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unknowconcreteflower-art-blog-me · 4 years

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Re-contextualizing Angel Dust: Charlie was not ready for this...

And for the sake of warning Hazbin Hotel is an adult cartoon containing heavy dark subject matter (such as rape and drug abuse, that maybe trigger to views so please tread carefully. Warning out of the way on with the post! I also just wanna get this out there older post my analysis of Val and Angel people kept commenting “what Angel Dust isn’t in love with Valentino” and my rebuttal was “no no that’s a past Angel Dust a younger one who didn’t reach that level of abuse just yet” while their argument was “no it’s the current Angel Dust” which can’t be the case. To prove my point I would like to refer back to the comics and the music video and looking at it with the context of the show. And please read my previous post if you want more explanation on Addict.

I just want to start off with explaining his relations to Cherri, needless to say Cherri is someone who Angel sees as a true friend and confines in her. And she is there for him as he is for her even willing to fight for her knowing well that he will get in trouble for it. Though one has to wonder why is there such this deep love and care for each other. Looking back to Addict, where we have Cherri singing her “Yeah you fell in love and you fell deeper in this pit...” and several times we have an unknown character pop up during her part of the song. With the little snip bits of info we get from the sequence we can tell that Cherri is in the line of work because of someone who’s over her head. And what they have over is an emotional hold over her if we want to lean in on what the lyrics it might in a romantic sense be we still don’t know who it is tho. So what makes this so important to Angel Dust.

This is because she herself is in the similar situation as Angel as in the both of us are trapped in the holes we dug ourselves into. Giving Angel someone who can understand the stuff he’s going through. Cherri knows why he’s acting out because he’s just trying to hide how hurt he really is cause” hey so does she”. And knows she doesn’t have to say anything but just be there; and takes him out on a night out with her when he’s down. That’s why Cherri is so important to him she’s someone he know that’s not going to look down on him or patronize him on his actions. And his number 1# go to person; which is why he probably reveal to her that he wants to get clean because hey that’s what binds them together... This connects why he broke streak and his stopped his sobriety.

During the opening scene of the show we have Valentino texting Angel to do work right after the extermination. Which I also have to point out that Val showing a lack of care for Angel safety after the extermination. He clearly wants his money and is making Angel put himself out there for work. And what does he do after he’s done with the job; he falls back on drugs. Now this is important to note... remember during the News broadcast Charlie confirmed that Angel was clean for 2 weeks before all of this happened! He was doing so well what could have possibly made him break his streak-Valentino.

People were theorizing Val gave drugs to his employees meaning Val isn’t only his pimp but supplier as well! Giving the reason why Angel stayed with Val for so long; when I did my analysis of the music video Addict I said Val maybe the first one to find Angel when he first came to hell. Manipulating Angel in a weakened state to view him as a sort of savior and made him forget his sorrows and how did this happen you may ask... “drugs” using sweet words to mask his hidden agenda. So Val basically trained hims like a dog on a leash in a sense of “you’ll get a love & affection with a treat” which translates to “if you do this job for me I’ll give you all the love you were denied when you were alive as along with the drugs you’ve been craving”. I will argue that Val made Angel even more dependent on drugs; because he made it his number one coping method he’s the enabler. After Angel was assaulted and raped by Valentino probably made it even worse for him because Val’s his boss, he goes to work he has to see him... triggering him to fall back on to drugs. That’s why Angel needs his drugs and needs to numb himself, so him breaking his streak clean after taking a job from Val wasn’t coincidence back then.

“he’a been behaved, clean and out of trouble for 2 weeks now” until Val got to him...

This makes Val even more dangerous to Angel’s road to recovery than we could have ever imagined. No only that but it makes it difficult to tell someone about it as well Angel is afraid of him and has to stay in contact with him since he’s his employer. This would be good time to bring up my rebuttal for my case of Addict: I get. I identified that the Angel Dust in the beginning of the music video is a younger one that still has some love for before figured out he was using him and he stood up to Val (pre-trauma). And the Angel Dust at the end credits of the music video and the one in the comic is the current Angel Dust and show (post-trauma). When you look at the interactions with Val (via comic vs music video) they are clearly different hence the two different Angel Dusts!

I will be referring to the comics in this section so if you haven’t read them please do.

When Angel is in the limo with Val he’s trying to make it very apparent that he’s upset that he’s not getting any attention from Val. Being very huffy and puffy not even looking at him as Val’ counting his money, forgetting that he’s right there. This is very important because Angel doesn’t hesitate to hide his emotions, this Angel is willing to show discontentment in front of Val being angry and annoyed at him which leads up to why he doesn’t kiss want him and outright rejects him. He shows he’s willing to fight back against Val’s mistreatment and neglect of him, becoming more aware of it. In my earlier post I deduced this scene is where Angel first time he’s disobeyed Val and finally gets the full picture he understands he doesn’t mean anything to Val and he’s using him. He’s no longer willing to put up with his mind games anymore and probably would have left Val that night... which is why he raped him to gain control over Angel.

Music video vs. Comic scene

Now looking at the interactions Angel Dust has with Val are completely different he’s submissive to Valentino when we see his conversation in the limo. Not only that but it shows why Angel Dust went on that drug deal for Val; to show him he can do something else other than being a sex-worker. Angel wants out and this was his way of giving himself another option but Val shuts it down completely! Even before he entires, he’s holding his arm in fear and discomfort, even when he’s trying to plead his case he is terrified. He’s no longer willing to fight back because of what Val did to him. And Val reminds him constantly that he could do it again if he wanted to by reminding him of that night! He does this by grabs Angel face when he tries to explain himself, like he did when he forced Angel to kiss. Val forces him to smiles when he leaves the limo he wants him to never show any form of disagreement or disobedience like the last time because that’s what got him in trouble last. To add more salt in the wound he makes him Angel call him “Mister Valentino” reminding him he’s in control! The man is practical holding a gun over Angel saying “the same thing will happen, if you disobey me again...” AND THAT IS SADISTIC AS HELL! It making me hate Val even more and after he leaves the limo all he can do is let out his anger in silence as when he smokes similar to when we see him smoke at the end credits to Addict this Angel is our current Angel Dust. This is his way of expressing his sorrow in silence why he’s an addict.

So you maybe asking how does Cherri bomb come into play, well I don’t think after the initial incident with Val who does Angel confine to Cherri and destroy a bar together. You see the pattern; Angel has a break down, uses his drugs comes off of the high, he goes to Cherri and in turn go out, and have fun well her kind of destructive fun! And it has been confirmed that he learn all about weapons from Cherri so basically this is the reason why! He wasn’t breaking his clean streak “to do his girl buddy a solid” he went because he wanted to be with the only person who could understand him at that time. And she just happened to be in a fight and he jumped in thinking “oh my home girl’s in trouble I gotta help her out...” and that’s probably did out of instinct to protect Cherri. Charlie and Vaggie cut in... now things start to get a little dicey I’m not trying to attack them but they didn’t handle it this best way. They didn’t know anything, and before know Angels story a lot of people are upset with Angel’s action but now that we have context they’re (Charlie & Vaggie) in the wrong.

These are the points of why Angel cannot confine to Charlie or Vaggie, I will also argue that they pushed Angel further from them. Angel is someone who’s very prideful and isn’t going to tell someone that he’s hurt. Unless they figure it out for themselves or feels safe with them (Cherri). Looking back Vaggie & Charlie made a huge “No-No...” and this scene is incredibly painful to watch. Let’s cut to Vaggie how does she address Angel by scolding him for his actions she goes right to the blame game, which is the last thing she should be doing if they really want to help Angel. They don’t even take the chance to ask him why he did it; unintentionally isolating him from help.

What bother me is that Vaggie is quick to call Angel’s actions are a result of being “selfish” which is not the case now that we have context. And probably why Angel just kept trying to piss off Vaggie because he knows that his actions weren’t out of wanting be “selfish”... and makes it clear that he still wants to go clean. It probably actually really hurt him to when she said that and I’d like to point out that people who struggle with addiction it’s not easy to stay clean and people can relapse. Basically what Vaggie did was shamed Angel for relapsing which is not okay and paints him as a bad guy immediately! To say he ruined the image of the hotel ... it made me furious at Vaggie putting all the blame on Angel. And we know that’s not the case even before the fight was broad casted the demons and sinners in Hell were already laughing at Charlie’s idea and let’s be honest it was reasonable. Because WE DON’T KNOW IF IT’S POSSIBLE YET so putting all the blame on Angel Dust was uncalled if anything it’s just the cherry on top. I’m not trying to attack Charlie but she really doesn’t know what she’s doing she doesn’t know how to send a soul into heaven. Is it irresponsible to broadcast a client before they are proven successful, not only that but it puts a lot of pressure on Angel to prove theory that we’re not sure is true yet.

And let’s be honest did Charlie really believe Vaggie’s word’s wouldn’t but hurtful they didn’t even take the time to ask him why he did it; immediately writing him off when clearly somethings going on now she’s painting the image that they don’t care about him, they just care about the hotel, and that they just wanted to use him as a poster boy! Hmm... now who has used Angel Dust in the past for their own personal agenda... oh yeah VALENTINO! Which is why he goes on saying “I made you look sad and pathetic...” he chooses those words not to just make Vaggie mad but that��s probably what he was really feeling on the inside. Angel really did want to apologize to Charlie but after what Vaggie said to him it probably made him feel like his apology meant nothing and leaves these actions carry on into Addict. This is where naivety is her biggest downfall she rushed into it thinking just keeping Angel clean is gonna redeem him she was so not ready to broad cast the hotel. She makes it sound easy but it so much harder than that!

THIS WAS A 100% CALLED FOR! AND SHE DOESN”T EVEN REALIZE IT!

This is why Angel flips off Charlie and doesn’t want to talk to her, he’s basically doing cause “Why should I tell you about my problems you don’t really care you just care about your hotel...” that’s why this is so important to highlight. They already gave him that impression, that they think little of him and that they aren’t going sympathize with him but scold him. And Charlie should have stopped Vaggie yelling when she had the chance. Vaggie sabotaged her chance to understand Angel Dust and help him. And did she really think her temperamental girlfriend was the one to help sympathize and redeem sinners. If she really wants to help Angel Dust she needs to stop thinking it’s gonna be a cupcake walk, people have reasons why they fall to these bad habits; people have issues, relationships, traumas, that they need to navigate before they can heal. Which makes me believe that Charlie isn’t the one who’s going to get Angel Dust to open up to them about his trauma. Vaggie’s out of the question if not then who...

HUSKER

Yup our favorite flying poker kitty... I’ll do a separate post on that because it deserves it’s own explanation! (Side note I really do love Vaggie we don’t know her story so don’t hate her) Hope you guys enjoy the post~

#hazbin hotel #angel dust #valentino #hazbin hotel charlie #vaggie #Cherri Bomb #huskerdust #husker #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel addict #vivziepop

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giantsreach · 3 years

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part of having written carver since like. 2013/14 is that i can never remember which topics i’ve posted meta on but i’m pretty sure i haven’t discussed his banter with fenris in-depth on this blog yet.

i think something that rubs me the wrong way about the way carver and fenris often interact in fan work is that there tends to be an underlying and fundamental misunderstanding about why carver approaches fenris in the manner he does. i’ve seen a lot of carver talking out of his ass to fenris for no reason other than a ) he thinks he knows better, and/or b ) his overly critical eye wants to fault-find. + he’s annoying or smth to that effect. 🙄

these interpretations tend to neglect the actual driving force behind carver interacting with fenris in the first place, and that’s that carver has had little exposure to other warriors. apart from his time in king cailin’s army, he was peerless ( literally ) in his field, and only interacted with his fellow swordspeople when they passed through town via the imperial highway.

now, there is aveline, of course, but the writing makes it clear that aveline takes on the role of yet another older sibling ( or family of a similar, authoritative position ) in his life, and as such, doesn’t quite qualify as a peer in the traditional sense.

this likely isn’t the most flattering way of phrasing it, but carver wants friends. people who he can relate to, who share his interests and background, who find him as compelling as he finds them. carver may seem prickly or sullen in act i ( and he certainly is at times ), but he’s also experiencing two-prongs of isolation:

1 ) cultural, as a fereldan refugee in a city-state that doesn’t try to hide its hatred of foreign asylum-seekers, and 2 ) mundane, as a displaced young man who has never quite fit in at home nor in any village they've settled in, and who has recently lost the family member closest to him, and who watches his surviving sibling pick up new companions left and right as if it’s not at all difficult.

cut to fenris, who is a consummate swordsman. and while carver is initially on edge because he's under the impression fenris could pose a threat to hawke, once the tension is dispelled, he's far from opposed to fenris's presence. if anything, carver is eager for his approval. fenris is, aside from aveline, the only warrior carver gets to spend any considerable amount of time with, and he's singular in his skill and ability. it's plain to see why someone like carver, starved for peers, would want to establish some kind of rapport with someone as exemplary as fenris.

the problem is, naturally, that carver — nineteen and having never learned to read socialize properly, due in equal parts to growing up sheltered as well as having poor self-confidence — cannot stop himself from saying shit that is so mind-blowingly stupid, that it is a wonder fenris was as forbearing as he was. i'm talking about:

Carver: So... this master of yours wants your markings back? Skin and all? Fenris: So his hunters told me. Unwillingly. Carver: So why not cover them up? Wouldn't that make you harder to find? Fenris: Let them come. I am not one to hide. Carver: Still, if it were me— Fenris: It's not. ─────── Carver: So you've really never thought of hiding from those hunters? Fenris: To what end? Carver: So you could, I don't know, have a life? Fenris: What life do you have? There are no hunters after you at all.

i feel like it should be obvious why these banters are in bad taste, so i won’t go into detail to lambaste carver over his blatant ignorance. the dialogue is proof itself, especially considering how little of fenris’s experience carver ( or anyone else for that matter ) can truly comprehend.

what i will do, true to form, is explain that no, carver did not just pull that suggestion, careless as it was, out of his ass. while hawke may or may not do their best to lay low as an apostate, potentially choosing to engage then-knight-captain cullen over the unjust treatment of mages depending on player discretion, carver has internalized how malcolm guided the family. his father taught them to keep their heads down and be prepared to hit the road in case the circle caught scent of them? then that must be the best way to approach it. emotional neglect unfortunately primed carver to idealize and adopt malcolm's choices and general philosophy. this carries over even to legacy, where, regardless of carver's current character arc, carver will agree that malcolm was correct to keep secrets.

so there's fenris, right, who carver believes is in a position similar to that which the hawkes have been in. carver, attempting to help ( as he is wont to do ), wants to share what had worked for them in attaining a semblance of normalcy, not realizing or considering that that is not fenris's foremost goal. hiding is not a one-size fix-all solution, but carver hasn't expanded his horizons well enough to grasp that fully yet.

then there's largest contributors to my secondhand embarrassment in da2:

Carver: You're very different from other elves. Fenris: Oh? You know them all? Carver: No. I just... you look different. There's no denying that. Fenris: It is what I am. And unlike the problems you claim to have, I really did have no choice. Carver: Do we know anyone who isn't brooding every hour of the day? Fenris: Like attracts like, it seems. ─────── Carver: You know, Fenris, I have a tattoo. Fenris: You have a what? Carver: A tattoo. A lot of us got them before Ostagar. It's a Mabari. For strength. Fenris: Does it curse you with the ability to reach into a man and tear out his insides? Carver: Uh. I can make it bark. Fenris: Please don't.

i’ll start with the second one first. at its heart, the tattoo banter hearkens back to the fact carver wants to feel like he has something in common with someone. yes, it is cringe. but it’s also misguidedly sweet, and on top of that, it’s something carver also tries to do with merrill, who carver arguably has the friendliest dynamic with out of hawke’s crew.

Carver: Your people came a long way Merrill, but I like to think that we have Ferelden in common. Merrill: I never saw Lothering. Did you walk as much as we did? Probably more, you didn't start with halla. Our ship stunk. Carver: Your ship? Merrill: There was something foul in the hold. I can still smell it. Carver: Oh, well, that must have been unpleasant. Merrill: It was. Did I miss something dirty again? Carver: No.

speaking of parallels, the “you’re very different from other elves” dialogue mirrors this one with merrill:

Carver: So, you're not like a lot of other girls. Merrill: No, I'm an elf. Carver: Right. Alright then. Merrill: Oh, did I miss something dirty? Carver: What? No! It wasn't dirty. It wasn't anything.

yes, i took 42069 points of psychic damage from reading that too. but the main takeaway from this is that carver is trying, poorly, to make the two people he thinks he could be friends with feel like they’re special. ( you know, like how carver wishes he was. lol. ) to disastrous results. but i think it’s more than worth mentioning that the intent behind his conversation-making is never once condescending.

and it’s not like carver lacks self-awareness, either. after he becomes a warden and returns to the party for mark of the assassin, he admits he lacked polish.

Aveline: I'm glad you found a place with the Wardens. Carver: Well, it's not the city guard, but it'll do. Aveline: Carver... it wasn't the place for you. Carver: No, it's all right. It is. It cost a lot, but I get it. I really was a bit of a tit those days, wasn't I?

Carver: So, we're lost. Varric: Just like old times. Carver: Maker, I hope not. I was an ass. Varric: (laughs) Fair comment, Junior. All right, let's get this done.

and specifically to fenris:

Carver: Orlesians. Can't build a hallway without turning it into a maze. Fenris: Keep going. I'm sure your training will kick in any moment. Carver: Still don't like me? I've tried to change. Fenris: You have. Now you're dangerous. Let's move.

i don’t know how to end this nearly 1.5k meta, so tl;dr i guess

#( here it is the 1.5k carver re fenris meta i've had brainworms over for litr years #at this rate i'll have one for anders merrill fenris and aveline by 2023 afhouwehd #anyway. first day of work is slow )#( miscellaneous ╱ outofchara. )#( re: study ╱ headcanon. )

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enigma-im · 4 years

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Don’t Go Breaking My Heart

Rating: Teen Relationship: Space Orc x F!Human Warnings: angst, avoidance, emotional constipation, repression, fluff, space orc

Word Count: 3812

insecurities are like another person in a relationship, whispering in the other’s ears till something happens.

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Soulmates are something to rejoice over. Which is understandable, it's the person who is perfect for you. How could anything go wrong? It's your other half, your partner in crime, your true paring. Everyone believed it was a simple affair, you meet and then happily ever after. It was the basics until we found out there was life outside of earth, then things got a bit more complicated. New cultures to take into account along with physiology.

Things aren't as straight forward after that.

When I was a kid I use to fantasize about my soulmate. Would they be tall, short, fat, skinny? What kind of music do they like, and will they also eat their sandwiches without the crust? I adored the idea of having a new best friend to hang with. As I got older the idea never really left, morphing more into adult-type thinking. It isn't till I could translate my mark did I begin to have doubts.

It was an off chance that I happened to see the language my soulmate spoke, a weird situation really. I was fumbling about online and I saw it, just a new article that had a picture of the written language. It as scraggly and difficult to read, like a doctor's handwriting. With further research, I found exactly what species my mate was likely to be.

Orc.

I was excited at the time, I figured it out. My mate was to be an Orc, large creature with mostly human parts. To better prepare I did some more digging, looking up anything I could that wasn't video game lore. It was all so new and surprising. I had a direction now, an image to apply to my fantasies.

Since then I have studied extensively on Orc culture. Learning the ins and outs of how they live, socialize, idolize, and talk. It was all so engaging and rich in lore. It felt like I was getting to know my mate already.

The more I researched I soon had an inching doubt. It started off small, basic insecurities. As I read about their courting did I really give it some thought.

Orcs value strength in their culture. A strong mate is heavily sought after. If a soulmate wasn't of great value then they are known to cast them aside. The idea puts lead in my stomach. I'm not strong, or large like their women. I'm tall but I fit more in the string bean category more than anything. I could never be what a typical orc would want.

As I spiraled in these thoughts one thing became clear. I will not be putting myself through that humiliation. I can't stand the thought of being viewed so lowly by someone who is supposed to be my perfect match. To be laughed at by them or be a dirty secret will kill me inside. I can't be an embarrassment, I refuse.

Thereafter I ignored my mark, keeping occupied in school and work. A little while later it became easy to avoid thoughts about him. It was like I never had a soulmate.

It wasn’t as freeing as I thought it would be.

After college I jump into my career, climbing the corporate ladder quickly. It's easy enough when you are married to your work. That even the thought of free time brings anxiety and stress. After a few years, I am exactly where I want to be. Traveling the world meeting new important people.

I have been everywhere and met every type of person. Orcs being one of those types of people. When I first saw one the excitement peaked its head, only for a moment. Then anxiety took over. What if it's him? The orc said his first words to me and the sigh of relief and disappointment was alarming. A few more introduction after that and the rising emotions settled. It was back to normal after that. Pretending that 'special' someone didn't exist.

Years passed and nothing happened. I didn't meet him or even get a trail. My soul felt numb, everything felt numb. It's hardly noticeable after so long, just a hole I've dealt with. I tried dating to fill the void but no one wants to date outside their partner. Anyone who does has lost their loved one already, wanting to also fill the void. Once they find out mine is still out there they break off quickly. So I focus on my career, it's all I have.

In my early 30s, I'm working in Germany. A lovely place but I always preferred the isles of Scotland, specifically Skye. At the embassy passing around some documents, I bump shoulders with an imposing figure. He is quite tall and buff, the poster child of orcs if I've ever seen one. He twists around, apologizing for the shoulder check.

"Sorry, I didn't see you there. Shouldn't have had my focus too far in the clouds while walking a crowded room," he smiles curtly.

I stare blank face at him, all primary functions failing. I can hear- feel- my heart beating against my chest. Everything is cold, my fingers numb but tingly. My vision tunnels and my brain just screams one thing. Run.

Rudely I turn and quickly walk away, giving no further reaction or words to my mat- to the stranger. I don't have a direction as I make it out the nearest door. I close it swiftly behind me, leaning against it. Sliding down to the floor I ball up. Pressing my knees to my chest and begin crying. Years of repression and closeting emotions are now boiling over. The sadness I ignored, convincing myself that they do not exist, is all on the surface.

I hiccup, stubbornly wiping away tears on the floor of a bathroom. All I can think is,

Fuck.

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I have to say I've gotten good at not only avoiding emotions but people too. A week and a half of only catching glimpses of the orc. Which is a lot of glimpses, he is out and about often. It helps I'm stuck in my office for the time, only leaving for lunch. Still, he is always around when I'm out.

After I can pretend I've forgotten about him does he show up in my office. Knocking on my door a little after lunch. Too focused on work I don't hear him come in. I look up from my desk and choke.

