with a sarcastic grin on my face.

“Yes, Haji. I decided to bring you along with me knowing you were going to whine in my ear about your feet hurting for an hour and a half just so we could see this. A brick wall,” I joked, my twin brother’s priceless face following. I huffed, walking toward him to grab his wrist and pull him toward the wall. “Quit being a dumbass and use your eyes.”

We stopped at the ledge to see what we’d been walking for this entire time. I looked at Haji to see his annoyed expression shift to one of awe. His eyes slightly widened and his mouth opened just to say, “Woah.”

I smiled and turned to face the breathtaking view of our home, αφροκεντρικός. Villages and towns that scraped the sky spread across the vast landscape, and buildings stood tall with their heads high. From the ledge we were standing from, we could see the lights and ornaments for the upcoming festival, Bikin’rayuwa, that hung upon doors and windows, making the homes appear as shining gems in the distance.

Beyond Afro-settlements, stood tall and confident mountains, shimmering waters, and the great sun that I could feel its warmth on my brown skin. The skies were like a painters canvas, splattered with the colors on his palette. Everywhere you looked there was a new sky; red skies, bits of blue, then violet, then yellow. If you looked hard enough past the μέση Ανατολή lake, you could see skyscrapers of the ασιάτης sector. In the distance, I could see dark clouds forming, signifying it was going to rain soon.

I turned towards Haji who was still facing the view. His facial expression was unreadable. His features were relaxed, and he was blinking slowly as if he was processing what he was seeing.

“You alright?” I asked him when it was silent for a little too long. He jumped a little as if he was being pulled out of a trance.

“Uh, yeah,” he muttered. “How’d you find this place?”

“I found it just a few months back while wandering around here.”

“That’s dangerous, you know. You know we’re not supposed to be wandering around near the border, especially after curfew.”

“It’s fine. Nobody saw me,” I said, flashing a reassuring smile. Haji always managed to worry over small things. “Don’t you ever think these rules can be kind of weird?”

Haji turned to me with a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

“Come on,” I egged him on. “‘No walking near or past the borders. Any unauthorized communication with outside sectors are prohibited. Being outside given homes is prohibited.’ Don’t you ever think that’s weird? Why are we not allowed to travel the world or see places that those old books hidden in the library always show? Why are we not allowed to talk to people past the borders?”

“Wait, what old books?”

“You know, those books in our local library. In the back, past the counter, there are tons of books, big books too. They were written decades ago about places all over the world that you could travel too. It showed people, Haji. Foreign people, people who look like us!”

“I thought we were separated, though. The government would never allow that.”

“Didn’t you listen in class? The lesson said that decades ago the government placed us in these sectors for some reason. They even showed the map of America today and other countries. Before that, we must’ve lived together. I read from somewhere that the world used to be a lot different-- there were a lot of global issues left unsolved or there was a societal collapse or a natural disaster. Something led to how the world is today.”

Haji didn’t say anything. He just stared at the ground. I knew what he was thinking. He must’ve thought I was crazy. ‘What she’s doing and saying is dangerous.’ That’s what he always thinks, taking after Mama. She always told us, specifically me, not to indulge too deeply into politics. But how could I not? There was so many questions left unanswered by the government, questions that people, including myself, are still asking today.

I stood there still looking at my brother who seemed as if he was disappointed in me. I sighed. “With all the trouble that you used to be, I would’ve expected you to at least hear me out a little.”

He glared at me and I raised my hands in defense. We both turned away from each other and it was silent for a while.

“Ba ka taba zama haka ba, me ya same ka.” Haji muttered. I looked at him in slight surprise. He doesn’t typically speak in Hausa unless spoken to Mama in broken sentences. Growing up, he struggled with it a lot more than I did. Before Kakar passed away, she would always scold Mama for not teaching him well enough. ‘How will he teach it to his children?,’ she always used to complain. I understood and spoke Hausa, not perfectly, but well enough. At least, well enough to understand what he just said to me.

“I hope you’re not talking to me.” I chuckled with a raised eyebrow.

“No, it’s just something I remember.”

“From who? Mama?” I asked, and he nodded.

“When she said that to me, you know, when I was causing all that trouble a couple of years ago, I never knew how to answer her. It seemed like she was asking because she was genuinely curious, not just because she was hitting me.”

“Well, why did you change so much? It was so sudden.” Haji didn’t say anything for a few seconds, then managed to say something that was the last thing I expected from him.

“I was trying to be like you,” he muttered. I raised my eyebrows and my mouth was agape in disbelief. I didn’t know whether to feel proud that he wanted to be like me, or offended that he thought I acted like that.

“Excuse me,” I said in a half-joking manner. “Last time I checked, I have never gotten into one fight in my entire life, nor do I act like a dickhead to everyone around me.”

“I know, but you still act like you don’t care about anyone’s opinion!”

“Because I don’t, Haji. I don’t wait around for somebody to make decisions for me, if I want to do something I just do it. But that doesn’t mean I purposely inconvenience the people around me, especially my family. And that’s exactly what you did. Just think about how Mama must’ve felt to have someone like you to take care of, especially after Kakar died!”

“I know, and I’m sorry to you and Mama. I just wanted to feel important. You know how I am!” Haji protested. I frowned, staring at him.

“What are you talking about?” Haji threw his arms up in the air, walking away from the ledge and pacing around, as if he was stressed about something.

“There is nothing special about me, not one thing. You came out of the womb special. Perfect smarts, perfect looks, perfect child, everything perfect. Me? I basically was left with the scraps. Do you remember when Baba died?” I slightly winced at the memory, remembering the atmosphere of that particular day. I nodded. “Ever since that day, it’s like I was never seen again. Mama can barely look at me. All she thinks about, talks about, even looks at is you. When I am acknowledged, all she does is pick me apart.”

“So why would you cause so much trouble, knowing she was going to pick you apart even more?”

“Because the good things I do don’t matter. At least over yours. So if I can’t do it better, the only thing I can do is worse. So that’s what I did.” Haji took a deep breath after finishing his sentence and sat down on the ground, hugging his knees to his chest. I followed suit, making sure to keep just enough distance between us. Whenever Haji is upset, he doesn’t like people being too close to him.

“Listen to me,” I said after a minute of silence, catching his attention to me. “I’m sorry that Mama and I made you feel that way. I’m sorry I never realized you felt this way. But that does not excuse anything that you did.”

Haji nodded in understanding, yet still had a glint of sadness in his eyes from the fact that I’d criticized him again, leading me to mentally curse myself for doing that. In his gaze, he still had a glimmer of hope that I’d say something, anything, nice to him.

“Everything that you criticize yourself for is what I love you for. I know I complain a ton about you worrying about me 24/7, but I always appreciate you looking out for me. You don’t need to try and be like me, you’re already you and I like that you’re you. You’re important to me and Mama.” I tried my best to comfort with a hand on his shoulder. A small smile appeared on his face, which made me smile as well. Comforting people isn’t my strong suit, but I do what I can. A comfortable silence filled the air as we heard the small chitters and squeaks passing animals made.

“I don’t know why our world is like this now. They don’t say anything in schools, everything is prohibited, everyone is scared. I’m so confused, everything is fucked,” Haji whispered, leaning the back of his head on the wall. “I want to know more about the other sectors, don’t get me wrong. But shit, Hadiza, I’m scared too. We all know why Baba was killed. He was caught being too nosy and so were multiple of his friends. He’s the damn reason our family’s on a radar.”

“Don’t push yourself, Haji. Baba was trained, we’re not. We can’t do anything anyway,” I said. “You know, in one of those old books, I read that there used to be wars between people. Like, nations against each other. Do you think that’s why the government is keeping us separated like this?”

“Wars over what?”

“Well, damn near everything. Money, land, discrimination--”

“Discrimination? What’s that?”

“According to the book I read, it’s a form of unjust treatment of another person due to how they look or something.” Haji scrunched his eyebrows together.

“Why would anyone do that? That’s sounds dumb.”

“Yeah,” I let out a small laugh. “I know, I don’t really get it that much.”

“What else did you read?”

“Well, there used to be these really, really, important people over 200 years ago. Afro individuals, like a man named Martin King, who organized boycotts and rallies for other Afros, a woman, Rosa Parks, who performed an act of resistance against discrimination, and another woman, Harriet Tubman, who also performed an act of resistance by helping other Afros out of captivity. People from other sectors as well: Anne Frank, George Washington, Thomas Edison, and Edgar Poe were the most frequent.”

“Why were Afros in captivity?”

“I have no idea. The book mentioned an era about slavery but didn’t go into much detail.”

“We should be learning about this in school.”

“They’re probably hiding it from us on purpose.”

“Why? What is so bad about learning about the past? What harm could it do?” I knew that at this point our conversation was getting a bit risky, so much so, I had to look around our surroundings to mkae sure nobody was listening in. Haji watched me as I looked around and sighed. “We’re getting too deep into this, aren’t we?”

“Well, you’re right, we should be talking about this.”

“But the government isn’t telling us about the past for a reason. Just like us, they’re scared. They’re scared about what is going to happen if this does get out.”

“...According to the books, Afros went through a lot back then. I don’t know in detail, but I briefly read that our people were massacred and demonized for simply being Afros,” I said, and Haji stayed quiet. “I don’t care if they forbid us to. I want to learn more about how the world was. I need to. I can’t stay living, eating, and drinking here pretending like the world is perfect, because I know it’s not. Not according to the book it isn’t.”

I turned my head to fix my gaze on Haji. He was looking straight at me as well. He nodded in agreement. “I’ll help you. I may not be much use, but whatever you need, I’ll help you.”

He placed a comforting hand on my shoulder and I let a smile grow on my face. Throughout my sixteen years of living, that was the closest we’d ever been. I lifted my head to look up to the sky and thought about Baba and how he’d sacrificed his life. At night while looking at the moon and stars, I bet Mama always prayed me and Haji never turn out to be like him. I felt a twinge of guilt pull on my heart, but my desire to learn more outweighed it. I craved clarity, I needed to know more. With Haji by my side, I knew I could do it. I knew we could do it.

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eloves-writes · 3 years

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a failed attempt to hate you

(tristan dugray)

a/n: i can only apologise if this writing is terrible, i wrote most of this in the middle of the night hopped up on medication for my disgusting cold. i hope it makes sense. anywho thanks for reading, enjoy, mwah <3

screw mr medina for making you help tristan study. you knew he knew from rory your inherent disdain for him, and it wasn’t your fault he was falling behind therefore not your responsibility to help him (as you had told mr medina last tuesday, with no effect). it was now sunday morning and you held little hope he would actually show up this time; he had somehow managed to cancel on your little study date 6 times already and it had only been 5 days since you were handed this apparently mammoth task. honestly, you didn’t expect him to show up at all, especially not anytime before noon- for which reasons you had made the decision put on your usual lazy sunday morning reading in bed get-up, which included (but was not limited to) an oversized rock concert shirt rory’s friend lane had given you in an attempt to clear her closet of non-christian attire, nothing but underwear underneath since you wouldn’t plan on leaving the comfort of your bedsheets for many hours, and a loose silk scrunchie you accidentally stole from rory keeping your hair out of your eyes.

your book of choice today was ‘harry potter and the goblet of fire’ , the most recently released chapter of the boy wizard’s adventures at hogwarts. the clock beside you read 9:15 as you comfied yourself for a morning of magic and adventure, which naturally was ended a mere 8 minutes later at 9:23 when the doorbell rang downstairs. you assumed your mother would answer it, but when it rang a second time you remembered your parents had both gone out to watch your sibling’s soccer match and you’d have to get it yourself.

it didn’t even cross your mind to put pants on, or that it may not be the postman at the door, until you opened it to see your very favourite chilton student whose eyes had hastily wandered to your bare legs. typical high school boy, you thought to yourself before your brain actually grasped the situation and kick started into action.

‘tristan. hi.’ you said with a slight shock in your voice.

‘erm, hi. i hope i’m not interrupting anything,’ he smirked, glancing down at your thighs again.

you rolled your eyes so aggressively you hoped mr medina could hear it from wherever he was spending his day, irritating boy-less and free to do whatever he wanted with his time.

‘you’re not,’ you quipped. ‘i just didn’t expect you to actually show up this time. and early may i add, i’m sure we said 11.’

‘we did, but i’ve got plans later so i thought i’d come by earlier and get this over with.’

‘how did you know i didn’t have plans? i might have been busy before 11.’

he pulled a face of amusement and you could swear you saw a hint of sarcasm shining through his eyes too. ‘right. are you done talking now or can i come in?’

‘you can come in, i guess,’ you sighed, closing the door behind him and showing him to the kitchen table. ‘wait here, i’ll go and get my books.’

‘grab some pants whilst you’re at it.’

‘stop talking,’ you called as you walked upstairs.

you came back downstairs a few minutes later fully-clothed and carrying your english notes to see that tristan had wandered from the chair you specifically remembered telling him to sit in, and was instead tracing a finger along the bookcase that stretched across the far wall of your living room. for a moment you just watched him nosey into your life; the framed certificates, the family photos, the 5 tapes of ‘beauty and the beast’ stacked atop of each other because it was your favourite film when you were 9 and practically every living relative had bought you a copy. beside those was a picture of you dressed as princess belle at disneyworld with chocolate ice cream smeared from cheek to cheek, a huge smile plastered between. tristan picked it up and turned to face you.

‘thoroughly adorable. seriously, you should go for this look more often.’

‘ha ha,’ you grimaced, snatching it off him and placing it back on the shelf. ‘are we studying or reminiscing on my past fashion choices?’

‘oo, someone’s in a good mood this morning huh,’ he teased. you pulled another face, once again silently cursing mr medina for completely ruining not just your day, but in fact your whole week. by god this boy got more irritating the more time you spent with him- it had only been 10 minutes, but it was 10 minutes longer than you ever previously had or ever wanted to.

‘can i get a drink before we start?’ he asked, redirecting the conversation and walking past you back into the kitchen. he began opening various cupboards, searching for a glass. ‘where’s the-’

‘why yes, tristan. you can have a drink,’ you snarked, opening the cupboard behind him with a dramatic flourish. he raised his eyebrows at you and reached forward to grab a glass, leaning over you as he did so. you caught a whiff of his cologne and almost forgot to dislike him for a moment.

‘there’s, um, soda in the ... fridge,’ you told him, voice unwillingly faltering as he looked down to meet your eyes. he had pretty eyes. pretty, blue, sparkling, stupid, annoying, asshole eyes.

you found the thick tension sickening. you refused to be another girl at school who simply swooned over him when he walked past your locker. you didn't like him. you were here to teach him english. because he was dumb. and actually, his eyes weren’t that nice.

he grabbed a soda out of the fridge and you both sat down at the table and began reading through your analysis of ‘to kill a mockingbird’, adamantly pretending not to see him staring at you the whole time.

why? he had had every popular and pretty girl in the whole of chilton, how was he ever so starved of female attention that he would look at you so admirably when you liked to make it clear you despised him? in fact, you enjoyed making a special effort to flip him off, or pull a face at him when he walked by, or kick his chair extra hard in spanish, or... oh shit. you had seen it from an outside point of view now, and it was glaringly obvious; maybe you did like him, just a little bit. shit. rory owed lorelai 10$ and a cheeseburger from luke’s, though you didn’t want to have to admit she was right when she’d said you were like a kindergarten boy pulling a girl’s ponytails because he thought she was pretty.

‘hey tristan,’ you started, breaking the comfortable silence between his questions and suddenly nervous to talk to him. stupid, it was still the exact same boy you’d been complaining about all week, nothing new.

he looked up from your notes. ‘what’s up princess?’

that was definitely new.

‘don’t call me princess’ -he smirked irritatingly- ‘do you need to stay much longer? i mean, is there anything else you want help with?’

‘trying to get rid of me?’

‘no! no. i just thought that you’d only stay and pretend to listen to me for like, half an hour then vanish. it’s 11:30 and you’ve been through my whole binder.’

‘it is? time flies.’

‘tristan.’

‘i do care about my grades, you know. and you’re a good teacher, i might have a chance at an A.’

‘why didn't you show up the last 6 times we planned then?’

he put down his pen- your pen, actually. it had pink sparkles on the lid. ‘got to keep up my street cred.’

‘ha ha. funny,’ you replied as blankly as possible, pulling back a smile you could feel in your stomach. you made eye contact again and, like every other time since you’d sat down and started studying, you held each other’s gaze for longer than necessary. funny how realising you like someone makes you suddenly act like it.

‘i should get going then right,’ he said, picking his jacket from the back of his chair.

you felt weird, almost as if you didn't want him to leave after praying earlier he wouldn't show up. alas, your parents would be home soon and you would be willing to bet money that tristan would have some interesting jokes about your being home alone that would not slide with your dad.

‘yeah. i hope you get that A,’ you said, accidentally smiling as you walked him to the door.

tristan turned to lean on the frame of the now-open door and put on a face of mock surprise. ‘my, my, y/n. was that a kind comment and a smile? you’re spoiling me.’

‘shut up, i hope you fail.’

he smiled back. ‘you really mean that?’

‘i guess not.’

there was yet another beat of heavy silence.

‘see you monday.’

you closed the front door as he walked down the drive, but noticed tristan’s car keys still sat on the kitchen table. a porsche, of course. you picked them up and reopened the door to his fist poised to knock. the two of you laughed awkwardly for a second.

‘i forgot my-’

‘you forgot your-’

another awkward laugh. jesus christ this was uncomfortable. you passed him the keys, and with absolutely no warning at all, your lips were suddenly met with his. they were soft and confident, and his free hand held your face as you tried to process the new situation. you quickly melted into the kiss, letting him take control until he pulled away and smiled that sparkly smile you didn't hate as much as you tried to.

‘didn't see that one coming,’ you said breathily, brushing some loose hairs off of your face.

‘i knew you didn’t hate me.’

‘ever the arrogant twat.’

‘hey, does this mean you’ll stop kicking my chair in spanish?’

‘absolutely not. in fact, i think i’ll kick it harder.’

‘as long as you let me do that again.’

tags: @leossmoonn for inspiring me to start writing again, @account123445 & @lmaoidekanymore6 for asking me to post tristan fics! (couldn’t figure out how to make the tags work but if you read this, you know ✨)

#tristan dugray #tristan gilmore girls #chad michael murray #gilmore girls #gilmore girls fic #gilmore girls fanfiction #can't think of anymore tags so i'll just hope this does ok on its own

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citydreamgrls · 3 years

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they were roommates - part one

a weasley twins x fem!reader fic

summary: she had nowhere to go, fleeing home to pursue something along the lines of freedom, so being welcomed into the entrepreneurial twins life was a whole world of new experiences waiting to happen.

an: i would just like to point out that this isn’t a fic with a polyamorous relationship, sorry if that was what some people wanted, instead i wanted to keep which twin is the love interest a secret until the end. if u guys want to guess after reading this first part, feel free to do so, i would love to hear your guys’ reasons too !! secondly, i would like to say a huge huge thank you to everyone for getting me to 600 followers, that’s absolutely mad like i’m blown away beyond compare, i love u all millions and billions i really am so grateful so thank you . hope you enjoy this first part, as always, <33

words: 5,790

warnings: swearing?

None of the nights seemed to turn into excitement, but this particular Tuesday evening in the Leaky Cauldron was passing slower than the rest had done. The paintings on the walls cast their weary eyes over the few lonely drinkers scattered across the dim room as even they contemplated calling it an early night. Y/n flicked through an old magazine and wondered if this place had ever seen much action, or whether the inn had become somewhere that paintings came to rest alongside grumpy travellers.

The girl hadn’t worked behind the bar long, only a handful of months now. But since then not a single bar fight had broken out, no one ordered anything out of the ordinary, and she struggled to remember seeing a single nice man pass through the doors. Besides the Weasley twins of course, who were running late for their weekly drink.

“Slow night?” Hannah came up behind her, carrying a stack of clean glasses and placing them under the counter. The girl swiped away her magazine and nodded, doing her best to hide the guilty blush that grew on her cheeks whenever she lied. It had always been a curse.

“I can do that if you want,” She offered, taking over and letting her boss stand up straight again. There was a strange air of awkwardness between the pair, despite the fact that they had grown close since she had started working as a barmaid.

“It’s been like this a lot lately, just… empty.” Hannah huffed, pulling up two stools and letting the younger girl sit beside her for a while.

“Yeah, makes the time pass a lot slower.”

“Neville’s getting worried,” The woman chewed her lip, gazing around at the lack of people. “He thinks it won’t be long before we need to do something drastic.”

“Should I be worried?” Y/n asked, knowing everything rode on this flimsy job.

Just as the girl posed her question the two front doors burst open, revealing the Weasley twins along with two others that she recognised from their past visits.

“I’ll talk to you later darling,” The boss stood, squeezing her shoulder and going to greet the regulars who she knew so well.

As Neville appeared from the back office to do the same she was called over to the far table by a man who she’d already brought too many drinks to. With a sigh, she obeyed his whines, and went over to see what he wanted.

“About time sweet cheeksh,” He slurred, his head propped up by a weary arm while the other gestured wildly as he spoke. “Another round darling-” She nodded, taking his money from the table and turning to leave, but he reached out for her hand.

She shivered beneath his touch, the stench of bile and alcohol filling her nose as she tried not to vomit on the spot. It was best to just ride out whatever he wanted, knowing better than to anger any kind of customer.

“Why don’t you join me when you get those drinks sorted- I haven’t got another chair but I’m sure my lap would do nicely.” He grinned, showing off the layer of yellow on his teeth.

Y/n gulped back her grunt and pretended to smile, sighing with relief when he let go of her and slumped against the wall beside him. The feeling of his hand lingered on her until she managed to distract her mind a little, smiling wider when the twins came up to the bar to order.

“Evening boys,” She sniffed back the nerves and greeted them with a polite welcome. “Not giving you trouble was he?” One of them asked, nodding over to the drunken mess.

“Nothing I can’t handle,”

“Well you let us know if not,” The other chimed, their charms always making her feel comfortable around them. Which was much more than could be said for most of the creeps who roamed the inn each night.

“That’s very good of you both, thank you-” Her smile never faltered, they always had noticed that, “What can I get for you then?”

“Two hog’s heads, one rum and I’ll have…”

“Come on Fred,” The other nudged his brother, the girl finally able to differentiate them, that was until the next day when she wouldn’t be able to recognise the clothes they chose.

“Firewhiskey would be great thanks y/n,” He smiled sweetly, leaning up against the bar as she rang up their orders on the till. He delved into the pockets of his trousers as George left to speak to Neville a bit longer, placing the money in her hand. “Keep the change too,” “A-are you sure?” She stuttered, looking down at the remaining 3 galleons in her hand.

“George never tips, so consider it his debt too.” The boy scoffed, leaving to join the rest of his group. The girl pocketed the money before anyone else could see her doing so and went to fix the drunken man his seventh drink of the night.

He grumbled about how much work he did that no one appreciated, as his eyes raked over her body in a queasily slow trance. The man didn’t stop at that, further pressing her to sit on his knee and let him feel her up. Crude remarks fell from his lips as if he’d relayed them to every woman he’d come across, as if it was second nature. All the while, she stood and let him ramble on, doing her best to ignore what he was saying and just nod along mindlessly. This wasn’t even the worst one, the girl sighed to herself, grimacing at the way his fingers toyed with the hems of her skirt as if he was going to try and slither inside it.

With perfect timing, Neville called her back to the bar, faking some questions about the menu so that she had an excuse to dismiss herself from the dog’s company and scurry off. She heard him call after her, but couldn’t make out what exactly it was he was saying. The girl prayed that he was too drunk to actually get up and walk over to the bar, or else he would become truly relentless.

No matter what, y/n always smiled, regardless of who was talking to her or at her. And when she wasn’t dealing with the unruly men of diagon alley, she was happy, she was lucky that she had a job and somewhere to stay. She had no reason to be unhappy.

Fred and George liked that about her. That in such a dimly lit, run down little place like the cauldron, such light could shine through with her presence. Both of them had mentioned it once on their drunken walk back home one night, that they wished they could afford to hire someone else at the shop because she would be perfect for it.

Y/n always smiled because most of the time she was a happy person, until there was no reason to be happy. She discovered that dreadful sinking feeling later that night once the pub closed and the girl was finishing up with her cleaning.

Neville and Hannah were speaking in hushed voices nearby, words that she couldn’t make out over the sound of her brush swishing over the stone ground. But they continued to glance over at her when they believed she wasn’t watching, which made her heart tighten with nervous anticipation.

“Y/n… darling.” Hannah’s sweet voice sounded through the empty room, startling her slightly. The girl stood up straight and smiled, a sight which made her boss want to cry on the spot. None of this was going to be easy. “Could you come into the office with me, please.”

She followed, her hands shaky as she left the broom leant up against a lone table. The door shut behind them with a finalising jolt as the woman sat down before her, prompting her own body to do the same.

The air became thick, and constricting as her knees locked together politely. Hannah seemed just as nervous as she, delaying the inevitable by shuffling paperwork around and shoving into nearby drawers. Finally the movement ceased and she had no choice but to bite the bullet.

“I know we already spoke today, about how the business is going here, and I promise that Neville and I have tried to do everything we can to get around this. But I’m afraid we’ve been left with no other choice y/n.”

The sound of her name felt like a stab, one short sound that cut through her skin and deep into the bone. The girl dwelled on that feeling, hoping that whatever followed would hurt less in contrast. It didn’t.

“We have to let you go y/n,” The knife plunged deeper, somehow splitting open all her organs on its way through her body. She froze, knowing that in this moment her world was falling apart all around her like dominoes.

“A-and the room? I’m supposing you need it?” Her voice was wavering, constantly on the edge as she confirmed all the priorities.

“I’m so sorry,” The gesture was appreciated, but it did nothing to help in the moment as the now homeless girl’s mind raced.

“Thank you anyway, for the past few months.” It was a sudden bravery that brought her to her feet as she announced how she would pack her things right away.

In truth, she needed to be alone, just for a few minutes. So she could let it all go, cast a muffliato and sob away her worries for a small amount of precious time. Hannah didn’t dare follow her, knowing nothing could fix it for the younger girl, instead she brought the bottle of gin from the bar into the office and took long, thoughtful sips until it was no longer the only thing playing through her mind.

When the girl gathered her things and apparated down to the front door with them, Neville was there with a sad smile upon his face. Only giving her a brief goodbye, before swiftly leaving to busy himself with yet another maintenance job around the building. He never was one for complex emotions, so she didn’t think bad of him for escaping an awkward situation.

Y/n opened the front doors, seeing the pouring rain before her and almost bursting into yet another round of tears. Not that her red raw eyes could take it much longer. Maybe it was because she had been standing up for the good part of eight hours, or maybe just the pitiful sight of the gloomy street before her was enough to make her knees shake. As if they were going to buckle beneath her and send her crumpling to the ground.

But she shuffled forward, her trunk following behind her and she had quietly charmed it to do so. Admittedly she didn’t have a lot, when she had decided to try and live alone it had become a rushed affair to say the least. So she only owned a number of outfits within that case, along with some books and other little items she had deemed important enough to bring alone. That, and her guitar case, which loomed over her shoulder like a stalking figure in the night. The one thing she definitely didn’t have, was a coat to shelter her from the oncoming rain.