"Hello again," he smiles," I have a folder for you, Reggie asked if I could bring it by."

"uh," I stare. My fingers grip the pen roughly, my fist almost shaking with the tension. The only thought running through my head now is, 'don't say anything'. If I talk then he will know. Then he will reject me. Then I can't go on pretending.

"You alright," he flicks the folder against his chest," didn't mean to startle you or anything. I know orcs can be kind of intimidating." I almost snort at the irony of that statement. Very intimidating indeed.

Instead of answering I hold out my hand for the folder, my other still white gripping the pen. He quickly crosses the room, handing me the folder before walking back to the door. With a curt wave, he is gone.

Once the door clicks into place I take in a greedy breath, slamming my head into my crossed arms. I groan, mumbling into my fist. My brain is muddled and my heart conflicted. I yearn to follow him but I also crave to leave back to the states. But one thought is resting quietly in the back of my head.

He looks good in those pants.

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This idiot is now making it damn hard to avoid him. It's like he has made it his mission to get me to talk. Intercepting my way to my office in the mornings, meeting me at lunch, or delivering things to my office. He is determined, I'll give him that.

I'm almost running out of excuses. It's hard to make excuses without talking. I'm almost convinced he thinks I'm mute. Which would have been a grand way out if it wasn't for my coworkers plotting against me. As I talk with them they try to bring him into the conversation, promptly shutting me up.

I learn at some point his name is Garson. When I first heard I actually blushed, like a school girl! It was just his name and he didn't even say it. I will never understand the inner workings of soulmates but Garson always makes my controlled emotions run rapid.

As I sit in my office, absentmindedly writing my door opens. I don't look up, lost in thought for the hundredth time today.

"Hey," that deep -sexy- voice says. I sigh, shoulders slumping. I glance ahead, annoyed, and flustered. Garson waves shyly, holding up another folder. At this point, he has become my special delivery man. "From Vanya," he sets the file down," she asked I bring it on account of her bum leg. I told her it would be a bad idea to play soccer with her teens." his tense chuckle makes my heart throb. I want to ease his anxiety, but I can't. I just shrug, still writing.

He sighs, walking back out the door. The click echoed around the room and I find myself slamming my head on the desk again.

"Fuck," I groan, pounding my fist on the folder.

As I remind myself for the hundredth time why I'm doing this I notice my notes. I shift the paper and grimace at what I wrote.

Garson. Garson. Garson.

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I can't fucking take it! He is more determined than I am stubborn. Watching him find more excuses to come to my office is almost impressive in its own right. He has upgraded from delivery boy to a food service. At some point he has found out my favorite snacks and drinks.

He interrupts me at the door, handing me a coffee while ranting about his night. As I ignore him, feeling like the biggest idjit, other coworkers join in. the number of dirty looks I get doesn't outweigh the appreciation I have for them talking to him. I feel like complete garbage when I don't respond to him, letting him look like a fool talking to someone who clearly doesn't want to talk. Thank the kindness of others.

Around lunch he pops in for a chat, offering a spot next to him in the cafeteria. I shake my head, pretending to be too busy to interact with him. Every time he offers and I decline he leaves so dejected. It's so heartbreaking to see him like that.

Day after day he tries his damndest to make friends with me. I cannot fathom this type of devotion to someone he doesn't know. I'm almost tempted to think he knows but its impossible. He is just too friendly for his own good.

Some coworkers have cornered me to ask what is up, some more confrontational than others. Some are casual in their attempts, asking simply why I'm so mean to the orc. Others are personally offended for him, being passive-aggressive to the point that I ask them to take his attention off me if they are so angry. Some do, which I'm grateful for. But he isn't swayed so easily.

I sit in my office, alone, contemplating my choices. I can't keep dealing with this. The heartbreak I feel rejecting him is as bad as him rejecting me. I'm doing what I was afraid of him doing, worse is he doesn't even know.

I have to leave.

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It was weak, I'll admit that. Asking for a transfer was probably the easiest way out. I know I should just talk to him, let him have a choice in this, but I can't. he is a sweet guy, everyone knows that, but he is still an orc. He deserves someone strong and proud as his kind is. It's impossible for me to be that.

As I wallow on my last week of work I clean up my drawers to distract myself. I sort through some papers when the door bangs open. The knob slams against the wall, bouncing away towards that alluring figure. Garson walks in, grabbing the door and closing it behind him. His sneer is alarming, along with his clenched fist.

"You're leaving," he shouts," are you kidding me?" he walks closer to the desk, turning to pace the length of the room. " I tried, I thought maybe it's because I'm an orc and you were scared of me. I understand that, humans are super sensitive that way. But no! I was nice, patient, and doing everything I could to be nonthreatening. Yet that didn't help did it? It seems like nothing was going to fix that. So my question should really be why is my soulmate running from me?" I gasp, gawking at him. He stops his pacing, glaring down at me with crossed arms. He shrugs," well? Why are you running from me?"

I can't answer, shocked and startled by this admission. He doesn't allow me the time to stew on the question. He shoots forwards, slamming his hands on the desk. I jump.

"Why are you running from me," he chokes on a sob," It's been killing me to give you time. To watch you every day and not be able to hold you. If you want to leave, then fine. I won't stop you. I just want to know where I went wrong, what did I do? What could I have done? Was I always going to be not enough for you? Well?"

I bolt up at his words," I was scared! I was fucking scared, ok?" we both startle at my outburst. His self-deprecating look mixed with his attempt at a sneer melt off his face. I sigh, "I didn't want to be rejected, I couldn't handle that kind of pain." I drop my head in defeat.

Garson ducks down onto his knees, catching my eyes. "Why did you assume I would reject you," he asks.

"because you’re an orc and I'm not," I answer.

He scoffs," and you're a human and I'm not. Do you really see that as being a huge problem?"

"Yes," I slap the desk," of course it's going to be a problem. I'm not strong or proud, I'm weak and antisocial. I cry every time I watch sad dog movies. I can't lift more than half my body weight. I also don't have anything worthy for you. I'm an ordinary human while you are part of a devoted species. I am not worthy."

Garson just stares after my outburst. He looks between my eyes then gives me a once over. He huffs, standing straight. He combs his fingers through his long hair, turning away with a laugh.

"You have to be kidding me," he laughs again. His chuckles turn into full-blown laughter till he is lounging against the door.

"What's so funny," I snap. His laughs trail off as he watches me. When he doesn't answer, I sit, arms crossed and lip sneered.

"Sorry," he looks to his feet," it's just ironic."

"Yea, how so?"

I watch him straighten from the wall and casually flop into one of the chairs in front of my desk. Everything is quiet as he collects his thoughts. I faintly hear the sound of shuffling outside my door. No doubt some people heard the shouting.

"When I first found out what species my soulmate was I was excited. I had a direction now, I felt closer to you. I was so excited I told everyone I could. People of my clan held their tongues at my joy, only giving pitiful looks but no words. I never noticed it. It's when my parents sat me down to explain did I get it," he shifts in his chair," 'humans are scared of us' my mom said. 'they are weak' my dad said. I became torn between the fear of hurting you and the fear of you not wanting me because you'd think I'd hurt you.

"When I finally read what your words said I let their words alter me. instead of rejecting the idea of you I sent out to change. I got jobs that interacted with humans and kept myself small. I'm not a threat, I never was. I took every chance to chat with humans, to get used to them. It was all in preparation for you. I was- am- scared of you." he meets my eyes, his so full of fear. My heart patters, the view of vulnerability shaking me to the core.

"y-you were scared of me," I point to myself. The idea is laughable. "So we are a bunch of idiots too worried about each other's feelings to just ask straight out what we actually felt. That is funny," I chuckle. I huff, sitting back in my seat.

The awkward silence should be stifling but we are captured in our thoughts. It's amazing in its irony that he was also the one scared. I feel relieved and foolish all at once.

"so," he bounces his fingers on his thigh," what now?" I shift in my seat, also curious about our direction.

"depends," I nibble on my lip," do you want me despite everything?" the question lingers in the air for me. The answer I've dreaded my entire life. The choice that decides my happiness.

"Despite everything," he ponders," you ignore me for weeks, avoiding any interaction. Not talking to me less you wish to reveal yourself, and requesting a transfer. Despite all that, despite the ignorance and stubbornness, I want you." the satisfaction that flows through me is startling. My hand shakes from the previous fear and now incomparable joy.

"I never thought I would hear those words," I sigh," thank fuck."

He stands from his chair, walking over the side of my desk. "So you want me too? Despite everything," he crouches down. I grab at his face, finally allowing myself the chance to admire his handsome face. His long tusk and pierced lip. His dark green eyes and even darker green skin. He is so beautiful.

I answer him by leaning forward and capturing his lips. Pressing fiercely against him, showing him my cyclone of emotions. He returns it in full, shedding his insecurities to just hold me.

"I'm sorry," I mumble against him.

"it's ok, I'm sorry too," he kisses me again. He cards his fingers through my hair, petting down its length. I don't want to leave this moment, it filling the hole that sat too long in my heart. Though one question makes me part.

"How did you know," I ask. He traces his nose over mine with a hum.

"How did I know what," he asks.

"How did you know I was your soulmate, I didn’t say anything," I clarify. Garson answers by leaning down to my neck and taking a large inhale.

"Fresh baked cookies and honey milk," he kisses my cheek," only my soulmate can smell so good."

I laugh," you can smell your soulmate?"

"of course, all orcs can. Do humans not have this," he leans back. I shake my head, taking the time to lean in and smell him.

"pine tree and blueberries," I ponder," no, pine tree and strawberries."

"pine tree and fruit?"

"I guess so," I shrug, grinning like an idiot. He smiles with me, leaning back in for another heart stopping kiss.

-----------------------

After the week is over I transfer back to the states. The distance is aching, the void opening as he isn't there to fix it. I call him every night, regretting more than anything signing those papers. I belong right next to Garson in Germany. Though I can see now that I deserve to deal with the repercussions of my actions. Still, it sucks.

A month in I feel as empty as I did before he showed up. The daily calls help but seeing him would be better. My work suffers as a result, to the point that I consider taking vacation time to visit him.

Soon enough I do just that, putting in a week-long vacation request. I forgo telling Garson of my visit, wanting to surprise him. It's exciting to be able to this with someone. I always watch couples on tv surprising each other like this. It's nice to feel so normal.

The night before my flight I start packing. As I collect my clothes I hear a knock at the door. Tossing the items down I go over and answer. I throw open the door expecting some salesman but I'm greeted to a hulking figure.

"Garson!" I jump him with a hug. I pepper his face with kisses, too caught up in the growing affection.

"Hey, nice to see you too," he laughs, holding me close. He walks in, shutting the door behind himself as he goes into my living room. He sets us both on the couch, leaning down for a kiss.

"What are you doing here," I ask surprised.

"What, can't come visit my mate?"

"Oh shush, you know that's not what I meant. I'm asking because I was just getting ready to visit," I point towards my room," I'm in the middle of packing actually."

"really," he strokes my thigh," I guess great minds think alike."

"I guess they do," I smile. Having him here is like a weight being lifted off my shoulders. I underestimated his importance until now.

We can't help but make up for lost time, making out like a bunch of teenagers on the couch till we make it to the bedroom. Pushing the luggage and clothes off the bed we make love for the first time. When he first pushes in it's like a puzzle finally coming together. I can't believe I was going to deny myself this, even with the chance of denial this is too great of a reward.

We lay in bed, me resting against his broad chest and him petting my head. We bask in the afterglow and silence, overjoyed with each other's company.

"I got some news," he mumbles, breaking the quiet. I hum, nuzzling into his chest. "I got transferred here," he answers.

I snap straight, looking down at him, "You're going to work with me?"

"yea," he smiles," it's exciting, I've never been to the states before."

"really? It's not much but now that you’re here perhaps it is," I cup his jaw, stealing a kiss while my excitement is hot.

"you flirt," he teases," I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," I mumble against his lips.

We fall asleep that night, curious but excited about our future.

I'm glad things worked out despite our ignorance. How could anyone deny their mate?

-----------------------

I just.... I just love orcs so much. soulmate stories ain’t so bad either.

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog

#orcs are hot #orc boyfriend #orc x reader #monster boyfriend #exophilia #Enigma-IM #fluff #soulmate #garson

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spectrumed · 3 years

Text

2. voice

As a child I could not pronounce the letter R. I once complained to my mother for being so careless as to give me a name that had two R’s in it. Fredrik. Or as I pronounced it back then, “Fledlik.” Cute, right? I was a cute child, all blonde and with big blue eyes. At one point, I got surrounded by a group of older girls who forced me to pronounce my name, even though I really couldn’t. They laughed and laughed, teasing me for my inability to pronounce even my own name correctly. If I ever had a reason to develop a fetish for femdom, I think this would have been it.

Like it or not, in speech, there is no room for individual quirks. No, we’ve all got to learn how to speak properly. Historically, that has led to some pretty heinous attitudes towards regional accents, any tongue that was the standard was seen by default as being less or developed and intelligent. Regional accents were seen as practically unhygienic, the worry being that if people just got to speak as they wished, they might end up potentially thinking dangerous thoughts. While I understand the importance of being understood, it’s clear that the stigma that exists around speech difficulties stems from a place of prejudice. If a person has a lisp, do you really struggle to understand them? And while stammering can be quite debilitating, it should be blatantly obvious that shaming people who stammer, suggesting that they are bereft of intelligence, is not the way to help them. Humans are social animals, and language may be the one thing that distinguishes us as a species, it is natural that proper elocution should be treasured. But some people do struggle with their speech, and that should not cost them any respect or kindness.

As a child, I didn’t speak nearly enough. As an adult I am speaking too much. That’s the problem with you, Fredrik, you’ve never understood that there is a middle ground between two extremes. There is a way you can speak that is neither too quiet, nor too loud. It is how normal people speak. Why can’t you be normal, Fredrik? Are you going to spend this whole blog post talking about how difficult it is for you to simply learn to be like everyone else? Self-pitying yourself, much? Back in my day people pulled themselves up by their bootstraps, if they had something they struggled with, they learned to sort it all out, and they didn’t start complaining about society being all mean to them. You’re just spending too much time inside your own head, go take a swim, take up a hobby that requires you to step outdoors, it will serve you well. Don’t be a freak, Fredrik. Be normal, for once.

On a side note, “pulling yourself up by your bootstraps” is meant to be understood as an impossible feat. You can’t possibly pull yourself up by your bootstraps, it’s ludicrous to even suggest that such a thing may be feasible. While, yes, there are many things you can do to help yourself, ultimately, you can’t profoundly escape from a sorry situation you’ve found yourself in without some outside help. There is no shame in requiring help. To guilt someone into thinking that if they can’t do it alone, they are weak, is frankly sociopathic. Humans need each other, we take care of each other, we are there for each other. Self-sufficiency is great, but let’s not take it to levels of absurdity by suggesting that needing help from others is anything but normal. No-one succeeds in life without others there to prop them up. Instead of telling someone to pull themselves up by their bootstraps, you might as well tell them to go and swallow the sun, which is clearly another impossible task.

Most people will never in their lives experience what it is like to go through a neuropsychological evaluation. Turns out that it is not always such a pleasant experience. Though, considering the popularity of pseudo-scientific nonsense like the Myers-Briggs test, I am sure some folks would lie and pretend to love it. Certainly, there is a charm to being there and talking about yourself for several hours near-uninterrupted, but the exhaustion that you will feel at the end of it cannot be understated. Naturally, it does vary between who does it, and why they’re doing it. But if the stated goal is to find out whether you’ve had a neurodevelopmental disorder since you were but a young babe, then of course, there are going to be some pretty long conversations happening about those early days. Lots of stuff you may not have considered or thought about in a very long time will suddenly become very relevant to your current situation. And at the end of it all, you get some papers detailing your fashionable new diagnosis. Your entire life, all written down. Can make you feel rather wistful. And there’s really quite a surprising amount of typos included in the text, and barely any jokes.

Still, as part of my official diagnosis, there is a reference to my speech at being at times “stilted.” Though, the diagnosis does take very good care to mention that I appear intelligent and thoughtful, exhibiting a wide vocabulary and a good sense of the right words to use at the right moment. It’s flattering, for the most part. Yet, it does irk me that I could be perceived as being stilted. I know that at this point, I am being petty, because who cares if I sometimes come across as maybe a little robotic. I’ve got Asperger’s. Of course I am a robot. The closest role model we folks with Asperger’s ever had for the longest time was Star Trek: The Next Generation’s android named Data. God forbid anyone like me ever turned out to be the protagonist of a series, we’re all doomed to play the part of the robot, the alien, or the socially awkward geek. I should just be delighted that I am high-functioning. I know how much worse some have it. I should be grateful and pleased that I come across as mostly normal, mostly neurotypical. But… I really just don’t want anyone to think my speech is stilted. I don’t want to be Data. I want to be Riker.

It is never enough, you’ll never be good enough. If you fake it, they’ll see through it. If you struggle and if you work honestly to appear more normal, they won’t recognise it. As soon as they get an inkling you may be an imposter, looking like them, but having a neurologically deviant brain, they’ll single you out. For you, normalcy is an illusion. To attempt to be normal is to remake yourself only to receive nothing. Sure, you can be disingenuous, pretend you're not yourself, but it’ll never fool them. In the end, you’ll only lose yourself. Maybe I should just own the fact that my speech sometimes comes across as being stilted. Maybe I should own it. Be proud of who I am. But… sometimes I just don’t want to be me.

I want to be ignored. Sometimes, not always. But that goes for everyone. But most of all, I’d like to be able to go unseen whenever I’m not trying to impress anyone. When I’m just off to buy some milk. When I’m sitting on the bus. When I’m walking through the park. I know it is partly paranoia, but I can’t help but feel like I stick out. It’s always been like that with my friends growing up. The metaphor I used with my therapist is that I felt like a thumb. That they, my friends, were the fingers and I was the thumb. Sure, we’re similar. In many ways we’re the same. You could even say that I was crucial to making the social dynamics work. Who doesn’t like the thumb? What would you do without your thumb? But still, I was different. Some people would do anything to be different like that, to feel special. Some folks feel all invisible and forgotten in the crowd, and I’d lie if I told them that I didn’t envy them sometimes. The ability to go all invisible? That seems swell! There’s this question people like to ask as a sort of personality test. If you could choose a superpower, would you rather be able to fly, or would you rather be able to go invisible? The answer is obvious, as far as I’m concerned. Of course I’d love to be able to go invisible. To be able to exist without anyone seeing me. Without anyone judging me. Without ever having to worry if someone is going to treat me as different. For a moment to feel what it is like not to be some big, dumb, stupid, thumb.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not too anguished. Nowadays, I feel like I am in a relatively good place. But I would be lying if I told you that I still don’t get frustrated at the plethora of difficulties I face just trying to blend in. Even with family members, people who are supposed to know you the best, even then I have to go out of my way to behave a certain way, to exist a certain way, because fundamentally, they just don’t seem to get you. Not in that way. They have an image of you that you need to try and match. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell them that sometimes you need to be more direct in your communication to truly reach me, I don’t pick up on the many smaller little social cues they may throw my way, it’s still just me being silly and looking for excuses for why I didn’t understand them the first time around. And I am deathly afraid of hurting anyone’s feelings. A very prevalent misconception about autistic individuals is that we don’t care if we’re being rude. That if we are rude, our rudeness can simply be overlooked because, y’know, we’re autistic. While this sort of thing is commonly represented in media that is supposed to depict autistic characters, in real life, things don't quite work like this. Believe it or not, readers, being autistic is not a free pass to act like a dick. Autistic individuals still very much have to modulate our behaviour if we wish to fit in and be accepted. No-one will ever excuse you for being autistic. To be autistic is living with extra hurdles in your way, thinking that it’s anything but a social handicap is romanticising a diagnosis you clearly know very little about.

When I was a kid, I didn’t speak much. As far as I was concerned, I merely spoke whenever I needed to speak. It took until adulthood for me to learn that my parents and teachers were actually concerned about that. I was made to see a specialist, under the guise of learning elocution, but I’ve later come to realise that those meetings were about more than just learning to pronounce the letter R. Like, what does testing my memory have to do with diction? Yes, her job was partly to help my speech develop more in line with the other kids, but she was also there to evaluate whether or not I was intellectually disabled. I have come to learn that I had teachers at the time that were adamant about me going to a different school, more equipped to handle kids like me, but my mother vehemently defended my right to stay in the school I was in. After all, I did have friends, and to anyone who really knew me, they knew that I was a bright child. Sure, I wasn’t as communicative as the other children, but I clearly had no issues processing information, and it’s not like I was disruptive in some other way. But that was also part of the problem. The teachers that thought that I may need specialist schooling were concerned about the fact that I was too placid and too agreeable. They wanted me to express frustration at my lacking pronunciation, to see me get mad at others for not fully understanding me. That amazes me, if anything. The fact that I was a happy kid they took as some indication that I wasn’t quite right.

My mother delights in a memory of me as a kid once slamming my fist on the table and declaring that “now, I am speaking!” May I remind you that I was a cute kid. Sure, it is the sort of behaviour that parents of the old times would have spanked their kids for. Kids in the past were supposed to be quiet. To be seen, but not heard. I wonder if there’d be any kind of hubbub about my early development if I lived back then. I’d probably be seen as the ideal child, all pretty and docile and never too loud. Still, it was a moment my mother cherished, because for once, I really proved that I did have the capacity to speak. Though, I still couldn’t pronounce my R’s. But it was time for Fledlik to speak.

#neurodiversity #neurodivergent #autism spectrum disorder #autism #aspergers #mental health

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my-darling-boy · 4 years

Note

what about California suits you poorly?

A LOT and I’m so stressed I’m just going to vent about it, I’m sorry I need to let this out:

1. Weather is fucking awful in so many counties, especially where I live. It gets to 110-120F in the summer for 2 months, half the year it’s 90+. We get rain/grey skies MAYBE in total for 2 weeks out of the entire year. I’ve suffered for years from reversed seasonal depression (where you get so much sun you get depressed) which means my mental health is only at it’s best in the cold or with grey skies and gloomy weather, can’t take pills for it because of the side effects. I also have a skin condition that flares up in the heat which means I can’t go outside, at the worst part of the year, for anymore that 30 seconds without stinging horrible pain over my whole body, can’t get the injection to take care of it cos that’s just one more injection I’d have to worry about

2. We’re on constant wildfire watch about half the year, sometimes more. We’ve been at risk of evacuating 3 times but thankfully haven’t had to ever evacuate. However, my grandparents have had to twice and I have family that lost their houses in the Tubbs Fire which also destroyed my home town and so many people are still displaced from the fires. Even counties that don’t have to evacuate suffer from the purple-red zone for air quality due to smoke and I have high sensitivity to smoke which means I have a constant sore throat for all of fire season which is like 7 months out of the year and I would prefer not to look out my window and see a charcoal sky or a burning Star Wars Tattooine red sunset so often that it becomes normal.

3. I dunno what ads are shown in other states about California, but unless you are a millionaire, but I’ve found it’s near impossible to live here without at least two roommates all working a 40 hour week. Everyone my age has roommates or a partner mainly cos it’s so difficult to live on your own. It is in the top 3 most expensive states in the country. Low income housing 2 minutes away from me is priced at $600,000-$700,000 and the homes just next to those in gated communities are $1,000,000+. “”“Affordable””one bedroom flats just near me are $2,500-$3000 a month. And I don’t even live in a major city. If I moved out now, I would be classified as living in poverty with what money I have. For a look at how bad it’s gotten, my dad’s childhood home in the 70s was once $100,000 and it just sold last year for over $1,500,000.

4. There are no outlets for my career or job wants. At all. My main interest/knowledge is in Western Europe around that 1880-1920 period and mainly around WWI, and I reenact a British soldier. I love that history, theatre, art.... but on the off chance I had $60,000 a semester to go to the universities here I wanted to get a degree after transferring from a junior college, I have nowhere to apply that here. There are practically zero WWI events for me to reenact here, minus Newville and a couple others and there is no target audience for all my WWI writing and art because barely anyone gives a damn about WWI here (the Joke I’d always hear in school was “WWI? What even was that?” and we would learn about it for MAYBE two weeks out of 12 years of schooling). There aren’t museums I’d want to work at here, there aren’t shops I’d love to work for, there aren’t historical places I feel attached to to work there. I cannot tell you how fucking ECSTATIC I was to see actual WWI items in museums in England because I’d never seen anything like it here!! Like??? I could’ve fucking cried because I was so happy to be in a place where my interests had meaning to people?? Like last time I was there, literally a man in an elevator got into a Deep conversation with us about how sad WWI was and how it’s still emotional for people which was WILD because here I’m always told to “be smart and get interested in something that actually matters”. Like I’m sorry but it is SO draining to be so passionate about something it feels like no one around you ever cares about

5. The Style I specifically have is SO unnecessarily pricey to have here. California never had an Edwardian Period the way they did in the countries I studied, which means that there are, surprise, pretty much zero places to buy clothing/items from that period and if you do happen to find them, they’re outrageously expensive and the cuts of the garments aren’t even the ones I’m looking for, for instance, because America had slightly different fashion. No one here sells the clothing I dream of having, I have to order a majority of my stuff from England meaning it costs A LOT and I pay like $80+ in shipping for some things. My reenactment gear is so expensive to have shipped here as well!! I’m also so ://// cos I see all my friends from Europe just going out and causally finding items I’d love to have at decent prices cos they’re just staple antique shop items there which would be classified as rarities here. Like...... to know I could just walk into a physical shop somewhere and pay £15 for a collar or something that would’ve cost me $45 to have shipped here is just AAAAAHHHH??? Like the only reason why my dream life Brand isn’t as developed as I would like is because that Brand just doesn’t exist anywhere here and it’s so disappointing

6. Additionally, I plan on going to Europe when it’s much safer to travel anyway throughout my life just to visit all these places I want to, if I don’t end up living there somewhere, but flights from California to these places are so expensive because I’m always traveling so far and my flight is always 11-12 hours straight which would be fine if it wasn’t in cramped quarters filled with strangers

7. Ultimately, I just feel so alone and empty here. I look out around me and see an American capitalist wasteland, Hollywood drama in my backyard, stark blue skies with a blazing unforgiving sun, no places I Vibe with, no place I feel interested to live, no place I feel interested to work at, and nothing to be happy about. My parents are planning to move after my dad retires, my grandparents on both sides are getting quite older now, and my family on both sides I’m not all that close with, I used to see a lot and now I see maybe once every 1-2 years. I’m not a little kid anymore and it’s just time for me to leave and everything just feels so wrong about living here in ways I don’t even have words for

8. Adding: the job situation here has been so bad for a long time and because of that, I’ve reached a point where I’m selling my car to have the money I need to move out! I’m either going to have to find a place to live where I can walk or take the metro or something because I don’t have cash left over to by another car once I sell the one I have so RIP

#AND done Vent Over #asks

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baldwin-montclair · 4 years

Text

@butternuggets-blog Baldwin is a pilot in ww1 with the call sign "Copper Prince". Matthew finds this out. They're in a pub. Matthew nearly dies laughing.

——

“It’s hardly the Ritz!” Baldwin regarded the small village pub with snobbish disdain.

“Lighten up,” Diana rolled her eyes, “the kids need to stretch their legs and I need some tea.”

“Honestly Baldwin,” Matthew chuckled, “you are such a snob. It’s meant to be a nice drive through the Scottish countryside.”

“We could have taken the plane, it has windows, we can easily see the scenery from there.”

“It’s not the same,” Diana laughed, “besides, Douglas is expecting his second child any day now, we insisted he take at least a few months off to help at home.”

“I can fly a plane, don’t know why we even keep a pilot on retainer.”

“You can fly?” Diana asked, stunned.

“Yes, I like to keep up with my certification, designs have changed much since they came into being. I could have shown you, and gotten to Osborne’s home sooner had flying been an option.”

“Pip, Pip, they have swings!” Rebecca squealed with delight, grabbing her brother’s hand to pull him to the play area.

“Kids, don’t rush off.” Diana sighed.

“It’s fine,” Baldwin shook his head, “I’ll watch over them, cannot imagine this place has anything I would want.”

“Alright,” Diana shrugged, linking arms with her husband and leaving the children, both pulling their uncle towards the swings.

———

“Mmm,” Diana sipped at the comforting warm tea, “I needed this.”

“Wine selection could be better.” Matthew grumbled.

“Now who’s the snob?”

“Apologies Ma Lionne,” he gave a respectful nod, “at least the children are happy.”

Diana turned to see Baldwin push both on the swings.

“How was Hamish, last you spoke to him?”

“Um, a nervous wreck, but deliriously happy at the same time. Nathaniel and Sophie will be presenting young Margaret for flower girl duties with Becca tomorrow and Thomas’ nephew will be accompanying Philip as usher.”

“They’re going to look precious.” Diana squealed, suddenly aware of a commotion in the pub by the window.

“Dad,” the bartender started with gentle coaxing, “you know you’re the last member of your squadron, remember, we went to Harry’s funeral a couple of months back.”

“No,” the elderly man retorted with firm confidence and hobbled over to a photo on the wall, pulling it off to hand it to his son, “you tell me that isn’t him.”

Sighing, the man carefully looked at the photo and vaguely glanced out of the window before doing an obvious double take.

“See?” The old man stated smugly.

“My God, he has to be a relation, grandson maybe, it’s uncanny.”

“He is the total spit of Benoit.”

“Merde.” Matthew swore under his breath.

“What is it?” Diana asked, unsure of the problem.

“A recognition, we didn’t have it as much before but its become more difficult with things like photos and film. He knew Baldwin from the war.”

“So, what do we do?”

“We can’t let them meet, we need to distract the old soldier.”

Matthew took a deep breath and approached the man and his son.

“Excuse me, I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation, and I just wanted to tell you that you are right. Baldwin’s grandfather was a pilot. My name’s Matthew, I’m his step-brother.”

“Would explain why you don’t look very much alike.” The man held out his hand for Matthew to shake, which he accepted.

“No, we do not, but I am very familiar with the proud military history of our family. Oh, and please let me introduce you to my wife, Diana.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Diana beamed, “could I-“ she stopped, thinking of how to delicately ask the next question, “I’m a bit of a history buff and would be honoured to perhaps take a look at the photo?”

“Oh yes of course dear,” the elderly man cocked his head in the direction of his son, instructing him to hand it over, “doesn’t he look so similar.”

“Yes,” Diana managed to contain the amused gasp, “not so much with the moustache though.”

The older man laughed.

“It was a bit dramatic, even for that time,” he admitted, “but Benoit was one hell of a pilot, there wasn’t an enemy gunner who didn’t wet themselves at the prospect of facing ‘The Copper Prince’ in a dogfight!”

“I’m sorry, the what?” Matthew summoned every inch of control not to combust with laughter.

“Yeah, he hated it but too bad you don’t get to pick your call sign,” he shook his head, “we got the idea from the girls in the postal barracks, always swooning over the handsome prince with the copper hair. They made up all sorts of ridiculously romantic backstories for him. Really, we knew very little about him so for all we knew they may have been right.”

“Could I perhaps snap a quick photo on my phone, I’m sure Baldwin’s mother would like to see her father as a young man?”

“I insist!” The soldier returned and Diana ignored the side-eye Matthew was shooting her as she snapped the picture and included every member of the family in a group message with strict instructions that Baldwin was not to know.

She had her time planned.

———

“You needed me for something?” Baldwin joined Diana in the room made up for the children.

Both twins were in bed but still listening intently to Diana’s story.

“Not me, these two insisted you sit in on the latest bedtime story, which you are interrupting.”

“Alright,” he shrugged, taking a seat by the door, “pray continue.”

“Thank you,” Diana turned back to the children, “where was I?”

“Oh, the prince didn’t want the room full of silver-“

“Yes that’s right Becca,” Diana praised, “because he wanted more. So, the enchantress offered him a second door and when he stepped through, the room was full to the ceiling with gold and precious jewels.”

“Accepting a high instant return is always more advisable that gambling an unknown, of course he too it!” Baldwin rolled his eyes.

“But he didn’t,” Diana smiled, “if the first room had silver and the second had gold and jewels, just imagine the riches beyond the third. At least, that’s what he told himself.”

“Then he’s an idiot.”

“No, he was greedy, even when his wife begged him to take it the gold he swore to her on his thick and manly moustache that the third door would be worth the risk and so he took it.”

“What was in the room?” Baldwin asked, surprisingly involved in the tale.

“No silver, no gold, no riches,” Diana sighed dramatically, “as soon as he crossed the threshold he was transformed into a bronze statue.”

“See, I told you, never go for the unknown quantity. He’s an idiot!” Baldwin snorted in derision.

“He was,” Diana admitted, “but that’s not what his people called him after that.”

“What did they call him?” Philip asked with interest.

“Ask your Uncle,” she smiled widely, teeing up her shot, “what would you call a prince who was forced to spend eternity as a copper coloured statue.”

“The Bronze Buffoon?” He offered to giggles from the children.

“Good suggestion but no, they called him,” she looked between the twins before fixing her brother with an unwavering stare, “the Copper Prince!”

#baldwin montclair #a discovery of witches #adow baldwin #adow baldwin fic #adow #adow fic #baldwin de clermont #matthew clairmont #diana bishop

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imagine-straykids · 4 years

Text

Han Jisung: Crushed

short summary: when Jisung has a crush on you, he may not be the best at expressing his feelings

genre: fluff x romance

word counts: 5,350 words

Jisung wasn’t sure when or why he started liking you. Maybe it was the way you’d always awkwardly stumble upon your words; maybe it was the way you’d take jabs at yourself sometimes; maybe it was the way you listened to him as if he was the only person in the world. Well, he wasn’t entirely sure. But all he knew was that you stole his heart and he doesn’t want it back.

Who would’ve ever thought that Han Jisung, a music prodigy, basically a star student, would ever fall head over heels for someone like you who admittedly only joined a music course because you needed a filler class.

The first time you guys talked, it was because you needed help identifying some music notes. You were not the best at music--actually not very good at all, but you can sing a little bit, yay? You don’t know why you thought taking this class as an extra would be a good idea. Because it wasn’t. It was much harder than you had expected. Hell, you don’t know what you were thinking, because everybody here was basically legendary at what they do.

Anyways, well, one day your teacher had you guys do this assignment and you struggled like a bitch. While you were still on the first page losing at least 10 brain cells per question, you had noticed that Jisung, who was seated in front of you had already finished. You were amazed--No. Amazed was an understatement. You were shook even though you knew you shouldn’t be. He was pretty much second to no one in this class.

A few moments later, your teacher’s loud voice echoed through the room.

“Okay class! You have 10 more minutes left! I will be collecting your papers after that.” Your teacher sat down after her announcement.

“10 minutes? Crap! I’m not even through the first page yet...” you cursed quietly under your breath out of natural habits. You weren’t expecting anyone nearby to hear you, and you were actually hoping they didn’t. But your words did not manage to miss Jisung’s ears as you had leaned in a little bit too closely behind him when you mumbled.

You were too busy scribbling down whatever you were scribbling because frankly you weren’t really sure what you were doing. As you lifted your head up trying to take a look at the clock, you were instead met with Jisung’s puppy eyes as he had been examining what you were doing for the last 5 seconds or so. A small gasp escaped your mouth and you blinked out of fright, but not loud enough to catch anyone’s attention. Just loud and visible enough for you to make a fool out of yourself in front of Han Jisung.

“Do you need any help?” He smiled.

Ahhhh oh my gosh, he smiled, you internally screamed inside your head.

“I--uhm--uh--yeah, I kind of do--” you stumbled around your words awkwardly.

This shouldn’t have been as nerve wrecking, but why is it.

“I can help you. What do you need help with?”

“Oh uhm... the whole paper to be honest. I’m kind of... new to this kind of class.”

And that was pretty much your guys first time talking to each other. Ever since then, he would always voluntarily ask if you needed any help, to which you were very much appreciative for. He really did not have to be this nice to you, but he was. Bless his whole ass soul.

Little by little, working out assignments together turned into small talks between you guys, or rather silly stories told by himself, and you in return would share stories of your siblings to him and just how annoying they are to you daily. He liked to listen to your tales because he didn’t have any younger siblings and his older brother lived in another town.

Your Music class that used to be so intimidating to you because you were so far behind everyone else, the class that used to make you feel talentless and lonely as hell, you now had something to look forward to.

Oddly, Jisung could say the same thing too. Everyday back and forth to him was just go to classes, head to dance practice after school, go home, study, and repeat. But his somehow repetitive lifestyle started looking a little bit more exciting after meeting you. All his other classes were okay, but somehow he was always looking forward to 6th period; his music class. Looking forward to that special someone he could talk to about how his day has went so far.

Sometimes zoning out in his other classes, thinking about all the kind of things to say or tell you whenever he does get to 6th period. It was a foreign feeling that he had never experienced before. Not for anyone else. He’s had crushes in the past, but they were mostly puppy love, or crushes that would last a week at most. But every time he gets closer to you, every time he’s communicating with you, he feel his heart exploding a million times, and all the little things you would do like mumbling things to yourself thinking nobody would hear, the way you would twitch your nose whenever something upsets you a little, pressing the wrong keys when practicing, or just the way you would laugh at the smallest things he said just does a different kind of twist on his heart string.

Day by day he found himself becoming greedier and greedier, wanting to become something much more with you. But he didn’t know if that was too weird considering you guys don’t interact outside of this class, besides the small gestures you both would exchange sometimes when passing by one another.

He wasn’t sure if he was moving too fast or not, but it was 4 months ago that he started talking to you. 4 months ago when he talked to you, the one who would make him question so many things about himself.

He don’t know if he should wait it out and see if you’ll say anything, but from how you’re acting, it doesn’t look as if any changes was coming soon. He was growing more impatient every time he gets the chance to talk to you, because to him, you were just... so adorable.

One day after class ended, he finally managed up the courage to ask you if you wanted to go for a drink after school, to which you said yes. He was met with pleasure, but at the same time, terror. Was he really about to do this? No no. He was not ready. But he also does not want to be just friends anymore. He was mentally battling his thoughts the whole time walking there that he even missed out on some things you’ve told him.

You became aware that Jisung was not being himself and was rather gloomy today all of a sudden.

“Jisung, are you alright?” You asked him worriedly.

Your voice snapped him back to reality.

“Y-yeah I am fine y/n! Sorry, I was just thinking about how much homework I have today,” he assured you.

Really? A lot of homework? That’s really the best thing you can think of, Jisung criticized himself in his head.

“Oh... I see. Well we should probably go grab a seat so you can let loose some tension.”

Jisung nodded and you guys found a spot in the back corner.

As soon as you guys sat down, Jisung’s face positioned toward his feet as if he’s rethinking life decisions.

This was unusual for him because although you were not with him often, rarely did you ever see him looking so down. He was always jolly every time he entered the classroom. This was a rather new Jisung for you.

“Hey Jisung, you’re a smart person! You will finish all the work alright. And if you need any help, I am always here for you,” you tried to comfort him.

“Huh--O-o yeah. Thank you. Sorry I’m a little bit spaced out,” he said so quietly.

“Jisung, if there’s anything that’s bothering you, you can always tell me. I won’t ever judge, you know that. I just hope you’re okay.”

The more worried you were for him, the more it made him want to throw up from nervousness. Because you’re encouraging him to confess but at the same time, discouraging, because he was just that afraid he might ruin a good relationship with someone like you.

“I’m fine, y/n. You can go ahead and order something. I need to use the restroom real quick.” He stood up and made his way to the men’s restroom.

He quickly shut himself in and slid down the wall onto his knees as he puffed out breath of airs.

After he had situated in a comfortable position, he took his phone out and called Hyunjin.

“Hyunjin, I-I cannot do it. I can’t. I feel so weak and nervous right now I think I might throw up,” Jisung ranted.

“Tell me about it. That was a such a shit show. Dude, I got second hand embarrassment from it.”

“W-wait what. How did you know what happened?”

“Me and Jeongin come to this cafe every day after school. We were seated right across from you guys, but you were too busy being a nervous freak to notice.”

“Oh wow, so Jeongin saw it too. I really just cannot. I don’t think I can go out after this. My hands are sweating. Can you like, make up some kind of excuse for me?”

“Like what kind of excuse?”

“I don’t know... just tell her I went home because I feel sick.”

“What? Then she’s going to say why didn’t you just tell her.”

“Then just say because I was in a rush,” Jisung grew impatient trying to reason with Hyunjin.

“I guess then. At this pace, you’re never going to get a girlfriend.”

Jisung was about to say something back but Hyunjin already cut off the line.

When Jisung came in the next day, you asked him if he was alright, and he gave you a short answer but nothing more than that.

You tried initiating a few more small talks with him but he was really just out of it, you had a feeling you should just leave him to be. He’s probably going through a difficult time right now.

When the bell rung signaling it was time to leave, you bid a small goodbye wave to Jisung before you left but it was only met with an awkward smile from him.

The next three days continued on pretty much like the scenario above. You would try starting a conversation but it wasn’t much of a conversation if you were the only one talking. Eventually, you stopped trying to talk to him.

You would be lying if you were to say you weren’t upset or concerned. You didn’t know if you had said something that offended him, or if he found out that you secretly have a crush on him and is creep out by it. Either way, both situation weren’t going to end well for you.

The day you guys went to the cafe was the day he started acting indifferent. Maybe he heard that small fart you ripped out along the way or something. But you swore on god that it didn’t smell that bad. Maybe that day he meant to tell you he doesn’t want to be friends or talk to a loser like you anymore, but wasn’t courageous enough to finish what he started, that’s why he sent Hyunjin over to get rid of you.

It honestly sucks because your music teacher has recently assigned you guys with a project and in your head, you and Jisung would’ve had a blast discussing about what you guys were going to do for it. All of the things he or you would’ve said kept playing over and over in your head. But then again, you shouldn’t jump into conclusion.

You’ll just confront him on Monday and see what the real deal is. You just hope it wasn’t anything too serious that he’s brooding about. If you had hurt him in some shape or form, you would like to know and apologize dearly.

Jisung felt like an imbecile. An even bigger fool than the one he was before. He couldn’t believe he thought ignoring and avoiding you would suppressed his feelings or prevent you from asking anything relevant.

It probably did, but now the feeling of guilt is just eating him up. Your poor face after rambling and getting no response broke his heart. But he was afraid if he were to say anything less than appropriate, he would lose it.

He just wish you’re doing good for yourself and isn’t taking his actions to heart, because he pretty much acknowledge that he’s being stupid.

When he got to dance practice, he slammed his backpack harshly onto the floor of the studio and sighed.

The frustration of his caught the attention of Seungmin, Hyunjin and Jeongin who got here a little bit early too and was prepping up.

“What’s good bro? You alright?” Seungmin asked as he walked forward to Jisung.

“Yeah. You have been looking pretty sad these past few days. I kind of miss that loud crackhead energy of yours even though you can get carried away with it,” Jeongin sensing the rising atmosphere, tried to lighten it up.

“He probably got rejected by his dream girl,” Hyunjin chimmed in.

“Huh?” Seungmin let out in confusion.

“This one girl in his music class that he has a huge crush on for no reason even though they don’t even interact.”

Hyunjin was of course only teasing Jisung.

“Hey! We do interact! It’s just mostly in class. You’re not even in the class itself so shut up Hwang Hyunjin. At least I can keep my crush on one girl, and not the whole freaking school,” Jisung defended himself.

Jeongin let out a small laughter followed by Seungmin.

“That’s true, Hyung. You really need to stick to one person like seriously.” Jeongin threw his arm onto Hyunjin’s shoulder but Hyunjin slapped it off.

“Whatever.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes.

“And no, I didn’t get rejected... I didn’t even ask her out yet.” Jisung admitted in shame.

“Huh?” Seungmin let out again.

“Then what are you so miserable about?” Jeongin cocked his eyebrow.

“I-I’m scared. What if she says no? What if she doesn’t like me like that. Then it’s just going to be awkward. She’s a really sweet person and I don’t want to ruin our friendship just because I think about her more than a friend,” Jisung’s tone dampen the longer he talked.

“But what if she also likes you like that? I mean, you don’t know... you haven’t even asked her.” Seungmin tried to encourage Jisung.

Jeongin nodded in agreement while Hyunjin just let out a chuckle.

“Dude, if you don’t ask her out, I will. Seeing her the other day at the cafe, she’s kind of cute.” Hyunjin goes into thought.

Jisung’s eyes fired up at what Hyunjin said.

“Hey! Stay away from her! But to be honest, she wouldn’t like you anyways. Sorry but she wouldn’t go for someone who changes girls everyday like he changes his clothes. Anyways--can you tell Chan for me that I will be missing practice today. Something came up. Bye!”

And with that, Jisung quickly grabbed his backpack and stormed out of the building.

“Wow, I’m hurt.” Hyunjin put his hand on his chest.

"Jisung, aren’t you going to eat?”

His door flashed opened with his mom’s head in between the crack.

“Soon! I just need to revise this one more time.” His eyes still not leaving his music sheet.