The girl walked a few steps, round the side of the building, and found a pile of crates to rest on beneath a small dripping canopy. It was dry, for now, and it gave her a chance to think properly. She needed to figure something out fast.

But y/n’s mind was full of white noise, watching puddles form between the cobbled pathway before her and thinking how she used to love the rain as a child. It had been relaxing and beautiful from the safety of her childhood bedroom, the window facing her parent’s courtyard as she watched them leave for work each morning.

Back then they would both turn and wave, with a generous smile on their faces, always reminding the young girl how they wished to see her when they returned. They were always happy when she was a child, the three of them a cacophony of laughs and giggles. Until it stopped. Her parents worked together, but never left the house together, and neither of them stopped to wave her goodbye, no matter how many times she waited for them to do so. They just stopped being happy, and as y/n shifted her weight upon the damp crates she realised that maybe her once beloved parents were never happy at all.

They became distant. To one another and to her, even more so as she grew older and became her own person. They tried to oppress it, probably seeing her joyful exterior and constant smiles and not recognising where it had come from. Not either of them. It angered them further, seeing her be such a resilient person, because they wished for her to feel the same neverending hurt they had caused one another. Regardless of the fact that it wasn’t her emotion to own.

Y/n remembered the night she was handed a file by her father, feeling stunned to have been called into his study while he was working. Often he would go inside and not appear for days at a time, so she knew whatever it was, it had to be important.

She read over the words he’d laid out for her, detailing their plans for her, what they wanted for her future. It was a plan of her life, given to her by two people who couldn’t be bigger strangers. But it wasn’t hers, it felt nothing like hers. She wanted to be someone, and she wanted to do it for herself, not because her parents feel it’s financially best.

The words, writer… and prophet echoed constantly around the page as she tried to make sense of it all. Her father barely looked up from his work as she struggled to remain calm, her lungs losing all motor function as she felt her stomach twist and turn. That was when she realised she had to leave, do something for herself.

Rain had been such a comforting thing for y/n, when she was a child. Now it covered her like a plague, and drenched her down to the bone as she did all she could to forget about that life. It had been her home, her playground, her school. It had been her whole life, without much chance to be free in the rest of the world.

Now it was nothing. She wanted it to be nothing. There had to be something she could do, there had to be somewhere she could go. Because that place was no longer an option.

“Y/n?” A voice made her head whip up, the tears on her cheeks easily disguised as the rain if it wasn’t for the way she snivelled to herself. She hadn’t even felt herself begin to cry, yet here she was, and it was a pitiful sight to see.

The light was bad in the alley, but when the two tall figures got nearer she recognised them instantly. Her heart broke a little more to see the worry in the twins’ eyes as they quickly took in the sight of her cramped body amongst her belongings.

“Are you leaving town then?” She thinks it was George, asked, he had been the one wearing a black shirt when she’d seen them earlier. The girl was in a daze, her head taking in their words a lot slower than it should have been as she begged herself not to cry in front of them.

To them, she looked like she was in a dream. Her eyes glazed over even as she glanced their way, making it look like she wasn’t really there with them. George’s question caught her off guard a bit, the girl looking as though she had forgotten where she was as she looked around her with bewilderment. Then the look of confusion fell to one of despair when it clicked once again, she was all alone.

“I suppose I am.” Even the two men could hear how her voice begged to break as she spoke with an airy tone. This was the first time they had seen her anything but bright and smiley.

It broke their hearts, in all honesty.

“Do you need somewhere to stay the night?” Fred, this time, asked. He knelt down to meet her eye level, their tall forms always towering above her at the best of times.

“We have a particularly comfy couch at our place,” George added, following suit with the kneeling.

“It’s got five star reviews,”

“And probably a few galleons hidden down the back if you’re lucky.”

Their smiles made her giggle, and it was all they could have asked for in the moment.

“That’s very kind of you,” Her sweet tone was back, like she’d taken control of her head again, “But I couldn’t ask that of you two.” It was her default to be polite, not wanting to be a burden to anyone. It was the one thing her nanny had taught her before being let go when she was twelve, not to ask anything of anyone but yourself.

“Nonsense,” Fred stood up, taking her guitar case that was leant up against the brick wall and swinging it over his shoulder.

“Really, I’ll figure something o-out - it’s fine!” She tried to protest, but the twins had already decided her fate. George lifted her trunk with ease, and Fred held out a hand for her, prompting the girl to clumsily lift herself off the jumble of crates with his assistance.

“Come on then,” They said, starting off towards the brighter part of diagon alley.

She didn’t move, Fred having let go of her as soon as she steddied herself again. They looked back at her, both frowning with the same face as she tried not to laugh at how they were so similar they even acted like one another.

“Well you better come with us-” “Or else it’ll look like we’ve robbed you!”

The girl just looked down at her feet, feeling as though they were only doing this because they couldn’t leave her out in the rain. Which was true. But the twins knew that she was someone worth helping out.

“Do you have anywhere else to go?” George asked, shifting the case into his other hand nonchalantly as they waited for her to come along with them. Silently she shook her head, embarrassed to meet their eyes as she admitted defeat.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Fred chimed in, still wearing their signature smile.

Y/n couldn’t help but return the sentiment, she didn’t have to be alone for at least one night. That was something to smile about, so she smiled. Her feet surged her body forward, a small skip noticeable as she reached the two patient men.

“We do look like we’ve just mugged you.” George laughed as they all walked through the alley and towards their shop, her little life packed away and in their hands. The girl slotted between them, having to catch up with their longer strides every now and then, as both twins chatted away as if nothing was amiss.

“Here’s the palace itself,” “Our pride and joy!” They announced, ushering her into the shop lined with all the products an excited teenage wizard could wish for. The shelves seemed to be full to the brim, some things piled up as a display. As haphazard and chaotic as it looked, y/n couldn’t deny that the bright colours shimmering off everything she could see instilled a happiness inside her that she rarely felt as a child. This would have been her dream when she was younger.

The twins’ shop was well known in the alley, by almost everyone who visited the leaky cauldron. Yet she had never dared step inside it herself. Most days she would have been busy with jobs around the inn, and on the off chance that she ventured around any other establishments, it was purely for essentials.

The two men watched as she scanned all that she could see from the doorway, her eyes wide and inviting with each new discovery. They would see kids come in every single day with the same reaction, yet with her it seemed new. It was if she had never seen a toy before.

“Have you eaten yet?” Fred asked, weaving through some unopened boxes to reach the stairs. Even on them there was an endless supply of treats to be found.

“I’m not hungry… thank you.” She followed behind him, slowly, with George closing up the front doors and setting up security wards.

“That wasn’t the question silly,” He laughed, catching up. “Have you eaten tonight?”

“No- but I’m really fine without.”

Once they reached the very top of the long set of stairs, past the ‘staff only’ sign, a door was kicked open in front of her. The apartment inside was a sight for sore eyes, and also the furthest thing from what y/n had envisioned on the walk there.

From how high they had gotten inside the shop, the girl presumed that the flat above had to be pokey and a lot smaller than what she was seeing. It was like a large loft, with brick walls and two levels and these huge windows that looked well over diagon alley. She could see all the lights of muggle London shining amongst the dark sheeted sky.

“My rooms up there, and George is through there.” Fred explained, nodding towards the opening to a small hallway and setting down her things in the excess of open space they had. It was comfortable.

“And here’s your bed!” The other twin exclaimed, throwing himself onto the huge sofa that stretched beneath one of the windows and came out into the room in an L shape. They weren’t lying when they said it was comfortable, because she could tell it was even by looking at it.

“Right! I, for one, am starving.” Fred announced, walking through to the open kitchen, his footsteps echoing on the floor as he went. “What about you y/n?”

The girl was too busy staring out the window to hear him. She’d never seen the city this way before. Her old house was well out in the country, and the alley didn’t give much of a chance for enchanting views. It seemed as though this was the exception.

“Just make her something, she’s busy.” George chuckled, watching her from the sofa. The girl turned and looked at him confused, but the man just shook his head with a smile. “Nothing important,” He whispered and let her go back to the hypnotising view.

As they sat down to eat together, George asked y/n many questions about her life, determined to learn all he could about her in one evening.

“Let her swallow first will you!” Fred huffed, passing her a glass of water so she didn’t choke in the process.

“I was homeschooled all my life, well- up until I moved really.” The girl smiled politely, trying not to go into too much detail with her answers. The two men were so kind, though, that it was hard not to tell them everything she’d been holding in. “So you didn’t finish it all?”

“I left before I got the chance to,”

They nodded in understanding, but she could see the cogs turning in their heads as they both took another bite of their food, all in unison. She snickered a little, enjoying the way they effortlessly put on a show with their mannerisms.

“Did you run away!” They both cried out, startling her as she sat across from them.

“W-well… I um- yes I d-did really.” A wry laugh sounded as she spoke, an out of place sound amongst the shock that displayed over Fred and George’s faces.

“Woah, did something bad happen?”

“George! You can’t just ask that- you don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to y/n.” Fred rolled his eyes at his brother, but the girl felt a sense of relief that they asked, it felt nice to have the chance to tell someone after keeping it to herself all this time. It felt more out of place to not tell them.

“It’s okay,” She chuckled at them both, “My parents weren’t very happy people, and they both kind of kept their lives centered around work. I had no problem with it, either than the lack of freedom I had at home, but it changed when they basically showed me a plan for my life.”

The twins listened intently, nodding along with her words and silently reacting accordingly. They both frowned with the last bit, never hearing of someone having their lives planned out for them before.

“They planned your life? Isn’t that a bit, you know-”

“Controlling,” Fred finished, a look of pity on his face.

“We had different ideas, they wanted me to be a writer at the prophet when I’d shown no interest in journalism or even writing before.”

“That’s mad,” George said in a hushed tone, not wanting to cut her off.

“It was then that I realised the only way I was going to do what I wanted, was if I left. So I just packed my things and came here, hoping to find somewhere to stay with what little money I had. Hannah was nice enough to take me in free of charge, so long as I worked behind the bar for it.”

“Both her and Neville really are saints.” “It’s so much better than I could have asked for, but now they can’t afford it. It’s all understandable, it’s just a pain that I can’t ask my parents for help.”

All the while that she recalled her story, the girl smiled, reminding the men that she was a lot stronger than people might assume. Given what she’d been through, it was amazing that she hadn’t broken down already.

“We’ll figure something out for you, all of us.” Fred smiled, glad to see colour in her cheeks now that she was in the warmth of their loft compared to the drizzly alleyway.

“It’s not the end of the world if your parents don’t support you either, there’s plenty more people in the world who will.” George reassured her, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“Oh godric yeah,” Fred joined in, “Our folks went bloody mental when they heard this was what we wanted to start up instead of finishing at hogwarts.”

“Do they like it now?” She asked cautiously, feeling a little better knowing that they too skipped out on their academic life.

“They have to, given how well we’ve done.” “It is hard to deny our success,” They chimed like songbirds, the passion they had for their self made business shining through their wide eyes.

It was no surprise that the three of them got on, but as the night progressed quicker than they thought, the new trio found themselves with no awkward silences. The clock above them looked as though it had been enchanted when George finally glanced up at it, amazed to see that they’d been chatting for four hours already.

Only when y/n yawned did the two twins decide it was maybe time to call it quits.

“It’s getting late,” Fred spoke up, not wanting to keep the girl from her much needed sleep. It must have been a long day for her. “I’ll grab you some blankets.”

As he disappeared up into his room to look for something to keep her cosy all night, the girl helped George clear away their mess from dinner.

“I feel awful,” She smiled politely, handing him more plates to place into the sink that was doing all the work for them.

“What for?” The man seemed genuinely surprised.

“We spent all that time talking, but we never decided on what to do with me.” She scoffed, feeling like a child needing their help. “I promise I won’t hang around much longer, I’ll sort something out.”

“Like what?” He didn’t mean to sound harsh, it was more to show her that they were her only option right then.

“I-I’m not sure… sorry.” “Don’t be sorry, we want to help you.”

The door to Fred’s bedroom opened again and they fell into silence, the girl slipping back into the mindset that she was growing into a burden for them. She couldn’t ask anymore of them, they’ve already done enough for her. Then and there, y/n decided she would leave in the morning.

“Bed’s ready!” The shout came from the living room, where blankets had been laid over the sofa beneath the window. “Thought you would enjoy the view here.” Fred added when she came out to see his masterpiece.

“That’s hardly a bed!” George scoffed, laughing at the copious amount of cushions he’d left for her head, all different colours and sizes.

“It’ll be perfect, thank you.” She smiled, her eyes sparkling under the city lights that spilled into the room. It didn’t even matter that they would reflect against the ceiling as she slept, it looked like stars.

“As long as you like it then,” George muttered, eyeing his brother who clung onto a smug grin.

“Goodnight y/n, sleep well.”

“Night y/n.” They both smiled, turning to head off to their respective rooms as she opened up her case to look for something to sleep in.

“Night Fred, night George… thank you again, for all of this.” They both nodded at her words and disappeared, leaving her to change in the dark loft, only a small lamp beside her lighting her way to the sofa.

She clicked it off, casting lumos and stumbling over the fluffy rug to curl beneath the many layers of covers that Fred had left her. The girl chuckled to herself, peeling one off and folding it in a neat pile on the floor. Two would be just fine for one night.

It didn’t take long for her to drift off to sleep, the whole day’s nonsense catching up on her and slipping her body into a mini-coma. Her mind ran and slowed all at once, memories of nights she would spend in her childhood bed, reading books for hours on end until she’d fall asleep with the pages sprawled open beside her.

Many nights she would hear her parents scream at one another, that harrowing wailing sound would echo for hours until both of them grew tired and they decided to sleep apart yet again. That’s when she knew she could relax, she could finally do all the things that she wouldn’t have time for in the day between her tutor’s classes and meaningless chores.

She had been a night owl, revelling in the time she got to be truly alone, when the house slept she would come alive. Now, she couldn’t stay awake even if she wanted to. She needed to sleep, and fast.

Y/n vaguely heard a door opening and closing, unsure whether it was real or her mind replaying memories all too vividly. Either way, her eyes were far too heavy to open themselves and check. It could wait.

Fred cursed himself for not catching his bedroom door behind him, the noise booming across the loft. He waited, frozen at the top of the steps, watching to see if the girl would rouse at the sound. But he was in luck, she didn’t move a muscle.

He padded down to the bottom, making sure each step was lighter than the last as he headed into the small corridor. George jolted awake the second his door was opened, reaching for his lamp to see who was intruding on his sleep.

“What the fuck!” He almost shouted.

“Shut up! She’s sleeping in there!” Fred hissed, walking over to the empty side of the bed and sitting down calmly.

“So was I you git- what the hell are you doing, since when did we start sleeping together?”

“Disgusting-”

“I didn’t mean that,” George rubbed his eyes with a grimace and reluctantly sat up, “What do you want then?” His voice finally hushed to match his brother’s.

“I have an idea,” Fred started.

“Yes,” “Well, I’ve been thinking about y/n-” “If this is you coming to tell me about another sex dream, I don’t wanna know, okay?”

“Will you just shut up and listen to me,”

“Fine, fine, go on.” He pulled the covers over his bare chest, feeling suddenly exposed to the cold night’s air.

“Well, we’ve been saying for ages that we need someone to work in the shop, except we can’t really afford it right now.” Fred explained, and George nodded along. “Look, y/n needs somewhere to stay, but she would never stay here without giving us some sort of payment, right?” The man’s head looked like it was on a spring as he took in the words. “So, why don’t we let y/n stay here with us and in return she can help out in the shop?”

“Do you think she’d agree to that?” “It was basically the same agreement she had with Neville and Hannah, except we have no reason to get rid of her.”

“I suppose so,” He didn't sound overly convinced.

“She needs somewhere to stay, we need someone to work, it’s a win-win situation!” Fred exclaimed, smiling like a mad man to try and convince his brother that their plan could work out.

“Okay, fine. We can ask her in the morning.”

“Great, I knew you’d say yes.” “Well it’s not like she’s the worst person to live with, it hardly took much to sway me.”

“Not the worst person? Come on George, she’s great!” Fred, admittedly, got a bit too excited at this. His voice ringing out louder than he’d wanted it to.

“You have had a sex dream haven’t you?” “Oh shut up!” “Was she in it,” George teased, prompting his brother to get up and head for the door. “So i’m taking that as a yes.” He turned the light off, hearing one last hiss from Fred before the door shut behind him.

“Aren’t you forgetting the time you had a sex dream about Mcgonnogall?” Fred quipped, leaving quickly as not to get a beating up from the other twin, who was mentalling cursing himself for ever revealing that fact when they were drunk one time.

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rkived · 4 years

Text

━ CHASING PAVEMENTS 03 | JJK

↳ PAIRING: dad!jk/married!jk/bff!jk x reader

↳ GENRE/TAGS: f2l, angst, unrequited feelings, cheating, future smut

↳ WARNINGS: (for this chapter) time jumps, mention of divorce, blood mention ((but like nothing serious)), forced kisses, just sad stuff like this is sad guys lol

↳ WORD COUNT: 8.6k

↳ EXCERPT: ‘‘Jungkook doesn’t want to think this is the end, maybe it’s that stupid voice inside his head that always holds on to things that he knows he should let go of. But he can’t just let go of this and move on. He doesn’t remember what life was like before you and he sure as hell does not want to know what it’ll be like without you.’’

↳ A/N: getting this chapter out has been ((a pain in the ass)) tough !! & cp was supposed to end with this chapter but that was not realistic at all lmao but i do hope u like this n i’ll try to get pt4 quickly as possible <3 thx

01 | 02 | 03 | 04

‘‘Okay everyone, let’s switch to the upward facing dog!’’

You really don’t want to be here. There’s a lot of stuff running through your head right now that are more important than focusing on yoga positions. You wish you were thinking about grocery shopping or paying that month’s bills.

Instead, you’re still stuck on the downward facing dog as your mind tells you you’re an idiot, a homewrecker and most importantly, a terrible friend.

‘‘Y/N, upward facing dog!’’ The instructor, Namjoon, reminds you with a gentle smile as he notices you haven’t switched positions like the rest of the class. You nod and smoothly place your body as he had taught in the classes before.

The only reason why you came to your Saturday morning yoga class was because even with all that happened last night, you wanted to feel a sense of normality. Like you’re capable of going on about your life like nothing had happened.

That’s selfish and stupid because as much as you tried, every single moment since you woke up revolved around last night.

From the moment you opened your eyes, noticing Sunhi wasn’t sleeping next to you, snuggled into your chest like you had last remembered her to be before she fell asleep and you following soon after.

And as your heart beat faster at the thought of finding her in her dad’s arms instead, watching Saturday morning cartoons on the T.V in your living room; you instead found the place neat and tidy. The messy pillows on your couch where placed like they hadn’t even been moved to begin with, like no one besides you had been in the apartment the night before.

Somehow he managed to do all of this without you even noticing. You wondered at what time he woke up, cleaned up, took Sunhi without making any fuss and left, all before your 7 AM alarm could wake you up.

He even made you breakfast too. Some eggs, bacon and toast.

‘‘Y/N, your legs are touching the mat.’’ Namjoon notes as he stands in front of you, ‘‘Let’s focus, okay?’’

You nod once again, though this time a little more embarrassed. If only you could explain to your instructor why you’re so distracted.

No messages either. No text explaining why he had to leave so early. No sticky note placed on your fridge door about how he made you breakfast. No slight shake to your sleeping body to let you know that he’d be taking Sunhi. Nothing.

Would’ve you liked that, though?

You could say yes because he’s your friend and it’s only fair since you took care of his daughter the night before.

But it’s not right, because friends don’t kiss each other, let alone the way you had let him kiss you and touch you while his daughter slept in your room and his wife waited for both of them at home.

There was a war going on inside you between your brain and your heart.

Your heart, being a weak ass bitch, was telling you about how exciting everything was. How nice it felt to have Jungkook tell you that he wanted to be with you, that he no longer felt happy with his wife, how perfectly his lips encaptured your own and how you could still feel them on you.

But your brain, obviously being the logical one between the two, reminded you about how wrong it was. You had never wanted to be placed in a position of being ‘‘the other woman’’. That even though you might not like Jiwoo and had spent years hoping your friend would someday wake up and realize this too, this didn’t feel right.

‘‘Alright, let’s drink some water now.’’ Namjoon announces, clasping his hands together and showing off that dimple that most ─if not all─ of the students went heart eyes over.

You take the time to check your phone instead, you don’t need the water because you didn’t do shit anyway. There’s no text from Minji, who you’re scared will somehow, by the grace of everything that’s holy, find out about what you did. No text from Jungkook either and you’re wondering why he hasn’t bothered to send one.

Instead, there’s a text from Taehyung and you mutter a curse.

[8:34 AM] Taehyung: hey y/n! i’m sure you’re in your yoga class rn but i wanted to see if maybe you’d be up for lunch at my place? i’ll try and cook something nice :)

Ah, of course that throughout all of this you forgot about Taehyung.

The sweet guy who had stuck around only for you to pay him back by kissing your best friend, the one Taehyung had to pretend wasn’t bothered by his interruption that night a few weeks ago.

God, you do have a way to fuck things up for yourself.

You don’t know how long you stood there thinking what to reply to him, but it definitely was for a few minutes because you only came back to reality once you heard your name being called once by the instructor.

‘‘Y/N,’’ Namjoon repeats and you look over at him with a puzzled look, ‘‘we’re starting again, if you’d like to join us.’’ There’s that smile again. Bless his patience, you wonder if he’s actually this calm because of yoga or he’s just really good at pretending.

You look back down at your phone, the screen displaying a text that’s still waiting to be replied to.

‘‘I uhm─I gotta go, sorry.’’ You quickly reply, making Namjoon look at you with wide eyes, but he makes no effort to stop you either.

And as quickly as you can, you collect your belongings before you’re heading out the door without saying goodbye.

Either you quit yoga altogether or just apologize to Namjoon like a grownup next Saturday. Whatever it is, you’re not thinking about what decision to make about your little extracurricular right now.

There’s only so much you can handle at a time.

Jungkook is lucky that Jiwoo works Saturday mornings because with her away, he’s able to enter his house without having to sneak in.

He opens the door wide, making way for him and a slightly awake Sunhi in his arms. He drops the keys on the counter without caring about the noise it makes. He doesn’t even have to pretend like he’s walking on glass, his boots are allowed to hit the wooden floor without a care in the world.

The place doesn’t look much different from what he had left it like the day before. There’s only a dirty glass on the sink, a product of Jiwoo’s daily breakfast smoothies and since she’s always in a rush she never has time to clean it up.

‘‘Are you still sleepy, pumpkin?’’ he quietly asks his daughter and she nods, he doesn’t blame her since he’s the one who woke her up at 6 AM. ‘‘Alright, I’ll take you to your bed,” he says, a kiss on her head following shortly after.

He wonders if Jiwoo enjoyed herself last night. No daughter and no husband, sounds like an ideal night for her. It’s not like she was worried about their whereabouts either, considering she hadn’t even bothered to text him wondering why they hadn’t come home.

If Jungkook’s supposed to feel guilty, he isn’t.

He’s heard stories before about how there’s a voice in your head constantly reminding you about what you did and how wrong it is. That he’ll be unable to sleep knowing he cheated on his wife while she lies next to him. That he won’t be able to look at her again without feeling remorse all over him.

And when Jiwoo returns home at noon, there’s none of that at all. He offers her a nod of acknowledgement once she enters the living room to find him sitting with his laptop, watching through old videos that he took years back.

She puts her index finger up, telling him to give her a minute. She’s on a phone call with a friend of hers that Jungkook can only conclude is Hyeri, who he probably met at some point but can’t remember what her face looked like.

‘‘I know! Like, why do you have to be such a bitch about it? We get that you’re sucking the boss’s dick in private, so you might as well─’’

Jiwoo’s voice is too distracting and so, Jungkook places his earphones in to hear what this video’s audio is about. Once he does, he hits play and the audio is loud enough to drown out Jiwoo’s whining.

‘‘Guess who came to see you, Pumpkin?’’

Jungkook gasps as he remembers this was part of a series of videos he was supposed to show Sunhi once she was old enough to understand them. He recorded a few until he was drowning in work to even grab his camera again. It saddens him that he wasn’t able to continue.

He decides he’ll show them to her later because right now Sunhi is too busy playing with her dolls inside her room to even pay attention to him.

‘‘It’s auntie Y/N! And she came bearing gifts,’’ Jungkook smiles, switching the focus on you ‘‘is that a Fisher Price Taco Tuesday toy set that I see?’’ he wonders in a fake curious tone as you look at him with narrowed eyes ‘‘I wonder how she knew you wanted that, Sunhi. It’s not like your dad had it on his Amazon wishlist or anything.’’

‘‘Very funny.’’ You mumble, handing him the toys so you could go ahead and grab a tiny three-month-old Sunhi from the bed ‘‘Aren’t you the cutest little bean in this entire world? Aren’t you?’’ you coo at the little girl, who looks at you with wide eyes and you’re forced to blink a couple of times because she looks just like him.

‘‘Of course she is, she’s my spitting image!’’ Jungkook confirms your thought as he grabs Sunhi’s cheek gently with his fingers and squeezes, making the baby giggle.

You side-eye him and then focus your attention back on the baby in your hands, ‘‘No, you’re not, Sunhi. Your daddy is not cute at all.’’

‘‘You’re gonna make me put this camera down and have a discussion about this.’’

Jungkook chuckles at the footage, noticing how he made you smile because of his comment. The video isn’t long, it’s mostly you cooing to a then tiny Sunhi, giggling at the way you would nuzzle your nose into her belly as Jungkook laughed behind the camera.

‘‘Jungkook, look at her!’’ You practically squeal as Sunhi grabs your thumb with her little hand ‘‘Oh my gosh, I think I’m gonna cry.’’

He laughs as he does a close-up of his daughter holding on to your finger, until he hears the little sniffle you let out and the camera is now focused on you silently wiping a tear away.

‘‘Wait, you’re actually crying?’’ Jungkook asks in disbelief and you turn to look at him to find the lens focused on you ‘‘Sunhi, you’re Auntie Y/N loves you so much that she’s crying! How cute.’’

‘‘You’re so dumb, seriously.’’ you mumble with a frown, going back to gawking at the baby still holding on to your thumb.

Jungkook sighs, ‘‘I’m gonna have to bleep that out, y’know?’’

You laugh and shrug your shoulders, caressing Sunhi’s stomach. Jungkook whispers ‘cute’, so soft that you’re unable to hear it.

Once it ends, Jungkook is able to see his smiling face as it reflects on the black screen and it’s only then he realized he’d been grinning the whole time. Now his ears are filled with Jiwoo talking over the phone and his smile goes back to a straight line.

Jungkook closes the video and clicks on the next one, hoping that it’s one that involves you as well. He’s unable to press play because Jiwoo is suddenly standing in front of him, arms crossed and she’s no longer talking on her phone.

‘‘Yes?’’ He asks, removing an earbud to show her she has his full attention.

‘‘So, where were you last night?’’

Jungkook’s slightly surprised that she cares. He tends to forget there’s still some humanity left in her after all, ‘‘At Y/N’s.’’ he answers with a shrug, eyes going back to stare at the screen of his laptop.

Jiwoo scoffs and he’s forced to look at her again, eyebrow slightly raised. He hopes she doesn’t start because it’s too early and it’s a Saturday. But Jiwoo doesn’t like taking breaks like he does.

‘‘I thought you said that she wasn’t going to be able to take care of Sunhi on Fridays.’’ There’s bitterness in her tone, ‘‘so, what were you doing there?’’

Jungkook understands where Jiwoo’s curiosity comes from, but it’s strange. She’s never been the type to ask where he’s been, what he’s doing with Sunhi while she’s not around ─which is practically all the time─ and doesn’t care for your business either.

‘‘I just stopped by.’’ Jungkook mutters, stroking the nape of his neck in an attempt to not seem suspicious, ‘‘We hung out and Sunhi fell asleep, she didn’t wanna come back home.’’

And that’s true, Jiwoo narrows her eyes at him as if she’s debating whether or not to believe him and the excuse of their sleeping daughter. She doesn’t know Sunhi that well to conclude if it’s possible or not.

‘‘And what, did you all three sleep together in the same bed? Playing family, maybe?’’

Jungkook looks at her in disbelief. This is a first.

‘‘What?’’ Is all he’s able to muster because he’s genuinely shocked at her accusation.

Jiwoo rolls her eyes, ‘‘Oh, please. Like I’m going to buy that hanging out bullshit.’’ Jungkook looks like a deer stuck in headlights and she chuckles, ‘‘Is what I give to you not enough?’’

‘‘I─what are you on about?’’

He figures this is her picking a fight because he wasn’t around yesterday to attend her needs like he usually does every Friday night. But Jungkook’s mind is quick to remind him of what he did and it’d be really ironic if he denies Jiwoo’s accusations, that for the first time are actually true.

‘‘I carried around that girl for nine months, ruined my body because of her, all for you to pick someone else over me?’’ Jiwoo’s voice is raised a little higher and Jungkook can’t help but look over at Sunhi’s bedroom door and hope his daughter is not listening to anything coming from the living room. ‘‘I knew I should’ve never trusted her, I always knew your friendship with her was fucking weird.’’

Jungkook doesn’t want to raise his voice either. It’s not going to get them anywhere. But he can’t stand the way she’s speaking about his daughter and you, she’s never crossed those boundaries before.

‘‘Are you insane? How can you talk about your daughter like she’s nothing?’’ Jungkook spats out, ‘‘I’ve always been thankful for what you did, I know the shit you went through to bring her into this world.’’

But Jiwoo doesn’t care about how loud she’s being, ‘‘You’re so thankful you pay me back by fucking your best friend? While I’m alone over here waiting for you to come back?’’

Jungkook has to take a deep breath and close his eyes for a second, before he loses it.

He clears his throat, ‘‘Jiwoo, I have always chosen you. Always. I did back when I was a sophomore, I did it when I asked you to marry me, and I did it when I chose you to be the mother of my children. So, I don’t know what─’’

‘‘I don’t give a flying fuck if you chose me! I was supposed to be all of that either way, Jungkook.’’ She interjects.

Was she, though? Of course, she was his girlfriend then. It would make sense that she’d be the one to end up marrying him, having his kids and living the happy life everyone guaranteed he’d live alongside her.

But he hasn’t been thinking about the choices he ended up taking back then. Instead, he’s been wondering about the ‘what if’s and Jiwoo isn’t in any of them.

Jungkook’s been daydreaming for months now about how different his life would’ve turned out if he had never asked the pretty girl in his class all those years back and instead had focused his attention somewhere else. Or someone else..

‘‘Are you going to answer me?’’ Jiwoo’s stern voice brings him back to the reality he hates, ‘‘Were you going to pick me or was I a second choice?’’ She slowly asks, giving him an opportunity to digest every single word she spoke.

‘‘You weren’t a second choice,’’ he mumbles and his gaze has faltered and instead focused back on the screen of his laptop. Clicking on a video randomly, trying to distract himself from the situation at hand. Hoping that whatever he says is enough for Jiwoo to leave him alone.

It doesn’t help that the video automatically plays and it’s you on the first frame, a big smile as you hold Sunhi towards the camera, making her wiggle in your arms.

What if.

‘‘Show me that you love me, then.’’

The video still plays as Jungkook looks back at Jiwoo standing right in front of him, her arms are still crossed, but the look on her face is different. Her brows are no longer furrowed and Jungkook might be wrong, but he thinks her eyes look glossy.

He doesn’t act quickly enough and she takes the laptop from him, closing it before she can even notice what is it that has garnered his attention. Jiwoo straddles his lap and he jumps slightly at the action, placing her arms around his neck as she looks at him with innocent eyes.

If he didn’t know her, he would’ve believed them.

‘‘Jiwoo, let’s not─’’

‘‘I missed you yesterday,’’ she interjects in a whisper ‘‘show me that you love me right now.’’

Her lips latch onto his neck, biting and sucking on the skin as he tries to wriggle himself out of her hold, but her hands push at his chest so he can stay still.

‘‘C’mon,’’ she mumbles ‘‘show me.’’ She’s pleading by then.

He feels nothing. There’s no electricity in Jiwoo’s kisses. No tingles on his back, no goosebumps on his skin, no fireworks going off. If anything, everytime her lips meet his skin it feels bitter, like they don’t belong there at all.

‘‘Daddy, come please!’’ The muffled voice of Sunhi inside her room interrupts the one-sided moment and Jungkook is silently thanking her.

Jiwoo doesn’t make an effort to move as she keeps kissing on all the exposed skin he has to offer. Jungkook sighs in frustration as he forces her off him, making her land beside him with an astonished expression.

Her hands tighten into fists as she looks at him like he’s gone insane, ‘‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’’ She asks in disbelief.

Jungkook blinks, ‘‘Did you─?’’ He gestures with his finger over to his daughter’s room, ‘‘Sunhi is calling me.’’

His wife scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest again, ‘‘Of course, you always go running when it comes to her.’’

Contrary to his belief, there is no humanity left in Jiwoo at all. She’s just really good at pretending like she cares so she can get her way. This is the last time Jungkook falls for this trick.

Jungkook opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He repeats this action a few times, to stammer something out. Anything. But there’s nothing besides the expecting silence of his wife as she chuckles incredulously. Jungkook ignores this and turns around, a second away from opening Sunhi’s bedroom door─

‘‘You’re a waste of a husband.’’ Jiwoo sneered.

His hand drops from the door handle and he sighs, taking a deep breath in and out.

He looks back at her, ‘‘You know what, Jiwoo? I wasn’t lying when I said you weren’t my second choice.’’ he informs and her eyebrow raises up ‘‘But you aren’t my first choice now either.’’

Jiwoo scowls and heaves in anger, ready to let hell loose on him ‘‘I knew that who─’’

‘‘It’s Sunhi,’’ he states and Jiwoo closes her mouth before she can even finish her sentence. ‘‘Ever since I knew you were pregnant with her, she’s been at the top of my list and she’ll always be there. I don’t care what you do or say to me, I really don’t. You don’t love me, Jiwoo.’’

At the accusation, her eyes soften and she’s standing up to argue that it’s not true, but Jungkook raises his hand in a motion to stop her.

‘‘You don’t love me and I don’t love you.’’

Jungkook expected her to start yelling at him like she usually did, but Jiwoo’s rendered speechless on her spot as she stares at him, blinking rapidly.

‘‘I don’t love you,’’ he repeats ‘‘and I haven’t loved you for a while now. I don’t remember the last time my heart raced up when I saw you or when I stopped enjoying kissing you. And I’m sorry, because I should’ve told you instead of pretending like I did.’’

Jiwoo’s motionless as she takes all of his words in.

‘‘But I did it for her because I didn’t want her to hate me if you ever left. But that was a dumb idea because you don’t care about Sunhi. And frankly, I doubt she cares about you either. She never speaks about you, never asks about you, she’s used to you not being here even if you sort of are.’’

Jungkook places his hand over the doorknob once again and Jiwoo grimaces.

‘‘I should’ve never begged you to come back. I should’ve thought about what you wanted and it’s always been clear to me what that is,’’ Jungkook swallows the knot he feels in his throat ‘‘and it’s never been Sunhi or me.’’

‘‘Jungkook.’’

He thinks she’s about to tell him how sorry she is. That she’ll recognize how heartless she’s been and how she not only failed him, but failed their daughter too. Maybe beg for a final try at their relationship as she promises she’ll change this time.

Jungkook hums and spares her one last glance.

Jiwoo has a stoic expression on her face and she speaks under her breath, but clear enough for him to hear, ‘‘Sign the papers when you get them.’’

You expect Minji to just jump at you any minute now because if looks could kill, you’d be dead already. Maybe you should’ve pretended like you weren’t home and let Minji knock on your door until she’d give up, but even you knew better than that.

It was better to face her now than to deal with her accumulated wrath later.

‘‘When were you going to tell me?’’ She suddenly asks and it takes you by surprise because it had been way too silent since you had let her in.

Minji works like a predator, she attacks when you least expect it and right now you definitely feel like you’re about to be eaten.

‘‘I─uh…’’

She sighs and you can see the disappointment in her face, ‘‘Were you going to tell me at all?’’

You nod instead, not trusting yourself enough to speak at the moment.

It had been a week since the event in your living room and it makes you shift uncomfortably in your chair as you stare at your friend, who’s sitting on the couch where everything went down.

‘‘Then why did I have to find out through Taehyung?’’ She asks in a disappointed tone.

You figured he’d tell her. It’s not like you asked him not to do so, but you had silently prayed that the universe was on your side on this one and by some unknown reason they wouldn’t bump into each other at work and Minji, like she usually did, wouldn’t ask him about you. Because if she did, then he’d have to explain how you had broken the news that you had made out with your best friend; the one Minji despised with her soul.

A sigh escapes your lips as you lower your head with shame.

You were supposed to tell her, but every time you took your phone and tried to dial or text her, your nerves got the best of you and ended up chickening out, promising that you’d do it the next day. Then the next day. And the next day.

It’s not like you’re scared of Minji─well, maybe only slightly. But you know the effort she put into getting you to go out and meet someone new, someone that’s not married and not a father. She’s known Taehyung for so long, probably even told him how much of a good girl you were to convince him to take you out, only for you to end up throwing all of that in the trash like it was nothing.

Minji’s also spent years pushing you to move on from your friendship with Jungkook. Not just because she doesn’t like him, but because she’s always felt like he’s held you back while he’s made his way in life. You’ve stuck behind him making sure that he’s okay and happy, forgetting about yourself in the process.

‘‘I’m not angry at you,’’ she speaks softly, making you look up at her with surprise. ‘‘I just─He gave you a second chance, Y/N. Why did you say no?’’ Her words are laced with curiosity and you know that she’s asking because even Taehyung wasn’t able to give her an answer to this question.

Your bottom lip trembles and you’re trying your hardest not to burst into tears in front of him. You can’t and you won’t. How even dare you to do that?

‘‘I’m sorry,’’ you whisper and your eyes shift down to the wooden floor of his apartment. ‘‘I’m sorry, Taehyung.’’ You repeat, knowing it’s not enough.

Taehyung gulps and his crossed arms quickly fall to his sides as he realizes that, whatever anger he felt when you told him about what you did, was no longer there the moment he saw how genuinely apologetic you looked.

‘‘I’m an idiot, I know.’’ You continue, rubbing your clammy hands into the material of your leggings and it does nothing to dry them. ‘‘I’m sorry, Taehyung.’’

He knows he shouldn't be so easily swayed by your apology, but he can’t help but want to cradle you in his arms. And when he does, your eyebrows raise in surprise as you gasp because you weren’t expecting this.

You expected anger, insults thrown out about how you’re a slut and being kicked out of his apartment with him telling you to never contact him again.

Taehyung’s still sweet even when his heart is getting broken.

‘‘It’s okay,’’ he whispers into your hair as one of his hands runs up and down your back ‘‘we can work this out, yeah?’’

You bite the tip of your tongue as you take his words in, feeling your heart speeding up even faster than what it was when you spilled everything out on him. Maybe you would’ve preferred him getting angry than his current reaction.

‘‘It’s not like we were exclusive, right?’’ Taehyung chuckles, but it feels like he’s convincing himself that that was the reason as to why it happened. ‘‘Let’s forget it, seriously.’’

A shaky sigh comes out of your mouth as your arms, that hadn’t reciprocated his hug, gain the strength to separate yourself from him. He looks taken aback, but he’s waiting for you to reply in agreement because, yes, you could work this out if you try hard enough.

But that’s not realistic. Pretending like you never kissed Jungkook is not realistic at all, because it’s sad to admit that you won’t be able to kiss Taehyung again without thinking about your best friend in the back of your head as you’re reminded that not only did you let him kiss you, but you reciprocated and not only did you reciprocate, but you liked it a little too much.

‘‘Y/N,’’ he speaks up, snapping you from your thoughts,‘‘please, let’s just try.’’ He silently asks─no, begs.

The barking of his dog, Yeontan, startles you as you come to stare at the little dog at the feet of his owner, who at the moment isn’t interested to see what he wants. You never told Taehyung, but the teacup pomeranian was extremely overprotective of him.

He’s barking at you like you’re hurting his owner and maybe you aren’t physically doing any damage, but you know that you’re about to break his heart all over again.

‘‘I-I…,’’ you blink as you try to focus on the man in front of you and not the dog on the ground, ‘‘I’m sorry, I can’t.’’

Yeontan’s barks increase and Taehyung is at a loss for words to beg you to stay and talk things through. You can still hear the dog’s incessant barking as you make your way down the hall and that’s when the tears you were holding finally fall down.

‘‘Taehyung’s a nice guy, Y/N. He forgave you and you just left?’’ Minji asks, disbelief in her tone. ‘‘I thought you liked him.’’

‘‘I do!’’ You finally speak up. You’re sure of it, you like Taehyung. Your friend gives you a puzzled look because she really can’t understand you right now. ‘‘I like Taehyung, I really do,’’ you mutter, ‘‘but it’s not fair to him.’’

Minji scrunches her face up because there’s only one reason you’re thinking that way. She’s tired of this narrative, it’s old and overdone and it should’ve ended years ago.

She lets out a breathless chuckle, ‘‘You love him, don’t you?’’ Another question that takes you by surprise.

‘‘No, I just─’’

Minji holds her finger up, interrupting you, ‘‘I’m talking about Jungkook.’’

This is the attack. Not the other questions she had asked you regarding her old family friend. Not the unannounced arrival to your apartment on an uneventful Saturday morning where you had chosen to stay in bed instead of facing the peaceful yoga instructor. Not the glaring looks she had been giving you for the last minutes.

And if you weren’t ready for any of those, this one definitely takes the prize.

‘‘I-I of course I love him,’’ you mumble, ‘‘he’s my friend.’’

Minji smirks as her eyebrows raise, ‘‘No, I’m asking if you’re in love him.’’

You’re sure that the feelings that you’ve had for Jungkook have always been platonic. You do love him because he’s your friend and you’re supposed to love your friends. But you know that the love that you have for him is very different from the one you have for anyone else. It might be the history between you two. You’ve been with him through it all, cheering from the sidelines as he accomplishes one milestone after the other.

‘‘Be honest with me,’’ Minji demands, ‘‘are you in love with Jungkook?’’ she asks once again.

Your eyes well up and your bottom lip is trembling as you look back at your intimidating best friend because your silence is deafening and you’re expecting her to throw the last blow. You think you deserve it. Minji has so much she wants to say, but you look so dejected and she figures that you might’ve just realized it.

‘‘Hey, it’s okay.’’ She comes up to you quickly, crouching down as she looks up at the tears rolling down your reddened cheeks. ‘‘Y/N, it’s okay.’’

You’ve been trying to tell yourself the same thing the past few days.

It’s okay that you kissed your best friend. It’s okay that you’ve slowly and silently started harbouring feelings for him. It’s okay that you just realized you’ve been in love with him for a while now. It’s okay that you’ve been resenting the fact that he didn’t choose you all those years ago. It’s okay that you take care of and love his daughter like she’s yours.

But...

‘‘No, it’s not.’’ You cry, ‘‘I can’t do that, Minji, he’s not mine to have.’’

Your mind quickly brings you back to the harsh reality, which is that Jungkook will never be yours. He probably only kissed you because he was looking for something that was capable of exciting him again after realizing how bored of his marriage he is. He doesn’t love you like that, he’ll never love you like that.

Minji can’t disagree with what you just said, but she also feels like right now is not the time to make you feel even worse when it’s obvious you’re already there.

‘‘I blocked his number, anyway.’’ You mumble out, wiping away your tears.

Your friend’s eyes widened at the revelation, ‘‘What?’’.

‘‘I freaked out after I talked to Taehyung because I felt so guilty and you know how I don’t know how to deal with shit ever, so I just─’’ You stop yourself from rambling and sigh as you feel Minji’s hand squeezing your knee as a sign of comfort, ‘‘I can’t see him again without thinking about it. I can’t take care of Sunhi knowing he’s going home to sleep with Jiwoo. I just can’t keep pretending anymore.’’

Minji can’t do much after that, you’ve become a sobbing mess and the tears seem unstoppable. She’s never seen you like this and it dawns on her that you’ve held all of this in for way too long.

It’s ironic because she’s always told you that you need space from Jungkook, thinking it’d be good for you to finally realize that you’re not part of his list of priorities anymore and hadn’t been for a long time.

But she hadn’t taken into account what the after effects of not having him in your life anymore would look like.

[12:03 PM] Jeon Jungkook: hi y/n

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[12:04 PM] Jeon Jungkook: hey???

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[12:07 PM] Jeon Jungkook: i wanted to see if you’d like to meet up for lunch one of these days? i feel like we need to talk

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[5:13 PM] Jeon Jungkook: does this work now??

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Jungkook groans in annoyance as he finds another one of his texts left undelivered. It feels like life is either against him or doing this for his own good.

Nonetheless, he wants to talk to you because it’s been a few days since he last saw and heard from you. He figures you’re mad, the last words you spoke to him didn’t sound friendly at all and he wonders if maybe leaving without saying goodbye that day was the right thing to do.

The small snores coming from beside him make him realize Sunhi is finally asleep and he can’t help but let out a sigh of disappointment as he watches her curl into a fetal like position, clutching her Dumbo plush toy and slightly drooling into his favorite pillow, making him pout because he knows he won’t be able to pry it away from her when he decides to fall asleep too.

Sunhi being fast asleep is supposed to bring peace to Jungkook’s tiring day, though the silence is extremely uncomfortable and these days he’s come to realize how much he rather have his daughter running around and yelling in excitement than this.

Complete and utter silence.

[7:13 PM] Jeon Jungkook: (1.jpg attached) sunhi misses auntie y/n!! she’s been asking me about you a lot

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[7:15 PM] Jeon Jungkook: i miss auntie y/n more tho…

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[7:17 PM] Jeon Jungkook: i hope ur alright :)

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‘‘Pumpkin, you can stop smiling already.’’ Jungkook chuckles as he looks up from his phone, noticing his daughter still holding the big smile he had given him when he requested to take a picture of her to send to you. ‘‘I already sent the picture to Auntie Y/N.’’ He informs and she sighs with relief, massaging her cheeks from straining them too hard.

Though his eyebrows furrow, noticing his messages have once again been left undelivered. He makes a mental note to call the phone company soon, because it’s been over a week since he last sent the first messages and those remained in the same state as well.

‘‘Daddy, unpause!’’ Sunhi demands, making him realize that he’s in the middle of showing her his favorite Pixar movie, Cars.

Twenty minutes had passed and for a majority of them Sunhi had only watched attentively and Jungkook looked over at her every other second just to make sure she hadn’t fallen asleep. Warmness spread throughout him as he noticed his daughter looking at the screen with those big doe eyes she had inherited from him.

Once the scene where Sally shows Lightning McQueen around Radiator Springs, Jungkook feels a tug at his sweatshirt and looks down to notice Sunhi’s little hand grabbing at the fabric, her eyes are still glued to the screen.

“Auntie Y/N likes this too?” She asks and Jungkook chuckles because his daughter can’t stop thinking about his friend even when doing anything completely unrelated to you.

Maybe that’s another thing she inherited as well.

[7:03 PM] Jeon Jungkook: so i called my phone company and asked them abt why my messages aren’t being delivered and they said that you must’ve blocked me

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[7:04 PM] Jeon Jungkook: yeah i guess you did

{Error: Undelivered!}

Jungkook’s mind has gone blank ever since he got off the phone with the cellphone company.

The idea that you might’ve blocked his number had not once crossed his mind during the weeks of undelivered texts and phone calls sent straight to voicemail. It was obvious, but he didn’t think you’d be capable of doing it.

He wanted it to be a network issue or something else that he could put blame on instead of facing the realization that you had shut him out from your life. And that thought hurt, no─stung him.

The worst part is that he knows he deserves it. It was foolish of him to think that you had enjoyed the kiss too. Dumb enough to believe that you might’ve reciprocated the way he felt.

Jungkook doesn’t want to think this is the end, maybe it’s that stupid voice inside his head that always holds on to things that he knows he should let go of. But he can’t just let go of this and move on.

He doesn’t remember what life was like before you and he sure as hell does not want to know what it’ll be like without you.

[1:30 AM] Jeon Jungkook: i miss you so fucking much i’m sorry if i knew that kissing you would’ve fucked everything up htne i woudl’ve never done it y/n i’m sorry

{Error: Undelivered!}

[1:31 AM] Jeon Jungkook: i really wanted to kiss you but it was selfish of me to do it i didnt think about what you must’ve felt im sos sorry

{Error: Undelivered!}

[1:32 AM] Jeon Jungkook: sunhi’s been asking me about yoj and i dont even know what to say anymore

{Error: Undelivered!}

[2:27 AM] Jeon Jungkook: i don’t even care if you dont wanna speak to me anymore i fucked this up for sunhi she loves you so much and you’re her favorite person ever and i ruined it for her just bc i wanted to see if you felt the same way as i do

{Error: Undelivered!}

[3:50 AM] Jeon Jungkook: i miss you y/n i really do

{Error: Undelivered!}

“Daddy, lemme go!” Sunhi whines trying to escape from her father’s hands as he finishes applying the sunscreen on her arms, “Daddy!”.

He gives her a stern look and the toddler huffs, sticking her bottom lip out in an act of annoyance. The playground games are waiting for her and she feels like her dad is just coming between them and her.

“Alright,” he pats his big hands on her tiny arms, “you’re good to—“ Jungkook isn’t able to finish his sentence because his daughter’s already running towards one of the slides, “Sunhi, be careful!” He reminds her, but she’s too focused on the rides than on her dad’s warning.

Jungkook sighs and relaxes into the bench.

“She’s precious,” She comments with a small smile as her attention focuses on the little girl having the time of her life going down the slide, “I’m surprised she’s yours.”

Jungkook looks over at the woman beside him and scoffs, but he can’t help but agree. Sunhi is too good and too pure, the best thing he’s ever done in his life.

“Yeah, well, it’s all her.” Jungkook admits, eyes focusing back on Sunhi, “She’s really great.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence between them and Jungkook has to clear his throat to gain her attention.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t meet up at a café,” Jungkook apologizes and nods over at his daughter, “she’s been a little misbehaved lately, you said you wanted to talk to me and I figured that if I took Sunhi to a place like that she’d just—“

She interrupts his rambling, “Hey, it’s okay. I have no problem, really.” She assures him and he nods slightly, “I haven’t been in a place like this in a long time.”

Jungkook scratches the back of his neck and glances over at the woman who’s looking at him with an expression he can’t quite pinpoint. It makes him so nervous that he quickly shifts his gaze to the ground.

“This is so weird.” He admits with an awkward chuckle and she raises her eyebrow, “I mean—you hate me, Minji, so I don’t know what you want to talk about.”

“I don’t hate you!” Minji laughs and Jungkook finally looks at her and she falters, “Seriously! I only dislike you and that’s saying a lot.”

He supposes that’s a good thing, considering how aggressive Minji used to be towards him back in college. Always letting him know how much she despised his guts, how he didn’t deserve to have you as his friend and even once threw a drink at his face during a party; though you swore to him she was drunk and that she didn’t mean it.

Jungkook hadn’t seen her much since, only a few times if it was your birthday and they managed to cross paths, because the girl made sure she was never in the same room as him. The times it happened, he felt like she was throwing daggers at him through her eyes.

“It always bothered me how putty in your hands she was for you,” Minji begins, crossing her arms over her chest as she settles back into the bench, “and how oblivious you were about it.”

Jungkook looks back at her and there’s a small smile on her face, most likely looking over at his daughter.

“How when we got together for study sessions, she’d be tired because she was taking care of you the night before at one of those stupid frat parties you loved dragging her to.” Minji recalls and Jungkook feels like his mouth has gone dry from the memory.

She crosses one of her legs over the other, “Or that whole Jiwoo ordeal, how you had practically put Y/N aside once you managed to date the ‘campus hottie’.” She says with air quotes and Jungkook sighs, remembering the beginning of it all.

He knows that he can’t turn back time and change it all. Even if he could, he knows he wouldn’t. If there was no Jiwoo, there’d be no Sunhi.

An excited yell startles him as he looks over at his daughter, swinging up and down. “Look, daddy! I'm flying!” She calls and he smiles at her.

“Jesus, that’s fucking precious.” Minji mumbles, but he hears her nonetheless and nods in agreement. “Anyway, I’m not going to act like a saint here and pretend I was vouching for you, because I never did.”

Jungkook knows. Back then he didn’t understand why Minji was so adamant about trash talking him to you, considering how he and her barely knew each other. Actually, whatever knowledge they had of the other was through of you.

But Jungkook’s done a lot of self reflecting for the past month and a half and he’s realized why Minji disliked him so much. Or, dislikes. Either way, it’s valid.

“I just wanted her to snap out of it,” she confesses, “and realize that there is a life beyond you. That there’s more than being your best friend and your daughter’s babysitter. That she’s capable of moving on and putting you aside, because if you did that to her then why shouldn’t she?”

Jungkook hadn’t thought about any of that at all. He had realized he had been a shitty friend, but the idea of just how much definitely hadn’t settled on him. He wishes you knew how much he’s cared about you, but that there were too many overlapping lines for him to ever express it.

“I thought that after setting her up with Taehyung she had finally realized it,” she continues “but you know how she is, she rarely lets up and I knew she wasn’t going to let you go that easily.”

Jungkook draws in a long breath, rubbing his now clammy hands in his jeans as he looks back towards Minji.

“I mean, she couldn’t let her go that easily.” She jerks her head towards Sunhi, still sitting on the swings, though she’s slowed down now. “She loves that little girl so damn much.”

Jungkook’s sure of this. He recognizes the immense love you have for Sunhi, how sincere and unconditional it is. It’s the way a mother loves her child, though he never expected it to come from you instead. He’s not surprised though, because it’s the same love you gave to him. But it’s louder, there are no boundaries that you needed to respect to show Sunhi just how much you loved her, unlike with him.

It dawns on him that cutting him off must’ve been hard. You probably wanted to do it for way longer and only stayed because of Sunhi and Jungkook doesn’t want to think about the dilemma you must’ve went through to finally do it this time around.

He runs his hands through his hair, letting out a shaky breath, remembering that Sunhi doesn’t have you anymore. That’s the reason as to why she’s been so misbehaved lately, crying way too often, throwing tantrums over the smallest of things. Jungkook could blame it on the fact that she’s soon turning four and maybe it’s something that comes with age, it might just be a coincidence that she’s acting this way during a time you’re no longer present in her life.