“Dear, don’t overwork yourself. It’s almost 11. You’ve been working on your song ever since you came home. Please come down to eat and you can continue after.” His mom tried to convince him, not wanting her own son to starve to death.

Jisung finally placed the guitar down at the defeat of his mom’s words.

“Alright mom. See you downstairs.”

“Wow Jisung, this is really good. And the lyrics are, wow...” Chan complimented the younger man who came to him for feedbacks on his sample.

“Do you really mean it? I mean... you really think this is good?” Jisung widened his eyes as he searched for an answer in Chan’s own.

“Yeah, of course! Jisung, are you like, okay? Because usually you’re always so confident in your works and rarely do you ever come to me or Changbin for revision.”

“Oh yeah, I’m good. I just need it to be perfect because I’m performing this song for my project on Monday and I need it to be A plus.”

Chan nodded.

“I am 100% sure you are going to ace this.”

Monday had came super fast, and when reality hit that you’ll be performing in front of the class again, it railed up your anxiety very bad.

The last few projects or performances you guys had was mostly just instruments based, as the teacher wanted to see how well the students were progressing on their skills. But now you needed to dance or sing and you weren’t so sure how this was going to end.

You weren’t no song writing goddess or instruments playing master, so you were just going to do a quick simple cover of Red Velvet Psycho.

As long as you don’t sound like a dying goat, you’ll do just fine.

You were honestly looking forward to Jisung’s performance as well. Because every time he goes up, he always come up with the most creative or mind blowing performances. Jisung didn’t need talents, talents needed Jisung.

Classes passed by like the wind, probably because most of the time you were in your own world.

The closer it was to your 6th period, the more anxious you were, and you were already very anxious to begin with.

When the time finally came, you walked into the class and sat down at your desk. Jisung still hasn’t arrived yet.

With time to kill, your eyes circled the room and for fun, you tried guessing what some of the students would be doing.

Mhmm, that girl Yoona in the back, you’ve seen a few of her song covers on Youtube, so chances are she’ll be singing.

That guy to the right of you performed in the rally last semester, so you wouldn’t be surprised if he bounced out some steps later on.

Your thoughts were intruded when you heard the door slammed shut, your attention shifted to your teacher who stood tall in front of all of you.

“Good Afternoon class, I hope you’re all doing well, and I hope you all have something prepared today as well,” She smiled.

She then does this thing where she’ll move her eyes from left to right, trying to pick out any students who’s missing.

The desk in front of you, which belongs to Jisung, was still empty.

Jesus, does he really hate you that much that he’ll even risk losing points. You really wanted to make things right today. Or at least try working out whatever is going on between you guys, which you don’t even know what is it.

“Jisung isn’t here yet?” Your teacher asked.

You only shook your head.

“Alright, well then it looks like we’ll have to continue without h--”

Your teacher was interrupted when the door busted opened. Jisung showed up looking like he just woke up, almost out of breath like. You could tell his hair was slightly messier and the shade in his pupils darkened compared to other days. His eye bags were also more prominent.

“--Sorry, I got caught up in things.” Jisung bowed down to your teacher and then to the rest of the class.

“You’re fine. Go take a seat.” She dismissed.

Jisung bowed again before trailing to his desk. Along the way, you guys unintentionally met eyes, followed by Jisung awkwardly breaking the contact by looking at the wall, then taking a seat.

All you could think about at the moment was what did you do to Jisung that he’s going to this extent to avoid you. Did he read your diary when you went to the restroom, and found out about that one experience you wrote when you and your family went to the water park and your stomach hurted badly so you did a little oopsie near the kids section and they never found out it was you--Oh gosh, you couldn’t imagine.

Whatever it was, Jisung must have his reasons, and you really need to stop jumping to conclusions. Everything will be okay as long as you talk to him today.

“Now that everybody’s here, we should get started, we don’t have a lot of time.”

Then your teacher started picking out names one after another. You did genuinely enjoyed their performances, but every time someone finished, you just want to crawl into the corner and hide away from the rest of the world, because pray to the lord you don’t get called on.

Everybody was doing so good so far.

“Please give a big round of applause to Saeron,” your teacher followed after Saeron had finished.

Everyone clapped in awed but it’ll always dimmed whenever your teacher call on the next person.

“Y/n!” She held up the piece of paper in her hand with your name written on it.

“Huh?” you were taken back at the sound of your name.

“It’s your turn, y/n.” Your teacher sternly looked at you.

“Oh--right, right.” You sluggishly got up and made ways to the front.

“Uhm, for today I’ll be covering Psycho by Red Velvet. I hope you’ll all like it.” you awkwardly turned to your teacher to give her the go to put on the instrumental.

Your heart was racing so fast.

It’s okay, you can do it.

You got me feeling like a psycho psycho People keep telling us As we fight like it’s our last but then we get along They don’t get it, it’s so funny

The last piece of lyrics escaped your mouth and you sighed in relief. You bowed to the class after you were finished and was met with applause from all around the room.

“Good job, y/n. You may now take a seat.” Your teacher smiled.

You walked back to your seat, having felt like you did a decent job, at least by the feedbacks.

“Next up, Han Jisung.”

You had completely forgotten about him, and that he was watching your whole performance. Ahhhhh

But on the flip side, you were excited to see what he had prepared.

The room was filled with silence while waiting for him. He finally grabbed his guitar and went up, gulped, then stared at you for a second, but you weren’t able to read his expression.

He had displayed a more tense body language, his eyes barely meeting anyone’s. The Han Jisung you knew had always been so confident and couldn’t wait for his name to be called, while the one that stood in front of you right now looked like every ounce of his soul had left his body.

Oh man, you don’t know how much more surprises he could pull on you. You just had never seen him like this before. Or is it that you never knew him all along. Your thoughts were cut short when Jisung spoke.

“For today... I’'ll be singing a song that I wrote for uh, a special someone. I-I hope that person will like it.” He threw on a nervous smile and right then, his eyes met yours. An innocent, sweet kind of enchanted look that pulled you right in.

“Oooooooooooooooo,” the students giggled and awed.

Was he talking about me? You thought.

No way. He hates me. But why did he look at me? Oh my gosh, is this song about me? Wait--why is he writing a song about me--wait what?! You continued fighting inside your head but not for long before Jisung began playing his melody.

The calming and relaxing tone of the guitar could almost put you to sleep, of course in a good way. The soft and dreamy tune like this was something only Jisung could pull off.

Then he started singing,

“When I first met you, I honestly didn’t think too much

You were like any other person to me, someone to talk to

but slowly, each day, you’ve showed me that you were someone worth loving, worth taking care of, worth falling in love with

Before I knew it, my heart was yours.”

okay excuse those shitty lyrics, I just made it up

Every words that he said, you could see and felt that he really meant it. He wasn’t just spitting out lyrics for the sake of this project. He was speaking from his heart and mind. As if he was trying to reach out to someone. He wrote those lyrics specifically for a certain someone.

Was it for you? Was it for the girl at the back of you?

You had no idea, but you were still secretly wishing it was for you.

The whole class’s attention and yours were glued onto him, not missing a bit of his performance. Han Jisung really got everyone whipped.

When he finished up on the last part of the song, the class exploded in applause. It was the loudest group of claps anyone has gotten so far. You were also slapping your hands together like a crazy seal.

He may not be acting like himself and is coming off a bit odd right now, but for sure, the boy’s talents is something that would never change.

The rest of the period concluded with other students showcasing what they had prepared. Not everyone got a chance as class was a bit too short, but your teacher reassured the ones who didn’t get to go up today, will be called up tomorrow. Sucks to be them.

You were knocked out for a second before remembering that you were going to ask Jisung today, whether he wants to answer or not. Jisung was still fixated on his backpack, digging and shoving through it, so you waited unsuspiciously.

He stopped the ruckus when he pulled out a piece of white paper with some words on it. You can’t read it but you can only make out the squiggly black lines. It seems that was exactly what he was looking for, so after that, he threw his backpack on.

Panicked, afraid he might leave before you can catch him, you stepped out of your seat to confront him, only for him to turn around, causing you guys to face each other instead.

“I need you talk to you,” You both said at the same time.

“What?” Both of you guys tilted your head in sync again.

“You first,” you gave him the go.

“No, you first,” He declined.

“Fine--I just--wait.” You inspected the surroundings. You guys were still in class and this was not a good setting because anyone can just walk in any moment.

“I think it’s better if we talk somewhere else.” you continued.

You guys stopped at the school garden, and when you made sure that absolutely no one was around, you proceeded.

“I just want to know what’s been going on lately. You’ve been ignoring and avoiding me. Did I do something wrong that had upset you? I would like to know, Jisung. Just completely ghosting me like this hurts.”

You promised yourself you weren’t going to get emotional about this.

“I know I’m a jerk, Y/n. I know. And I’m sorry about that. I just, I just... don’t know how to express my feelings to you, y/n. I’m confused, I’m lost, I’m scared, I don’t know... but I’m also in love...” He said the last part quietly, but you could still hear it.

“In love? With someone else? Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“No no.” Jisung shook his head, getting more frustrated by the moment.

“And that song you sung in class, was--was that for someone?” you timidly asked. You have a theory it might be for you, but you do not want to say it, afraid you’re going to come out looking like a fool if he meant it for someone else.

“Yeah it was...”

“Jisung, if you have feelings for someone, you don’t have to hide it from me, I’m fine with it. If you like them, go for it. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, like you couldn’t be open about your relationships or feelings.”

“No no, y/n. You don’t get it,” Jisung exhaled.

“What do you mean? What am I not getting?”

“I didn’t write that song for someone else, or anyone else. I wrote it for you. You, y/n. I wrote those lyrics for you.”

You could hear the disappointment in his tone and his head hanging in defeat.

“Oh...” was all you could say. Not because you didn’t like him. No. You like him. A lot. Oh was the only thing you could let out because reality was getting a little hard to accept, knowing Han Jisung likes you, and wrote a song for you.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s okay if you do not feel the same way. I really only wrote it because I didn’t know any other way to let my feelings out, and music was what I’m best at. I did felt a little better after writing the lyrics, and after performing, knowing you were listening to it. Here, take this.”

He stretched his arm out to hand you something. It was the piece of paper he was holding earlier. It had the lyrics he had written for you on it.

“It’s okay to not feel the same way. But I hope you accept this. I might feel a little bit better if you do.”

You extended your arm to take the white sheet of paper, still speechless.

“I’ll get going now. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He gave you a small smile combined with a bow and almost walked away from your sight.

“Wait Jisung!” You stopped him in his track.

“I--I, I feel the same way too, Jisung. I like you too. And I have for a while now.”

Jisung could’ve swore he heard that wrong, but he almost dropped his backpack at what you said.

He switched back to you, his face was planted with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen from anyone.

“R-really? Y-you like me too?” He asked again for confirmation.

You nodded.

The next moment happened so fast, and before you can process anything, you were already in Jisung’s warmth. Your chin on his shoulder and his arms wrapping around you.

“I’m so happy! Really happy, Y/n! You don’t know how happy I am!”

uwu He was too adorable.

With your hands on his chest, you pushed a little bit to create a distance.

“Wait, then why were you avoiding me?” you frowned as you gazed at his face for answers.

“Because I don’t know. I was scared you wouldn’t like me back. I didn’t want to hurt my friendship with you. That day at the cafe I was planning on confessing but I got so nervous, I dipped. I’m sorry, Y/n. I’m a coward. But I promise from this day on, I will tell you everything. I won’t ever do it again. I-I really like you. Give me a chance.”

He pouted and trapped you in his hug.

“Alright alright. I forgive you.”

He finally lets go of you, but his idiocy smile still not leaving his face.

“What?”

“I don’t know. You’re just cute.”

“Pfft.”

You cheeks grew red from his remarks. Oh god, this feels so weird.

“Come on, let’s go.” He suddenly grabbed your hand, perfectly aligning it with his.

“Go where?”

“To introduce my new girlfriend to my friends.”

He ran at full speed, dragging you as you were struggling to catch up.

The End :)

#stray kids jisung #han jisung scenarios #han jisung fluff #han jisung fluff scenarios #jisung #han jisung romance scenarios #han jisung romance #stray kids jisung scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids romance #stay kids imagines #han jisung imagines #skz han fluff #skz han romance #skz jisung #kpop scenarios #kpop romance #kpop fluff

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 4 years

Text

Meeting and Dating Ricky Thomas

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You first met Ricky after moving into his neighborhood. Your parents thought that it would be a good idea to send you to summer camp while they got your new house ready so they asked around and settled on Camp Arawak.

- They mainly decided to send you there because they found out that Ricky; who was your age, would be going there. Your parents had asked the boy to take you under his wing since you didn’t know the place and he begrudgingly; up until he met you of course, accepted.

- He was expecting you to be young with the way your parents had approached him but as he stood at your front door watching you lug your bags down your stairs, well, lets just say you certainly weren’t a kid. He could immediately feel his spirits lift.

- Your father thanked him for looking out for you and you gave him a shy somewhat embarrassed smile. After saying goodbye to your parents, you turned and followed him to the bus stop, your nerves at an all-time high.

- Ricky is very pleased with the situation. His summer has certainly started out well. He introduces himself and starts making conversation the instant you’re away from your parents, asking you questions about yourself and all that good stuff.

- When you’re finally at the camp, he acts as your own professional tour guide, telling you all that you need to know, showing you to your bunk and telling you where you can find him. You thank him and head off into your cabin while a million different scenarios involving the two of you race through his head.

- Due to the nature of your meeting, Ricky has the perfect excuse to force himself down your throat. Come on Y/n, I’ve got the perfect plan for this activity. Hey Y/n, I’ll walk you to the building; you know, so you don't get lost. Y/n, those girls are jerks, come on, lets hang out all alone together over here.

- I feel like Ricky wouldn’t even ask you out, he’d just sort of assume that the two of you were dating from how much you hung out and how accepting you were of his; what he thought was obvious, flirtation. I mean he certainly wasn’t subtle about his interest in you either but you probably just thought that he was being friendly and that that's how all guys; or at least guys from your new city, acted.

- That was why it took you by surprise when; all of a sudden, he just started speaking like the two of you had been a couple.

“Hey Y/n, I was just thinking that maybe you’d want to go steady?” He spoke as though it were a completely normal thing to say, busying himself with swinging a stick back and forth as he did so.

- You were completely taken aback …but then it all clicked. The compliments and teasing, the constant company, the different places he’d taken you when you were all alone. They’d been dates. He had asked you out, it had just been so nonchalant that you hadn’t realized it wasn’t just another hangout.

- You liked Ricky so it wasn’t difficult for you to agree to his proposition, but even if you hadn’t liked him like that at first …were you not sort of in too deep to back out?

- He gave you a smile when you agreed, taking your hand and telling you to “come on” as he led you into the trees beside the trail you were on. He stopped when the two of you were perfectly hidden, placing his hands on your shoulders and pulling you into a kiss. Two romantic surprises in one day, how lucky were you!

- So that's the story of how you got your first kiss and found out that you had a boyfriend all in the span of a few minutes. Definitely a good one to tell to your future kids.

- Pda all the time. Touching you is always a good thing in his eyes and everyone around you being able to see that you’re a couple is just an added bonus.

- Literally everyone has to know that you’re together. You’re his! Arent they jealous? Look at how wonderful his girlfriend is! Hey, he said look not stare! Keep those eyes to yourself bastard!

- He likes to keep his arm around your shoulders whenever you’re walking or sitting together.

- Kissing in the woods.

- Pecks on the lips. They always make him smile.

- He genuinely has a hard time keeping his eyes off of you. You’re just so pretty and you’re his, he knows he’s a heartthrob but boy he feels like he got lucky.

- His kisses are somewhat clumsy but nice. They’re pretty much always gentle and chaste but you always have more than one so you never mind that they’re short and sweet.

- Lightly tugging at his hair when you kiss. You sort of do it absentmindedly but it drives him crazy, if you know what I mean.

- Handholding. It just feels natural to him. He’ll often reach for your hand in the dark whether you’re sitting and watching something or he’s walking you home.

- He likes being the big spoon when you cuddle, nuzzling his face into your neck and hair as he pins you close to him. He also likes when you face each other, your face buried in his chest as his arms wrap themselves tightly around you. Regardless of the position, you always feel safe in his arms which is exactly what he wants.

- Stealing one of his shirts to sleep in. You can’t exactly cuddle when you’re at camp so his shirt will have to do.

- Nicknames? Are you kidding. He’s got pages full of them.

- He never minds any of your odd quirks. He just accepts you for who you are.

- He literally cannot see you out in public and just not talk to you. Hanging out with his friends? You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up with you in a minute.

- Anytime you visit, he tries to usher you out of his house as quickly as possible. His mothers eccentricity sort of embarrasses him.

- Becoming friends with Angela and Paul.

- Getting to hear about all the shenanigans he got himself into with Paul. He likes being able to impress you with his stories.

- He likes walking you back to your bunk after dinner or the little gatherings that the camp has. Is it mainly because he gets a goodnight kiss? Maybe.

- Getting little handpicked flowers and pretty weeds.

- Going swimming together. He cant even hide his pleased grin when he sees you in a bathing suit.

- You allowed him to touch your boob ... once. It literally made his entire year.

- Arcade dates.

- Sneaking out to see each other at night.

- Not a lot of things scare or creep him out. He’s got no problem squashing a big for you or proving that there’s nothing there when something goes bump in the night. None of your teasing threats ever scare him either.

- Listening to him brag when he wins a game.

- Trying to get him to watch his language and keep out of trouble. I suggest using the argument of: well if you’re being punished then we can’t hang out together.

- He teases you a lot but it’s always good natured.

- Tricks and pranks. He likes messing with people but in your case, he does so nicely. He’ll also occasionally ask you to help him prank someone else which is a nice change.

- Sarcasm and smartass comments.

- He’s definitely the type of guy to say that he doesn’t understand girls whenever you say something suspicious or the two of you have an argument.

- He’s annoyingly good at persuading and guilt tripping you into doing something when he really wants it. They’re never anything bad or malicious, don’t worry?

- He has a habit of showing up at just the right time. It seems like he always just happens to be there when you need him.

- He’s good at comforting you, even though what he says is fairly juvenile. It’s all in the way he says it and the way he touches you.

- He may act like a jerk sometimes but he really does care about you a lot.

- He questions you about the guys he’s jealous of, asking you who they are and how you know them; or what you’re doing if you seem to be flirting.

- Some of the older guys at camp; the ones that he regularly pisses off, have definitely flirted with you just to mess with him. He’s still bothered by the fact that they managed to make you legitimately flustered.

- He makes sure to take care of you. Haven’t eaten? He’ll grab you something. Look tired? Did you get enough sleep last night? Someone upsetting you? He’ll tear their heads off and shit down their throats.

- No one is ever gonna hurt or upset you in his presence and outside of his presence. He’s always running to your defense and acting like your knight in shining armor. He’s protective when it comes to the people he cares about, it’s just a part of who he is.

- He’s definitely gotten into some fistfights in your honor and to protect you. He’s pretty much a powder keg when it comes to defending you.

- He’s got a temper which means two things. 1) You’ll have to learn how to calm him down properly or 2) you’ll have your fair share of fights.

- Fights can definitely get heated and blown out of proportion because of his short temper. Occasionally, he’ll insult you and/or you’ll break up but he always comes back and admits that he didn’t mean what he said.

- No matter what you were fighting about, he’s always able to worm his way back into your heart, even though he’s pretty bad at apologies.

- He’s not one for all that mushy gushy romantic stuff so he rarely says that he loves you. Instead, he shows that he does through his actions.

- The future is certainly going to be a bit ...turbulent, but he hopes that you’ll stick by his side for a while.

#80s movie imagine #80s movie headcanons #80s movie headcanon #80s movie imagines #sleepaway camp imagine #sleepaway camp headcanons #sleepaway camp headcanon #Ricky thomas imagine #Ricky thomas headcanons #Ricky thomas headcanon

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bnhaheadcanonsmha · 4 years

Text

Aizawa Shota (Eraserhead) and Toshinori Yagi (All Might) reacting to a student with tiger-like traits with an abusive father

Request : “Can i request dad might and dadzawa reacting to a student who has tiger ears and a tail and paw pads and like fawn legs but tiger? Who has really sharp claws just getting into a fight with her dad who is a big hero and has a simmilar quirk and getting her ass whipped? Like she gives up when he yells at her but fights back 10x if he insults her teachers, saying that they were better parents than he could ever be.”

Thanks for you request and sorry for being late. Hope you like it! I’m not sure if you wanted a scenario or a headcanon, so I chose to do it as a headcanon form.

Possible TW: verbal abuse (father on child)

Female Reader!

Toshinori Yagi | All Might:

Since he's a profesionnal, he's used to see various form of Quirk, so yours do not surprise him. If anything, he finds your Quirk cool and badass.

If one of his favourite nickname is “Dadmight”, it’s not for nothing. Though he is actually not that aware, he is immensely protective of each of his students and, as it had been seen several times, he will not hesitate to fight for them.

He is what we can call the “loud and kinda cringe but endearing” type of (adoptive) father. He will shout ask you about how your class is going, if you need any help with your Quirk or english class. Fight me, but All Might is the kind of teacher to eat with you and your friends, just because he wants to bound and find you friendly.

However, as a public person, whose privacy is constantly invided by reporters and paparazzi, he values a lot the concept of personnal space and privacy. Because of that, he is actually not aware of your conflit with your father until it is put right in front of his face.

He didn't attend to pass close to your home, but it was on the path of the grocery store he wanted to test out. At first, he only hears screams, but tries to not care much because he wasn't in his hero form.

However, as he walks closer to the screams, he recognises your voice as well as your roars. He tries to not mind it too much, because it's none of his business.

Though, as he once said, hero's job is to mind other's business, so he eventually approaches your voice.

"You ingrateful bastard!" It's a masculine voice coming from a far older man that certainly is your father. Toshinori immediately recognises him: it's Tiger Fighter, one of the most popular heroes. He isn't known for his personality — outside the fact he's rumoured as being unpleasant — but for his great efficiency.

He tenses, watching both of you violently arguing.

"You're so lazy! That's not how you'll become a hero." He sees you turning your head and watching far away, fighting not to react. Your tail hangs pitifully between your legs, and Toshinori has the urge to pat your head, like he did for each of his students he's proud of. "I did so much for you, and that's how you repay me?"

Your lack of answers tears All Might's heart apart, because it's clear sign you are used to it.

Though, he hears you mumble, "But I'm trying dad, I'm trying hard."

"Oh, if it's not your fault, who do I have to blame then? Your teachers? Are they that lazy and incompetent?"