This is the thing Sunhi might not be able to forgive him for.

“Minji,” he finally speaks up and the woman beside him focuses his gaze back on him, “I miss her so much.” He mumbles, not trusting himself to speak up because he might choke back a sob.

“Only now?”

“No!” He says this a little too harshly and Minji jumps slightly at the tone in his voice, “I’ve always missed her and I’m fucking idiot for realizing too late.”

She hums and Jungkook’s chest rises and falls with rapid breaths, “She’s my first thought when I wake up and when I finally manage to go to sleep. Sunhi constantly reminds me about her, asking me where she is and when can she see her and I have to force myself to lie.”

Jungkook doesn’t realize Minji’s hand is now awkwardly placed on his back, hesitantly tapping as if to give him some comfort. It’s weird to see him like this, she had convinced herself that the guy didn’t have any feelings when it came to you.

“She blocked my number, I can’t call her and all my texts have been left undelivered. I’ve driven by her apartment building too many times with the plan to go up and talk to her, but I always back out because I’m an idiot and I know she’ll hate me if I do that and I—“

“Jungkook.”

“I just want to know if she still cares, I don’t mind if she doesn’t feel the same way. But I want to know that Y/N still cares about Sunhi and me. Do you know? Does she? Could you please—“

Jungkook’s ramble is interrupted by the crying sounds of Sunhi, who’s now on the ground as she sobs and he quickly stands up to go straight towards her. He blinks away the tears that had formed in his eyes because there’s only room for one crying baby here.

“Pumpkin, what happened?” He asks in a soft voice, crouching down at her level and she’s pouting as she points at her bloody knee. “Did you fall down?” She nods and he sighs, picking her up as he takes her back to the bench where Minji waits with expectancy to check on the little girl.

Jungkook places Sunhi beside her and looks through his daughter’s bag for the emergency kit he carried around. He cleans the blood delicately with a gauze and alcohol, making the little girl wince and yelp out an ‘ouch!’ as she holds tightly to Minji’s thigh.

“It’s okay, Pumpkin.” He reassures her with a smile, making his daughter nod because she trusts her dad, “It was an accident and accidents are part of growing up, right?” She nods again and Minji figures this isn’t a first for her.

Once the blood has been cleaned, Jungkook places a cute rainbow patterned bandaid on the wound in her knee.

“There we go,” he announces and Sunhi lets out the breath she’d been holding, ‘‘all done! Are you good now?”

“Yes,” Sunhi weakly replies, “daddy, I wanna go home.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but the look on her face tells him that she’s probably still shaken by the accident and most likely wants to take a nap to forget about it.

He looks over at Minji with an apologetic look and she gives him half a smile, “Go, it’s alright.”

Jungkook nods and takes Sunhi in his arms, which she gladly accepts and settles her head in the crook of his neck. Minji’s ready to leave, figuring there was no point in staying any longer.

“Minji, wait!” He stops her before she goes, making her turn around and offer him a curious look, “Sunhi’s birthday is in a few weeks and,” Jungkook reaches for something inside his daughter’s bag, “she really wants Y/N to be there.” He whispers, taking out a party invitation to hand over to Minji.

She smirks, looking at the personalized invitation for his daughter’s fourth birthday, “Just Sunhi?” She asks and he lets out a breathless laugh.

“Me too.” Jungkook adds and a small smile appears on his face as he says it. “Uh—thank you for talking to me, I know it must’ve been hard.”

Minji swats her hand in the air, “It’s alright, just wanted to make sure how you and the kid were doing. It’s all she talks about anyway.”

A gasp escapes his lips and he holds on to his daughter tighter as she nuzzles her face farther in.

“I’ll give her the card, but—I can’t guarantee if she’ll go.” She warns and he nods, understanding.

Though he does not like the possible outcome, he settles down with the idea that you’ll notice how even though you both haven’t spoken towards each other in almost two months, he’s still thinking about you either way. Every day.

#jungkook angst #jungkook au #jungkook smut #jungkook scenario #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #bts fanfic #bts smut #f: chasing pavements

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1990jeevas · 3 years

Text

Braid Me a Home

summary:

"Braid my fucking hair, Theseus. Braid it.”

It had sounded like a plea falling from Techno’s chapped lips, blood caked under his nails as he sat in front of Tommy on a tree stump, slowly itching at his wrists.

“Wilbur told me to stop you if you ever started doing that-”

“Wilbur isn’t fucking here. Just...braid, Toms. Braid.”

A story about the Sleepy Bois being family, told through braids.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: child neglect, hurt/no comfort, canonical character death, implied/referenced mental health issues (like it’s obvious but there isn’t much detail to it), brief blood mentions (ik this fic sounds kinda angsty as hell but its not? imo its light angst)

a/n: first dream smp fic and im ALREADY projecting? christ. anyways. go easy on me pls this is far from my best work i just havent written a fic in like 5 months (more if you dont count the fucking chat fics) mm also i may have posted this like a week ago on ao3 just to test the waters and its already gotten way more comments and kudos than any fic of mine usually gets this early on so hopefully tumblr enjoys it too :]

—

When Wilbur Soot was born, he came out crying, as most babies do. Covered in vernix and blood, he weighed just barely above the seven-pound mark, gasping out sharp cries that only a parent could truly stand, or worse—love. Though he was the second baby born into the family that day, he was fussed over far more than he would ever be again.

Technoblade, on the other hand, had barely made a sound when he came out, a trail of blood smeared across his forehead, almost as if it was meant to be there. He made small noises that were more akin to confused mumbles, weakly grasping at his father’s hair when he was eventually passed on for the second child to be welcomed into the world.

Only when both boys were held in their father’s grasp did Wilbur quiet down, his soft head leaning into his father’s beard as he stared wide eyed at the boy across from him. Though they looked similar enough, Technoblade’s nose was squished further back into his face, appearing almost snout-like to Philza. Of course Wilbur noted this, wiggling until their father somehow managed to get them pressed right up against each other with minimal damage done. Though Techno never stopped squinting like an annoyed old man at Wilbur, he allowed the other to press a fist against his nose, his eyebrows unfurrowing just the slightest bit at the touch.

From that day on, Philza was the father of two twin boys—a loud boy who cried easily, but always calmed down for his older brother, and a rather monotone one, who’s face seemed to be permanently stuck in a scowl, unless said face was being smushed around by the younger. And things worked like that for a while. Not forever, but...a while.

—

Philza taught Wilbur to braid on a hot Monday afternoon.

It had been a rough day for the boy, though Phil hadn’t a clue why. Maybe he had just woken up on the wrong side of the bed? Or maybe he hadn’t slept enough between bedtime and the time Tommy had started crying again, the youngest boy’s crib being right beside his head and all. Though it might’ve seemed cruel from an outsider’s perspective, Wilbur had been the one to ask for it. Something about Tommy being his little brother and how he needed to teach the boy the ways of the world in the same way Techno had taught him—because apparently that was all Techno’s doing now, not Phil’s.

Regardless, Wilbur had been a bit too snippy for Phil’s liking that day, complaining about every little thing they did until finally, the day was over.

Well, as over as it could be with Techno leaving mid foam sword fight, an annoyed shout of ‘I quit!’ leaving his mouth before he snatched up Tommy’s carrier and brought him inside for god knows what reason.

It had only been around four P.M. by that time—too early for dinner, yet too late for Phil to really demand the boy stay outside and continue to entertain himself with a brother who was clearly not entertained himself.

Details aside, Phil isn’t really sure how they got to braiding. He just knows at some point they did and by the end of their outside time, just before the clock struck six, Wilbur had made two thick, messy braids in his hair. They stuck out awkwardly, looking all too similar to Pippi Longstocking’s iconic hairdo for his comfort, but he’d be damned if he took out the braids his son had so happily rushed inside to show his older brother before demanding to do his hair as well. After all, Wilbur didn’t have long enough hair for braids, but Technoblade sure as hell did. It was only at his shoulder blades back then, brunette curls wrapping around his narrow shoulders and thin arms like thick vines.

Wilbur had always enjoyed brushing it out with his fingers and putting cute, handmade clips or flowers in it at random, decorating the waves for his brother who was more than happy to let the boy do as he pleased. Though he would never admit it, Technoblade liked how it felt when Will played with his hair. He was always careful not to tug too hard, prioritizing the comfort of his other half more than the beauty of his work, as he so often referred to it.

So when Will had presented him with the mess that was his first two braids, he wasn’t hesitant at all to let the boy practice on him. Instead, he walked to the couch with a small smile, removing his glasses gently and getting comfortable before his brother plopped down into the space behind him. Long legs draped over long legs with no warning, thighs pressed together as if they were meant to be like that all along—and they might as well have been, for how often they did this.

Phil had watched them from the doorway in content silence, Tommy sitting behind him in a wooden high chair looking bored, but not making a fuss for once. And as he left that doorway to begin dinner, he listened to their muffled conversation and soft bursts of laughter with a small smile on his lips, for he knew things wouldn’t always be this way. They would have to grow up eventually, and when they did, things would change. Phil could only hope it was for the better.

—

When Tommy turns nine, Wilbur teaches him to braid under circumstances not too different from the ones he had learned under himself.

Well. Not too too different.

Philza and Technoblade had been...busy as of late. In the house for three days, out for a week, in for a week, out for three more, over and over and over again. Wilbur had become more like a father to Tommy in recent months than he should’ve been, his fourteenth birthday fast approaching as their father took Techno out for yet another job, one that Wilbur couldn’t come on because he was too fucking weak to do anything Techno could do, too fucking stupid to learn all the techniques Techno did, lacking all the strength and agility his older sibling possessed, like the useless prick he was-

Right. This is about Tommy.

When Tommy was nine, his hair rested gently against his collarbones in the exact same cut and color as their father wore. If Wilbur was a lesser man, he would’ve hated the kid for it, but it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t see what a selfish git their father truly was yet. All he knew was that their dad was busy a lot and that, for some reason, Techno needed to go with him. Apparently, that was enough for him to keep holding onto the idea that one day, the man would stay longer and maybe, just maybe, show him some of the same care that his older brother did.

If Wilbur was a better man, he would tell Tommy the truth. He would tell him all about the way Philza had called him useless in a fight, forcing him to instead stay home and care for a child while still being one himself. He would mention how Philza had given him no instructions on how to care for a developing child, how he left out key details to parenting on his own as a goddamn thirteen-year-old, yet remembered to tell him things would be better this way because god forbid he does his fucking job as a father for anyone but Technoblade—

Who he missed. He missed Technoblade, his other half, so fucking bad it hurt sometimes—so bad it left him gasping for breath at two A.M., his head pounding in tandem with his uneven heartbeat, lungs burning as his snot and tears soaked into his brother’s cold, cold sheets. And it made him feel fucking pathetic because the truth of the matter was that...Techno had left him behind too. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to hate the older boy, no matter how hard he tried. Couldn’t hate Philza either, if he were to be honest with himself, but it was a lot easier to pretend he did when his father was the one putting them all in this position to begin with.

So, Tommy was nine when he learned how to braid.

Phil had promised him and Techno would be back Tuesday morning.

It was Wednesday afternoon.

Tommy didn’t fucking understand, and as frustrating as it was that the prick decided to take it out on Wilbur, he couldn’t blame him. Who else was he supposed to take this shit out on? Certainly not the man who had yet to return.

Wilbur had started the braid as a way to distract him. It was simple, really—tell him you know something he doesn’t and that he won’t get to know if he doesn’t sit the fuck down and listen.

When he had started tugging the boy’s hair back from his face, his immediate reaction was to jerk away, swatting at the hands that hovered over his shoulders. This only happened once or twice more before he let it happen naturally, his posture stiff as Wilbur ran his fingers through the boy’s hair with practiced ease.

Though it may not have seemed like it, Tommy was significantly more averse to touch than Techno had ever been. The only reason Techno even seemed averse to it was because of his hesitance to initiate, something he and Wilbur had discussed in depth. Rejection was one of the few fears Technoblade truly had and Wilbur held that fact close to his heart, ready to die with it if need be. Tommy, on the other hand? He was very particular about where and when and why someone was touching him, and it had taken Wilbur a long time to get used to that fact. But, he wasn’t about to make his little brother uncomfortable just so he could be happy and, eventually, he learned the ins and outs of how to touch TommyInnit without causing issue.

Pulling a few of the shorter strands towards the front of Tommy’s face loose, Will separated the blonde’s hair into three sections. They were rather small, what with how thin and short his hair was, it just barely being long enough to even have a proper braid in it, but Wilbur knew he could make it work.

“Now, Toms, you gotta listen to me here, because I can’t show you this bit, yeah? Phil and Tech aren’t here, and my hair is too short, so you’ll just have to feel it out for now, but...this is how you braid hair-” Wilbur had said in a soft voice, brushing the pad of his thumb over the boys neck slowly to ease the tension out of his shoulders. The effect was immediate, the boy slouching forward as if he had just noticed he was holding himself so sternly. Smiling softly, Wilbur instructed him on how to weave the strands together, answering questions and pulling lightly at Tommy’s hair so he could feel exactly where everything went. After he was done, Tommy had reached back to feel the bumps in his hair, all his earlier anger seemingly gone as he gave a small smile. And then he tried it himself.

Of course he got a bit of help at first, Wilbur’s larger hands guiding his own with gentle corrections, but after that Tommy worked on it alone, his older brother watching in silence from a patch of grass beside the porch step.

That night, Tommy and Wilbur slept in Techno’s bed, a soft, blue blanket wrapped tightly around them. And if another body woke them up at some point that night, shoving its way into the mess of limbs, their chest pressed right up against the youngest boy’s back, then that was only for them to know.

—

At eleven years old, Tommy takes a pair of scissors to his hair. With flushed cheeks and salty lips, his hands shaking and his eyes foggy, he cuts, cuts, cuts, until he can no longer braid his hair—until he can no longer look like fucking Phil.

Even though Wilbur had once said he hated Tommy’s long hair—hated how similar he and their dad looked—he felt like crying as he ran his fingers through the uneven strands. He didn’t tell his brother this though, instead grabbing his face and planting a wet kiss on his freckled forehead. In a fierce whisper, Wilbur had said, “I’m so fucking proud of you, Tommy. So fucking proud.”

Tommy never forgets the way he felt that day. He doesn’t forget Wilbur’s words either.

—

When Wilbur loses his last life, Technoblade tells Tommy to braid his hair.

It wasn’t a question either, but a demand forced out between gritted teeth, his face red, his nose stuffy and his lashes wet with unshed tears. Still, his words were clear as day.

“Braid my fucking hair, Theseus. Braid it.”

It had sounded like a plea falling from Techno’s chapped lips, blood caked under his nails as he sat in front of Tommy on a tree stump, slowly itching at his wrists.

“Wilbur told me to stop you if you ever started doing that-”

“Wilbur isn’t fucking here. Just...braid, Toms. Braid.”

Tommy sniffled, but did as he was told.

Maybe it was because he was too tired to argue with the only person he even had left. Maybe it was because he could tell Technoblade was mad at their father for the first time in his life, and he knew how bad his first time had felt. Or, maybe, it was just because he knew Techno fucking cared. Nobody else seemed to, but he knew Techno did and...that was enough for him.

As long as someone else cared—as long as it was fucking Technoblade—that was enough for him.

Just as Tommy had finished the braid, curling his finger around the light pink tail that tied the whole thing off, Techno yanked it forward. Before he could even register that the hair had left his hand, the older boy had taken an axe to the top of it, letting the rest of his hair fall around his face in uneven curls. Though it was a good ten minutes of work wasted, Tommy couldn’t say a damn thing as he watched Techno pocket the braid, muttering a thank you and heading in the direction of Wilbur’s unofficial grave.

In that moment, he felt relief for the first time in a long while.

—

Wilbur Soot was born covered in vernix and blood, weighing just barely above the seven-pound mark, and he came into the world much like he left it. Everyone had heard his cries—even if they weren’t there, even if they didn’t know him well—they had saw the way he spiraled, desperate and afraid and paranoid, searching for help, but never receiving enough.

And though he was the second child born, he left the world first, returning in a yellow sweater with a small braid tucked behind his ear. He didn’t really know why he had one, but he remembered braiding Techno’s hair and he remembered teaching Tommy how to do his own and he remembered, he remembered, he remembered the braids.

#dream smp #/dsmp #dsmp #sleepy bois inc #sbi #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #technoblade #philza #ph1lza #fic #fics #fanfic #fanfiction #the dream smp #shit self #dami writez #/rp #dsmp fic

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jayeray-hq · 3 years

Text

How He Shows You Affection: Miya Osamu

Hey guys, this one also really hurts to re-post, but I’m really hopeful that since the Kuroo one did so well, this one will too. It was my first request and from the amazing rice-hime too, which is probably the only reason it did so well, so big shout out to her for being amazing! Notes: 84

If you want to know why I’m re-posting check here

Post Time Skip/Manga Ending Spoilers!

Warnings: None all fluff!

How He Shows You Affection Masterlist - Character Masterlist

He Makes Time for You

You waited patiently at your table, quietly sipping your drink as you waited for the store to close. It was date night, so you’d dressed up in one of your cutest outfits and while you could’ve waited patiently at home for Osamu to come get you you’d decided to surprise him at work instead. The way his whole face had lit up when he spotted you and the appreciative look in his eyes as he spotted what you were wearing made it more than worth it.

You didn’t get to talk to him for long, the restaurant was too busy for that, only managing to exchange quick greetings, and affectionate brush of the hands before he was forced to move on to the next customer but it was more than enough to tide you over. After all in just a short while you’d be able to have him all to yourself, so it was more than enough.

More than one patron had wondered why Onigiri Miya closed early on Tuesdays. It was a strange day for such a thing after all. Most people thought it was a restocking thing, or a cleaning day, only those closest to you knew it was because your boyfriend had decided early on when he’d started his business that no matter how busy he got he was always going to set aside one evening a week that he could devote wholly to you. Thus the shop closed at four o’clock on Tuesdays and anyone who wanted to have their Onigiri had to come early or miss out.

He’d had more than a few complaints about it too, but he’d never cared about that at all, waving them off and telling anyone who complained that it was their own fault if they missed out. After all the store was open regular hours all the other days of the week, and even stayed open late on Fridays and Saturdays, so there was no point in whining about one day.

Once you’d tried to suggest that it might be okay if he didn’t, that you would be okay with him putting his restaurant first, as you knew it was his dream job, but he’d been very quick to shut that down. He’d insisted that yes, the restaurant was his dream, but you were part of his dream too, and part of his future and having time with you, just for you was important to him. You hadn’t been able to argue with him after that, and just gratefully accepted what he’d offered your heart full to the bursting for the incredibly man who had somehow fallen in love with you.

A few years in and most of the patrons were used to the Tuesday closures, and knew to come early, but there was still the occasional late comer, who refused to be budged, and it seemed tonight was one of those nights. He’d come in at four on the dot, pushing his way through the door and nearly knocking over the poor employee who’d been trying to shut and lock it, the open sign already flipped to closed, and hadn’t even apologized. Instead he’d marched right up to the counter and rattled off his order right into your boyfriend’s extremely unimpressed face.

“We’re closed,” Osamu informed the clearly self-important business man in a bored drawl. “The door says you close at four!” the man blustered clearly angry.

“And by my count it’s now exactly,” he paused for a minute to check the watch you’d given him for your last anniversary that he wore faithfully every day, “4:01 sir, which means we’re closed.”

“Well that’s a ridiculous hour to close anyway,” he informed your boyfriend flushed but not backing down, “Not even dinner time! Besides I came all the way here, the least you can do is give me my meal. I’m a paying customer.”

“We’re closed,” Osamu repeated slowly for the man as if he were a petulant toddler than needed things explained very slowly and in small words, his tone making you hide a smile behind your drink, “That means everythin’ is turned off, and we’re all packin’ up to leave. I couldn’t make yer order even if I wanted to.” “Well then what is she doing here huh?” the man demanded pointing an accusing finger in your direction, startling you enough you nearly spilled your drink, “I demand to be served too!”

“She ain’t a customer,” your boyfriend informed the man, a clearly warning edge to his voice, “That’s my girlfriend, and she’s waitin’ there fer me ta be finished so if ya could please vacate the premises so we can get goin’ I’d appreciate it.” “How unprofessional,” the man scoffed derisively, “Having your girlfriend here. I demand to speak to your manager.”

“Yer lookin’ at the manager,” Osamu countered with a bored sigh, “And he’s tellin’ you to please leave so we can close.”

The man blustered a bit more, but in the end he did concede, stomping out of the door and shouting how he was going to be in contact with the owner, and would be leaving a very poor review, which made you frown turning to look at your boyfriend in concern, though as per usual with him he looked completely unruffled by the whole thing.

“’Spose it’s a bit too late to tell him I’m the owner too huh?” he asked when he saw you looking at him, his mouth curling into a smile.

“Is it really okay?” you asked hesitantly, “I could’ve waited a little longer for you to make his food. I wouldn’t have minded.”

“Well I woulda minded,” he countered casually pulling his hat off and ruffling a hand through his dark hair, making it fall across his forehead rather appealingly, “Sides, even if I wanted too, everythin’s pretty much put away anyway. I wouldn’t have had the ingredients.”

“But what if he does leave a bad review?” you asked with a frown, concerned for his business.

“It’s just one review sweets,” he assured you, “An if he does I’ll be sure to respond to it, if it’ll make ya feel better and explain the situation, though I don’t think it’ll matter much.”

“Alright,” you agreed, feeling a bit better at his reassurance, “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” he told you firmly, “Besides I wouldn’t have wanted to keep my favorite girl waitin’ any longer than she has ta be, just let me wipe everythin’ down, do one final check and get changed and we can get goin’ on our date.”

“Let me help,” you told him, quickly finishing your drink and tossing the disposable cup away moving toward the counter to grab one of the rags he kept there to help wipe down the tables.

“Ya don’t have ta sweets, me n the rest can handle it,” he told you grabbing hold of the other end of the rag to hold you in place.

“I know,” you told him with a smile, giving a quick glance around the shop to ensure no one could see before leaning over the counter to give him a light peck on the lips and explaining, “But we’ll finish faster if I help, and the sooner we finish the sooner I get you all to myself.”

“Alright,” he agreed a playful smile on his lips, and a soft look on his face that he only ever shared with you, “Have it your way then.”

“I will,” you told him with a grin, before bouncing off to do as you’d said you would a cheerful spring in your step as you contemplated how very lucky you were to have your man who loved you enough to set aside the time for you even if it meant dealing with angry customers just to spend a little extra time with you.

He Tugs at Your Ear

You stared out the window contemplatively watching the rain hit the glass. It was kind of a dreary day today and while you could sometimes enjoy the rain today it was making you feel a bit out of it. Frankly you had a lot to get done, but you couldn’t seem to drum up the motivation to do it.

You were so spaced out you didn’t even notice your boyfriend sliding a plate of food in front of you, and gently nudging your laptop away too distracted by watching the path the raindrops carved down the shop window. You probably would’ve continued with your daze, not even noticing the delicious smelling food just waiting to be consumed if not for the gentle tug at your ear.

The touch was a familiar one but even so you jerked slightly in surprise, your eyes turning to your boyfriend who had the lobe of your ear caught gently between his thumb and forefinger. It was a gesture he used a lot when he wanted to get your attention, a leftover remnant from his childhood with his twin, where Osamu would be forced to grab hold of him somehow to get him to shut up and pay attention.

Though you had to admit he was a lot sweeter with you than he was with Atsumu, probably because unlike his brother he had no particular desire to cause you pain when he was trying to catch your attention. He never twisted or yanked, just gently tugged on you, a disparity the blonde twin had noticed and liked to complain about loudly to anyone who would listen.

It was a rather sweet gesture honestly and an intimate touch you’d gotten used to after dating him for so long, even if it did still make you jump a bit from time to time, when he startled you, like he had just then.

“Looks like yer thinkin’ some pretty hefty thoughts there sweets,” he pointed out, his voice gentle with concern as he released your ear to gently cup your jaw running his thumb affectionately over your cheekbone, “Somethin’ botherin’ ya?”

“Nothing in particular,” you admitted with a wry smile, “Just feeling a little down I guess.”

“Well maybe this will cheer ya up,” he urged, nudging the plate of onigiri toward you, “Or at the very least fill yer belly.”

You couldn’t help the slight smile that crept over your face as you looked at the food he’d brought you. He’d shaped them into cute little pandas, no doubt especially for you and you didn’t doubt they were full of your favorite flavored fillings too.

Honestly you were pretty sure Osamu thought food was the answer for everything, and in some cases he was right, but this time just the gentle tug of his fingers on your ear had already lifted your mood a bit. The gesture more than enough to remind you just how much he cared about you.

He Cooks for You

The sound of your alarm woke you from a deep sleep, and you groaned quietly to yourself. It was morning again, and you really didn’t want to get up, but you had to work, so you slowly forced yourself to sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and heaving a tired sigh.

You couldn’t help the sad glance you cast at the other side of the bed, which was already empty, the sheets cold, the owner gone a long time ago, no doubt already hard at work at his store. These days you didn’t get to wake up with Osamu in your arms or him in yours very often the way you had when you were in college. Not when he had a store to run, food prep to do, and employees to supervise.

You understood even if it did suck somedays to not find him beside you when you woke. Especially the mornings when you woke up and would’ve given almost anything to hold and be held by him just for a little while. Still needs must, and you were sure if you asked he’d be more than happy to cuddle you all evening if you asked it of him. He was incredibly accommodating that way.

With a tired sigh you pulled yourself from the bed and got ready for the day, doing your morning ablutions, picking out the clothes you’d need to wear, and trudging to the kitchen. You yawned as you glanced blearily around the room only to have the whiteboard on the fridge catch your eye.

You and Osamu had agreed to get the thing so the two of you could let one another know if you ran out of things and start a grocery list, since your boyfriend got a little cranky sometimes when he didn’t have the ingredients he needed. However you also used it to pass notes to one another, and it seemed he’d left one for you.

His handwriting was fairly neat though judging from the way it was a little sloppier than usual he’d either been in a hurry or too tired to really concentrate on what he was doing when he wrote it. However, you couldn’t help the fond smile that touched your lips when you read it.

Mornin’ Sweets,

Made yer favorite fer ya. It’s in the oven. Don’t forget to turn it off when ya take it out. Have a good day. Love ya.

-Samu

Curious you turned to the oven, which was indeed on, though set at a very low temperature, just enough to keep the food inside warm without cooking it further. You followed his instruction and turned the oven off before pulling the foil covered plate out, peeling the wrap back to see what he’d left you.

You weren’t able to stop the tender grin that spread across your face as you saw what he’d left you. He had actually made you your favorite breakfast, along with a couple side dishes he no doubt thought you’d like, including little sausages cut like octopi. It must’ve taken him forever, and no doubt forced him to wake up even earlier than he needed to be.

Your lip trembled slightly your heart feeling so full it almost hurt, touched at the clear care and thought your boyfriend had put into this for you. You honestly couldn’t help tearing up slightly even as you smiled so wide your cheeks hurt. Eventually you managed to get your emotions under control and eat your breakfast feeling like you could almost taste how very much he loved you with each bite.

Before you left for work you made sure to leave him a voicemail, knowing he wouldn’t see it until later, but wanting to express your appreciation all the same in the best way you could for the moment.

It seemed he liked being able to hear your voice and your enjoyed your messages because it was the start of a new tradition. One where he cooked you breakfast every morning and you messaged him in some way in return to express your love and appreciation for your wonderful boyfriend.

#JayeRayWrites #how he shows you affection #miya osamu #osamu miya #osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu x y/n #miya osamu x you #osamu miya x reader #miya osamu fluff #miya osamu fic #miya osamu scenarios #Osamu fluff #haikyuu!!#haikyu imagines #haikyū!!#haikyu fluff #JayeRayReplies

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unmaskedagain · 4 years

Text

Marinette’s Week Off

This is a one-shot. Sorry, I kind of forgot Adrien.

One week. Just one week. Marinette took one week off a year. One week where she didn’t work herself to death as Marinette. Or nearly get herself killed as Ladybug. One week where she didn’t do any favors, any designs, didn’t work in the bakery, didn’t save anyone. A week to relax. A week to meditate. A week to destress and just take care of herself. Just one week every year. To prepare for it she sent reminders to all her friends and family. She posted a flyer on the class bulletin board. Marinette finished all her commission and school work in advance.

She made Fu aware that Ladybug wouldn’t be active, told Chat Noir that Queen Bee would be his partner while she was gone. Marinette always made sure everyone was prepared for her absence. And made it clear that she would be unavailable. No matter what. She didn’t care if the world was ending.

However, this year was different than the ones that came before. For starters, Marinette now only had two or three good friends in class, and one or two mediocre ones. She only warned those three people. While she still posted her usual flyer, she had done it knowing it would be disregarded.

Marinette was no longer class president either; she no longer had to plan class trips, parties, or dances. Or anything of the sort. When she was class president, Marinette always made sure to plan her week off around the class’s busiest time of the year. That year, she didn’t have to so she didn’t. In fact, she planned her week off during the biggest dance of year, the class musical, the class’s big fundraiser. It was usually her most stressful week of the year.

Not this time.

On the Friday before her week off, Marinette reminded Bustier of her absence for the next week, and then walked out of class with a relieved smile on her face. She was almost there. Just two more days. She used her weekend to finish up any last minutes details of her vacations; confirm her reservation; spend most of the time with her parents.

And on the stroke of midnight that turned Sunday to Monday, Marinette got her bags, kissed her parents goodbye and was gone in her Uber. She knew how this week worked. By six am, the ‘emergency’ calls would start; everyone screaming fire. However, she wouldn’t be there to put them out, metaphorical fires or real ones.

Not today, Satan, Marinette thought.

Marinette got to the airport, slept on the plane ride, arrived at her luxury beach resort, a little after sunrise. She had saved up her money and did extra commissions all year to pay for it. It was beautiful. However, there was just one problem…

“Marinette, love!” Jagged called, somehow looking more awake in the wee hours of the morning than he did at 3 in the afternoon. Penny, however, looked half-asleep. Even Fangs slept on the luggage being moved by a rather fearful looking bellhop.

Marinette’s parents couldn’t get time off the bakery; it was their busiest time too. Her grandma was in Peru. Mariette needed an adult with her at the resort. Jagged happened to overhear her mother asking if she found a chaperone yet. It wasn’t like Marinette had any other options.

“I have so many Rockin’ plans!” Jagged said. “Scuba diving! Sky diving. Swimming with sharks. Parasailing! Bungee jumping!”

Marinette narrowed her eyes at her favorite rockstar and honorary Uncle, “Sleep.” She said.

Jagged waved her off, “We’ll sleep when we’re dead.”

“Sleep,” Marinette hissed darkly.

As amazing as that all sounded it could wait. Marinette was there to relax, not fight a shark. “Not today, Satan,” She whispered when she checked into her room. Leaving Penny to drag away a protesting Jagger to get some sleep as well. She called her parents to let her she had gotten there safely, called to re-confirm her spa reservation for that afternoon and then check her texts.

She had gotten quite a few as expected. Chloe wishing her a good vacation and promising to keep an eye on Chat. Luka sent her funny vacation memes. Nathaniel sent pics or didn’t happen texts; he found the possibility of Marinette all people actually taking a vacation hilarious and improbable. She’d show him though.

Then there were a few texts from her ex-friends. And it seemed like the fires had started…

When class started on Monday, most didn’t realize that Marinette wasn’t there until Bustier reminded Chloe to remind Chloe about the test next week. They all shrugged it off. Glad not to have to deal with the drama Marinette brought to class.

When Alya, the new class president, brought up the dance that Friday, things got a little tense.

“We need volunteers,” The glasses-wearing girl said. “People to decorate and to clean up and all that. We also need to get decorations.”

She received confused looks.

“Isn’t that your job?” Alix asked. “The class president does all that.”

Alya crossed her arms, “No it’s not my job. I organize and plan but I can’t do everything by myself.”

“Marinette did,” Kim shrugged. “It can’t be that hard.”

“Do you wanna do it?” Alya asked him but he quickly shook his head. “Thought so. We don’t have a big budget. So can anyone chip in for decorations and food?”

Mylene frowned, “Marinette made all the decorations and food.” They never had to chip in before. “Maybe she’d do it again.”

There were nods. They may not be friends with the girl anymore but she was still very helpful.

“OH! I need a dress,” Rose brightened up the room with her smile. “Marinette made mine last year. It was so beautiful. I’ll ask her to make another.”

A few of the girls said the same.

“Not gonna happen,” Chloe smirked. “You guys are on your own.”

Alya shot her a glare. “And we’ll be just fine.” She wasn’t happy about asking her ex-bestie for anything, anyway.

They were not fine.

Monday they had all talked a big game about not needing Marinette but by Tuesday, they realized that was a lie.

Because everything was falling apart.

Mylene’s musical was Friday, the day before the dance. More than half the class were either in it or helping with it. That meant Alya had barely any volunteers for the Dance committee. And had been reminded by Bustier about the annual fundraiser they did every year to pay for the class trip. Alya had been class president since the beginning of the year, and had been responsible for planning it. She had forgot all about it.

Alya was confident she managed though. They’d pull in enough money to pay for the entire trip and she’d get to rub it in Marinette’s face that no one needed. Alya hoped Lila was back in time from her trip with Prince Ali to see it.

In addition, neither she nor Bustier seem to remember that the fundraiser was always biggest because it was the last one of the year. Marinette usually had done several different ones by then.

Mylene was struggling. None of the sets were done. The costumes were terrible. The entire play seemed to be falling apart. They had forgot to only put up flyers promoting the play but they never even made them. She didn’t understand, normally everything would be going as smooth as silk by then. Silk…

“Marinette,” She gasped. Yes, she remembered, Marinette always helped out with the school plays. The Bluenette would fix the costumes. She’d even help out with the flyers and the set. Mylene pulled out her phone and quickly called her ex-friend. It went to voice mail. She frantically sent a dozen texts, all screaming emergency. But she never got a reply.

Marinette laid on the beach, drinking virgin Pina Colada, while talking with a boy she met while surfing and subtly eyeing him. He was a seventeen-year-old, tanned, dark haired Adonis, literally named Adonis. He was ripped in a way Marinette had only every previously seen on guys in magazines or on TV. Marinette was fifteen, (Sixteen in just a few months) had grown remarkably into her looks, and smirked a bit every time she caught Adonis eyeing her back.

“I got to go,” Adonis said. “Work.” He leaned a bit closer to Marinette. “If you wanna drop by, I wouldn’t mind. Maybe we can go for a swim together.”

Marinette flushed with excitement and blushed a lovely pink by the offer, “That sounds amazing! What do you do?”

He grinned a sparkling white smile that lit up his gray eyes, and caused Marinette to let out a dreamy sigh. “I work with my dad. We do underwater scuba tours and explore sea wildlife and dormant underwater volcanos. We just got be careful to avoid sharks.”

Marinette’s fell open, and she just stared at the older boy for a moment, “I’m a little busy today. But can we meet up later,” She squeaked.

They said they goodbyes. And once Adonis was out sight, Marinette’s eyes narrowed, “Not today, Satan.”

An image of the first time saw Adonis suddenly floated to the front of her mind. Adonis coming out of the water, with his surfer board and red swim trucks, running towards dry land.

Marinette took a deep breath to stead herself; fight the urge to go running after Adonis. Because there was no way in hell she was going to deal with a “Dormant” volcano. And she didn’t mess with sharks. Neither did Jagged anymore and he had to learn his lessons the hard way. He was lucky to come back with all his limbs.

By Wednesday, everyone was panicking. Alya refused to give in and attempted to rally her troops; with a divide and conquer plan. Lila had even come back early and graciously offered to take time away from her busy schedule to help. Alya decided they’d work on the play first. Then prepare for the dance, it shouldn’t take that long to decorate anyway, Alya had guess. Then finally they work on the fundraiser. Everything would go perfectly.

…Everything went wrong.

They worked the entire morning on the Mylene’s musical. They tried to work on the costumes. But they had no one who could fix the costumes. Any tailor they went to cost an arm and a leg. Lila’s personal tailor was away helping the Duchess of Manchester with her wedding dress. Max could print flyer but only generic ones. Not the creative ones Marinette had always made. And it wasn’t like they could ask Nathaniel for help without him spitting acid at them. The sets had to be rushed; and ended up poorly painted. Not even close to as good as the ones Marinette had help do the year before and even worse than the ones other classes had done. To make matters worse, the light fixtures they had installed started a small fire.

Mylene had a full blown panic attacked that caused one of the strongest Akuma Queen Bee and Chat Noir had ever faced.

The musical had taken up most of the day. So Alya and the class spent the rest of it and most of the night trying to prepare for the dance. The problem was their budget was small. Apparently it had always been that small which had shocked Alya and the others as they remembered the amazing dances Marinette had always thrown. The only decorations came from the local party story and were as cheap as possible. But they hadn’t gotten nearly enough when they got to gym and fully realize the size of it. But most of their budget was already shot on what they did get.

While for the last few years, Marinette’s had supplied most of the food for the dances from the bakery. It was clear to Alya that, it wouldn’t be happening. Most of the class had been banned from the shop. Alya ended up having to buy dollar store chips and drinks; and ended up with a cliché fruit punch bowl.

Everyone got in trouble with their parents for being out so late. Even if they had been at school. All the kids were exhausted and overly stressed. When Alya got home that night, she got a text from Nino that caused her to burst into tears. His DJ gear had fried. They had no music for the dance.

Not to mention Alya hadn’t even thought about the fundraiser. What was she going to do? What could she do?

Alya cried herself to sleep. Knowing that in the morning she’d have to swallow her pride and call in the big guns. She needed Marinette. They all did.

Marinette was having the time of her life. She laughed as let Heinrich and Mila twirl her around the dance floor. She was at a local teen club, out late, and truly partying for the first time in her life. He was a sixteen-year-old, six foot tall, blond, gorgeous fut-baller, with cheekbones that could cut glass. He had come to the city with his team for a charity match all the way from Germany. Mila was a beautiful redhead from Ireland, with startling blue eyes and a face dusted with freckles. She was a futballer too and was the most competitive person Marinette had ever met.

Marinette had met the futball players, the girls’ team and the boys’ team at the beach. When the girls realized they only had five plays to the boys’ six and needed another girl. They saw Marinette alone and invited her to play. They all had a blast. Afterwards, they invited her to the club that night.

Marinette had danced with everyone. However, somehow she had found herself smashed between Heinrich and Mila, more often than anyone else.

The three laughed their way off the dance floor when Tonya, a local girl with green hair, and a futballer herself, had waved them over.

“We’re going to Fairy Ridge,” Tonya shouted over the music.

Marinette’s interest was piqued. “Fairy Ridge?”

Tonya answered happily, “It’s beautiful at night. An underground cave, near the ocean. It has this opening at the top and you can see all stars. It has a bunch of colorful crystals that glow in the moonlight, and fill up the cave.”

“Sweet,” Mila said, her arm still around Marinette. “Sounds like a party, mate.”

Everyone agreed quickly. But Marinette wasn’t too sure. It was really late to the point where Jagged would be proud when she got back. Penny had made Marinette promise to avoid doing anything that would make Jagged proud; apart from the Bluenette’s usual awesomeness of course.

“You are coming, yes, Marinette?” Heinrich gave her his most charming smile that made Marinette go weak in the knees.

“Marinette, the ridge is so cool,” Tonya exclaimed, a bright smile on her face. “It’s supposed to be magic. They say fairies used to really live there. It’s cursed. They say all who enter are given a test of worth. Those who pass are stolen away to live under fae rule forever more as a fairy.”

Marinette just looked at her. She thought of Tikki, the small magical god of creation, who was enjoying her vacation in the luxury sweet as well. When Marinette left her, she had been in a bowl of cookies finally getting caught up on Game of Thrones. A god who’s power turned Marinette into a magical superhero. Magical was real. And if A kwami was real, fairies could be too.

The bluenette pursed her lips, and feigned a look of disappoint, “Sorry, guys. It’s so late. I’m already super passed my curfew. You guys go. We’ll hang tomorrow, okay?”

The other teens expressed their disappointment, though Mila and Heinrich tried to convince her a bit more as they left the club. Jagger’s personal driver already waited for her.

Once they had parted ways, Marinette got into the car and drove off. She waved brightly to the backs of the beautiful teens, “Not today, Satan.”

Thursday, the entire class was freaking out. They had all gotten there early, desperate to try to fix the mess they were in. Even Alya could admit she needed some serious help. They all waited for Marinette to show up. Surely, it had to be back by now, right? They needed her!

When the school bell rang starting class, and once again, Marinette didn’t appear. Alya nearly screamed. “Where is she?” She asked. “Marinette can’t miss this much school!”

“She’s not replying to my texts,” Mylene said, her eyes frantic with worry. Her boyfriend Ivan tried to calm her down.

“She never got back to me either,” Rose frowned. “Normally I’d get a bunch of questions asking about the style of wanted for my dress by now.”

Alya stomped her foot. “Marinette hasn’t answered a single of calls. What part of S.O.S doesn’t she understand? The dance is falling apart. I have no idea what to do about the fundraiser on Sunday. We need her. I swear if that girl lost her phone again…”

“You’ll do what?” Surprising it was Nathanial who asked this. There was silence at his questions. “That’s what I thought. You’ll do nothing. One, because you have no right to text the girl you disowned as a friend and ridiculed for the last year for help. Two, you couldn’t take Marinette in a fight with everyone in this class helping you. And three, you’re the one who turned down her offers to help all year; citing that you didn’t need her. You don’t get to beg for help at the last minute, and be surprised that she can’t do it.” The speech had turned into an angry rant by the end as the once quiet redhead glared at them with poorly concealed disgust.

Chloe knew bringing Nathanial into their fold had been a smart idea. She sent a vicious smile to the class, “Marinette’s on vacation. She won’t be back until Monday.” Chloe relaxed in her seat. “For her ex-friends; it’s her one week. You should know what that means”

There were gasps. Alya’s face drained of color. They all knew what that meant. Marinette was gone in the wind, and she wouldn’t come back or answer her phone even if fire rained from the sky as furbys finally revealed the truth of their evilness and declared themselves the new rules of earth.

They were on their own.

Lila watched with a frown as her classmates fell apart. She didn’t think this would happened when she got Alya to replace Marinette as class president. Who knew the idiots could survive without the girl?

“No dresses,” Rose realized. All the girls in class looked ready to cry. Marinette always made their dresses, always. What were they going to do? They never saved up any money for a dress because they never had to before.

Mylene started crying, “The play is ruined.” She sobbed. “I worked so hard on it.”

“What about the fundraiser?” Alix asked. “So much for going to New York or anywhere! Our class trip is ruined!”

Bustier looked at a loss of what to do as her student began to panic. “Now everyone calm down. Breath.” She said calmly. “It. Will. Be. Fine.”

Alya paced around the class, her hair wild, her eyes bloodshot from the lack of sleep. “Ok, we can do this! I can do this!” She hissed. “I don’t need Marinette. I’ve never needed Marinette!” She looked around at the class. “None of us do. Anything she can do, we can do better, right?” Some looked unsure but Alya manage to rally everyone. “We can get our own dresses!” She yelled. “We can decorate our own dance. We fix the school play. And we will do the fund raiser. Without her, who need that bully anyway?”

Nathaniel and Chloe shared a look and rolled their eyes. This would be good.

The next few days would go down in Bustier’s class history as the worst three days of the students’ lives. And the most embarrassing.

Barely anyone showed up for Mylene’s musical. None of the costumes were finished. The sets were a disaster. The actors were so frazzled, they couldn’t remember their lines. Three people walked out. One of them was Kim’s grandmother. Kim who had been one of the lead actors.

On the day of Mylene’s play, Marinette woke up from her second nap of day to Penny banging on her door. When the bluenette opened it, the woman screamed, “Get ready!”

“What?” Marinette yawned, still half-asleep.

“Get. Ready. Now,” Excitement shown in the older woman eyes. She bounced around the room, opened Marinette’s closet and started throwing out clothes. “Hurry!”

“Why?” It was her vacation. Marinette didn’t want to rush. Or move.

“Zac Efron,” Penny squealed. That got Marinette’s attention and it was all Marinette need to shoot to attention and start scrambling to get ready. “Tom Holland, and Zendaya are filming a movie on an island close by. Jagged got us passed to go set.”

As Marinette got dressed she asked, “What’s the movie about?”

Penny gave a dreamy sigh, “Pirates and adventures. It’s a musical. Zendaya plays a kickass pirate who takes control of her father’s ship after he dies to rescue her genius half-brother, played by Tom Holland, who managed to figure out the location of the greatest treasure in all of history, from the evil Pirate King, played by Zac Efron.”

“Now that’s a musical I’d watch,” Marinette finished her make up in the mirror.

“And get this!” Penny paused for dramatic effect. “Harry Styles is the love interest. He supposed to be on set sometime this week.”

Marinette screamed.

They took a helicopter to the island. It was the best day of her life. She got to meet the goddess that was Zendaya, Her real life prince charming Tom Holland, and the man of her dreams Zac Efron. They were nice. They were sweet. They took so many pictures and videos with her.

When Jagged mentioned Marinette designed most of his wardrobe. Marinette even got to show off her sketch book she had brought when the cast was too busy and it got boring. Zendaya commissioned a dress. She nearly right there.

Then the director got a call, “Okay Harry’s arrived. He’s waiting at the cave. Time to shoot the act 5, scene 1.”

They all moved to leave.

“Cave?” Marinette found herself asking.

Penny nodded, “Its historically accurate. The real life Captain Wolfblood, the guy who’s treasure everyone wants, supposedly buried his there. Pirates fought and died there all the time trying to find it. Supposed to be cursed. So whoever died was bound there for eternity; their ghosts protect the treasure. Killing all who enter their domain.”

Marinette found herself stopping in her tracks, “Pirate Ghosts.” She stated. “Cursed treasure.”

“Harry Styles…” Penny sang, causing Jagged to give her a sour look.

Harry Styles… For the first time that vacation Marinette was tempted to go. Tempted to risk pirates’ curses and murderous ghosts just to see the man who had caused ten-year-old Marinette to write Mrs. Harry Styles in her diary for a month.

“I actually have to facetime my parents,” Marinette frowned. “Reception terrible out here.”

After promising to meet them for dinner, Marinette booked it off the island. As it faded from sight, and all her wishes of being the future Mrs. Harry Styles burned, she whispered, “You stepped of your game. I’m impressed.” She glared at the window. “But Not today, Satan.”

The dance was a catastrophe. Everyone in class could admit to that. All the girls wore their dresses from the year before. For the first time, there was no live performance. Just Nino’s play music from his phone. Until it died midsong. They forgot to get helium for the balloons, so they had to blow them up themselves. The chips were stale. The punch tasted like rotten bananas. No one alerted the proper staff regarding the dance so no one warned the janitor not to wax the gym floor the night before. Five kids hurt themselves. Alya forgot to get chaperones. And found Damocles and Mendeleiev shut down the entire dance before it even got passed its first hour.

The night of the dance would go down as the best night of Marinette’s life. The director from the day before had liked Marinette so much that gave her the role of Lunaris, mermaid princess, originally played by an actress who had backed out of the role at the last second. Like literally right before they were supposed to shoot her scenes. It was a small role; Marinette didn’t have many lines and only two songs to herself (and fillers song lines throughout the movie). Plus she died. (The entire part took five days to film, and Marinette ended up staying on her vacation an additional two days. Her parents instantly approved; wanting their daughter away from the drama of her ex-friends. However, Marinette would be called in for additional reshoots and scenes, a month later. Then more after that as they would expand her role) She spent the entire time in a mermaid costume. Up until the last act of the movie.

However, her character was in love with Harry Styles’ character, a mermaid prince who became human for chance to win the love of Zendaya’s character. Her character more or less had been the prince’s childhood best friend who never admitted to being in love with him until it was too late. She had spent the entire movie supporting him to win the main character’s heart. Her first song was sang as she helped him escape the underwater kingdom to go to his true love while she hid her own; choosing to put him before herself. The next day it was revealed that they were supposed to have been betrothed and united their kingdoms. Her second song happened after she chose to fight on land to save her friend and taking a killing blow for him; she died singing to the prince about not waiting to tell someone you love until its’ too late; especially if the love’s worth dying for. Or walking on land for.

After shooting her scenes for the day; she was invited by the cast to go meet Chris Heimsworth who was vacationing at a nearby island resort. They were going to go budging jumping of the highest mountain on the Island, near shark infested waters. Again Marinette only had one thing to say to that, “Not today, Satan.” She was not going to fight a shark. Not that week. No matter how much she loved Thor. (She’d later find out Tom Hiddleston was there and cry.)

The fundraiser had cost more than it raised. That was all anyone was willing to say on the subject. Particularly Alya who was missing her eyebrows.

The day of the fundraiser, the Day Marinette was supposed to return home, was bliss. At the end of it, Marinette found herself watching the sunset with Jagged and Penny.

“We should visit mermaid isle,” Penny suggested. “I heard it’s magical. There’s a spot that grants wishes… At a price.”

Marinette didn’t bother to ask for anymore. She just smiled, “Not today, Satan.”

The next morning, the Monday Marinette should have already been back home, instead she was getting ready to shoot some more scene for the movie. Then she got a call.

“Hey Marinette!” Kimi, the director, said. “We were hoping you could come in early today. We have to shoot your death scene.”

“Oh! Sweet! Where?”

“Shark cove. It will be perfect,” Kimi said cheerfully. “This time before your last breath, Harry’s going to kiss you goodbye. So eat a mint.”

Marinette mind froze. Kiss… Harry? “Shark cove?”

“Yeah, we’ll have to be careful not to attract any, you know?” Kimi sighed. “It’ll be a bit dangerous. You okay with that?”

The bluenette wanted to scream no way. But it was a new week. “I’m there,” She said firmly. For a kiss from Harry Styles, she’d do anything.

Vacation time was over. Marinette was going to fight a shark.

When Marinette returned to school on Wednesday, it was to the frustrated faces of her classmates. None of them talked to her. Just glared coldly. Though Alya did give her a sarcastic, welcome back.

Marinette just shrugged and went to sit at her desk next to Chloe and Nathaniel, who were both grinning.

“How was it?” Marinette asked them.

Nathaniel smirked, “Epic! Three fires. Two poisonings. A kid broke his leg. Four more ended up in the emergency room.”

“The play was a disaster,” Chloe added. “The dance was shut down after an hour. The fire department came to the so called fund raiser. You were gone for little more than a week and these morons nearly got themselves killed like four times.”

“We got in on video!” Nathaniel laughed.

Marinette laughed.

She looked at the stressed and embarrassed students of Bustier’s class, even the teacher looked worse for wear.

Marinette smirked.

Somebody obviously needed a vacation. Or rather… Everybody.

#ml salt #ml fic #marinette dupen chang #Marinette deserves better

5K notes · View notes

george-fabian-weasley · 4 years

Text

Four Musketeers pt. 1; One Day

—The One who Never Notices—

Summary: The One who Never Notices. Your first love. Your first pain. Fred Weasley.

Words: 4,405 words

Warnings ⚠ : Just pure, raw angst, heartbreak, one sided relationship (sort of), 3 years of insufferable crush

Disclaimer: It's hard to capture 3 years worth of feelings in words. And I was surprised at it being only 4K, I could've sworn it felt like 7K or something. This is my story, based on my real life pathetic almost-love story, so please enjoy crying :) Listen to One Day too while reading, it's the best song I could find that really described my feelings towards the guy 2 years ago.

TAGLIST FOR FOUR MUSKETEERS: HERE

enjoy!

Loud giggles erupted from upstairs, you softly smiled at the sound of your daughter. Her boyfriend had come over to hang out, and she was smiling the whole day. You then heard the sound of feet stepping down the stairs, peeking your head through the kitchen to see the boy who managed to capture her heart leaving.

"Goodbye!" You bid, the young man turned and smiled politely to you; bidding goodbye as well, and left.

A while later, your teenage daughter, Dian came down; kissing your cheek as she passed you by and went to the fridge.

"That's early of him," You chirped, yet your eyes were still on the halfway sweater you're knitting at your lap. Dian smiled, "Yeah, he had some errands to do. When is Dad coming home again?"

You paused the knitting, looking at your 16-year-old child, "Around Tuesday, I think. Why? You want to sleepover at his house?"

Dian made a disgusted face and laughed, "No, I'm just asking. It's been quite a while since we've had dinner with Dad."

You nodded in understanding, your husband has been busy lately, always Apparating here and there for his job.

"Say, mum," Dian suddenly said. You hummed, the knitting continued. Although you have magic, sometimes you want to do it with your own hands, the calming after effect is just surreal.

"Can you tell me one more time about the Four Musketeers?"

She was now sitting down on one of the stools of the kitchen counter, her palms became the resting place for her chin as her elbows plopped to the surface of the counter. You chuckled in disbelief, "Darling dear, you've heard the story a thousand times now haven't you?"

She whined, "But every time you tell it, there's something new! Oh, come on mum, please!"

You scoffed in disbelief, "And what's with the 'Four Musketeers' name? As far as I remember, those boys are not musketeers." You chuckled.

Dian gave you a toothy grin, "A little nickname won't hurt. They were your high school sweethearts after all."

"Ah, Ah," You wagged a finger before her, "They were not my sweethearts, you know that. They were just... my almost love stories."

Dian rolled her eyes playfully, "Same difference, mum! Come on, tell the story please!"

You sighed, stopping the knit. With a quiet whish of your wand, the knitting equipment cleaned themselves up to the upper cabinet. With another flick of your wand, two cups of tea appeared in front of you, Dian quickly grabbed hers.

"Well, which one do you want to hear first?" You said, lazily smiling at your beautiful daughter. Dian smiled in victory, and quickly said, "From the beginning to the end, please."

You rolled your eyes playfully, a soft smile on your lips, "Oh, alright."

"The One who Never Notices it is."

— Hogwarts, 1991

You were fourteen, he was fifteen.

And at fifteen, Fred Weasley was already famous for being a cheeky prankster along with his twin brother, George. Somehow before that, you've never heard of his name before.