You move so quickly Toshinori has a hard time register it. You are now close your father, claws and fangs out, ready to attack. "Don't speak bad of them! They are more supportive than you'll ever be! I bet All Might would be a better father than you!"

Toshinori is as shocked as your father looks like, though he is happy to know you see him as a reliable adult figure.

It's the moment he steps in the conversation (after turning himself, discreetly, in his malabar form of course).

"Ah, young [Y/N], fancy seeing you there!" He flashes his famous smile. Your father doesn't seem too happy to see him and it only makes him smile wider. "I couldn't help but hear what you've said about your daughter and let me assure you she is one of my most promising students!"

After a few minutes, the tension decreases and All Might understands he cannot stays here any longer, otherwise it would be stepping into too much family business. As much as he liked you and saw you as his adoptive daughter, he knows better than make a big deal out of this only interaction.

In the next days, and for the rest of your scolarity, he will often ask you how your dad treats you and will insist on how strong, worthy and powerful you are.

(He would also make sure to have good talk with your father at some point and to, you know, blackmail him as a little lesson.)

Aizawa Shota | Eraserhead:

It’s been years he’s a teacher at U.A, so he saw plenty of alters, including several ressembling to yours. However, since he’s the best teacher, he does his best to learn as much as possible about your characteristics. He's particularly amazed by your speed and tenacity.

Every single of his students are his child and he’s a very protective father.

However, like All Might, he values his privacy more than anything. One of the numerous reasons he does not want to be part of famous heroes is the lack of privacy this place held. That's why he never tried to go deeper than what the students would share with him.

But he's also a caring and observant teacher. He notices when one of his student's mood is low or his struggling (as we saw for example with Momo).

So he technically knows about your... difficult relationship with your father. Everyone knows your father, Tiger Fighter, but only a few met him and worked with him. Aizawa is part of the several unfortunate and he can witness it has been unpleasant.

He just hopes he's a better father than coworker.

Like every trimerster, a reunion between parents and teachers is held, so every teacher can make a bilan of their student's progress, their weaknesses and strengths. You technically were not a bad student at all and your profs loved you; however you didn't meet your father's expectations.

"Tss, at your age I was better, way better than you. Look at that score you've got for alter practice. For God's sake!" he slammed his fist on the table, "I educated you better than that!"

Aizawa is behind the door when he hears your father's screams. He thinks about entering right away to stop the scene, but decides to wait a little minute — he wants to collect as much information as possible to deal better with the situation.

"I know dad, I'm sorry dad," you murmur, not wanting to defend yourself any more.

It doesn't please Aizawa, to see how weakly you defend yourself. Not that he blames you, but you were usually so vivid and out-going, it's weird seeing you so compliant.

He slammed his hand again against the table, "When will your teacher finally come? He is that lazy that he'll not show up?"

"Aizawa-sensei is not lazy!" Your roared back.

"Then were is he? I know him, he's probably sleeping somewhere. Plus, I'm sure his laziness rubbed off on you, with how incapable you've become!"

"Shut up!" You got up, making your chair falls in the process, "you know nothing about him! Aizawa-sensei is an incredible man and he cares for me and the others! He's better in everything, he- he is a better dad than you would ever be!"

On one hand, Aizawa is happy you consider him as a caring teacher because he indeed cares about all of you so much. But on the other hand, he's worried about you and your relationship with your father. That's why he steps in the room, lazily apologizing for being late.

He makes sure, during the whole meeting to enlighten how great of a student you are and how much he thinks you'll be a great hero.

When you're both about to leave, he asks you to stay a minute longer.

"I've heard what you said, earlier." It makes you blush because, hell, it means he heard you calling him 'dad'. "I know conflits with your family can be hard and I will not pressure you in talking to me. Some things take time; some others last forever. However, know that I'm on your side and school is always open if you feel unsafe at home."

He is actually quite angry he cannot do more to help you.

And we all know Aizawa is very observant; that's why he keep for as long as he is in contact with you, a keen eye on you.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #bnha #my hero academia headcanons #boku no hero academia headcanons #all might #headcanon all might #toshinori yagi headcanon #eraserhead #aizawa shōta #aizawa headcanons #mha headcanons #mha imagines #bnha imagines

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sanchosammy · 4 years

Text

You’re My Person

Flip Zimmerman is a stubborn man heavily committed to his job and nothing else. That is until you’re hired to work in the file room. With past history between the two of you, a sudden shift in his priorities that he’s fighting against, and drama in a case that unknowingly involves you... Who knows what will happen next.

Note: I swear the other chapters will be so much better than this! And will include waaaay more Flip content! It was just a bit difficult to get the storyline started. I’m trying to do a whole plot for this series! Hopefully someone can enjoy this, much love from ya girl.

Word count:2123 - Chapter One

It was never in the plan to return back to your hometown Colorado Springs. You moved away without any warning at fifteen because of your fathers’ job problems. Though the recent death of your uncle Tommy had left you with his house in your hometown according to his will… Which surprised everyone in the family including yourself. He never had any children of his own but he always considered you one of his. That being said you had completely run out of options after the breakup with a boyfriend a year ago. With no more money to afford an apartment in your last location, this house seemed like the best option for you at this point.

Back here once again.

It was weird being in a place that had hardly changed since your childhood. Now being an adult and seeing the familiar sights that you once saw each day; it was somewhat comforting. This was home before and it could possibly be home again, right?

You allowed yourself to have the first few weeks in town to mourn the death of Uncle Tommy, and to settle in your new house. It felt a bit strange at first moving all of his stuff into one of the spare bedrooms. Tommy had never remarried after his first divorce, so you never worried much about upsetting anyone by changing some of the décor… It was basically a mancave with a few photos of his long-term girlfriend. Of course, you allowed her to take whatever she wanted from his place, you never felt too attached to the physical items but more the house itself.

After that though came the next step… a job. You watched the newspaper religiously looking for something that would help you not drown in debt considering you were hardly able to keep afloat for the past year. And then there it was!

“Colorado Springs Police Department: Looking for someone to work fulltime inside the file-room. Similar position to a secretary. Call for further details.”

You never considered working for a police department before. It was never something that crossed your mind growing up; but this position sounded so much better than returning to waitressing. When you called for more information on the position the local police chief was the one who wanted to speak with you. He explained that you wouldn’t need any sort of certificate, intense training, or anything truly special for this job. The listing had two requirements: you needed to pass a background check and be able to read… Easy enough considering you’ve never got into any serious trouble in your life.

In the middle of the phone call it had become pretty clear that your uncle was truly your guardian angel. You casually dropped his name and the chief instantly recognized it. They happened to be close friends in recent years and with that knowledge alone, he practically slipped you into the position without a second thought because he “owed that son of a bitch a few favors.”

You laughed that night and said, “considered them paid, sir.”

The first morning at the station you arrived earlier than you meant to. It wasn’t the worst thing because the sweet secretary Brenda introduced herself. She was kind and soft spoken, around forty-two, and the only other woman in the building. According to some sort of immature girl code carried on from high school, this created an instant work friendship between the two of you.

You figured out rather fast that Brenda was real gossip that could talk someone’s ear off and she would if you allowed her to… Which felt somewhat ironic considering she worked for a police station. She mentioned that the rookies were beyond relieved by the news of someone being hired to work in the filing room. Apparently for police officers this was the most dreadful job that came with mockery from their peers.

You were thrilled to have this opportunity though. It was almost stupid how simple the job was. Find a file for the officer and return it when it was no longer being used. Well sometimes you’d need to fill out paperwork but if that was the hardest part of the job then you considered yourself lucky. A reliable paycheck and something interesting to say about yourself at social events. What more could someone ask for?

After talking with Brenda, a man by the name of Ron Stallworth walked you to the file-room. He never made it seem like it was bothersome to be put in charge of helping the new employee though and you felt appreciative for that. He handed over a stack of papers with information about building polices and how to fill out specific paperwork for the future occasions.

Ron was an interesting guy. There was some sort of charm about him; throughout your first conversation he made you feel as if you’ve known each other before. He had an ability to keep the conversation funny and lighthearted. As he showed you around you slid in how nervous you felt in such a new environment.

“I wouldn’t sweat it, (Y/L/N). Once you get the routine down it’ll feel natural.” You recalled his words a few hours later and he was honestly right, the whole routine was somehow calming by how straightforward it was.

The sound of the door being pushed open snapped you out of your thoughts that surrounded earlier this morning. The door was the only bothersome thing about this room, the sound was hard to miss every time someone attempted to move it. You came out from behind the several rows of shelves and nearly died on the spot.

You practically stopped in your steps when you saw him. It’s been so many years since you’ve seen Flip Zimmerman… and somehow you still recognized that face in the blink of an eye. He was one of your closest friends growing up. Throughout school and on most weekends from seven years old to fifteen, the two of you had practically talked every day. Hell, you once had been camping together at fourteen… That was your first kiss.

The memories and feelings nearly overwhelmed you. He looked so different now. The last time you saw Flip was the day before your father moved the family out of town without any warning overnight… You came home and everything was packed up. You never had the chance to say goodbye to anyone. It was practically as if you died in the town, a person who slowly was never mentioned again.

Flip was a man now though. A huge one actually, he was incredibly tall with broad shoulders. A gun holster tightly holding onto them. He now had long hair that covered his big ears but it complimented his rough handsome look. Not only were you shocked by seeing him after all these years but completely blindsided by how attractive he was.

He stepped up to the counter that was separating the two of you still focused on the paper in his hand. You didn’t know what to say, would he recognize you? Would he remember you at all?

“How can I help you, officer?” you attempted to keep your voice steady as you spoke.

“I need a file on a Henry Johnson, case number four-eight-one-five.” You sucked in a breath when you heard his deep voice. The words came out his mouth so smoothly when he spoke. It baffled you how the goofy Flip Zimmerman you knew at fifteen was now the most attractive man you had ever laid eyes on.

“Sure thing, I’ll get right on that.” Your thoughts were racing as you shuffled through the boxes to find the case number. It sounded childish and stupid but this man used to be everything you ever wanted. You cannot explain how much you hated your father for years after not being able to say goodbye to Flip. The childhood feelings were stirring through you with way more intensity than you’d ever want to admit.

What if he doesn’t even remember you? It’s been nearly fourteen years, he probably forgot that entire part of his childhood. Oh God, he could be married… with children! You felt nearly sick with so many thoughts rushing through your mind at once.

As you walked towards him, he finally looked up. His eyes stopped dead on you and didn’t move. He looked serious all of the sudden, his face tense with an emotion you weren’t sure of. He just stared wordlessly as you placed the file on the countertop waiting for some sort of reaction from him.

His eyes being locked in on yours, it was harder for you to look away. You couldn’t. He hadn’t had the chance to say anything to you before a new voice broke the tension between the two of you, and it nearly made you jump out of your skin. “Well, holy shit. I didn’t know they hired a beautiful woman to work in here. I’m Jimmy, what’s your name sweetheart?”

An older man who was standing next to Flip held his hand ready to shake yours. A part of you wondered how long Jimmy had been standing there. Had he really been there the entire time and you’ve been in too much shock to notice?

Your cheeks flushed feeling overwhelmed by so much happening at once, nonetheless you reached out to his hand. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N), you can just call me (Y/N) though. It’s a pleasure to meet you Jimmy.” You nervously bit your lip for a second unsure what to say to Flip, and so you slightly turned towards him.

“Flip Zimmerman?” You asked, the name coming out quiet as if you shouldn’t be saying it. His eyes never left you throughout the interaction with Jimmy, and they remained locked on you now.

“You… (Y/N).” He no longer sounded casual like before when he was reading off the words from the paper in his hand. It was strained and forced. He seemed nearly angry at the sight of you and that made you want to shrivel up and disappear.

His jaw remained tight as if he was nearly grinding his teeth. He just stayed silent looking like a provoked animal who was hurt and ready to bite at the slightest thing that came his way. You picked up on how Jimmy glanced at Flip with a confused look, that was before he picked up the conversation back up in an attempt to ease the uncomfortable feeling in the air.

“How’s the station treatin’ you?”

“I can’t really complain, It’s pretty quiet in here. Anything was better than waitressing if I’m being honest with you.”

Jimmy chuckled in response. Flip snatched the folder off the desk before walking towards the door without a word to you or Jimmy. The feeling of concern creeping in your stomach and the feeling of queasiness returned. He seemed so upset to see you, flat out disgusted and angry. You’d never had that kind of reaction out of anyone… it felt awful.

“Don’t worry about him, we’re just busy with a new case.” Jimmy commented, noticing the tension left behind in place of Flip. He seemed nice for attempting to act as if this was a normal reaction.

You dryly forced out a laugh out of politeness. “I, uh, we know each other. Childhood friends.” You didn’t know how to explain his reaction because you didn’t understand it yourself, what did he want from you?

You attempted to shift the subject “Case?”

“We’re detectives.”

You hummed in response and picked up some folders that needed to be placed back in order. “You’ll have to tell me about it sometime, sounds interesting.”

Jimmy followed your hint which you were so thankful for and knocked on the counter before heading towards the door, saying over his shoulder. “Glad to. We’ve got plenty of stories to tell.”

As you listened to the door close behind Jimmy, you sat down in the desk chair trying to settle your nerves. You don’t know what reaction you hoped for but that was surely not the one. You had never seen Flip so angry; I mean sure he had fights with people at school but this was pure anger… directed at you. You knew he may have been somewhat bitter about you leaving but you assumed being an adult he wouldn’t have held onto that anger to such an extreme.

You wondered if it would be worth trying to talk this out with him. It felt wrong inside knowing that someone you cared so much about in the past nearly hated the sight of you.

Well, work just became more interesting…

Series dedicated to the person who is most supportive in my fanfics... and in my life. I love you dearly, @warrentrash

#flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x you #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman fanfic #flip zimmerman fluff #adam driver fanfic #adam driver

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stargazer-balladeer · 4 years

Text

Platonic! [Mystic Messenger]

Anon: hi !! can i ask for rfa x reader platonic! headcanons with v & ice cream boi saeran <3

Characters Included: RFA, V & Saeran

Note: This is one of my favorite works :P. I got carried away by this bc I rlly had so much fun writing it. Hope ya’ll enjoy this!

Additional Notes: You and MC are not the same people.

Reader’s Gender: Neutral (some bulletin might imply a feminine reader but take it how ever you want)

Warning: Dark themes in V’s scenario. Mentions of Suicide. If you’re sensitive to this topic, pls skip V’s. Thanks. Spoiler warning!

“UNREQUITED LOVE”

Seven

Honestly speaking, Seven is a friend that keeps joking around and fun to be with. He’s so easygoing yet he keeps building up walls around himself, distancing himself from everyone, even you.

He’s the kind that just keeps smiling, no matter what situation he was in.

It’s that reason why when you approach him for the first time, you could instantly tell he’s building up walls around him. But in reality, he just smiles.

Behind that smile though screams “go away” “why are you talking to me?” “who the hell are you?”

I think it’s very difficult to befriend him (The twins are, in general). BUT! Once you get past his build-up walls and warmed up to him, he’ll slowly also warmed up to you.

Now, going back to platonic hc.

You two will always have a competition. ALWAYS. Whether petty or stupid or crazy, it doesn’t matter. Seven is the exact definition of CRAZY, and I hope you are too.

You two will be spamming the chatrooms so much, much to the rest’s irritation. You two will be a dynamic duo that cannot be stopped.

Actually people might mistake you as couple (if ever you two go out, you usually stay indoors) since you two actually look like one. Of course, you two will deny it, stating your just friends, which is true enough.

Though sometimes you two took advantage of this. If there’s a couple discount in a store? You two will pretend to be a couple to get a discount.

Vanderwood would just get used to having two idiots in the house now, since you always crash in Seven’s house. You practically live there now. (poor Vanderwood--)

Seven would be so comfortable with you, that he can be himself. If he’s sure he can trust you, he will tell you about his past and about his twin brother. How he regret leaving Saeran, how he regrets everything about his life.

If MC joins the RFA, you instantly knew something was wrong with Seven.

If you realize that he loves her, you would definitely tease him about it. He would passionately deny it (with flushed cheeks), but you knew better.

You would be there for him when he realize what had happened to his brother, you comforted him as he cries. cries.

I would also like to imagine him telling you about the reset, and explaining to your confuse self. You’re the only one he can confide to about this information. Pls don’t break this trust.

You would definitely help Seven to search for Saeran, and be his best man in his and MC’s wedding (yes, even if you are a girl. Fight me.)

Overall, I think this friendship is a wholesome one. Full of trust and fun. Pls don’t abuse this friendship with Seven ;-; This poor bby boi has been through a lot..

Yoosung Kim

You two definitely meet during classes in College, whether sharing the same course or accidentally met in the library or cafeteria or anywhere. You two will instantly click.

Yoosung would, at first, be shy in talking with you. But slowly grew more confident as you two talk with each other.

He would DEFINITELY bring Rika up in one of your conversations. You would be like, “??? who?”

He then proceeds to explain that Rika was his cousin, and that she recently just died. Your motherly instinct activated when you see tears building in his eyes as you brought him to your chest and comforted him.

It isn’t hard for Yoosung to trust you, unlike Seven.

If you play LOLOL, this boi would be so ecstatic that he immediately suggested to play together. I hope you agree.

I imagine him being kinda talkative. So, maybe after playing LOLOL or finish doing a project or whatever, you two will sit together on the couch and just talk. Your conversation can be either heartfelt or weird or strange or funny. You two’ll talk endlessly until both of you realize that it’s super late at night.

Like Seven’s, you two will be mistaken as a couple by your classmates. You two’ll instantly deny it though, in Yoosung’s side, flushed face while denying.

But unlike Seven, you two don’t take advantage of this. You two probably didn’t know it existed until someone mention it to you or you found out.

You two are the innocent beans in the chatrooms. You usually save Yoosung from Seven’s antics, which the rest are grateful for.

I honestly see Yoosung as a Musical fan, like Hamilton, Dear Evan Hansen, etc. If you like those as well, expect jamming session of Musical Broadway songs.

I can also imagine if Yoosung is scared or nervous, he will instinctively grab your hand. It’s like he’s reassuring himself that your there for him, and won’t disappear from him. Unlike his cousin, his love.

He might come off as clingy but you better know that’s not the case. He’s scared. You can reassure him by squeezing his hand and smiling at him. “I’ll always be here for you.” he might shed a tear or two before smiling back at you.

When MC joins the RFA. The two of you were surprised at her sudden appearance but nevertheless welcomed her.

If you realize that MC likes Yoosung and how Yoosung keeps comparing her to Rika, you would definitely step in. You know that MC feels hurt that Yoosung keeps comparing her to his dead cousin, so you talk to him.

He wouldn’t take this lightly though. But eventually realized that you and Zen were right. MC wasn’t like Rika at all! Maybe even better!

You would be SO worried about Yoosung when you heard he lost one of his eyes. But you knew better to visit him so you spam him instead, letting him and MC have their moment.

You would be there when he became a veterinarian. You’ll also be his best man in his wedding (regardless if you’re a woman).

Overall... this friendship is one-of-a-kind. It’s rare to see a man like Yoosung nowadays. If ever you meet this kind of person, befriend them. I’m sure you wouldn’t regret it :)

Jumin Han

I can’t imagine anything else but during your childhood. You’re friends with him and V, and possibly Rika as well. But you’re close to V rather than to Jumin.

You’re actually scared of him really, since he has this aura around him that screams “superior!” “don’t talk to me peasant” “go away”. Yeah, not so friendly aura.

V would always reassure you that Jumin isn’t that kind of person. You, of course, believe him but it’s hard to approach someone like Jumin.

Once you’re older, you might have lost communication with the both of them. By the time you knew it, you heard V was getting married to Rika. And you knew who else has a crush on Rika. Jumin.

You, of course, congratulated them. But you were deeply concerned about the black-haired CEO. But when you approach him about it, he pushed you away.

When V suddenly died, you were gravely saddened to have lost a friend. You were deeply wounded at the fact that he left so sudden, why? why? why?

Jumin might’ve noticed you grieving so he’s the one approaching you now. He’s the one reaching out his hand, and you took it.

At the start of your newfound rekindled friendship, it was to say awkward and a bit rocky. But you were used to it so you persisted until you wiggle yourself into his life. And, surprise surprise, he accepted the fact that you are his friend.

You two will not always hang out however, since you two have work to go to. But you two will call each other frequently, asking each other trivial things, which is surprising coming from Jumin.

I also think someone will mistake you as Jumin’s girlfriend, but he will outright deny it.

He MIGHT MIGHT use this an advantage though. But not so much, since he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable or take advantage of you.

If you like cats, great! If you two are already like best friends, Jumin will let you meet Elizabeth the 3rd.

If you work with him in C&R, you’ll be expected to come to his office often to drag him away from his workaholic self.

By now, Jumin already considers you a close friend, that’s a first. The friend who never left him. So he confides in you about his insecurities in running the company, how he never had a family before since his father is a womanizer, hopping from one woman to another. He’s just a product of a one night-stand.

Just listen to him, that’s all he needed. You don’t need to talk, just listen. And pls don’t spread it either, Jumin’ll not like that.

He’s not usually talkative really. You’re the one who talks, if you’re a talkative person like Yoosung, the one who keeps the conversation going. But if you’re quiet, then the both of you can bask in silence in each other’s presence.

I would like to think Jumin thinks of you as a (sister/brother) he never had, a family.

And, very so often than not, he smiles to you. He’s so comfortable with you that he can be himself and not uphold his guard.

The rest of the RFA would take note of Jumin being soft towards you. Like he’ll be angry one second but once you’re in the chat, he’ll go soft. Like “???”. But I would like to think they’re happy that Jumin found a friend that he can trust. (Proud RFA)

(It’s also noticeable in the employees of C&R that Jumin has become soft towards you.)

You and Jaehee would DEFINITELY be friends as well. You may or may not have told Jumin to stop giving her so many tasks. But nevertheless, she’s grateful for you and happy that you’re also her friend.

Anyway. If MC joins the RFA, Jumin, being Jumin Han, was wary of her. You assure him that she meant no harm at all.

But once all was revealed, and founding out V was still alive. You had mixed feelings about him, like you’re happy that he’s alive but angry that he lied to you.

You’re also mad towards Jumin. He told you the reason why V died, but the reasoning was a lie. You don’t know who to trust anymore so you shunned everyone out.

Jumin was devastated, to say the least. He has grown into a trusting and loving friendship with you that was hard to build, and yet it broke. Like a snap of a finger, it immediately broke. He doesn’t know what to do. He lost a friend, the friend who never left his side, the one who cheers him on, the one who loves hanging out with him even though he’s boring, the friend who was a family to him.

He cried. Jumin Han cried. MC tried comforting him of course, but he never stopped. He wanted you back, he couldn’t bear to lose someone important again.

And, like a miracle, you came back. Oh how happy he was when he saw you standing in front of him. He immediately engulfed you into a hug, not caring if some people saw him. He got you back, that’s all that matters.

After the fiasco was dealt with, you would DEFINITELY attend their wedding. It’s either his Best Man or a Bridesmaid, he still respect the Church’s wishes afterall.

Overall, your friendship with this trust-fund kid was messy and started out rough. But once you two work hard on it, it blossomed. Until someone crush it and it became broken again. But once again, it stood strong and proudly, even though damaged. And I think it’s beautiful, no matter what anyone else’s say.

Zen

This guy is an actor, an egotistical, narcissistic guy. Who looks like a real-life Mafumafu and gotten his name “Zen” from a guy named Zen in Akagami no Shirayukihime (Snow White with the Red Hair).

Putting that aside, you two probably met accidentally in a set. Where you accidentally pour water on him during a break. You profusely apologized lots of time, and him reassuring you every time.

Yeah. Not an ideal meeting but a meeting no less.

Zen would probably took an interest for you. No, not romantic interest. He’s more interested in being your friend. He saw how you interact with other people, and especially your friends. He was, dare I say, jealous of people being with you. He wanted a friend like that, that’s all he wanted afterall.

He would take time to chat with you in-between takes (or breaks in Musical Broadway). He would eventually find out that you don’t care if he’s a famous actor that enjoys his looks. He found himself being comfortable around you.

If the set you two are in has ended, he would be disappointed. That means, there’s no more reason to interact with you. But you surprise him by telling him that if he wants to hang out again, just call me. He was ecstatic.

Whenever you hang out though, it needs to be in-secret. He would have to wear a disguise if he doesn’t want anyone to recognize him while he’s hanging out with you.

Where you hang out though is always a mystery. Sometimes in a park, sometimes in a amusement park, sometimes in a cafe, sometimes in a mall, and so on. It’s always random with him, but enjoyable nonetheless.

But if someone caught him hanging out with you and post it online.It would cause a frenzy really. But don’t worry! Zen would one way or another calm it down and state that you two are just friends.

Zen would DEFINITELY get you to ride his motorcycle, but wouldn’t force you to ride it if you’re scared. BUT! He’s persistent so you have no choice but to give in.

If you like Musical, great! Then the both of you can jam out with Musical songs, that he may or may not have sung (COUGH Hamilton COUGH).

But after the incident of the online, you hang out in Zen’s apartment or yours. You two binge-watch Netflix shows or watch a movie.

He would DEFINITELY force you to practice with him if he needs to practice for a role. But if the scene includes a kissing scene, he would kiss you on the cheek instead.

If he’s comfortable with around you, he would tell you about his past. How his family doesn’t want him to be an actor, how they immediately disowned him and how he got depressed.

You don’t need to talk really, comfort him. Pull him close and rub his back. “It’s alright.. I’m here.” Zen might burst into tears.

In the chatroom, you two act the same as usual. You actually mother the RFA. You reprimand him for being an addict to LOLOL. You reprimand Seven to eat other food other than Buddha Chips. You reprimand Jumin for being an workaholic, and for overworking poor Jaehee. The only one you don’t reprimand is Jaehee, she’s a precious angel.

You would DEFINITELY be there for him whenever Zen would perform on stage or on screen. You are his number one supporter after all.

When he feels nervous, he’ll instinctively looks at you. You, in return, flash a reassuring smile. Then his confidence would be boosted and his nervousness goes away.

This small action of yours, swells Zen’s heart. He’s glad to have a friend like you. A friend that actually supports him, a friend that loves him whole-heartedly, a friend that enjoys his company, a friend that will always be there for him. He finally found his longing friend.

If MC has joined the RFA, you noticed Zen’s personality shift a bit.

If you noticed how Zen and MC were falling in love, you would definitely be their Number One Supporter.

If you know the Echo Girl incident, you might not intervene. Letting them handle it since it’s their problem. (lol savage friend)

After everything has ended, you would be supporting Zen full-heartedly. He wants to marry MC? Alright. Let’s plan the wedding and engagement. He wants to find a romantic spot for a date? Alrighty, let’s check Siri.

You would be his Best Man (even if you’re a woman). He’s so nervous that he turns to you and you flash him a smile. The exact same smile you gave to him whenever he feels nervous.

He would forever be grateful to you.

Overall, your friendship with him may not seem like much on the outside, but on the inside, you and Zen would feel like you’ve known each other for so long that you understand each other so well. This friendship is also a beautiful kind, pls treat this boi right.

Jaehee Kang

I would definitely think you two met during her college days. You two were paired up in a project and that’s how you two click. It was you two were meant to be, like two puzzles fit together.

After that, you two would be found hanging out with each other. She admires your determination in finishing college and wanting to enter to your favorite job, while you admire her for her silent demeanor and how studious she was.

You two would DEFINITELY be hanging out in the library or in either of your rooms, just reading or studying. But sometimes you two were seen hanging out in the park, cafe or around the campus.

People might mistake you as a couple, but (of course) you two would deny it.

Even after graduating, you two still kept in touch. If you two were working in C&R, you would definitely talk with her during breaks. If you two were working in two separate works, you would call her still. But even if this happens, it’s not guaranteed that she’ll answer your call or meet you during breaks (since Jumin dumps her lots of stuff).

You will help her in some, which she protest at first but ultimately gave up when she realized how stubborn you could be.

If you two were hanging out in a rare day that she has a day off, she would make you binge-watch Zen’s performances, fangirling about it. You would support her of course, if you’re not a fan. But if you’re a fan, you both will be a squealing and fangirling mess.

In chatrooms, Jaehee would still be herself. You, on the other hand, would definitely play along with Seven’s pranks on Yoosung. Both you and Seven are partners-in-crime. Jaehee would definitely be the person who says “I don’t know that person. What’re you talking about?” while looking away from you.

If she’s overworking herself, you’ll immediately drag her away to relax herself.

If she wants to open a cafe, you would definitely support her and be an employee of it. But that’s much later.

Actually, if she’s stress, she would definitely rant to you about how bad of a boss is Jumin. You would need to give her coffee and open the tv to watch one of Zen’s performance to calm her down.

She would DEFINITELY open up her sexuality to you. You, of course, didn’t judge her and supported her.

If MC joins the RFA, you and Jaehee would be skeptical at first of course. A sudden girl suddenly entered the RFA without all of them knowing of her. It seems suspicious. But decided to shrug it off.

If you realize Jaehee is falling for MC, you would be suspicious of MC’s advances. So you decided to talk to MC about it. You know about the LGBTQ+ community, and fully aware of Jaehee’s sexuality. But you aren’t sure about MC.

You are only doing this because you don’t want Jaehee to be broken-hearted, to be lead on. So you had a talk with MC. And after that talk, you are now sure that MC loves Jaehee as much as Jaehee loves her.

After all the fiasco ended, Jaehee resigned being Jumin’s assistant and opened up a cafe with MC. You became an employee of it but only on the weekends or you have free time.

If ever they marry, you would be Jaehee’s maid-in-honor (even if you’re a boy. And no, you’re wearing a suit, don’t worry). You would be so proud of you for being who she was and you would be grateful to MC who made Jaehee who she was now.

I think this friendship is common but it’s also beautiful. It actually reminds me of my friends (now strangers.... unfortunately ;-;)

Ahh. My husband. Here we go.

You two met when both of you were teenagers, when he was in a photoshoot. He accidentally took a picture of you, and he apologized for it but you reassure him that it was okay.

After that meeting, you two became great friends. You also met Jumin and became friends with him.

You two would be hanging out everywhere. Since he’s a photographer, he wants to take picture of everything that seems interesting. But sometimes, you would be found in V’s room, looking through his taken pictures in his camera.

If you’re also a photographer, he would be so happy! He would take you everywhere that has a great scenery to hear the sounds of clicking of the camera. If you’re not, you can be his muse! (if you don’t mind, of course).

People wouldn’t mistake you two as a couple really, since they see how V sees you as a (sister/brother) and you to him. They can see it in the aura.

Few years past, and you met Rika.

When you first met her, you could immediately tell something was wrong with her. You didn’t take Psychology in college for nothing!

But you don’t have the heart to tell V about it, since he looks so happy with her. You can also tell that Jumin has a crush on her as well.

As days go by, you and V were falling apart. You two slowly didn’t talk anymore, which confuse you greatly. why was there a distance? did I do something wrong? did I say something? why? why? wHY? WHY?!

You felt empty without V. He was your half after all, a brother. Now he’s gone, you felt lonely without him.

You knew about the RFA. And Jumin suggested you to join, so you did. You felt better as you interact with the other members. Jumin could see it, Rika could see it, V could see it.

But what drove you to succumb to depression, the last struck, was V’s death. That was the last one to destroy what little sanity you have left. You even tried to suicide, but Jumin caught you before you could try.

You grew more depressed as the days go by. You wouldn’t come out of bed or eat the food given to you. This made the members of the RFA worry about you. So they tried their best to make you better.

Jaehee tried to make you get out of bed to eat, but wasn’t successful. Zen tried to make you laugh with funny videos, which you turn your back on him. Yoosung tried to make you turn to video games for comfort, but he didn’t succeeded (he left with teary-eyes). Heck, even Seven tried! Well, tried as in making you a device but you ignored it.

Until Jumin was the one who ultimately made you stand up and eat. He said that if V sees you like this, he would be very disappointed and worried.

“He doesn’t care, Jumin. Give it up.”

“He DOES care, [Y/N]. Now, don’t be a child and stand up and eat.”

And that led you to arguing with him. You screaming that he doesn’t know what you feel, how it feels to lose a friend, and how you want to die. Until Jumin screams back at you,

“I ALSO LOST A FRIEND!”

You stopped. You literally froze as tears began pouring out of your eyes, now feeling guilty. You weren’t the only one who lost V, Jumin has and even Seven, who sees V as a father figure.

After that time, you started getting better. Jumin insisted you work in C&R, so you decided to agree. Life was turning for better until MC joins the RFA.

Ever since MC joined, many things have happened. You discovered V was still alive, how Rika tortured him and Saeran, how she’s the mastermind behind Mint Eye, everything was too much for you.

Even though you had a grudge against V for lying about his death, your hearts yearns for his presence. But when you saw how MC was persistent to save V, you joined her.

In saving V, you also saved Saeran. V apologized profusely to you and you forgave him. You thought everything was working.

But when V disappeared once again, you were sick of it. Sick of V always disappearing, so you cut your ties with the RFA. You moved into another country and lived there for the rest of your life, living behind everything you knew about them.

After years of living in a completely new country, you received a message in Korean. You saw it was from Jumin, you want to ignore it but you decided to read it. It was a picture of MC’s and V’s child. Then Jumin send another text saying, “Come back, he misses you.”

You decided to return, only to be greeted by the RFA in the airport along with V and his child. You stared at them for a while before returning your gaze to V. Your lips turned into a smile, “hey.”

V smiled sadly at you, “hey.”

Overall, LOTS of obstacles you have to face in order to have this friendship. But there’s a saying that, “If you can say goodbye, then you can say hello once more.”. No matter how much you two have been separated by fate, you two will always be friends.

Saeran

You two would meet after he was saved by MC and Seven from Mint Eye. He would, of course, be hostile to everyone, even you. You two will meet when buying ice creams in a ice-cream stand.

He would push you away immediately if you want to get close to him, with his mindset in him still being dangerous and you untrustworthy.

But if you start meeting every time Saeran goes out, you would slowly warm up to him. He would, at first, think you’re a stalker since its strange for the two of you meet everytime he goes out. He, of course, would still be hostile with you.

If you manage to break his walls, he would slowly but surely open his heart for you. He’s still wary of you, that doesn’t change.

You two will hang out either at their home or outside, near an ice-cream stand.

People would not mistake you as a couple since they don’t look at you. Saeran glares at everyone who stares at you two, they’ll probably think overprotective brother instead.

He will NEVER bring up his past, ever. Even if he’s comfortable with you, he wouldn’t bring up his past. He’s still afterall afraid of what you’ll think of him.

You wouldn’t know about his past, unless Seven mentions it. But you better never pry on it.

You know when Saeran is comfortable with you since he lets you sit near him and shares his ice-cream with you, which lead to a pouting red-headed twin as he stares at the two of you from afar.

If he has nightmares, he would lash out to anyone who’s in the same room as him. If you’re in his room and he has a nightmare, expect Saeran jumping on you and chocking on you. It’s either Vanderwood and Seven who has to push him off you to let you breath.

He would, of course, feel guilty for almost killing you so he outright avoided you. It will go on a while since he’s stubborn. You have to be the one to reconcile your friendship.

He always holds your hand, squeezing sometimes. It’s a tell-tale sign to him that you’re still here and not somewhere else. He trusts you so you better not crush it.

He’s like Seven in so many ways. When he trusts someone, it’s usually whole-heartedly. But, like Seven, he’s scared to break down his walls. To let someone enter into his heart only to rip it out. It’s too much for poor Saeran, so he cage himself.

If he starts to like MC, you could immediately tell. You would endlessly tease him about him as he tells you to shut up with a flushed face.

In secret though, you would have a talk with MC about Saeran. She would understand that you’re just worried about your (tsundere) friend, and she promises to love him for eternity. (COUGH reset COUGH).

You would definitely be his Best Man (even if you’re a girl), he would fight anyone who oppose it. (LOL I can totally see this happening).

Overall, this friendship is similar to Seven’s. It’s beautiful and it’s built on strong trust to one another. Pls don’t betray this ice cream bby. ;-;

[x] Main Page || [x] Mystic Messenger Page

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unholyplumpprincess · 4 years

Text

Winner Winner Porkchop Dinner

Cryptage commission for @trashyoctopus !

Summary: Crypto and Mirage are set up on a blind date, with neither knowing that it was each other. Rivalry COULD have gotten in the way, if Elliott wasn’t too fucking pretty for his own good.

(Older content)

Reblogs > Likes. It costs zero dollars to reblog the fics you like :D Minors and ageless blogs DNI or you will be blocked!

Relationship: Crypto/Mirage

Fandom: Apex legends

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, both Crypto and Mirage are cis, anal sex/fingering, Crypto being a bottom baby, tears, overstimulation, fucking on the floor

Words: 3.2K

_______________

Dating for legends was rather difficult. In a world that saw you as stars, people could become rather obsessive. Crypto was no stranger to the ‘starstruck’ vision upon seeing a legend. He had been one of the people who had set up the drones to broadcast them all fighting, after all. It was no different to him to pick and choose favorites.

Except now he WAS a legend. Walked among them the same way they walked with him. Partners or rivals, it didn’t matter.

Dating, again, for legends was rather difficult- and yet, Elliott Witt, better known as ‘Mirage’, famous trickster of the arena. Well, he got along just fine.

Or so he had made it seem.

~Rest under the cut~

Elliott talked a big game. Had a big mouth, for that matter. Talked about both men and women he could charm, even those who fit neither category. Last, of which, he boasted whilst making finger gun motions at Bloodhound who had waved him off with a ‘shoo’ motion as if he was a horny dog.

Something Crypto thought to be rather amusing when the flirty legend had pouted in response.

Being among them all, he’s learned they’re all much like a family. Romance could blossom between specific people within their circle, he’d seen it himself with Wraith eyeing Anita from across a room. Only to look away the second the woman’s eyes looked back at him and he’d pretended he’d never seen her looking.

Because loving while being part of this bloodied sport wasn’t an option. To stay available and don’t let feelings get in the way of how brutally they could kill each other. Only to wake up again like it never happened, except now you hold a grudge in your heart for the pain one caused you.

All for sport- entertainment.

Yet, the sponsors seemed to go crazy if they could see one of the legends being soft. The media loved it too. When someone like Wraith had seen her teammate, Bangalore, get knocked- normally she wouldn’t have thought twice about gunning down those around her and going back for the beacon. However, you could see her hesitate, flick her head back and run for her downed squad mate with an open portal to safety.

This is when Crypto truly began to get interested. Media where he was from- if someone was that popular, they would have been KILLED for daring to date someone. It wouldn’t have made them ‘available’ for minds all around. But, it seemed media across all planets alike delighted in the idea of love blossoming in war.

He’d watched it himself online. Different articles popping online. How Wraith would huff and throw a magazine across the legends’ lounge room or toss it at Elliott who’d playfully tease her about it.

It affected legends as well.

And when he’d picked up the magazine and looked at the headline, with a still of Wraith and Anita making eye contact whilst picking one another up, with the words ‘LOVE IN KINGS CANYON?’?

Well. Maybe he wouldn’t mind it if something like this affected him either.

It’s why he agrees to this stupid blind date thing. A mutual of his, someone he didn’t quite trust but she was at least a nice enough person, had a brilliant idea of a blind date. Said she knew someone who was JUST his type. There was no need for awkward ‘do you like girls or boys?’ conversations to happen, thankfully he knew it was at least a man he was meeting.

Crypto could only feel anxiety when he woke up that morning. Twisting in his stomach about who they could be. What did they look like? Would they mind if he was a quiet person? Would they worry and fret too much over him not talking the whole time? Would they be funny? Would they have curly hair- long hair- were they kind?

So many questions.

The unknown made him paranoid.

The woman leads him to a nice café. Crypto, for the date, adorned an oversized black hoodie that’s left unzipped, a lower black face mask with a filter on it, a low cut white shirt and ripped black skinny jeans. He felt more punk than anything, but it was casual for a setting like this. Except, perhaps, all of the jewelry he wore around his neck.

She guides him to the back to sit down, a nice little area while she excitedly chirps that she’ll be right back with his date.

Crypto’s on edge the entire three minutes and twenty two seconds she is gone. Fussing with a little fidget toy in his pocket to keep a hand busy and keeping his other resting on the table in case he needed to jab at someone.

Prepared, not paranoid.

The chatter of the café is quiet. The music is soft, and yet his shoulders are taut.

But then he sees her walking back over, someone behind her, taller, curly hair-

“Oh! Hey, buddy!” Comes from the man as he comes padding over excitedly like a dog, sitting in front of Crypto with a big, dimpled smile on his face.

Elliott Witt.

No fucking way.

Crypto’s eyes widen, and he looks up at their mutual friend who passes him a wink and a, “Have fun, boys!” Before she’s off.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Elliott continues with a bit of a laugh exhaling from him. Fiddling with his hands uncharacteristically in his lap. Nervous, it appeared, as Crypto’s eyes smooth over his frame. “S-so ya’ like coffee? No- no it was tea, right? I can order for us! Er, Wraith was saying sometimes you come out at night and make tea?” Definitely nervous.

He cleaned up well enough without wearing his sponsors or his gear for that matter. A v neckline on a black t-shirt that was form hugging, a yellow and black printed flannel with the sleeves rolled up just above his elbows to show strong, hairy forearms. Form fitting black jeans hugged him just as well and his hair was styled to the side. Curls looking washed and fresh with their fluffy texture.

He cleaned up extremely well.

Elliott is fussing again, nervously displaying his hands out on the table as he fusses with his hands. Crypto can’t help but think it’s kind of...endearing.

They’d been rivals on the battlefield ever since their first match together. Mark on the scoreboard, he supposed that may have been his fault for counting and rubbing it in Elliott’s face. But...

“Tea would be nice.” He finally speaks up, cutting Elliott off as he pulls his mask down to rest around his neck so he could prepare.

He watches Elliott’s eyes light up like an excited dog’s, nodding his head quickly as his curls move with the motions. “Yeah! Y-yeah, yeah of course, gimme a sec. Preference?”

And that’s how they spent that afternoon. Not as legends, or as rivals. But as two people set up on a blind date and enjoying one another’s company. Even laughed when Elliott had sputtered and quietly shout-whispered the question of ‘YOU HAVE A TONGUE PIERCING?!’ when Crypto had stuck his tongue out.

Crypto hated to admit it. But he had a great time.

And then an even better time the time after that, and then the next. Aaaand another.

Until the new headlines were now saying ‘LOVE BLOSSOMING IN NEW “MELTDOWN” ARENA?’ with their faces on it.

Their relationship was under wraps. No one knew, no one was allowed to know in full, but the media could speculate. That much Elliott allowed. Little teases to the public whilst Crypto preferred not to do interviews.

Their relationship blossoms from there. They become close- turns out they both had missing family members. Crypto opens up about his sister, Mila. While Elliott opens up about his brothers. He speculates they may have passed in war, but that he holds out hope. While Crypto opens up that he worries that she was killed, and that if she wasn’t, that she was not in agony.

There, they build their foundation on. Trust and love. Opening up to each other slowly. Elliott is much easier to open up about himself and his interests, Crypto is harder. He doesn’t talk anymore on his past from his sister or his mother, only bits and pieces. He allows Elliott into his life slowly, more and more until one another cannot stand to sleep alone.

Wraith teases Elliott nowadays on who is making goo-goo eyes now. Crypto over hears it through the walls and tries not to smile at their antics.

It’s in the ring they have to be more mindful. After the first guess of their relationship, Crypto had to explain to Elliott that though his partner may have loved the cameras, Crypto did not. The attention became too much, and Elliott immediately made that all die down. With his charming smile and a joke about how if he had chosen someone to settle down with, don’t you think he’d be all over them?

Oh, he was all over them. Crypto couldn’t go a day without hands jerking him close. Even if at first he had rolled his eyes and huffed at it, Elliott quickly found out that this tough cookie was just giving him a rough time. Especially when Crypto would give up the ruse and lean back into him.

No, it’s in the ring they have to be careful. Otherwise, anywhere else? Free game. Other legends could shut their lips.

Hence why this match was going rather roughly.

Mirage, Crypto, and Lifeline all on the same squad. Ajay makes a joke about ‘old times’ and how they should keep score again. Playfully bumping Crypto’s hip with her own and earning her a bit of a smirk before it’s turned to Elliott with a cocky look and a soft hum of, “I am sure that the old man has learned his lesson.”

Which earns him wide eyes, a gaped mouth, and, “Hey! Not that again!” Before Ajay is shoving them both off the dropship for round two.

The teasing in the ring could be seen as rivalry. They do count the kills, oh they do. Crypto keeps the lead by one point as Ajay keeps score. They bicker and huff the entire time, especially when Ajay takes down a newbie that was hanging in the back and trying to get a drop on them.

At some point they are under squad fire, a grenade heading their way and rolling on the ground. Ajay calls it out from afar, Crypto is the one who spots it.

His fingers twist in Elliott’s coat, yanking him close to his body and throwing their bodies to the side so it only can get a fraction of their shields.