Being so young and naive, his wild personality had attracted your attention. It all started during the joint Potions class between the Fourth Years and the Fifth Years, due to some reasons Professor Snape made that you had no recall of.

You were assigned a temporary seat next to him on the first day of the class, to see the compatibility of the two years together. You were shy and naive, and he was cheeky and friendly.

"Hey, how are you doing? The name's Weasley, Fred Weasley." He said cheerfully with a large smile, his short red hair was heavily distracting, yet you managed to introduce yourself politely; the fear of sitting next to a senior was... big.

That was all you had as a conversation, as Snape rearranged the class back, one side was the Fourth Years, and the Fifth Years at the other.

It was the first time a senior had been so friendly to you. Especially a well-known one.

You find yourself being attracted to him, despite the lack of conversation you had. You barely knew Fred, you didn't know anything about him. But you were head over heels for the boy.

It was Christmas when you found the courage to ask him something. You were nervous the whole day long, jittery of your newfound feelings for the boy.

Fred Weasley was... in your eyes, perfect.

You found him in the Great Hall playing with his brother George, smiling widely. The smile caused a leap in your heart, and you find your hands getting sweaty.

He noticed you, and his wide smile reduced to a smaller one, "Hello there,"

You shyly smiled and cleared your throat, "Hello Fred," His grin became toothy as he heard you roll out his name, "What do you need?"

You looked down, nervous.

"Um, my mum sent me a muggle camera here as a birthday gift. So I was wondering if we could... Um..." You trailed off, the redness of your face was terribly evident.

"Oh, you want to take a picture with me?"

You looked up to him; he was a tad taller than you, and gave him a hopeful look, "If that's completely fine with you, of course."

He nodded almost instantly, his wide smile back on his lips, "Wicked! I've always wanted to see how muggle cameras work!"

You took the camera leash that was hanging around your neck and giddily explained to George what to do.

"Quite offended you didn't want to take a picture with me, eh?" George teased you, and you blushed, "You can join, of course! Really, I don't mind."

"Wicked." Was all George said before calling out his older brother, Percy Weasley; the Gryffindor prefect and briefly explained what to do.

You were placed between Fred and George, Fred at your right, and George at your left. Other students were glancing at you weirdly, unaccustomed to the camera culture.

Flashes came and you smiled, wanting to look pretty so that you can see them back home later. When Percy lowered down the camera to look at the results, you turned to the twins, "Thank you."

They smiled, "Not a problem. Say, why do you want a picture with us?"

"Um... It's for... My scrapbook! It's a journal about my school years, and knowing you two as the pranksters of Hogwarts, I need to at least have evidence I knew you two."

There was no scrapbook; although a good idea when you thought back about it.

"Brilliant! Do you mind if we have some for ourselves? Dad will be so excited to see us using muggle cameras." George said, his eyes twinkling in excitement.

You nodded profusely, wanting to please the twins to get on their good side, and possibly... get noticed by Fred. "Absolutely, go ahead. I'll owl you the prints later."

Christmas holidays went by fast, and it's school time again. You've kept your promise, and sent the prints to the Weasley house with your owl. You printed extra copies of them, blushing profusely at you and Fred, completely ignoring poor George at your other side.

Innocent love, it was.

Throughout your fifth year, whenever you bumped into Fred, you shyly waved at him, or smiled in his direction. He would surely do the same, but then that was it. You weren't sure what you were to him, are you friends? Acquaintances?

Even so, your feelings for him were strong.

The way you blush whenever you think of him, the way all of your friends knew of your big crush on him, the way whenever he walks by, you gave him your prettiest smile.

The way you were helplessly in love with a boy you barely knew. So you did something, something that you had never thought you would do.

You were fifteen, he was sixteen, when you confessed.

That day changed your life. You couldn't really say what it was that day, but it was absolutely dreadful. You couldn't even remember that day that your young heart was broken so early.

All you remember was, his face forming a frown, him taking a few steps back, him avoiding your eyes, him saying with a cold voice, "I'm not ready for a relationship."

"I'm sorry."

And him treating you differently from then on.

"I'm fine, guys, really!" You said to your friends with a wide smile when you got back to your dorm that night, but when they saw through you, your lips began to quiver and the bridge of tears began cascading down your cheeks.

From then on, you began to avoid him. Whenever you saw Fred, you would turn the other way or just pass by him like he was another student walking around the hallway.

But you knew he's not.

During the sixth month of your fifth year, you heard it. The word from student to student. The word that broke you so deeply.

"Fred Weasley and Angelina are dating!"

"I'm not ready for a relationship." His words echoed through your mind. It echoed in your mind the whole day long, you couldn't focus on the classes that day, zoning out every now and then.

You excused yourself from Professor Flitwick's class to go to the bathroom, suddenly the air in there felt stuffy and you couldn't breathe. Walking to the nearest bathroom, you kept your head down low. A headache was coming at you, looks like even your brain is tired of the echoing words of Fred Weasley.

And then you looked up. And there they are, in shining glory.

He was looking at her in pure adoration, the same look he gave you in your dreams only. A soft blush rested on his cheeks, his lips were constantly a soft smile. She was leaning against the wall, and he was in front of her. She was smiling, he was grinning.

He looked so... happy. So different from the frown on his face and the cold voice he gave you a few months ago.

So. So different.

He's not unready for a relationship, he's just not ready for a relationship with you.

Your heart plummeted to the ground, suddenly the stuffy air from Flitwick's classroom attacked you in the middle of the hallway. You bit your tongue hard, not wanting to show them your vulnerable side, if they noticed you anyway.

Your feet that were glued onto the ground just a few seconds ago moved backwards. Similar to when Fred walked a few steps back that day.

You couldn't cry, you couldn't find the strength to do so.

It hurt.

It hurt but you couldn't cry.

You... You felt numb.

Leaving the hallway behind, you began walking. And walking. The pain in your heart turned into anger. Slowly, shifting the sadness in your heart into pure anger towards the tall ginger.

'He hurt me. He lied to me. He played me.'

The pace of your walk quickened. You were walking, then jogging, then in full speed running across the hallway. You didn't care where your legs took you, you just ran.

You ran, and ran, and ran until your legs gave out. An abandoned classroom right in front of you. You entered without a second wasted, quickly casting on a silencing charm to make the room soundproof.

And you scream.

You screamed and screamed and screamed until your throat hurt. You kicked every single abandoned desk there was, throwing your anger and stress towards the static objects.

And when your throat croaked in pain, that's when the urge to cry resurfaced.

At fifteen, you cried for a boy who you barely knew, but you dearly loved.

You didn't realize you've spent a few hours there, so when you got out of the classroom, it was already dark. So you walked back to your common room with aching legs, bloated eyes, and a heavy, but lighter than before heart.

Took you a few weeks, really, to get used to seeing Fred and Angelina everywhere attached by the hip to each other. Whenever they're around, your friends would shoot you a glance, making sure you're okay. You would usually glance at the couple, shrugged, and continued laughing with your friends.

It still hurt, you're just better at hiding it.

Halloween came along and Hogwarts did a Halloween party where everyone dressed up as something. You were the photographer of the night, bringing the muggle camera.

That same camera from Christmas.

You shrugged off the thought and began your work. Quite a lot of people actually threw their best efforts into their outfits. Oliver Wood dressed as a zombie Quidditch player, his makeup was done quite nicely.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione dressed as the Three Musketeers with their cute fake swords and fake mustaches. You took plenty of pictures of them fooling around, it was fun on your part as well.

While taking pictures of Neville being a scarecrow, someone called you through the loud music. You looked around and saw George waving at you.

You walked to him, smiling at his Frankenstein's monster outfit, "Do you want me to take a picture of you?" You offered, and he nodded before he furrowed his eyebrows at you, "Oh hey, you're the one from Christmas last year!"

You smiled, although a bit bitterly this time, "Yes, that's me."

"Dad was fascinated by the pictures, by the way, thanks a lot!" George said, smiling the whole time. Your smile became more genuine and shook your head, "It's nothing, really. Do you want me to take pictures of you, Mr. Frankenstein?" You chuckled at your little joke and he laughed a bit as well.

"Absolutely, let me call Fred for a bit. He's dressing as Dr. Frankenstein!" He said excitedly and turned around, your smile drained so fast. You quickly put on your Grim Reaper mask to hide your face.

There is no bloody way you're going to let him see you.

Wait.

Why are you hiding?

You blinked. You've done nothing wrong to him, it's just a confession and he rejected you, so what? Everyone gets rejected once in a while, it's nothing to be ashamed of. It's not like you'll be tossed to Azkaban if you show yourself.

'Huh, make sense.' You thought as you pulled back the mask to the top of your head. You're right, you've done nothing wrong. It's not like you'll fall for him again once you saw his face-

Oh Bloody Merlin.

Fred Weasley came into your vision, smiling widely to his brother. He was dressed up as Dr. Frankenstein, with his hair dyed black and spiked and he had goggles on the top of his head, wearing the white scientist suit with black rubber gloves and boots.

Your breath stopped. It's been a while since you've properly seen him, courtesy to avoiding to look at him ever since the incident.

You snapped away your thoughts fast, putting on your professional stance as the school's photographer.

"Here he is!" George said and smiled at you, frowning slightly at the sight of you looking a little pale. Fred trailed his eyes to you, the smile on his lips drained as well. Yet he quickly put on a small smile, "Hello,"

You looked at Fred in confusion, did he just say hello to you? Whatever, let's get this over with. "Alright, strike a pose, you two."

Several pictures were taken of them being completely silly and you laughed at their demeanor. "Oh, wait! Angelina!" George said loudly, and your laughter paused rather quickly.

Angelina came in the shot and similar to her name, she was dressed as a beautiful angel, with a bowstring at her back, so you assumed she's dressing up as Cupid.

Suddenly, you were self-conscious of your Grim Reaper outfit. In all honesty, it was just a long black robe that trails to the ground a few inches with a large hood. Your fake synth was right beside you, holding it still under your armpit.

"Come take a picture with us!" George said, and Fred somehow noticed you were becoming uncomfortable, "Maybe not now-"

You shook your head, snapping away from the self-consciousness, "It's alright, the more the merrier." Fred watched you silently and nodded, his lips quickly painting a soft smile as Angelina kissed him on the cheek.

This is what you hate about Fred. He's too kind, sometimes way too kind until you misinterpret what he does to you. Like just now, who the fuck does that to the person they know liked them?

They posed a few times, most of the time, it's just George third-wheeling Fred and Angelina, making you feel quite sorry for the boy. Hell, you felt like you were fourth-wheeling and hurting at the same time.

After the flashes ended, Angelina spoke, "Do you wanna have a picture with these boys? I can take it for you."

You were about to politely decline when suddenly George said, "What a brilliant idea! It'll be just like Christmas last year!"

Well.

So there you were, at the center of the picture again, between the twins again. You hesitantly looked up to Fred, and he looked down at you with a small smile.

Sigh, always too nice.

You looked away and smiled for the camera. George was having his fun time posing while you and Fred were awkward the whole time. After it ended, you thanked Angelina and walked away when suddenly a voice called for your name.

It was him.

You turned around, and he was quite far from you, like a meter or two when he said, "I'll see you around, yeah?"

You shrugged and gave him a small smile, "Maybe."

At fifteen, you had mixed feelings towards Fred.

It's an on-and-off relationship really, but on your side only. There would be a period of time where you absolutely despised him, talking shit about him to your friends at every chance you get. You would convince yourself you were over him so many times.

And then there would be times where you were helplessly in love with him, even when you're well aware of his strong relationship with Angelina. You were genuinely believing that what you felt was love.

It was bloody confusing.

And how it went on until your sixth year, was beyond you.

By the time you reached sixteen, you had understood the circumstances of your feelings. You didn't care if he didn't notice you, as long as he's happy, you're happy for him. The aching in your heart had become so frequent, that you had become numb to it . At this point, you were just hoping for some other boy to come and swoop you up, saving you from this one-sided relationship with Fred Weasley.

3 years, wasted on a boy who barely knows you. At this point, your friends were tired of you and him. They would just nod and say the same thing, "Like someone else, and he'll be gone."

And so you tried. But Bloody Fred Weasley made it hard for anyone else to top him. Every Time you saw another suitable boy, all they reminded you of was Fred.

How his freckles decorated his face like countless numbers of stars to the sky, how his eyelashes were obnoxiously beautiful and long for a male, how his confidence on his long hair made you wonder of many things, how his lips etch the wide smile whenever he did pranks or laugh with his friends.

Whenever his brown eyes sometimes resembled a pool of warm honey when glazed with the sunshine rays.

Fred Weasley was excruciatingly a pain in the ass. And he doesn't even know it.

You were sixteen, he was seventeen, when he left.

You heard news of Fred and George quitting school suddenly, something about the desire of opening their own joke shop. You had mixed feelings of course, you didn't want him to go, yet at the same time, you do.

Maybe with him gone, you would get over him easier. 3 years being stuck on feelings for a guy who rejected you two years ago wasn’t the best feeling.

You quietly looked away when you saw Fred passionately kissing Angelina goodbye from afar. The poor girl had tears in her eyes, yet she was smiling to support him. He hopped on the broom, lingered on the air for a bit to stare at Angelina for a while, before leaving Hogwarts forever.

He's gone. And you weren't sure what to feel about it. The sting inside your chest wasn't helping either.

"Fred." You called out his name, the way it rolled out your tongue so easily familiarly tingles your heart. The tall ginger turned around and smiled, "Hello there."

"I need to tell you something," You said, you weren't nervous at all. You were confident, the main goal was just to let out everything, so you can be free out of his grasp.

He had you around his finger, and he barely noticed it.

"Well, let it out then," He said, smiling down at you. "You remember two years ago? Where I confessed and you rejected me?" You began. He nodded, the smile was still intact on his lips as if you're asking about the bloody weather. "Yeah?"

"I'm still not over you. I'm in love with you, Fred Weasley. I am so, deeply, and helplessly in love with you." You smiled as you breathed out the words. The cage you had contained on your chest for years was finally open, and you felt all the old butterflies flying free out of you.

Fred pursed his lips, his eyebrows furrowing, "... You know I love Angelina." He said quietly, seemingly not wanting to hurt your feelings any further. You find your eyes watering, yet you felt no remorse or pain. Were those happy tears? You don't know, but you don't mind it.

"I know. And you two are perfect for each other. I've already accepted that you'll never love me the way I love you, Freddie. I accept that you'll never see me as beautiful as the way I see you. I accept that you'll never describe me in such poetic words the way I describe you. I accept that you'll never smile whenever I was mentioned in the conversation the way I smile when you're in the talk," You paused to wipe your tears off your cheeks, Fred just watching you letting it all out on him, watching as your shoulders got lighter, and your smile got wider.

"And I accept that I'm not your first love as you are mine."

Fred quietly watched you, his soft smile gave a pleasant feeling to you. He slowly reached out to you, wrapping his arms around you.

You waste no time to hug him back, how for so many years you yearned what it would feel like to have his arms around your waist, or his hand on the back of your head, or his chin on your shoulder.

"Thank you," Was all he whispered in your ear, as he let you go, yet his hands still on your arms, "I suppose this would be the time I let you go now?"

You chuckled, wiping your tears off, "Please do, I can't keep loving you, Fred. It bloody hurts." You teasingly said, with a tinge of truth. He chuckled along.

Slowly, Fred reached out his hand, and with a soft voice and doe eyes, he spoke for the last time, "The name's Weasley. Fred Weasley."

You smiled, and shook his hand, "Pleasure."

You woke up. And then tears came along. And the sobs.

You were shaking, crying so hard your roommates woke up in a groggy state. When they found you crying, they hugged you so tight, feeling helpless on how to help you.

You were crying, but the wide smile on your lips was evident.

You were sixteen, he was seventeen, when you said goodbye.

---------------------------------------------------

"Wow," Was all Dian could say. She had heard this story so many times before, but it took her breath every time.

"Why didn't you stop loving him, mum? He hurt you so much before he left. " She asked.

You shrugged and sighed, "I was sixteen, Dian. And he was my first love. It's the first time I had ever felt heavily for a boy like that."

Dian sighed, "You can't say it's first love when he doesn't love you back, mum. Blimey, he doesn't even know you."

You snorted, "It doesn't have to be reciprocal for first love to happen, darling. You just... Know it's first love. No matter how much you mean to the other person."

Dian tched, pouring down another cup of warm tea, "It's still not fair on your side. 3 years aren't a short time. And the fact that he didn't even notice!" Dian rolled her eyes in frustration, feeling sorry for you.

"No, I think he noticed. Like you said, 3 years are not a short time." You smile gently, looking down to your empty cup. The residue tea leaves in the cup reminded you of Trelawney's class many years ago.

Dian widened her eyes, "So he knew this whole time? That you were in love with him? And he never said a thing?!"

You chuckled, "What was he supposed to say, sweetheart? He's already in love with someone else, you know that."

Dian was growing angry at the man, "That's the point, mum! He knew what it's like to be in love, so he knew how you felt and he never came forward to say anything!" Her voice was becoming louder than before, the urge to protect her mother was stronger than ever.

You laughed at her anger, in your eyes she looked adorable, "Calm down, Dian. We were teenagers. We can't possibly think of everything, we were still growing. I don't blame him for anything, he taught me so many things and he didn't even know he was doing it."

Dian groaned, "Mum, you need to stop looking at everything in a bright direction."

You chuckled, having no response to that. Pouring yourself another cup of tea, you said with a soft voice, "I guess you could say The One who Never Noticed is wrong." Dian raised an eyebrow, "How so?"

You sighed in content at the warm liquid entering your system, and you smiled at your daughter, "He should be The One who Never Cared."

---------------------------------------------------

Four Musketeers pt. 2; Heather : COMING SOON!

TAGLIST:

@truly-insatiable @sophiecalifragilistics @weasleysangel @sarcasticallywitty15 @off-brand-overhaul @hunnybunimdun @slytherinbth

#fred gideon weasley #harry potter #weasley twins #fred and george #fred weasley x reader #fredweasley #fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fic #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley angst #angst #harry potter imagines #harry potter angst #four musketeers #george-fabian-weasley

124 notes · View notes

spaceskam · 3 years

Text

From A Whisper To A Scream (6/10)

Summary: Michael has a support system whether he likes it or not.

Word Count: ~4k

Warnings: toxic people bein’ toxic lmao

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

ao3

Michael woke up to a hand on his forehead.

He jolted awake at the feeling of someone touching him, only for it to be Sanders sitting on the edge of his bed and looking insanely worried. It took a few seconds of heavy breathing, but Michael settled back into his mattress and balled up more in his blankets that were cocooning him. He felt a little less like he was going to explode with power than the last time he woke up, but he was still uncomfortable.

Then again, he would probably be uncomfortable for the rest of his life.

“In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you lose control like that,” Sanders said. Michael squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head. It was too early for that conversation. Technically, he didn’t know what time it was, but it felt too early. “You passed out on the floor.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael said. Sanders didn’t say anything, but the bed creaked as he moved.

“Sit up, drink some water.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You’re going to drink it,” Sanders said, not room in his tone for argument, “And you’re going to eat. You need to flush whatever’s in your system out somehow.”

Michael peeked up at him again. So he knew something. How much did he know? That was a question Michael constantly found himself asking when it came to Sanders. He always seemed to know way more than he was actually willing to say.

“You’re not going to school. You’re going to stay here for a couple days until your system clears,” he said. Michael shook his head.

“No, I-I have practice and‒”

“Michael,” Sanders said, “I know you won’t tell me what’s goin’ on, but you ain’t goin’ anywhere. If your mama saw the way you were last night, she wouldn’t let you out of her sight, so I ain’t either. Not until I figure out why you feel like you’re gonna die.”

“My mom did let me out of her sight.”

“For your own good,” Sanders insisted.

Michael couldn’t help but disagree. Even if she had thought it was, he couldn’t imagine how the life he was leading was better than the time he didn’t get with her. It wasn’t fair at all and it never would be. He just wanted her. He wanted her more than he ever had before.

They were quiet for a moment before Michael eventually sat up a bit and drank the water he was forcing on him. Then he laid back down and Sanders didn’t leave. After a few more seconds of sitting in silence, Michael realized Dog was laying on his bed behind him, both Dog and Sanders seeming to have no intention of leaving him alone as if guarding him.

If only they knew that he wasn’t worth guarding.

“Michael,” Sanders said. Michael looked up at him again. He never used his name like that. “Is it a person?”

“Huh?”

“What you think is tryin’ to kill you, is it a person?” Sanders asked. Michael didn’t answer, but that seemed to do all the speaking for him. “We can grab a bag and go.”

“Sanders…”

“I got people across the country that know too much, Boy, I say I need a safehouse, I can find one,” Sanders said. And, once again, it was saying more than he ever really had before. Sanders didn’t talk about those years in between losing his makeshift family and coming back to Roswell to find him. Michael had just assumed he’d stayed angry and alone everywhere he went.

Apparently that wasn’t the case.

“No, they can track me and I don’t want to put you in danger,” Michael admitted. Sanders huffed a little laugh.

“Boy, you ain’t thinkin’ if you think I’m not already in danger,” he said simply. Michael balled up more. “Didn’t say it was ‘cause of you.”

“We can’t just leave.”

“How are they trackin’ you? If it’s your phone, we can trash that. If it’s somethin’ else, I know a guy up in Montana.”

Michael laughed softly, but it didn’t come without a wave of tears in his eyes. He didn’t know what was the right thing to do. Maybe he should just leave, but what would happen if Eff found him? Or if one of the many people Eff worked with? Or, worse, he took it out on someone else that he’d run away?

“I can’t leave Isobel and Max.”

“Well, I can’t do much about that, but they ain’t my responsibility,” Sanders said. Michael sniffled and shook his head.

“I can’t leave, but you should. I-I don’t want you to be collateral damage,” Michael insisted, rubbing his eye with his fist. Sanders laughed bitterly and his hand gripped Michael’s shoulder.

“I don’t usually like you thinkin’ I’m old, but I am. I promised to keep you safe and if somethin’ happens to me doin’ that, then I ain’t collateral damage. I’m just doin’ my job,” he said like it was simple. Michael sniffled and shook his head.

He hated this. He hated this so fucking much.

“I need to go back to school Tuesday and act normal, go to my games and practice and pretend it’s not bothering me,” Michael said, wiping his face, “It’ll buy me time to figure out what to do. I just, just have to be on my best behavior.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Michael said, taking a deep breath, “But can you do me one favor? Don’t let Alex come over.”

Sanders looked at him in confusion for a moment, but something akin to understanding dawned on him and he nodded. Michael wasn’t sure what exactly he got from that, whether he assumed Alex was at fault or if he jumped to the idea that he was protecting him. Somehow, it was both and neither at the same time.

“Alright, Boy, I trust your judgement. I’mma go make you somethin’ to eat, stay here.”

Michael had no desire to move.

Alex liked having Flint around, he really did, but the silence outside of the clink of silverware was deafening.

He kept looking between Flint and his father, waiting for something to happen. He knew they wouldn’t speak about the business in front of him, but he thought they’d do something. Instead, it seemed to be full of just them staring at each other and angrily eating. If it was anything other than father and son, Alex would’ve assumed he was intruding.

Hell, part of him still felt like he was intruding.

“So, Alex,” his dad said, still not looking away from his brother, “You’re eighteen now.”

“Yes, Sir,” he said, nodding his head.

It was weirdly formal, but his father hadn’t actually acknowledged his birthday on the actual day. He never really did, especially after his mom left. It seemed like he viewed it as a very rude reminder that his wife had left him. Alex was fine with not celebrating as long as it meant he didn’t have to deal with any backlash.

“Dad,” Flint said, voice stoic, “No.”

Their dad tilted his head as he looked to Flint with nothing but sheer contempt. Alex shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The two of them stared at each other, seeming to hold a silent conversation all about Alex. He wasn’t a fan.

“In a few weeks, you and I are going on a trip,” his dad said, turning to Alex again. Alex nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“Dad,” Flint said.

“What, Flint? You were 18, Gregory and Clay were both 18. Alex is 18, it’s time. He’s a grown man now,” he said. It was the first time he’d spoken like Alex had any agency at all and it was still involving his own decision about what Alex needed to do. Alex didn’t know whether to be excited or not.

“I can handle it,” Alex assured his brother, smiling softly. Flint didn’t smile back. All of his light excitement from the day before was gone and he nodded once before getting up from the table.

“Flint, get your ass back here and pick up your plate,” his dad instructed. Part of Alex expected Flint not to listen, but he still came back and picked up his plate. He rinsed it off in the sink and went to head back to the hallway. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Flint took a loud breath and turned again, picking up their father’s plate and rinsing it off just like Alex had done every night they had dinner together since his brothers moved out and he didn’t have anyone to share the duty with. It was a respect thing, his dad insisted.

However, as much as he loved his brother, watching Flint wash his father’s plate forced Alex to realize just how much his brother was still under their father’s thumb.

Alex couldn’t make himself eat anymore and, thankfully, it wasn’t a night where he was going to be forced to sit at the table the whole night. He pretty quickly finished up and made it back to his room where he immediately pulled out his phone. He hadn’t been able to talk to Michael all day‒it was torture.

Alex: i miss you :(

He tugged his pillow under his head and watched his phone, waiting for a response. However, as the time ticked by, he never did. Which was extremely out of character. He clearly hadn’t been feeling well yesterday, so maybe he’d been sleeping. But he hadn’t texted him all day…

Maybe Alex was being clingy. Liz and Maria were both so sure that he was moving too fast, so maybe he was. They were allowed to go a day without speaking to each other. Even if they hadn’t since they began hooking up… Well, that didn’t matter.

He waited and he waited until he got tired of waiting. He clearly wasn’t going to get a response.

And that was… fine.

Michael kept falling asleep.

He didn’t know how the hell he was even managing it when he was so stressed. He should be unable to do anything but stay awake and worry, but it seemed he just kept passing out. He wasn’t entirely sure Sanders wasn’t drugging him to make sure he slept it off.

Still, it felt good to be somewhat rested by the time Isobel came knocking. He didn’t even get the chance to sit up and properly greet her before he was climbing into his bed. She didn’t speak or scold or question him like he expected. Instead, she crawled beneath the covers and pulled them over both of their heads. He felt young again.

“I wasn’t just paranoid when I thought someone was watching me, was I?” Isobel asked in the safety of his blanket. Michael shook his head slowly and let the two of them sit in silence for a long stretch of time.

Michael didn’t really know what to say to her. He wasn’t going to say it had anything to do with Alex, that simply wasn’t an option. Isobel would blame him and Michael was pretty sure Alex had no idea. Eff seemed convinced that Alex had no idea and wanted to keep it that way.

“You shouldn’t be around me,” Michael said, “For your own safety.”

“What about your safety?”

“Not important.”

“Shut up,” Isobel said, scooting closer. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and tugged his face into the crook of her neck. She was nothing but protective as she cradled him close, shielding him away from the world.

It’d been too long since he’d spent time with her, too long since he’d had his sister. Was a guy really worth all of this? Because he shouldn’t be. No one should be worth all of this. It should be easy to cut Alex off, to go back to just handling Eff and dealing with life. So why was it such an impossible thing to grasp?

“I need your help,” Michael murmured into the soft fabric of her shirt.

“What is it?”

“I need you to keep me from talking to Alex,” he said. Isobel froze for a moment. “It’s to keep him safe. I just… need reinforcements.”

“Okay, I can do that,” Isobel insisted. She held him still as she reached over to grab his phone. She fiddled around on it for a moment and he was pretty sure she blocked his number.

He should really talk to Alex to his face and tell him they couldn’t be together, that would be the right thing to do. But, really, was anything about this right? It didn’t feel like it. It was unfair and cruel and miserable, but he did this to himself. Michael had been reckless and this was his punishment.

Besides, he had Isobel and he had Sanders. He had no room to complain.

“Can I help with anything else?” Isobel asked cautiously. Michael shook his head, taking a deep breath.

“Just, when I go back to school, make sure I don’t do anything stupid,” Michael requested.

“God, Michael, I didn’t say give me a hard job,” she said, teasing to lighten the situation. He smiled and, though it didn’t last long, it was still welcome. “I’ve got you, don’t worry. I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you.”

“Always.”

Walking into school was hellish.

Michael kept his head down and stayed close to Max and Isobel. Any time he was near Alex, he avoided him. In times when Max and Isobel weren’t around, he chose to stick by his teammates who welcomed him into the group without a thought. He just couldn’t be around Alex. He would cave and that would do no one any good.

But whatever Eff had put in him was now gone and he felt somewhat normal. Or, at least, not like he was a ticking time bomb. So that was good. It also helped that Eff hadn’t shown up to take him to the shed. That part, however, made him more paranoid than anything.

He was able to ignore Alex for a few days, but he should’ve known that that time was limited. This was Alex Manes he was dealing with‒he wasn’t stupid and he wasn’t oblivious either.

He showed up in his Calc class, his normal bored expression on his face. He never showed just anyone that pretty smile. That was sacred and special.

“Michael,” his teacher called, “Mrs. Doyle needs you, take your things.”

And Michael couldn’t exactly say no, could he? With a stifled sigh, Michael grabbed his bag and followed Alex out of the classroom. This was bound to happen anyway. They needed to talk.

Alex didn’t spare him a look over his shoulder as he led them to their spot. They hadn’t really hooked up in there lately, finding themselves much more reliably in Michael’s bed instead. But here they were, back in the dimly lit, abandoned office. And Alex didn’t show him his pretty smile which was probably a good thing.

“You blocked my number,” Alex said, not even bothering to beat around the bush. Michael’s eyes stayed on the ground. “What the fuck? Can’t even say you don’t want me to my face? You have to block me?”

“That’s not…”

“What? That’s not what? That’s what happened. And, look, feel free to fill in the blanks on what I did that pushed you away so fast. I mean, seriously? How do you go from building me a fucking car to blocking me in two days? What kind of bullshit is that?” Alex demanded. Michael closed his eyes and fiddled with the hem of his shirt. Okay, so maybe he should’ve prepared for this conversation more.

“I just… Need space,” Michael said slowly.

“See, that’s what I thought too, at first. Oh, he just needs fucking space, cool, fun, fine,” Alex said, “But then I was like, no, my boyfriend wouldn’t do that without telling me. Then you blocked me. That-that’s not asking for space, that’s cutting me the fuck off.”

“Isobel did it.”

“Okay, and? You didn’t undo it or stop her,” Alex accused. He stopped sounding like he was going to rip Michael’s head off. He had about two seconds to think it was a good thing before he realized Alex had switched over to sounding like he was about to cry.

It was significantly worse.

“What did I do?” Alex asked. His voice didn’t crack, but it wasn’t exactly comforting. “You won’t even look at me. I hate to sound clingy, but, fuck, Guerin, you’re being a dick to me. I get it if you don’t wanna be with me, but have the balls to say it to my face.”

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? He couldn’t say that. It was so remarkably untrue.

Michael reluctantly forced himself to look up at Alex and he took in the sad expression he wore so plainly. It was honest and raw and it hurt.

“I want to be with you,” Michael said‒because he was so, so stupid. Alex, thankfully, didn’t lighten up.

“Then why are you being so mean to me? I thought…” Alex trailed off, looking at him and then the wall, “Did Flint say something to you? Because this changed after you met him.”

“No,” Michael said firmly, “I’ve just… I’ve been training and stressed and, and I won’t get scouted if I’m out. I thought it would be easier if I just…”

“If you just treated me like I’m garbage and won’t even have a conversation with me?” Alex said. Michael closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “Fuck you.”

“I deserve that.”

“Why would you build me a car and meet me brother? Why would you do half the shit you’ve done if you had no intention of being with me for longer than a few months?” Alex demanded. Michael swallowed and laughed softly. Where was Isobel when he needed her to whisk him away?

“Because I didn’t know that this would be an issue. I didn’t know being with you put so many people at risk,” Michael admitted. It was probably too truthful‒he was making it sound like it was more serious than football. Because it was.

But maybe he could convince Alex that he was extremely shallow.

Part of him wished he could simply be honest. If he was around Alex, Flint would find out and he would be completely and utterly fucked. But Alex loved his brother. He was a lot of things, but mean enough to use Alex as a weapon wasn’t one of them. He would just have to push Alex away himself.

“Then talk to me! Be my boyfriend!” Alex snapped, “Don’t just fucking ghost me! We didn’t need to go public. I didn’t want to in the first place and we barely have anyway. I was perfectly content doing nothing but being with you privately.”

Michael kept his eyes on the ceiling. He needed to be rude. He needed Alex to not want him anymore. Hate me. Call me an asshole. Break up with me. You’re better than me, say it.

“You should’ve talked to me,” Alex said.

“Okay.”

Alex was quiet for what really felt like an hour, but was more likely just the worst 30 seconds of Michael’s life. This truly wasn’t fair. In a perfect world, he would get to be miserable and have Alex hold him and make him feel better about this whole shitty situation. They could take a nap together and Alex could shield him from all the bad in the world. Or, actually, in a perfect world he wouldn’t be miserable at all.

“Be nice to me,” Alex demanded. It was in the same tone of voice that he used when he said ‘touch me’, like he was telling Michael to do something that he knew Michael already wanted to do. It almost had him laughing. “I know you. I know you’re not an asshole. That guy who built me a car and let me paint his nails and dreams about being close to me just to keep himself calm is who you are. You’re… You’re not this.”

“And what if I am? What if I’m just really good at pretending to be charming?” Michael asked.

Alex kicked his shin. Not hard enough to hard, but enough to make him look at him in the eyes.

“Be nice to me,” Alex repeated, “Unblock me and be nice to me. If that means breaking up with me to my face, then do it. If it means apologizing to me and working your ass off to make it up to me, then do it.”

The thing about Alex Manes was that his eyes were insane. In a good way, of course, but they were impossible to lie to and impossible to deny. He knew he needed to reject him, that was the safe way to do things. That’s what would keep him and the people he loved safe.

But he wanted Alex.

He wanted slow kisses and warm cuddles. He wanted flirty texts and a place to nap. Alex was everything he wanted and everything he couldn’t have. But, maybe if he was careful…

“We can’t be seen together,” Michael said. Alex shrugged.

“Okay.”

“You deserve someone you can be seen with.”

“Why are you telling me what I deserve? You think I can’t make my own decisions?” Alex asked. Michael sniffled and looked around the room, trying to find the courage to deny him. He needed to. It was the right thing to do.

“We’re going to get hurt,” Michael said. I’ll probably die, he didn’t say. Maybe if Flint was feeling nice he would leave Isobel and Max and Sanders alone. Maybe he could beg. He wasn’t above begging.

“I want to be with you,” Alex said like it was easy, “I’m not afraid of saying it to your face, I don’t care if you think I’m clingy. Either say you don’t want me or act like you fucking do. I’m not here for this passive aggressive shit.”

“You’re a hard man to lie to, Alex Manes,” Michael said softly, shaking his head as he took a step forward. Alex scoffed.

“Then don’t lie.”

Michael took a deep breath and knelt on the ground. Alex didn��t ask what he was doing, simply let him move in close and rest his face against his stomach. Arms went around him and held him there. And, god, it was stupid.

But he felt safe for the first time in days.

“Alex, are you okay?”

“What?”

“You haven’t spoken about Michael in days.”

Alex rolled his eyes and threw a fry at Maria who dodged it with a laugh. For the days that Michael had been vehemently ignoring him, Alex had kept his mouth shut. Liz and Maria had both made it pretty clear they didn’t really approve of them moving so fast, so he kept it to himself when it seemed they were right.

And, well, now that they were going back to keeping it silent, he didn’t know exactly what to say. He really didn’t want to prove them right. But he liked Michael and there was clearly something going on that he wasn’t saying. He could pull the football card all he wanted, but that wasn’t what was actually going on.

Alex didn’t plan on letting him go that easily when he was hiding something that was fucking him up so badly. He’d eventually get him to speak. When he did, he wanted Michael to know that Alex wasn't going anywhere.

“We’re being lowkey,” Alex decided to say. Both girls shared a look that made him want to bash his face into a wall.

“Lowkey?” Liz asked. Alex shrugged, dipping his fry into his shake.

He felt a little bit better about the whole situation after Michael climbed into his bedroom window the night before. Any question on whether he should actually break up with him or not vanished. Michael was shaky and had lost weight, new scars dawning his skin from the last time Alex had touched him. Something was going on. He wasn’t going to let them convince him to change his mind.

“Shit came up, we’re being lowkey.”

“Alex…”

“Nope, not letting you talk me out of it,” Alex insisted, “I don’t want to hear it. If I wanted to, I would bring him up.”

They went through their whole routine anyway. “We don’t want you to get hurt” and “we just care about you” all of which were totally valid, but they didn’t have the full story. They weren’t understanding that something was wrong and he couldn’t tell them because he didn’t know what it was yet. He wasn’t going to just abandon him. Michael had known nothing but abandonment for most of his life and he wasn’t about to be another person on the list.

“It sounds toxic, Alex,” Liz said, “Especially if he’s suddenly trying to force you back into the closet.”

“He’s not forcing me to do anything, it was a mutual agreement. We want to be more lowkey, we liked it better that way,” Alex insisted. It wasn’t even a lie. He preferred being quiet. It was nicer.

And it made it easier for him to scope out what the fuck was going on.

“If you say so…” Maria said.

“I do.”

They lapsed into silence and Alex couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. They were just trying to watch out for him and he was pushing them away. He really just had to stick it out until he was able to help Michael with whatever was fucking with him.

And, more importantly, he just had to hope it was worth it.

#Malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #verse: from a whisper to a scream

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prorevenge · 4 years

Text

Shady boss lies about me to coworkers, I have her fired and in dept for several years after.

I have been lurking around here fore quite some time, and wishing I had a good story for you, until suddenly I realized I do! This happened back in 2011/12 when I was the ripe old age of 19 years old. This is a long one, so do strap in.

I got a part time job at a fast food place specializing in subs, not subway, but very similar, when I was 17. It was located in the towns mall, and was fairly busy. It’s a national chain where I’m from. When I started there the owner at the time was really nice, and she started that branch in my town. She was very strict on following all the cleaning requirements and took real pride in her shop. The way it was set up financially was that the franchise taker basically had to work from open to closing (9 am-7 pm) to even have a chance at making a decent living, and preferably only have one part timer helping for a few hours when it was at its busiest. It’s like the MLM of fast food. Why anyone would take on such a business wager is beyond me, but I digress. However, this owner actually managed to make money off it.

A year or so after I started, the owner decided she would move to a different part of the country and sell her branch and have someone else take over. That lucky individual was my co-worker who was three years older than me. (From now on Bosslady) She had worked there since it opened and was the natural choice to move up the ladder. Because she didn’t have the money to pay for the share in the franchise, about $5k, and nobody else was willing to pay that and have to work their ass off for minimal revenue, HQ allowed her to take over while they bought the old owner out, and HQ kept the share.

Now, Bosslady had no idea how to run a mile, much less a business, and small things started happening quite soon after she took over. I would normally work there after school, by myself, but she would often hang around the mall when she had finished work. Bosslady always complained about how little money she made, and would often come by when me or the other part timers were working and tell us to give her $20-100 right out of the register. Considering total daily sales never reached more than about $1200, that was a lot. I barely made $12/h, so my motivation was too low to care, and neither did the rest of the part timers, so we complied and gave her the money. My spider sense was tingling a bit, telling me it was fishy to grab money right out of the register, even if she was the owner, but if she wanted to dig her own grave that was fine by me.

I was friends with Bosslady and we would hang out and often hung out on the weekends, and we worked saturdays together. Which ment we would go out on Friday nights, get shit faced and work the next day hung over. Oh to be young. I would only go out during the weekends and never missed a day of work no matter how hung over I was, and saturdays were the only days I would be hung over. Besides school and work, I was in a dance company, and had dance classes everyday, mostly after 7pm, but a few days I had them earlier and couldn’t work no matter what. This is important.

Every night we would count the register, leave $100 dollars in change and small bills for the next day, and deposit the rest in a safe at the mall. I’m not entirely sure, because it’s been a long time, but I do believe Bosslady would tell us to take the difference out of the $100 for the register, somehow believing the money would magically show up the next day. After a while we started having problems with the distributers, we were not allowed to order on credit, and had to go to the bank to pay the bills in person etc. After that things started getting really weird, and Bosslady refused to let us make the cash deposits at night, insisting that we put the money bags in one of the cabinets inside the shop, which after a month or two culminated to a lot of cash. We had also had trouble a few months with getting paid on time. Since I worked the most out of all the part timers, I had the biggest salary, and the people who administered pay decided to pay the smaller checks first. This girl had bills to pay so that did not sit well with me. I was also the hardest worker out of all of us, Bosslady included.

Then one lovely Tuesday while I was at school, one of the other part timers asked me to cover her shift, to which I said I wasn’t able to because not only did I have back-to-back dance classes I also had a paper to write for school. Later that night I get a text from the girl saying “if you were hung over you could have just said so, you don’t have to lie..” and I’m like “excuse me? I don’t drink on school nights, and there’s no way I would have had the time to do so last night with dance class right after work and working on my paper” to which she just answered “yeah sure, Bosslady told me you were out last night”. The funny part is, this was a fairly small town, so there where nowhere to go on weeknights, so even if I wanted to break my own rules and party on a school night, I couldn’t. This really pissed me off, and figured I would stop playing nice and saving Bosslady’s ass.

Que the revenge: One day out of the blue, during summer, Bosslady declared she was going to go on a last minute, two week vacation to the states, and told me to take care of the shop while she was gone. I said fine, but would like more notice next time. I also asked her how she paid for it, considering she wasn’t able to take out any salary from the shop, and she just said “oh, I had some savings”. I just thought “Hmm, that’s weird considering you actually don’t make money”, but didn’t say anything.

The first day I was in charge HQ called, and the conversation went like this:

HQguy: “hey, is Bosslady around?”

Me: “No, she took a last minute vacation to the states and put me in charge, didn’t she tell you?”

HQguy: “No, she did not indulge that information. But maybe you can help me. Do you know what happened to all the cash deposits from the past few months?”

Me: “Yeah, they’re in one of the cabinets here. Bosslady told us not to deposit them, she even yelled at me when I was about to, because I felt really uncomfortable knowing we had what must have been more than $15k lying around in the shop, and gave me an excuse about having to look them over”

HQguy: “Are you serious?!”

Me: “Sure am. What should I do?”

HQguy: “I know the previous owner is in town, maybe you can call her and ask if she can come help you? She knows what’s what, and please deposit all the cash today!”

Me: “Sure, no problem. I will look over all the cash bags to see how much there actually is and make sure they’re all there and deposit them ASAP” and we hung up.

I called the old owner and told her what was up, and she sounded really surprised and was there within ten minutes. Together we quickly looked over all the cash, but didn’t count it. They where in these little pouches that had a form on the front where you filled in how many of each bill and coin was in it, so we figured the right amount would be in each bag. They weren’t sealed, because Bosslady had told us not to seal them before putting them in the cabinet. I then put them all in a bag and discretely made my way over to the safe where we deposited them. It was on the other side of the mall, and the mall was open so my heart was racing. I felt like everyone knew I was carrying a shitload of cash.

The old owner started asking me if we kept up with the cleaning requirements, and I answered truthfully that Bosslady never told us to do any of the time consuming stuff, like the ice-cube machine, saying that we would have to do that after closing and she didn’t have the money to pay us for the extra hours, so she said would do it on the weekends herself. Old owner just shrugged and told me she had to leave. Since I was all alone in the shop and it was fairly quiet, I started looking around for things to clean. This was around 4 pm. I quickly realized that she had never cleaned anything like she said she had. Under the fridges and workbenches there where LAYERS of dirt, the water tank in the ice cube machine was GREEN with algae, the cooling fans in the refrigerators where covered in mold. I started cleaning, but quickly realized this would require my full attention, so I closed the shop early. I called the old owner and she supported my decision and called the mall manager for me to let them know what was up.

I have never cleaned that much in my life. I scrubbed everything. I pulled all the refrigerators out and scrubbed thoroughly behind everything. What took the longest was the ice cube machine. I wasn’t done until 11 pm that night. Being the petty bitch I am, and being pissed Bosslady went on vacation with the shop in the state it was, I took pictures of everything before I started cleaning and sent them all to the food safety agency, telling them that nothing had been cleaned for over a year. I also got to clock all the hours I spent cleaning, getting an ok from HQguy. Looking back now and seeing how little I was paid, I would have just not cared, but at the time I was afraid people would get sick and die from eating the food.

The next day I called the old owner and all the part timers asking them to meet at my place saying we needed a staff meeting without Bosslady and now was the chance. They all came and we started talking, telling me what Bosslady had done when they were working together and other things they had observed her doing. I took notes, and later that night I wrote a seven(!!) page document listing all the things we knew she did wrong, and how we suspected she was stealing money from the shop etc., and I emailed it directly to HQguy. He emailed me back saying he would look into it.

HQguy called me a few days later thanking me for notifying him about all the things she was doing, and told me that when the cash was registered the amount listed on the form and the amount in the pouches wasn’t the same, and asked me if I knew where it had gone. A light went off, and I realized the “savings” Bosslady had used to pay for her trip was actually money she had taken from the pouches, and that’s why she wouldn’t let us seal them. I told him as much and he said he would dig a little.

When Bosslady came back from vacation, she seemed very stressed. I acted like nothing had happened when she was gone, but chuckled when she opened the cash cabinet and saw that all the money was gone, and her face turned so white she was almost see through, but she said nothing. She was in the back most of the day on her phone and came out asking me if I could cover for her the next few days as she had to go to HQ for a last minute meeting (HQ was 8 hours away). I agreed and went home.

Over the next few days I was seething with excitement to find out what happened. When she came back she tried to play it cool and said “I’ve decided to quit. I feel like doing something different, so I’m just working until the end of the month, and then I’m leaving”, and I just acted sorry and oblivious. I knew the old owner was kept in the loop by HQ, and she told me what really happened.

Bosslady had met with HQ who had questioned her about the missing money and lack of cleaning etc. (there was more, but this is already longer than the Bible). She had denied it all at first, trying to pin it on of us, and saying she had suspected someone was stealing the money and that’s why she didn’t deposit it etc, but eventually broke down and admitted it all. She was then given the option of quitting and paying them back all the missing money in installments or having charges pressed against her. She obviously chose the former. Personally I would have pressed charges no matter what, but they wanted to help her out because I guess they understood she was in a bit of a tough situation with not making any money on the shop, and also didn’t want it blow up in the media.

I kept working there for a few more months, but quit because i found a job that paid more. Word spread about what Bosslady had done, so she really struggled to find a new job to pay what she owed, since no one trusted her. She eventually did, but had to pay them back for several years later. We did not keep in touch.

Guess she shouldn’t have lied about me to my coworkers.

And I’m all out of breath

TL;DR: shady boss lies to my coworkers about me being too hungover to cover their shifts, I tell HQ about all the shady stuff she’s doing and she loses her job and has to pay them back the money she stole for several years, and lost her good reputation.

(source) story by (/u/Dachshundsandwhisky)

#prorevenge #by /u/Dachshundsandwhisky #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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kisekinodrabbles · 3 years

Note

helloo! i'd like to request something for the prompt game please :D kasamatsu + band!au + strangers to lovers + dialogue number 14 if that's okay? thanks, sam! and welcome back~

ofc!!! i tried to keep it shorter but im a bit rusty w my kasamatsu hehe hope u enjoy! wc: 2.3k

Kasamatsu admits that balancing his band and college work isn’t exactly an easy task. Between late evenings spent at gigs and all nights at the library, he is on the brink of his sanity, standing right at the tipping point. He yawns as he enters his nine am mandatory calculus class, another mistake made in his overconfidence that he would somehow be able to get his shit together.

You, on the other hand, are a closeted fan of his band, sitting three rows behind him in class. Every Tuesday and Thursday, you watch him drag his feet in and his hand lifting to his mouth in a yawn. Quickly, you duck behind your book as if Kasamatsu would ever give you the time of day. The brunette is well-known on campus with his successful group and good looks, not to mention he also dabbles a little in basketball while also maintaining a decent grade point average across all his classes. Triple threat, they call him.

When you first came into class and saw him there, shocked is an understatement. You’ve been following his band his high school from across the country. To see him in the flesh, so real and so human with his tired eyes, it almost feels like a dream. One you hope nobody would ever pinch you awake from. Thus, you made it your goal to be there before him every morning, which is a feat in itself. Kasamatsu may be grinding through the night and falling asleep in lectures, but he’ll be damned if he shows up late to class.

Throughout several weeks, you’ve seen girls come up to him left and right, shot down almost immediately by his intention to focus on the professor’s words. He lets them down easy and makes it clear that he pays thousands of dollars to study, not play IRL Tinder. This man gets sexier everyday.

You take your time packing your things when class is over, mainly because you’re too distracted watching Kasamatsu do the same. He is blind, or chooses to ignore, the whispers and shy glances thrown his way. Perhaps this is why you haven’t approached him yourself. You’re just one of his many admirers, a stroke in the massive painting of his life. Sighing, you pick up your pitiful self and make your way to the dining hall where you’re supposed to meet your friend for breakfast.

When the two of you settle on a table, you begin your weekly rambling about how beautiful Kasamatsu looks in the morning. Moriyama, being the good friend that he is, nods and listens intently.

Moriyama is an intriguing character. The two of you met because he had tried a line on you. In your perpetual state of flustered embarrassment, you had stupidly confessed to him: “Sorry, my heart belongs to Kasamatsu Yukio.”

In another twist of fate, he revealed that he had actually gone to high school with the guy and knew him pretty well.

“You know I can introduce you to him, right? No need for all this pining and drooling from three feet away.”

“It’s not the same,” you argue, “he’s practically a living legend on campus. I’m too intimidated to even breathe in the same air as him.” Your obsession has perhaps taken you too far, but if you expect to continue being his fan, the last thing you want is to scare him away.

“You’re so overdramatic,” Moriyama rolls his eyes. Coming from him, this sentence means a lot.

“What? It’s not my fault Kasamatsu’s so hot. He could bang me so hard backstage then pretend I don’t exist and I would still pay to watch his next show,” you groan, spooning yogurt into your mouth.

In that moment, several things happen. Moriyama’s eyes widen and fly behind you. Footsteps sounding at that same spot suddenly cease completely. You, realizing what possibly just happened, feel the heat flare up your cheeks.

Kasamatsu, in his sleep deprived state and probably completely delirious, had stopped in his tracks. His head whipped around to the source of the comment, finding Moriyama sitting with someone who looks distinctly familiar, but he can’t quite put his finger on it.

“Kasamatsu—”

Before Moriyama can even finish his sentence, Kasamatsu is already blurting out. “Okay, maybe I’m crazy but did I just hear you say that out loud?”

You want to crawl into your hole six feet underground and never see the light of day again. Ducking your head, you don’t even want to chance a glance up. The utter mortification is chewing away at your bones and you wish you could just evaporate into thin air.

Moriyama quickly interjects with a quick laugh, “Hear what? Also how have you been, man? I haven’t seen you in forever. Come join us for breakfast.”

Kasamatsu’s brows pucker. Maybe he really is going insane. And horny. Which is a very bad combination. Nevertheless, he slides into the empty seat next to Moriyama. He stares at you for a few seconds, squinting, before snapping his fingers. “Oh, I remember now. You’re in my calculus class.”

He knows you? “How do you know me?” you squeak, cursing your fangirl self for losing your voice. You never speak up in class, always choosing to come up to your professor for questions at the end of lecture. You’re quiet and tucked away behind him, so you never expected him to recognize you.

The smile he sends you is blinding. Even with shadows under his eyes, he still looks gorgeous. “You’re always first to arrive and last to leave. Figured you’re a hard worker in class and probably acing it.”

Your mouth dries. Kasamatsu noticed you. He actually noticed you. “Oh, um, I’m okay. I’m okay in class, I mean.”

“The question you should be asking is her name, Kasamatsu,” Moriyama scolds, smacking his back.

Kasamatsu pinks sheepishly. “Sorry, yeah. I’m Kasamatsu Yukio, by the way.”

Idiotically, you blurt out “I know” before your name. When you finally introduce yourself, you also clarify, “I’m a huge fan of Blue Devils. I mean, I’ve been following you guys since like high school. Absolutely love your music.”

The man actually reddens even further, but still he beams proudly. “Thank you! That’s crazy. Have you been to our shows?”

Almost all of them. “A couple, yeah.”

“We have one tonight in an actual venue. Are you coming?”

“Ah, it was sold out before I could get a ticket, actually.”

Kasamatsu blinks, “Oh, you’re more than welcome to come. I can get you a pass. Both of you—if Moriyama’s interested.”

“That would be amazing!” You grin, “Is there anything I can get you in return? I don’t want to just accept a gift from you for free.”

“Well, if you are good at calc, I wouldn’t mind some extra tutoring,” he suggests with a teasing grin.

Moriyama rolls his eyes, “Just ask her out instead of using tutoring as an excuse.” The two of you sputter, face colored a dark shade of red. You’ll kick his ass when you get the chance.

—

That one mistake turned out to be the greatest opportunity of your life. In addition to attending his show that night and meeting all of his bandmates, each one more good looking up close than then other, you manage to have weekly study sessions (you’re holding off on calling it dates) with Kasamatsu. The two of you take turns booking rooms at the library to cram, which mainly consists of you reexplaining concepts to the man. Although he isn’t a bad student, he’s also still struggling a bit to keep up.

“Hey” is what you hear before you feel a warm surface press against your cheek. You look up to find Kasamatsu with a steaming cup in hand. Gratefully accepting it, you catch a whiff of freshly brewed tea. You take a sip and smile. Black tea, no sugar. “Just the way I like it.”

“Noticed you never add anything to your tea,” Kasamatsu says almost proudly.

You raise the cup to him in thanks. Both of you go through your usual routine—you focusing on reviewing material for next week while Kasamatsu pores over his notes from this week, occasionally poking you to ask questions.

Honestly, a big part of you still wonders if this is all a dream. This guy you’ve been crushing on for years is sitting in the flesh right across from you. You peek at him from time to time, watching the way he frowns at his book. His blue, almost grey, eyes shine underneath the flickering lights. Even the way his lips curl unhappily is cute.

When he catches you staring, you quickly drop your gaze back to your laptop, missing the way he smiles quietly.