The tension in the corner of the room with Crypto on top of him, both panting and looking into each other’s eyes. So close and so good-

Is their ultimate down fall when they’re shot in the back.

Ajay at least laughs about it in the med bay, saying that, “Ya looked like a proper married couple. Keep ya heads down, ya hear me?” With a tease.

And then a call back, “Oh! Crypto? Two points in the lead.”

There’s a gasp as Crypto’s back hits the door of Elliott’s dorm. Inside his room as Elliott fits a leg between his thighs, grabbing his chin and tilting it down ever so slighty so he could devour his mouth. They were about equal heights, with Crypto maybe being an inch taller. Something he took a bit of amusement in.

But right now, that’s not on his mind. What is, is the pressure on his cock through his pants. How Elliott’s tongue licks into his mouth. Feeling over the piercing on Crypto’s tongue and groaning in reply when Crypto’s hands fists into his jacket and yank him closer.

Their mouths move in sync. Having kissed each other a hundred times over, they know their pace. Crypto presses, sinking his teeth into Elliott’s full lower lip just to hear him let out a shaky breath through his nose in response. His hands come up, fisting Elliott’s curls and tugging him closer with a growl.

The knee between Crypto’s thighs presses up, grinding until he’s pulling back with a whine, head thunking back against the door. This leaves him open for Elliott’s mouth to kiss at his exposed neck, mindful of where the cybernetics were most exposed and aiming for the sensitive wiring. His teeth lightly bite into the flesh feeling silicone, feeling Crypto yelp in reply with pleasure as his leg hitches around Elliott’s waist.

He’s biting his lip, keeping quiet and stubbornly trying to yank on Elliott’s hair. That won’t do.

“Think you can embarrass me like that in the ring, baby?” Elliott’s voice is steady in situations like this. His stutter maintained if he tried not to think about it too hard. His breath hot on the shell of Crypto’s ear as his tongue follows, just to feel him shudder against him.

He’s melting. He couldn’t stand being a brat for too long.

“T-think you just- ah- can't keep up.” Is Crypto’s haughty reply, followed by a huff when Elliott’s hand moves from caressing his cheek to his hair. Yanking on it to pull his head to the side to expose the other said of Crypto’s neck for another onslaught of kisses and hot bites. Pushing at his jacket with his other hand until it falls to the floor and Elliott can bite at the crook of his shoulder instead. Sucking a dark bruise there.

“Really?” Elliott breathily laughs. Tripping up Crypto behind his knee before pulling him by his hair to the floor. Watching him hit his knees almost too easy and looking up at Elliott with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “Because from what I saw, you just about bent over for me in front of a camera.”

A sniper position, one so open that Crypto wouldn’t normally take. Lying prone to get a good shot- that's what he’d told Ajay. But he knew exactly what he was doing when he shifted his hips eeever so slightly for the trickster behind him.

He huffs through his nose, embarrassed at being caught, looking to the side. But, Elliott coos under his breath, catching his chin and dragging his gaze back up. “No, no, none of that. C’mon, kitten, you can make it up to me, can’t you?”

The nickname has Crypto’s cheeks flushing red to his ears. Surely spreading down over his chest as Elliott works on his own pants. Pulling out his cock, the head shiny with pre-cum when he smooths his hand over it a few times. Pumping to show how hard he was, pulling back foreskin and making Crypto’s mouth water.

He huffs again through his nose, followed by a whine. He about chokes when Elliott smirks, “Theeere’s my good boy. See? Can’t be mad at me for long.”

No, no, he couldn’t. Especially with his mouth stuffed full of cock and his fingers desperately pawing at Elliott’s hips not a few minutes later. Cryptos own clothing removed and his own cock aching as Elliott cradles his jaw, fingertips pressing lightly to feel the bulge in it every time he slides into his throat. Another appreciation for his piercing met every time he swipes it over the swollen head.

Crypto’s sure he’s drooling. Even by the time Elliott pulls out and is calling him a good boy. Even with the bed in the next room, Elliott can’t seem to wait. Lying Crypto down on the living room floor on his belly as he finds lube left behind on the coffee table from their LAST root around. Squirting a generous amount onto his fingers and working one into Crypto. Caressing his hip with his other hand and petting, telling him he’s a good boy, good baby.

Crypto hums in reply, cheek resting on his crossed arms under his head like a pillow. Cock jumping under his body, trapped and caged. By the time two fingers are in him, he’s sure he’s going to leave a stain on Elliott’s rug. Rocking his hips both into the rug for friction and back onto his fingers.

“Yeah, just like that. Keep it up, sweetheart.” Elliott is full of praise when he slips in a third finger. Making Crypto bite into his arm and shudder with each twist of fingers, scissoring them outwards and crooking them upwards.

A spurt of pre-cum leaves his cock and he can’t help the sob as his hips jump a bit as if stomping his foot. “Fuck me! Just- just fuck me, Elliott, I can’t take this!” Crypto hisses out, earning him a laugh from his boyfriend and an ‘alright, alright’.

He’s rolled onto his back. From there it’s a blur. The slow enter of Elliott leads to his legs around the trickster’s hips, arms around his neck and burying his face into his shoulder. No clothing between them, naked chest to naked chest, heartbeat to heartbeat.

Crypto’s cock is jostled with each thrust. Grinding up against Elliott’s slightly fuzzy abdomen and providing enough friction to keep him very much interested. Even if Elliott is hitting just right to where pleasure bubbles in his abdomen like butterflies.

His teeth sink into Elliott’s shoulder just as Elliott begins fucking him harder. Whining into Crypto’s ear in response when the other tightens his hold around his waist. Biting at the shell of his ear, nuzzling at his hair, murmuring praise just below his ear where his lips brush and his stubble scratches pleasantly.

Crypto cums suddenly and without the warning of budding heat. It happens with a shock and his nails rake down Elliott’s back with a cry. “I love you- I love you I love you--” Escapes his lips in soft sobs as his hips buck upwards into Elliott’s abdomen. Smearing the cum there, which will make for a mess to clean up later.

Instead, Elliott only groans at the sudden tightness and whines back, “Fuck, I love you-” As his hips piston into his boyfriend beneath him.

It’s all too much. Crypto’s eyes are welling with tears from overstimulation. His legs tighten even further, giving Elliott not a lot of room to work with except grind. And even then it’s all too much.

He sobs as a dry orgasm wracks his frame, just in time to hear Elliott deliciously moan in his ear like a whore as he cums. Pressing a hard kiss to Crypto’s temple as they hold each other through it all on the floor.

With a satisfied sigh and tension leaving both their frames, Elliott carefully peels back to assess the damage. Looking down at Crypto splayed out, legs still locked around his hips but looser, his hands resting by his head and his head turned to the side. Face flushed, eyes teary, lips wet and swollen.

He looked beautiful.

Elliott says so too, with a soft sigh of, “Absolutely gorgeous.” As he cups Crypto’s chest with one hand. Running his thumb over a nipple just to watch him jerk and moan softly, smacking at his hand with a grumble.

He may have lost in the ring, but in the bedroom, Elliott ‘Mirage’ Witt always won.

Always.

#Cryptage #Crypto #Mirage #Apex legends #apex lemons #nsft #lemon #commissions #princess writing

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panda-noosh · 4 years

Text

the missing part {George Weasley x Reader}

Words: 10.5k

Summary: The trio becomes a pair.

Genre: angst

Warnings: mentions of death - grief - this is also a platonic fic so if you’re looking for some good good romance, you might not wanna waste your time with this one.

Notes: support my writing or ask me about commissions! - THIS IS A SAD ONE BOYOS

----

You receive the news shortly after everything happens.

The change to the wizarding world is a physical one. Wizards all over the globe can feel the difference, even though they weren't at the scene, even though news has yet to break of the details describing what really happened that evening in Hogwarts. People are cheering and screaming victory in the streets, because everyone just knows. Everyone is breathing normally again. Everyone is safe.

It's excitement that claws at you first and foremost, because you're stuck in that head space where nothing feels wrong. Voldemort is dead – you know it, the world knows it, everyone is okay. You celebrate with a glass of wine, too absorbed in this massive victory to think of the sacrifices that must have happened to make it happen. For tonight, all you want is a chance to bask in a freedom you have not felt nor experienced in many, many years.

But the euphoria can't last forever. One problem has been taken care of, and now there is room for more to trickle in.

You receive the letter the next day. You wake up from a wine-induced sleep to the sound of the owls beak tapping against your window; you retrieve the letter with a hopeful mind and trembling fingers, because it has been so long since you've received a letter that isn't a warning of the Ministry getting closer to your home, or a newspaper reporting news you do not want to hear, news so false and manufactured it made you start buying The Quibbler just for a real taste of what was happening in the outside world.

You open the letter at your kitchen table, and this is something you will always, always remember, a moment that will forever be locked in your brain due to the trauma – genuine trauma – it swept upon you. Over a glass of milk and a bowl of cereal, you read the words Fred is dead, scribbled in the handwriting of Molly Weasley.

You read it over and over again, just to make sure your mind is not playing tricks on you – you would be less surprised if you suddenly found out your months of isolation had made you gone insane, because it seems most impossible that Fred Weasley is no longer alive, no longer with you, no longer laughing and smiling and brightening up a room with his twin brother at his side.

Through your heartbreak, this thought leads you to the even more heartbreaking thought of the twin that is still doing all those things – George. How his world must have shifted, how he must be feeling. You remember sitting beside him back at Hogwarts, listening to him and Fred speak at the exact same time – back then it felt so weird, and you'd cringe and tell them to stop; now, however, you can barely stomach the idea of not hearing their synchronised sentences.

You write back, asking Molly if there's anything you can do, sending your condolences without making it obvious you are completely and utterly crushed. She replies shortly, saying she wants you there for the funeral, George wants you there for the funeral, Fred would want you there for the funeral.

And you don't want to go. Call it selfish,cowardly, but you don't want to. Standing beside his casket, surrounded by his family and friends, will make it real. When you're huddled in your home, away from it all, it's easy enough to pretend Fred is sat at The Burrow, celebrating the same victory as the rest of the wizarding world, the victory he played a part in.

Nonetheless, you arrive at The Burrow the very next day.

Molly opens the door before you've knocked, having clearly heard the faint pop of you Apparating in her front garden. A gnome runs right for your knees, but Molly shoves it away with her foot before dragging you into a bear-like hug; you can see she's been crying furiously, her eyes swollen, her face having aged a number of years in the space of a day. Her hug, though, is just as you've always remembered it, arms tight around your neck, body swaying slightly from side to side as she whispers unintelligible things in your ear.

She pulls away and holds you at arms length; you can't imagine what she must be seeing. That young wizard she used to babysit is gone now, replaced by someone harder, someone more refined and experienced. She's not the only one who has aged a great number of years in such a short space of time.

“How are you?” is the first thing you can manage to say.

And already the tears are flooding her eyes again, like the question has triggered some memory she cannot fight off. Her lower lip trembles, and she humours you with a small nod before she wraps her beefy arm around your shoulders and guides you into the warmth of a home that should not be able to hold so many people but does so anyway.

There they are – the Weasleys, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, all stood in the kitchen. They're chatting, but the conversation is hushed and it ends as soon as you make an appearance. Harry is the first to stand, offering you his hand for a handshake he is too young for; you roll your eyes and tug him into a hug. He grunts against you, but you don't even care – it has been two years since you laid eyes on the Boy Who Lived, and a handshake will simply not cut it.

“You made it,” Hermione says, approaching you once Harry has stumbled off. She wraps her arms gently around your waist. “How was the trip?”

“Easy enough,” you reply, lips pressed into her hair.

“Where have you been all this time?” Bill asks.

Still holding Hermione close, afraid of letting go lest she takes your composure with her, you say, “I've been hiding. Just a flat in Hogsmeade; a pure-blood owns it. He let a bunch of us Muggle-borns stay with him until it all died down.” You glance at Harry. “You feeling alright?”

He nods. “Just. . . Still tired, I guess.”

You can understand that; though you know the newspapers will never do the scene justice, you were able to gather the basic jidst of the events that took place in Hogwarts only a few days prior – the deaths, the injuries, the horrors so many young kids have seen and will now never be able to erase from their memories.

“Well,” Molly exhales shakily. “I'll get the kettle on. Y/N, you must be starving. How does a bit of stew sound?”

You nod, giving Molly a grateful smile before your mind zones back in on where you are, what you're here for. Instinctively you search the room for any sign of your best friend – the one that's left – and it's not exactly a surprise when you see he is not there. The rest of the Weasleys are – even Percy, who sits in the corner with his legs folded over one another, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a cup of coffee in his hands. He looks up at the feel of your eyes burning into him, surprising you by nodding towards the back door.

You raise your brows, but follow him out nonetheless. Percy and you never truly got on – he was Fred and George's bossy older brother, and that was always what you left it as. Whenever he decided to abandon the Weasley name for the sake of his precious minister, you lost what little respect you had for him.

Now, however, it's difficult to keep that attitude up; the other Weasleys all look exhausted, but Percy looks a little ill, stumbling over the final step the two of you descend. You grab his elbow before he can fall, and he shakes you off in his attempts to pretend he hadn't nearly fallen face first onto the concrete.

He turns to look at you when you're a decent enough distance from the house. “I wasn't sure if you were going to be here.”

“Of course I was going to be here,” you reply, startled by the croak in his voice, as if he hasn't spoken to anyone in weeks. “He was my best friend, Perce.”

“I know. I know he was, but – just – with everything that happened. Mum wasn't even going to send you an owl. She was just going to let you enjoy the celebrations with everyone else. It was Dad who had to step in and tell her you had a right to know.”

Your stomach flips. “Well I'm glad she told me. I'm – I'm glad I can be here.”

Percy nods, looking off into the distance. “Has anyone told you what happened?”

“No. I'm not going to make you relive it if-”

“I was there when it happened. I watched the curse hit him.” His voice breaks, and that drives it home for you; Percy Weasley, usually so composed and professional, is struggling to form a sentence right now. He can't even bring himself to look in your direction.

You step forward and touch his elbow, as if that will cure anything, take away his pain. His eyes close at the feel of your fingers.

“I'm so sorry,” you mumble.

“Yeah,” he replies shakily. “I got the bastard who did it, though.”

You force a smile. “Good.”

“And you know what the most fucked up part of it is?” He opens his eyes and looks at you. “My first thought wasn't even Oh God, my brothers dead. It was Oh God, George is going to be heartbroken.”

Your lower lip trembles before you can stop it, before his words have even properly processed; it's heartbreaking to hear something like that, a blow to the gut you were not prepared for.

Percy laughs, cold and dead. “Can you believe that?”

“Yes,” you choke out. “Yes, I can. Where is George?”

“In his room. He didn't want to see you yet.”

It doesn't even hurt your feelings. You completely understand, considering you're not entirely ready to see him just yet, either.

You glance over at the front door; everyone is beginning to gather round the kitchen table. Arthur pops his head in the window and beckons for you and Percy to hurry up; you give him a thumbs up before whirling back to Percy and grabbing his hand. He starts, eyes widening, but you hurry on before he can say anything.

“What happened to him, Perce? What happened to Fred?”

Percy pauses. “He was dead before he even hit the floor, Y/N. There was nothing anyone could have done.”

You inhale shakily; you cannot cry, not right now, not whenever dinner is being served and his family has pulled themselves together. Percy pulls you into a tight hug when he sees the struggle for peace on your face; you asked for that detail to see if it would help, to see if stripping the mystery from the equation would help you heal a bit quicker, but it doesn't. Now all you can imagine as you walk back into The Burrow, tucked under Percy's arm, is that curse blasting Fred's chest cavity apart, his forever smile fading away for good.

---

The next morning arrives, and you are still yet to see George.

Molly apologises a grand number of times for his absence, but you brush it off every single time – you understand. He's healing. He's suffering, trying to process this just as much as you are. Seeing you after so long apart will only bring back fresh memories, and you don't want to be the reason behind his breakdown.

So you keep your distance, helping Molly and Ginny with breakfast before heading out into the garden to help Ron and Charlie clean up bits of shrapnel that had been left behind from Bill and Fleur's wedding, shrapnel they weren't able to clean up with everything going on.

Charlie keeps the conversation up, forever the chatterbox. Ron humours his older brother with little bits of laughter sprinkled in here and there, but it's obvious he wants nothing more than to just sit in silence for a little while.

As the morning rolls into the afternoon and jobs become scarce, you find yourself walking around the garden on your own. Once upon a time, this used to be the playground for you, Fred and George – three best friends who had nowhere else to go, nothing else to do, an entire summer on their hands. Your parents never outwardly disowned you after you received your letter to Hogwarts, but they were always weary of you afterwards, as if expecting you to snap at any given moment. Their fear gave you an excuse to spend the two months of summer holidays at the Weasley's house, where you, Fred and George would play Quidditch for hours on end, hiding from Molly when you could just tell she wanted you to do a job for her.

The memories come back to you in waves, and it hurts, but you force yourself through it, because you'd much rather remember the good times spent with Fred than sit and concentrate on the fact there will no longer be any more of those good times.

You arrive at the tiny square of grass you used to use as a make-shift Quidditch pitch; George would haul the bins over and enchant them to float high enough in the air that you could trick yourselves into believing they really were Quidditch goal posts. You would always be Seeker, because you were good at that, and Fred and George would play against each other with the Quaffle, yelling insults that had Molly emerging from the house, threateningly waving a wooden spoon in their direction. You could never hear what she was saying from so high up, but maybe that was for the best.

You place your hand on the fence, gazing out at the square, so unused and untouched. A gnome scatters across the centre of it and dives into a hole on the other side; you don't even try and grab it.

The sound of footsteps makes you freeze; after months of being in hiding, any noise you cannot immediately identify has you on edge, though this is something you're trying desperately to combat; Voldemort is dead now – he doesn't have to control your life any more.

“Mum told me you were walking about on your own, you little loner.”

George's voice is like a song. Your favourite song. A song you haven't heard in years, but one you love no less than when you heard it every single day.

You glance at him over your shoulder; he's still in his pyjamas, red hair stuck on end, lips chapped and cheeks sunken. His skin looks pale – paler than it usually does – but he's still smiling when his eyes meet yours. You know it's not real, but you appreciate his attempts nonetheless.

“Yeah,” you reply. “I was just getting a bit of fresh air.”

“Nothing fresh about the air around here.”

“It's better than being inside.”

George shrugs. “I didn't get the memo.”

You hollow out your cheeks, turning back to the field. “Harry told me about your ear.”

“Oh, did he? Did he happen to find it lying about somewhere, 'cause if so, I'd love to have it back.”

“He said you lost it. It got blown off or something.”

George hums. You can see his knuckles tightening on the fence, and you silently wonder if you've perhaps said too much; maybe he doesn't want to talk about that time.

“It was Snape,” George says at last. “Knocked me out cold, so I don't remember too much. Not like I really need to – I've got all the evidence I need of it happening right here.” He turns his head, showing off the hole where his ear used to be. It looks clean, unbandaged, not very painful if his jokes and snide grin are anything to go off.

Nonetheless, your heart skips at the sight of it; yet another moment where George needed your help and you weren't there to offer it.

“Bloody hell, Georgie,” you whisper. “How many girls did you manage to bag with an injury like that?”

George scoffs. “Not many, I'm afraid. Bit of a waste, I think.”

“Definitely.”

It's quiet for a moment. The wind whistles, and the birds chirp, and there's a gnome cursing beneath the dirt, but all you can focus on is the heavy presence of George standing beside you.

Maybe it's not even George's presence you're focusing on. Maybe it's Fred's, because you know he's there. He's always there, making sure you and George don't step out of line or embarrass him, because now it's the job of his two closest confidants to carry on his legacy – Fred Weasley would want to keep an eye on that.

“How are you feeling, Georgie?” you whisper, the silence suddenly too much when you think of Fred standing within it. It would never be silent if he was really here. Never. “How are you really feeling?”

George takes a moment to answer. You glance over to see him nibbling his bottom lip, brown eyes trained on a spot in the garden where yet another gnome has just emerged and is scarping across the field to freedom. “I don't know.” He looks at you. He's taller now, so he has to look down. “What about you?”

You shrug. “I've – I've definitely been better.”

“Yeah.”

“Percy hugged me.”

“He hasn't been taking it well.”

“I can't really blame him, poor git.”

George chuckles; it's not a noise George usually makes, but you don't question it, knowing he isn't really himself right now.

“The funeral's tomorrow,” he says after yet another pause. “I don't know how any of us are going to do it with dignity.”

“Dignity isn't important at a funeral.”

“You know full well Fred would take the mick out of us all if we showed up to his funeral sobbing our eyes out.”

Your lips twitch, the first signs of a true smile you have worn in weeks. “I suppose so. But he's going to have to get over it, isn't he?”

George chuckles. “You tell him, Y/N. You tell him.”

You and George hang around the makeshift Quidditch pitch for only a few more minutes before you start back towards The Burrow; although neither of you want to acknowledge it, you have to get ready for the funeral tomorrow. Things have to be put in place for the small number of visitors who are due to arrive tomorrow morning – Fred, McGonagall, Oliver Wood, some other members of the old Quidditch team. Over the hill, you can see Molly already stressing out over everything that has to be put in place, and your heart aches for her.

“She never slows down, your Mum,” you say before you can stop yourself.

George hums, a fragile attempt at agreement. “Keeping busy helps take her mind off things, I think. It's when she stops that it all crashes down on her.”

“Will she be okay tomorrow?”

“No.”

You're glad he isn't lying. At this moment in time, you can almost pretend it was all a dream; opening the letter, reading the news, having to come to terms with it all. None of it will truly be real until you've looked down and seen Fred's body for yourself, and maybe that's why you're dreading it so much. It's not the idea of seeing him – god, what you wouldn't give to see his smiling face one last time. It's the idea of no longer having that excuse. Once you've laid eyes on his body, any denial you have of his death will just be pitied.

You and George head into the house and go your separate ways. You head into the bedroom you're sharing with Ginny and Hermione whilst George goes back to his own room; you don't think Molly bunked him up with anyone, considering the circumstances, and the thought of him sitting in Fred and George's room on his own makes your heart ache. You have half a mind to turn and go after him, but your plans are foiled when Ginny emerges from the bedroom and smiles warmly at you, despite the puffiness around her eyes.

“Hey,” you say. “You alright?”

“I was just coming to find you,” she replies. “Can we talk?”

Anxiety prickles at your skin, but you nod and follow her into the bedroom anyway. Hermione is nowhere to be seen, though her funeral clothes have already been folded and stacked upon her camp bed, along with a packet of tissues and her wand.