“Will you come to our show this weekend?” He asks as the two of you pack up.

“Ah, I have a shift at my part-time job.”

He looks surprised, “That late?”

You shrug, “Food never sleeps, I guess. It’s at the burger diner by campus.”

“Oh, are you guys open late?”

“Close at one.”

He nods, “Maybe I’ll see you there after then. The guys usually get really hungry after a gig so we can drive some business your way. I’ll make sure they tip well too.”

Your heart warms at the thought. It’s a thoughtful gesture but you’re even more thrilled at the prospect of seeing him. “Sounds good.”

True to his word, Kasamatsu brings the guys to your workplace at midnight after their show ended. They order quite a spread, practically everything on the menu. Kasamatsu goes as far as to help you carry orders to their table. You shoot him an appreciative smile.

Over the time your friendship has bloomed, Kasamatsu has been nothing but a gentleman. He walks you home to your dorm if you’re studying late into the night. He meets you in class with a muffin or a cookie from his early Starbucks runs. Surprisingly, he begins placing himself next to you each session. “This is better anyway,” he mutters. “Two birds, one stone.”

His vague words had you tilting your head in question.

“I don’t have random people coming up to me to sit with me and, well, I get to enjoy your company.” It’s a nice thought—him enjoying your company, that is. He had blushed a little when he realized what you said, but chose to direct his attention to the slides pulled up before him, missing the way you hide your smile behind your sleeve.

Now, you hear the rowdy boys chattering on as they devour their meal as if it’s their last. They speak through mouthfuls of burgers and fries, but you find the sight endearing, mainly because you’ve never seen Kasamatsu so relaxed. It’s quite refreshing really. Your attention is piqued when you hear one of them ask: “So doing it tonight huh?”

Kasamatsu retorts with a “shut the fuck up” and flings a fry his way. The way the other guy wiggles his brows suggestively has you freezing. What if he was meeting up with someone tonight? What if he was going to do the deed?

Somewhere in the distance, you hear the faint cracking of your heart. Of course, Kasamatsu is popular. It’s no surprise he’s got his nights covered as well. You sigh dejectedly, feeling the hope inside you crumble into dust. The rest of your shift goes by rather uneventfully, but you try to avoid going to their table too much, lest you hear more details about Kasamatsu’s planned tryst. The man himself steals glances your way, wondering if you’ll be checking on them anytime soon.

“Your check,” you smile as you set the bill on the table, “I got the owner to give you a discount since you guys ordered a good amount.”

All of their eyes seem to sparkle as they thank you in unison, their synchrony almost puzzling. As you move to pick up the bill and change, Kasamatsu catches your hand before you move away. “What time does your shift end?”

“Half an hour. Why?”

The other guys are already packing up their things and giving you little waves as they exit the restaurant, leaving the two of you alone. “I’ll walk you home, it’s late,” he murmurs, fingers still wrapped around your wrist.

“Oh, you don’t have to! I usually take the bus back anyway so it’s no big deal.” You want to confirm whether he had plans that night anyway. You’d hate to be in the way of that.

He shakes his head, “I insist. Also, um, are you doing anything tomorrow?”

“Catching up on studying most likely.”

“Oh,” he pauses, “if you have time tomorrow night, do you want to catch a movie with me? Maybe dinner after?”

You blink at him in surprise. Now that you’re looking at him properly, you notice that his cheeks are several shades darker than the red neon glow of the diner sign. He’s shifting on his feet and his other hand finds purchase on the strap of his bag, fidgeting with the material. “Um, like a date?”

“Y-yeah,” he stutters slightly, his throat moving as he swallows. “Sorry, I probably should’ve made that clear,” he coughs, “b-but if you don’t want it to be the we can also go as friends.” Perhaps you’ve tortured the boy long enough but you can’t help but relish in his awkward chuckle as his hand lifts to rub the back of his neck nervously.

Biting back a huge grin, you nod. “It’s a date.”

Kasamatsu’s eyes light up and a pleased grin spread across his face. “It’s a date.”

The hollering outside the building has the two of you whipping to face the window where his bandmates have their faces pressed up against the surface, laughing and smiling to congratulate and embarrass their friend. Kasamatsu flushes, “I’ll see you later to pick you up.”

You nod but he’s already out the door, leaping to kick his friends away. “You stupid idiots!”

Laughing, you watch as the group makes kissy faces at Kasamatsu all the while the man fruitlessly attempts to shut them up. He really is cute.

#kuroko no basket #knb #kuroko no basuke #kasamatsu yukio #kasamatsu #knb drabbles #miffythoughts

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squeeneyart · 3 years

Text

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 18

AO3

Beta reader is @thesnadger!

Communication is established.

Martin has a job to do.

After months of near constant solitude and a week of above-average social interaction, Martin had to deal with an unhappy middle: Peter, with no warning or pattern, would appear at the lighthouse at whatever time seemed to suit his fancy. Bright and early one day, late lunch the next, twice already on Thursday, all for reasons Martin couldn’t wonder aloud at for fear of seeming too curious.

No alone time meant no poking his nose around. Not that he was supposed to, keeping his head down and all that, but sitting around wasn’t doing his nerves any favors.

It was easy to imagine Peter hiring someone to tail him home, so Martin never dared to take a new path or turn for that whole week. When he got home he stayed home. When he got to work he stayed at work. And when he walked in either direction he most certainly never took the sharp turn toward the Fairchild home, no matter how intensely curious he got.

So, once the group text was actually formed early in the next week (Tim: it was a promise not a threat!), Martin had taken part in the first of many nearly identical conversations. They boiled down to:

Martin: peters been weird, cant predict when he’ll be around

Sasha: we’re still pretty locked up, will let you know if things change

Jon: Elias has been elusive but I’m working on it.

Tim: can’t keep us busy forever

Besides some scattered thoughts and jokes primarily from Tim that got Martin through the more tedious aspects of the work day, the messages were all vague statements telling him “soon, we promise” and random tidbits from him of Peter being weird. The whirlwind of progress from the week prior was over. Waiting and sitting on his hands was all Martin had left.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true.

Jon had a lot more to say over phone calls than text. That much was clear by Tuesday night as Jon called to elaborate on his frustrations with Elias and continue other topics they’d discussed the conversion prior. The burden of starting the call and coming up with a topic was blessedly off Martin's shoulders, and it made the idea of regular conversations seem more possible.

While it was a relief to still talk to someone at length, Martin knew he would run out of things to say before long. He had no stories from the university he never attended, and Jon had been witness to Martin’s strangest place of work. The more he could deflect personal questions and get Jon to talk about himself, the longer it would take for Martin to be revealed as... well. Dull.

Still, he hoped that Jon would call again soon. If Martin was around for it.

It was Thursday. Peter had been around twice already with no warning. It was getting to be mid-afternoon and he still had a duty to perform. That part of his contract hadn’t changed.

Martin groaned into his desk. It wasn’t fair to have his most mindless and daydream-conducive task twisted into something horrifying. Some little part of him hoped that Sasha’s reasoning from the week before would hold some water, that his knowledge of what was coming would somehow keep him aware of his surroundings.

There was one way to find out, as much as it made his stomach squirm, and the thought of doing so with Peter around was enough to propel Martin out of his chair and toward the cleaning closet.

He began to mop the main floor with a fervor. If Sasha was right and he managed to avoid getting sucked into a wall, Peter absolutely could not witness it. He would have to move fast, even if it scared the shit out of him. And really, was it so scary? It wasn’t something he remembered, and it never hurt him. Probably. He would at least feel pain if something had happened, right?

He had always been fine. A bit sore from lugging things up the stairs, but otherwise nothing had harmed him as far as he knew. What was he afraid of? A person that could watch him as he went about his work in a haze? Or the wall refusing to release him after he entered, trapping him without ever releasing his mind from-

Oh, no, his heart was racing, his hands shaking more by the second. Swallowing had become more difficult, dry throat and a tongue that felt three times too big. Martin walked toward the stairs, trying to keep water level in the mop bucket. The water level was the only evidence that he’d lost time, and he wasn’t going to do this without something to show for it.

Letting out a breath that sent shivers down his arms, Martin placed the mop down and took out his phone.

Martin: so im going upstairs now? to do the mop thing?

Martin: gonna try and use an old analog tape recorder like you all said. any final thoughts would be appreciated

He waited, growing more concerned by the second that he would get no answer, but finally someone responded.

Jon: Sounds like you’re all set. Be sure to send a message here once you’ve gotten back out again, or if you don’t go in at all.

Tim: yeah any situation where your feet are on solid ground really

Jon: You said before that Peter was around. Is it safe to assume he’s left?

Martin: ok will do. he’s not here now so im getting it over with so he wont see anything weird

Jon: Okay, good luck and let us know when you’re out.

Martin: thanks

Sasha: if things start to seem off, retreat back downstairs and call us immediately

Tim: ^^^

Martin: okay, talk to you all soon

Before Martin pocketed his phone, he saw Tim leaving a string of thumbs-up and broom emojis, and as he began up the stairs the occasional vibration in his pocket revealed that something was happening past his goodbye. It wouldn’t be good for the recording if he kept it on like that, but he had no intention of silencing the phone or the people on the other end. He clicked on the tape recorder, placed it in his pocket, and began his climb.

The bucket and mop were as unwieldy as ever, and for not the first time he thought about how nice an elevator would be for his knees before shaking his head. This was a time for focus. Drifting thoughts were a one-way ticket to lost time in a much more literal sense than usual.

He was walking up a rather repetitive staircase, but every once in a while there would be an imperfection that reminded him of where he was in space. A crack here, some chipped paint there. Looking around there were plenty of place markers. His feet were on stairs that were the same as they always were.

About a quarter of the way up, this method began to make his stomach flip. Once, he looked too far ahead, too much up. So he kept his eyes down. He’d been keeping to the inside of the stairs, but his gaze drifted too far and oh, no, another spiral leading down which was worse.

This building, he thought, didn’t appreciate him looking too hard. Fine. He could stay present without a visual anchor. There was still buzzing coming from his pocket, thought less often than before. At least they were still around. If anything happened, they would know quickly and be able to do something. Sure, he hadn’t seen them solve any problems yet, but there was enough confidence between the three of them that they had to have some level of competence.

Martin looked down at the bucket in his hand and held back a scream.

Instead, he hissed at the thing, “When?! We aren’t even halfway up! I let myself think for two seconds and- oh, dammit!” He dug into his pocket for the tape recorder, but it was nowhere to be found.

Martin turned toward the wall, any fear being quickly replaced by petty indignation. “Hey! I paid for that! You can’t just- as if you even need to pick my pockets when you’re a big, stupid voice recorder all on your own!”

Besides the echo of his own voice bouncing up and away from him (mocking him, probably) nothing bothered to respond. He had half a mind to toss the bucket and mop down the stairs for the sake of his aching arms, but he resumed his walk with a quickened pace. If Peter hadn’t come back yet, and it didn’t sound like he had, Martin would do something while he had the time.

At the top of the stairs, Martin opened up the group chat just long enough to type one message.

Martin: lighthouse stole my tape recorder

Then he stuffed the mobile away and made a beeline for the horrible machine he’d been faced with every day that week. His phone buzzed with incoming messages, the motion in his pocket slowly becoming more of a reassurance.

First, he took the time to look at it as a whole. The back couldn’t be reached with it pressed up against the inner wall. Did it make sense for it to be put there? Unsurprisingly, when he’d finally looked up how lighthouses were supposed to work, the panel itself was nowhere to be found as part of the process. What a surprise!

When he’d started the new order of button pushing that past Friday, he’d tried to listen for the mechanisms behind it, but he didn’t know enough about normal mechanics let alone whatever this was to make any judgments. He’d cursed himself then for not paying attention and asking more questions at the start, but there was no helping it.

Really, the fact that he’d been hired at all should’ve been a dead giveaway.

The dial that had once allowed Evan to speak was entirely cut out from the process, a disconnected thing that gave no feedback after being twisted. Did that mean the entire cause was lost? Or had its function been moved to another piece, or a series of pieces-

“Ah, Martin, thought I might find you up here.”

Martin was going to die.

It was a thought that came unbidden, the only clear thing in his head as he turned to find Peter Lukas climbing the last stair without a sound coming from his less than newly polished leather shoes. The soles should’ve made a clicking sound.

Peter looked at him and smiled. “Scared you, didn’t I? Always been told I have quiet feet.”

“Yeah, you did. Wasn’t very nice.” He couldn’t keep the slight shake out of his voice. His hand reached out and grasped the mop’s hand.

“Not for you maybe, but the look on your face is very funny.” The smile grew just a little more cheerful.

“Sure. Well, I’m-”

“Cleaning, right,” Peter said, pressing a hand to his forehead as if remembering something. “Glad to see the last smudges from them wiped away, if I’m honest. More people, more mess for you to clean up later.”

“I suppose, yeah. Need to clean anyway, though.” To emphasize his point, Martin began to clean the floor around and away from the panel. “Did you…”

“Oh, no, nothing really. Just wanted to check in a bit more after all the... disruption from before. And to make you jump a little. Need to make my own fun, sometimes. The week has been dreadful, Martin.”

And you’re spreading the feeling around. “Hm,” Martin replied, as dismissive and uninterested as he could muster.

Martin could hear the smile in Peter’s voice and knew he’d failed to dampen the man’s strange energy. “Yes, well, I’ll be off. When-” And then Peter was interrupted by a prolonged buzzing in Martin’s pocket. “Need to answer that?”

Shrugging, Martin continued to mop and kept his eyes to the ground. “Weird spam call, probably. Mum wouldn’t call my mobile.”

“Mm, good answer. Company time and all that.” With an odd stretching motion, Peter glanced out the window. “Oh, and what were you doing when I came up?”

“Stretches,” Martin replied abruptly. He coughed and evened out his voice. “The walk up is terrible.”

“And that’s why I have you do it for me!” Peter’s laugh came out rough and strangely quiet, a noise that settled under Martin’s skin. The old man’s face twisted into an unreadable smile, something that underneath the mirth felt like a taunt. “But enough of that. Don’t know if I’ll be back again today. And keep that thing quiet if you’re not expecting work calls. Nothing worse than being contacted from anywhere in the world at any time, truly.” The smile seemed to sink into a genuine, almost childlike frown, and Peter slinked back down the stairs without another sound.

After about five minutes of mopping, Martin released the hand and collapsed on the couch. Stupid, stupid, of course he would come right as he was about to fiddle with things.

The prolonged vibrations had ceased some minutes ago, and Martin finally opened the group chat to see what he’d missed. There were several messages from earlier in which Tim and the others had continued to chat. Then his message and general confusion and concern which Martin had expected. Finally, a missed call from Sasha, followed by a text.

Sasha: do we need to get over there?

Blinking, Martin considered the message. Was that an option?

Martin: no everything is over

Martin: peter came in, had to lie about it being a spam call

Jon: of course he did

Sasha: well, call when you think it’s safe

Tim: and maybe check your pockets

Immediately, Martin patted himself down, though nothing seemed amiss. His phone was of course still on him, and there was nothing new.

Martin: everything else is the same. the lighthouse wasnt nice enough to trade something for my tape recorder

Tim: :(

Jon: Sasha is right. We’ll do better if we talk over the phone later when you’re sure to be out of Lukas’ sight. Keep inventory of your things and call us when you can.

Hesitating for a moment, Martin looked down at the winding stairs.

Martin: if you had to get here how long would it take

Sasha: about two hours if i’m driving

Martin: right

Martin: okay. ill call you soon

The same conclusion was made as before, only moreso. Martin would keep his head down with exactly zero poking around. The lockscreen of his mobile would show no notifications to mitigate the risk of eavesdropping (what if his phone was stolen by his evil workplace?), and unless there was some sort of emergency no messages or calls were to be made during his work hours.

Peter certainly knew something was going on. There was no point in pretending otherwise. Martin would have to hope they were both committed to playacting their routine for as long as the others needed to get back and do something.

The thought dug a pit in his stomach. Pretending that everything was exactly the way it had been was just... being alone for most of the day. He’d enjoyed receiving random messages at work and the sudden movement in his pocket that meant someone was around. It was a normal thing for people, texting when they’re supposed to be working. Pity he’d mucked it up so fast.

Long after he’d prepared for sleep, Martin sat on his bed with mobile in hand. His contact list was so short that he didn’t even need to scroll to find Jon’s name. It was right under an old manager he’d never deleted from his contacts.

His thumb twitched over the call button. He wasn’t going to do it, but it was a nice thought. They’d already spoken at length today, with everyone showing enough concern that Martin had needed the alone time afterwards to breath.

That being said, enough time had passed for him to be itching for any conversation he could get, and he wanted to talk to Jon because he still didn’t quite get Sasha, and conversation with Tim tended to run short because Martin didn’t know how to keep things going after he’d dumped all of his grievances on the guy the week prior.

And he liked talking to Jon. And maybe it was because Martin understood a topic Jon cared deeply about, but Jon seemed to like talking to Martin, too.

There was no call that night, and he was out 20 pounds for that tape recorder from the resale shop.

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #jonmartin #fanfic #au fanfic #selkie au

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gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights · 4 years

Link

One of these days I’ll remember to crosspost all these chapters. Anyway here’s Chat and Rena bonding

XXX

Adrien awoke to the sound of the shower running.

“Nngh… Plagg?” He mumbled, only to remember that he’d slept transformed. Ladybug’s handmade masks were great, but his tended to slip off his face if he turned over in his sleep. The last thing he wanted was for her to pay an early-morning visit and discover his identity.

Not that Ladybug ever visited their secret base in the mornings. But he kept hoping anyway.

The water was still running. Had the metal plate behind the colander come unlatched? It was more reliable than the plunger they’d originally installed, but it could still be finicky.

He stretched before rolling off the couch. If the shower had turned on by accident, he’d better fix it before all their water ran out. Ladybug didn’t want to use Longg’s powers more often than necessary.

He shuffled over to the bathroom door and—

“Hey, creep! What’s your problem?”

Adrien jumped back and blinked, and his eyes finally focused on the orange fox hovering in front of his face.

“Trixx?”

“Duh. Why are trying to barge in on my holder? Didn’t anyone ever teach you to knock?”

“Wh—I didn’t know she was here,” he said honestly. “What’s Rena doing here at” —he checked the clock on the microwave Carapace had bought— “five in the morning?”

“Plumbing maintenance at my apartment,” Rena’s voice filtered through the door over the sound of running water. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Er, uh—sorry!” He backed away from the door and parked himself on the couch again. Somehow he hadn’t thought through the implications of having a shower in the base. Sure, he’d used it several times—but more often than not, he was the only one here. It felt weird to be sharing the space with Rena Rouge, who he still didn’t know that well. LIke suddenly getting a new roommate.

He’d never had a roommate before.

He shouldn’t complain—he’d come here because there was a chance he’d have company. Even when he didn’t, the underground base felt more alive than his sterile apartment, with its grey-washed walls and decor supplied by his father’s new interior design line. As if his living space was just another walk-in advertisement.

Besides, this was where he’d left his Switch.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Trixx asked, spinning circles around Adrien’s head. “You homeless or something?”

“What? No.” He shook his head, trying to get rid of the dizziness.

“Huh. Rena and Ladybug think you are. Since you’re always here.”

His cheeks flushed. They’d talked about him? It was almost sweet that they worried.

“Plus, you’re always buying fancy stuff, like your video games, and the expensive take out boxes you always leave in the trash, and the shampoo that smells like roses—”

“Okay, okay, I get it.”

“—I mean, it would make sense, if you blew all your money and ended up on the streets. Or under them, I guess.” Trixx shrugged.

The kwami had a point. Maybe Adrien should curtail his spending if he didn’t want to give away his identity.

“It’s nothing like that. I just get take out a lot because I’m not much of a cook.”

“Finally, something the amazing Chat Noir is bad at.” The door opened, revealing Rena Rouge in ripped jeans and a denim jacket with an Anansi logo sewn over the shoulder. Huh. He’d never pegged her as an MMA fan. Her hair was still wrapped up in a black towel, but she’d slipped her mask on over it.

“I keep meaning to learn,” he said.

Marinette would probably be willing to teach him, but she was always busy with classes or projects. Nino had practically called him a lost cause after he’d managed to burn a grilled cheese. He knew Alya was an amazing cook, but he worried a little about how incompetent he’d look next to her.

“Then today’s your lucky day.” Rena smiled, spinning a spatula around her finger.

“You—you’d do that?” Adrien perched on his knees, crossing his arms over the back of the couch.

“Why not? You’re afraid you’ll burn the base down?”

He probably wouldn’t. At least the walls were solid stone, and there weren’t any maids who would report his mess to his father.

“That face isn’t very reassuring,” Trixx said.

“Don’t worry, he’ll do fine.” Rena yanked him up by his arm. “Trixx, will you plug in the griddle?”

“Aye-aye, Captain Rouge!” The kwami saluted and connected the hot plate to the extension cord.

Rena grinned. “Arrrg, excellent job first mate Trixx! Now, hoist the cooking spray!”

Trixx searched the shelf and pulled out the metal canister. He popped off the lid, which went rolling off across the floor. Rena picked it up and put it on the kwami’s head like a little hat, and they both laughed together.

Adrien found himself smiling too. He and Ladybug had definitely made the right choice in letting her keep her miraculous full-time.

“Alright, swashbuckler Chat. Your turn at the helm.” Rena Rouge positioned him in front of the griddle, then sprayed down the surface.

“What? Already?” His eyes widened.

“No better way to learn than by sailing straight into the cannons.”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure there’s a lot better ways to learn. Ways that don’t involve getting exploded.” He didn’t even know how to work a griddle. There was a knob on the side with numbers. A temperature gauge? And there was some kind of tray sticking out of the bottom. He didn’t have a clue what that was for.

“Just don’t Cataclysm anything and you’ll be fine.” Rena patted his arm. She grabbed a carton of eggs from the polka-dotted fridge and set them on the counter. A bowl and a whisk joined it; she really had stocked the whole kitchen. All he’d contributed was some blackberry ice cream, which he ate straight out of the carton.

“Alright. No Cat—”

She slapped her hand over his mouth. “Don’t say it!”

“Right, right. My bad.” He blushed. He really was a disaster. Good thing Ladybug wasn’t here to see him like this—not that she’d be surprised.

Rena shook her head with a chuckle. “I can’t believe I ever thought you and Ladybug were cool.”

“Hey! Ladybug’s very cool.” He put his hands on his hips.

“Okay, Ladybug’s still cool. But admit it. You’re both just big doofuses under those masks.” She poked his nose, at the spot where his mask met skin.

“Joke’s on you. We’re doofuses even with the masks.”

She laughed. “Fair enough. It’s comforting, though.” She cracked an egg into the bowl. Why she was putting it there and not on the hot surface, he didn’t know. “I’m just a normal girl outside of the mask. It’s nice to know you guys are the same way.”

“I can’t say I’m a normal girl, but I get what you mean.” He grinned. “It’s funny. Carapace told me the same thing. I guess we lose some of our mysterious appeal when you look too closely, but… I like that.”

“Really?” She cracked another egg, then washed her hands under the tap he and Ladybug had set up.

“Yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I want people to trust us. But sometimes people expect too much if they don’t see our flaws, too.”

She pressed a whisk and the bowl of eggs into his hands. “Stir.”

He nodded.

“That makes sense,” she said in response to his earlier comment. “Illusions can be useful, but they don’t hold up under pressure.”

“Exactly.” He stirred the eggs. Not fast enough; Rena took his hand and demonstrated how to beat the yolks to a runny mixture.

“Cheese, milk, and bacon bits, First mate Trixx.”

“Arggg,” he said, disappearing into the fridge.

“You do like cheese and bacon, right?” Rena asked Adrien.

He smiled. “Who doesn’t?”

Once Trixx delivered the ingredients, they mixed them into the egg goop. It looked pretty gross, like a soup gone wrong. But Rena instructed him to dump it on the griddle anyway.

The mixture sizzled on impact. Man, that smelled way better than it looked.

“We’ll flip it in about a minute or two. Omelettes cook pretty fast.”

He stared at the eggs as they slowly turned from translucent yellow to opaque white. It was soothing, watching tiny bubbles pop as the change took place. Why had he been so nervous about cooking again?

“This really is your first time making eggs, huh,” Rena commented.

“That obvious?” He blushed a little. “It’s pretty much my first time making anything.”

“You sure you aren’t homeless?” Trixx asked, poking his stomach. “You look like you eat enough. But every kit should know how to feed himself.”

Adrien’s ears and tail drooped. He really should know. If he ever wanted to cut ties with his father and his company, he’d need to live more frugally.

“Don’t give him such a hard time. There’s a first time for everything.” Rena brushed Trixx aside, then handed Adrien a spatula. “Here. Flip the omelette.”

She said it like an order, but she was smiling. He thought he could hear the message hidden behind the words: I’m not going to judge you. I know you can do it.

After living under the weight of his father’s doubts, it was a breath of fresh air.

“Thanks.” He smiled.

(It wasn’t just for the spatula.)

XXX

“So, you spend the night here a lot?” Rena asked as they ate their breakfast. She’d taken off her hair towel, and it hung on the back of her chair to dry.

He shrugged. “Not too often.”

By that, he meant he slept over five nights out of the week rather than all seven. Nathalie still came to check on him every Tuesday, and Thursday evenings were spent with his old bodyguard.

“How’d you learn to cook like this?” He asked to change the subject. The omelette was light and fluffy in his mouth, with just the right amounts of salt, pepper, and cheese. And it had only taken them around five minutes.

“My mom’s a pretty amazing cook. She had me flipping omelettes before I learned how to walk.”

Adrien tried to keep the wistful look from his face. His mom had always had chefs to cook for them, even before she disappeared. If he’d ever asked, would she have had recipes to share with him? Maybe Aunt Amelie would know.

“This was fun. Makes up for how sucky my morning started, at least a little bit.” Rena smiled, cleaning the rest of her plate. She took Trixx’s too; she’d placed the kwami’s breakfast on a little saucer.

Adrien still wasn’t done—he’d wanted to savor the first (edible) food he’d cooked himself.

“I’m sorry you had a rough morning,” he said. “Anything I can do to help?”

“You can do the dishes, catboy.” She winked and slung her bulky purse over her shoulder. “I’ve got to hit the road. Can’t miss the sunrise, or I’ll have gotten up this early for nothing.”

“Sunrise?”

“For my photography portfolio. Nice shots of superheroes are one thing, but but I’ve gotta have a little bit of diversity.”

“I didn’t know you did photography,” He said. Of course, there was a lot he didn’t know about the other heroes. “You should get some of your photos developed. I bet they’d make this place a lot brighter.”

“Not a bad idea. This place could use some livening up.”

She smiled at him over her shoulder before calling out, “Trixx, let’s pounce!”

Orange light washed over her, replacing her outfit but leaving her purse and fake mask. She hung the mask back on its hook before pushing open the door.

“And Chat Noir?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re here for you. Me, Ladybug, Carapace—if you ever need anything, you call us, alright?”

She might have phrased it as a question, but her eyes said it was an order. It felt… weird, having someone other than Ladybug worrying about him.

But he could get used to weird.

He smiled. “Alright.”

Maybe they didn’t need photos after all. The room already felt a little brighter.

#chat noir #rena rouge #rena & chat #home base #fic tag #tali writes

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