Ginny takes a seat on the end of her bed. You stand by the door, nervously biting your lip as you realise this is the first time you and Ginny have been alone since everything happened. You haven't had a proper chance to sit down with the youngest Weasley and ask her how she is truly feeling.

Keeping her eyes on her freckled hands, she says, “Were you talking to George?”

You tilt your head. “Y-yes. He came down to the Quidditch pitch – oh, uh – the fields, sorry, just to talk.”

Ginny sighs, rubbing her knuckles into her eyes. She's clearly exhausted, no longer even trying to hide it. You have the urge to reach out and hug her, just as you would have done when she was younger, but Ginny has been through so much in the two years since you last seen her; she might not appreciate a hug any more, so you keep your distance.

“And has he gone back to his room now?” she asks.

“I think so. I think he's getting ready for. . . you know. . . tomorrow.”

“He's not handling this well, Y/N.” She drops her hands into her lap, shaking her head grimly. “I know none of us are, but I've never seen George acting like this. The only person he's properly spoken to in three days is you.”

Your heart lurches. “He's grieving, Ginny.”

“We all are! We've all had to grieve before this, too.” She hollows out her cheeks, and it's only then do you spot the tears making their way to the surface of her eyes. “The Weasleys grieve together – that's how we've always done it. We're a family.”

Something inside of you snaps. You dart forward, sitting down beside her and tugging her into your chest. It is there, wrapped tightly in your arms, that she finally lets go, sobbing into your collarbone with a ferocity you've never seen from her – not once. Not even when she used to take a tantrum every time one of her brothers got to go to Hogwarts and she didn't, not even when her cat passed away, not even when she was possessed by Lord Voldemort himself.

She clings onto your jacket, trying to speak but being unable to do so past the sobs. You grip her tighter, stroking your hands through her red hair that hasn't been brushed in days. There are things to say, procedures to take when this kind of thing happens, but nothing you have been taught to say comes to the surface; she's heartbroken, utterly heartbroken, and you know why. Just because you're not sobbing doesn't mean you don't feel the same way.

“Make sure George is okay,” she chokes out. “Please make sure I don't lose him, too.”

You close your eyes, tears slipping from your eyes. “I will, mate. I'll – I'll try my best.”

---

Everyone is here.

You greet them all, because that's what is expected of you. They give you hugs and kisses on the cheek, because that's what is expected of them. Nobody wants to acknowledge the fact that nobody truly wants to be here; to the untrained eye, this gathering of black-clad wizards could very well be some kind of high school reunion.

But it's not.

A high school reunion would hold the air of memories, people rekindling, saying hello after a long time apart. This event holds the air of denial, sadness, saying goodbye to someone taken too soon.

All morning you are busy taking over the jobs of Mr and Mrs Weasley; both of them are too shaky to function, though Molly tries her damned hardest to get out of her chair and do something. She ends up tipping a cup of coffee over poor Harry, and so you and the Weasley kids take over. This means you have barely any time to find George.

He's not around. Ron told you he's still hiding in his room, not wanting to show his face until the very last minute.

“You should go and talk to him,” says Ron, voice wobbling with the effort to keep the tears at bay. “He won't let anyone else in. Mum's tried, Dad's tried, I've given it a go.”

You flick your wand, sending a chair across the grass where it lines up with the rest of them. “What makes you think I'll be any different?”

“He likes talking to you. He only came out of his and Fred's-” Ron's eyes slip closed. He takes a deep breath before starting again. “He only came out of his room yesterday because he heard you arrived.”

You bite your lip, flicking a glance back towards the house; his curtains are still shut. He might still be asleep and nobody would even know.

You sigh, handing Ron the stack of napkins you were given. “I'll go see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You nod and duck into the house, giving Oliver Wood a watery smile which he returns as best he can, hands trembling around a glass of pumpkin juice. You march upstairs before anyone else can see you, heading directly for the room at the end of the hallway.

The glittering sign is still nailed to the door: Fred and George's Room. KEEP OUT!

You wonder how long it will take for George to take that down – if he ever will.

You knock softly and take a step back, folding your hands in front of you. For just a second, there is no answer, not even a call of Who's there? And you force yourself to step forward and knock again, a bit harder this time, lest he didn't hear you.

Again, there is no response.

Heart hammering, you do the last thing you can think of – you tap three times, pause, and then tap again. It's the secret knock the twins used to do on your door when they wanted you to come out with them past curfew, how you would know they were up to no good.

There is a moments hesitation, and then, “Y/N?”

You press your forehead against the door, relief flooding you. “Yes. It's me. Are you okay? Can I come in?”

You pull away from the door just as it opens and George pokes his head out; his hair is still a mess, but he's wearing something other than pyjamas at least. His outfit consists of a white shirt tucked into a pair of black trousers, a black blazer hanging over one shoulder. Fred would be laughing if he could see him now.

George gives you a tiny smile before moving out the way, offering you access. You hesitate, and George notices.

“I know,” he mumbles. “You don't have to if you're not ready.”

But he's been forced to sleep in this room since everything happened. He's had to endure that pain, so you will too. You brace yourself before stepping in, trying desperately to ignore the flip of your stomach, the sudden fight or flight response that is attacking your system at the sight of it all.

The room has barely changed since the last time you stayed here nearly three summers ago. Two beds pressed against either wall, one perfectly made, the other slept in. Posters hang upon the walls of different Quidditch teams you remember they used to be mad over, and thrown in the midst of them all is a new poster you have never seen before – a poster dedicated to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

“Mum made his bed the day we got back.” George's voice is fragile. You glance at him; he's still stood by the door, hands pushed into his pockets as he watches you wade around the room. “Fred never made his bed when he woke up, so she always used to do it for him.”

You nod, remembering those summer mornings when all you could hear was Molly telling Fred off for – yet again – not making his bed.

“Old habits die hard, huh?” you reply, and George hums his agreement. “Ron sent me up here to make sure you were ready.”

George scoffs. His bed springs protest when he leaps onto his mattress. “You can go back down there and tell Ron to have a little patience. I'm fragile today.”

“You are a little late, Georgie. Worryingly late; I thought you'd gone back to sleep.”

George rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. You stand over his bed, arms folded over your chest. “I'd love to, but I'm afraid I have my brothers funeral to attend today.”

You bite your lip. “You know, George...” And this is it. The sentence has started, and George's eyes have snapped to meet your own, waiting for you to finish whatever you have to say. “We're all grieving. A lot. A whole lot. But locking yourself away like this isn't going to help anything. It's not going to make anything easier. Not for you or anybody downstairs right now.”

George stares at you, waiting for the punchline.

“I'm serious.”

He lifts his eyes back to the ceiling, wearing a frown you have not seen him wear in the many years you have known him. Your heart picks up, panic spiking at the idea of upsetting him; he's not going to listen to you, that much is clear. He hasn't listened to anybody else when being told the same thing, so why should you be any different?

“Look, okay,” you hasten to add, “we'll go down there together, alright? You and me. You don't have to do this on your own.”

“I don't want to go at all. I don't want to see him like that.”

You sit down on the corner of his bed and grab his hand, pulling it onto your knee. The tears slip from the corners of his eyes, which he squeezes closed in an instant.

“I know,” you mumble. “I don't, either. Nobody does. But once we've got this funeral out of the way, you're free to mourn however you want. It's over then; Fred will be peaceful, and we can . . . we can move on. We can try and move on. That's what he'd want us to do.”

George's shoulders jerk, a silent sob. Tears of your own flood your eyes. You grab his shoulders and pull him up, pulling him into a hug that reminds you so much of last night, the exact same scene but a different Weasley sibling. You just want to comfort them all; you want to round up each and every one of them and pull them into this embrace, let them know it will all be okay and you will not leave them to suffer on their own, not like last time. You will be there for all of them through everything if they'll let you.

George's arms wrap around your middle. He rests his head on your shoulder, stifling his sobs as best he can; he's better at it than Ginny, who all but wailed into your collarbone yesterday evening. George doesn't want to be seen like this, but it's clear he can't hold back any more.

“It's okay,” you whisper. “It'll be fine. We'll go downstairs together.”

He nods, pulling away slowly. He bites his lip, glances at your shoulder and says, “I got tears on your shirt.”

You shake your head, brushing his hair out of his face with trembling hands. “Don't worry about it. Fred would say it adds flare.”

“He would,” George chokes out. “He really would.”

And so, the two of you stand and head towards the door, hand-in-hand. George hesitates before shutting his bedroom door behind him, and you pretend not to see the way he gently runs his fingers over Fred's name engraved in the metal sign.

You walk downstairs slowly. Heads start turning when you appear in the doorway of the kitchen, George all-but cowering behind you, his hand still in your own. You run your thumb along his knuckles, giving his awaiting family members a smile despite their eyes all being trained on George.

Molly is the first one to run forward. A cry escapes her lips, and you have only seconds to jump out of the way before she barrels through the doorway and into George's arms; George grunts, stumbling before he catches his balance and hugs his mother back with just as much enthusiasm as she is showing. You slowly remove yourself from the scene, letting the rest of the Weasley family file in to mimic their mothers actions.

“So you did it,” Harry says when you find yourself standing at the back of the room with him. “You got him to come downstairs.”

“He just needed some coaxing,” you reply, wiping your eyes. “Is Fred here?”

“Kingsley's just brought his body back.” Harry nods out the window, but you don't follow his gesture because you know exactly what is going to be there; the back garden, chairs all lined up, Fred's casket set up at last. You can only imagine that is the reason the Weasley family is stood inside – they don't want to be around it any longer than they have to be.

But they cannot hold off forever. Arthur and Molly head out first, Arthur with his arm around Percy's shoulders, Molly holding Ginny's hand. Together, the Weasleys take their seats at the very front of the garden, each sobbing quietly into handkerchiefs and sleeves and partners' shoulders. You, Harry and Hermione take the seats directly behind them whilst everyone else files in behind you.

And you see him up there, eyes closed, hair styled, suit perfectly pressed. His hands have been folded on his chest, and his wand has been tucked into his fingers. Standing beside his casket is a picture of him and George – because there is not a picture in existence where the two of them are on their own, not one – and Fred is pulling a funny face whilst George looks off into the distance, oblivious to the photo being taken.

It hurts. It hurts worse than you ever imagined it would, but you can't bring yourself to cry – not whenever his body is right there in front of you. Fred used to chastise you every time he saw you cry, swat you over the shoulder, make some wise-crack comment along the lines of, “What do you have to cry about? You have me!”

You always did have him. You always will have him, as long as you keep his memory alive.

Kingsley says a few words, kind words that speak of Fred's bravery and his knowledge and how he did not die in vain. They sound so official coming from him now that he's the temporary Minister of Magic, but you know for a fact Fred would have appreciated it, scripted or not. Oliver Wood says some things, and Molly and Arthur try their hardest to get some words out about their son, but it doesn't go to plan and they end up just sitting down, passing the baton onto Percy who makes a big, emotional speech about how he and Fred didn't always get along, and how he's glad they managed to find peace with each other during those last few hours of complete turmoil within the Hogwarts castle.

George doesn't make a speech. Neither do you.

The funeral ends with the burning of the body. Kingsley waves his wand and the white curtains fall from nowhere, closing around the casket, and soon, the only thing you can see is the smoke billowing from the top of them. The air suddenly erupts with the smell of black current – one of Fred's favourite scents – and people are standing, giving each other hugs, crying.

You and George stay seated, him directly in front of you. You don't tap his shoulder, don't move, don't say anything at all – you just watch his shoulders rise and fall as he tries desperately to keep his breathing slow and steady. He's staring at his brothers casket like he can't quite believe it's there, and you don't blame him, because you're feeling the same way.

How can a ten minute ceremony be enough to celebrate the life of someone like Fred Weasley? How can a few words passed between people who knew him be enough to remember the wonders he discovered, the joy and laughter he brought upon so, so many lives? It doesn't seem possible. It's ludicrous, completely unfair, and suddenly the sadness you have felt since hearing the news is morphing into anger, and you have the urge to just scream, to just let your lungs rip in half with the fury that rushes through you at a million miles per hour.

But in real life, you're rooted to your seat, fingers curling against the back of George's chair, staring at the smoke rising high, high, higher into the air, disappearing amongst the clouds – Fred's final resting place.

George stands up.

It's so abrupt. It takes you a second to even comprehend what he is doing as his chair tips back against your knees, only failing to fall due to you still being seated behind it. Your head snaps up, mouth opening to call him back, but you don't get a chance to say anything before Angelina Johnson is grabbing you and pulling you to your feet, into an embrace you were not prepared for in the slightest.

“Oh, Y/N, I knew you'd be here! I knew you'd make it! Fred would have been so happy to see you and George back together again!” You laugh awkwardly, watching George march up to The Burrow over her shoulder.

----

George doesn't make an appearance for the rest of the day.

The guests Disapparate, giving the Weasleys some much needed time and space after the exhausting day they have just performed. You, Harry and Hermione head up to bed for the same reason, crowding in Harry and Ron's room for a few hours before you and Hermione excuse yourselves for the night.

Hermione is asleep in minutes, and you can't really blame her. Not only has that girl gone to hell and back these past few days, she's also had to deal with the additional baggage of death. She has fought absolute monsters, seen things no person of her age should ever see, had to think quicker than anyone just to stay alive – and now that it's over, she's been given the additional task of mourning people she loves.

You, however, struggle to close your eyes without the thoughts flooding your mind, making you restless. You keep remembering his body, the tip of his nose peaking out from the casket, the smoke that billowed, the smell of black current that was surely conjured to hide the smell of Fred's burning flesh; god, you want to throw up. You feel ill, and angry, and you want to punch something so, so desperately.

Back in your school days, George taught you how to use Quidditch as a way to get your anger out; he and Fred had been the best Beaters the Gryffindor had ever seen, and they claim it was solely because they got themselves riled up before a game. They would make themselves so angry that the idea of volleying a heavy ball at someone was all that could calm them down again.

That's what you need right now; a good game of Quidditch, a Bludger to just annihilate someone. But you have none of that; all you have right now is your pillow, which you shove your fist into multiple times over now with no results. Your stomach still feels tight, and tears are still threatening to reach the surface, and you're beginning to lose hope that you'll ever feel calm and collected ever again.

The clock has struck four am when you finally give up trying to sleep. You slip your feet into a pair of carpet slippers – courtesy of Hermione – and head downstairs, pulling a dressing gown on as you do so. The kitchen is barren, the sun just starting to peak over the green hills surrounding the cosy cottage. From the window you can see a garden gnome furiously kick a wicket chair before howling in pain and bouncing back into the floor to go and huff on its own.

You head outside. The fresh air feels nice on your skin – cold, but it's enough to bring you back to reality a little bit. You walk across the garden, and before you know why, you're sitting down in the very same chair you sat in whilst watching people talk about your dead best friend, like you want to relive that moment all over again.

But this time you're on your own. It's just you and the chairs, and the odd garden gnome that sprints across the grass, sees you and then sprints in the other direction. You fold your legs over one another, stare at the space Fred's casket once stood, and then you start speaking.

“Miss you, buddy.” It starts as a whisper, hoarse and fragile. “Thank you, for everything. Fighting for the sake of the world – you're braver than me. I couldn't have done it. I was – I was hiding away in my flat, pretending nothing was happening, convincing myself you two weren't stupid enough to get yourself into any danger.” You close your eyes, tilting your head back, talking directly to him now. “Nothing feels right any more, Fred. The world isn't meant to be without a Fred Weasley. George isn't meant to be without a Fred Weasley. God, I'm not meant to be without a Fred Weasley.”

The tears start trickling, running quickly down your cheeks and disappearing within the corners of your mouth.

“I'll make sure he's okay, Freddie,” you whisper. “George, I mean. We'll keep each other sane, I promise. You can watch over us and – and make sure w-we keep each other in ch-check. I won't let him out of my sight ever again.”

“Y/N?”

Your head snaps up, eyes opening. Standing in the pink light of the slowly rising sun is George Weasley, wand in hand, still dressed in the very same clothes he was wearing earlier. His tie has been pulled loose from its knot and is now cascading messily down his middle, a few of his buttons undone, his hair back to being a disgruntled mess.

You stand up. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“You sound like Filch.” He tilts his head to the side, just enough to let you see the bags under his eyes. “What are you doing?”

You awkwardly kick at the ground. “Nothing.”

“Mhm.” George walks over, examining each of the chairs as he does so. “You were talking to him, weren't you?”

You don't reply; he knows. You don't feel a need to confirm it for him, not when he probably heard every single thing you said.

“I can't do it,” he continues. “It feels weird not having him say the exact same thing as me. My voice isn't meant to be on its own.”

“Yeah,” you croak out. “I noticed that, too.”

“I'll get past it,” he mumbles. “I just. . . I just wanted everyone to leave today, you know? I didn't want all these people in my house, staring at my brothers dead body, crying over him like that. This was supposed to be a family event.”

A tinge of guilt stamps an imprint into your heart. “Right. Should Harry, Hermione and I have left?”

George purses his lips. “You guys are family – it's everyone else I was a bit iffy with.”

And maybe it's the anger from earlier that boils over now. Maybe it's the reminder that George left – halfway through his brothers funeral, he got up and left his family, his grieving family, to deal with everything. You know he's upset, heartbroken, downright traumatised, but so is everyone else. Nobody is taking this lightly. Nobody was here today just for the sake of it.

You curl your hands into fists. “George, you're being really selfish right now.”

His head snaps up. “What?”

“How can you sit there and say you wish those people who came today had just stayed home? Do you think they wanted to be in this situation any more than you did? God, You-Know-Who was killed a few days ago – people want to be out celebrating their freedom, not going to the funeral of one of their friends. None of this is easy on anyone, so it's really bloody ungrateful of you to say they should have just stayed home, because I'm almost positive that's what most of them wanted to be doing in the first place!”

George's eyes cloud over. “Fred wouldn't have wanted the Ministry taking over his funeral.”

“Kingsley knew Fred just as well as I did!”

“No he didn't! You and Fred were best friends – Kingsley was part of the Order. That's how he knew Fred – through business! That isn't a bloody friendship!”

“So, what? Kingsley should have just moved on, walked away whenever he looked down and saw Fred's body that day in the castle, huh? Because god forbid somebody grieve if they don't know someone for more than seven years!”

George throws his hands in the air, face beaming red. “You're putting words in my mouth now, you are. You know that's not what I meant-”

“Yeah? Well, maybe you should learn how to word things better, because at the minute you're sounding like an absolute arse!”

George opens his mouth to respond, but you're crying. You're crying, and you can't stop it, and you don't want him to see you like this. You dart off before he can get the words out, cracking your shoulder against his before picking up your pace to a run, darting back towards the house. Behind you, George calls your name, but you don't listen. You shove past Charlie, who stands in the kitchen door with a mug of coffee, and head directly to your room, not wanting to talk to anyone.

---

Charlie comes to visit you a few hours later.

It's eight o'clock now; Hermione has risen, said good morning and headed off to help Mrs Weasley make breakfast. You stayed huddled under the covers, using the excuse of exhaustion as a way to get her to leave without worrying too much; as soon as she was gone, you had pulled yourself from your bed and headed to the window, where you have been for a while now, dreading the moment you will have to go downstairs and face George again.

Charlie knocks softly on your door before letting himself in. He's wearing a pair of grey sweatpants this morning along with an oversized jacket. His skin has been paler since he came home from Romania, since his little brother died, since it felt as if his world was falling apart. This morning, he looks a bit better, as if the relief of having finally set Fred free was a weight from his shoulders.

“Morning,” he says. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I'm fine. You?”

He closes the door and walks to your side, placing his head against the wall as he, too, takes to gazing out the window. “I'm good. Better than I was yesterday. Worse than I'll probably be tomorrow.”

“What a Charlie way to answer that question.”

He smiles before nudging your arm. “You gonna talk to me about what happened this morning?”

You purse your lips and look away. Charlie gazes at you, waiting for you to say something, anything, but you don't really know what he wants to hear – that you're sorry? That you were tired and heartbroken and it just kind of happened all at once, a jumbled mess you couldn't quite keep track of?

That's not what it was at all. It was the truth spilling from your lips, though you will admit you now wish you could have executed it with a little bit more sympathy. George, the man who has been your best friend for so many years, didn't deserve that kind of treatment – not after everything. Not when there's still so much more to come.

Charlie sighs, folding his muscled arms across his chest. “You know George loves you, right?”

“And I love him.”

Charlie pauses, contemplative. “I just – I don't know what you two were arguing about, but I think it would be a real shame for George to lose two loved ones, which is what is going to happen if you don't talk to each other. Do you want to cut ties with him?”

Your head snaps up. “No! No, of course not. Look, Charlie, the argument wasn't even that serious. We just-”

“If it wasn't that serious, then why did George punch a whole in the dry wall when I tried to ask him what happened?”

You pause, mouth running dry. Charlie raises a brow, leaning against the wall. Your voice is quiet when you say, “He did what?”

“He punched a hole in the wall. Tried to punch me, too.” He sighs. “Obviously, a scrawny little git like him compared to me didn't get very far, but it was the intent that shocked me; George hasn't got a violent bone in his body. Not a properly violent one, anyway – a few dangerous pranks here and there, but he would never want to genuinely fight someone. I think this whole thing is getting to him – and bad. The only time he's been calm is when you've been in his bloody eyeline.”

“He tried punching you?”

Charlie waves a dismissive hand. “That isn't the part of that speech I wanted you to pick up on.”

You close your eyes, pressing your head against the window. “I lost my temper, started an argument with him for no reason. I should have realised he's not in the right head space – he isn't talking right, Charlie. He isn't himself.”

“Well, no, I wouldn't say he is.” Charlie leans forward. “But right now, the only person getting through to him is you. How I see it, you're the only person who's going to drag him through this before he hurts himself or somebody else.”

“That's a lot of pressure, Charlie.”

“Has it been difficult talking to him since you got here?”

“No.”

“Then you're fine. Just keep doing what you're doing.” Charlie stands up straight, brushing his hands down his jacket as he does so. “Mum said breakfast is gonna be ready in a few minutes if you're feeling hungry. If not, don't tell her that or she'll be up here in two seconds flat with the thermometer out; she did it to Ron a few days ago, gave him a right telling off when it turned out he just wanted to stay in bed for a bit longer.”

You nod, giving him a warm, grateful smile as he walks out of the room.

You give his words thorough thought; though your brain is no less exhausted, and your heart no less broken, you can see where you went wrong now better than you would have been able to at four this morning; Charlie has helped you realise that perhaps everyone needs to be a bit patient with each other right now, needs to learn how to put themselves in other people's shoes.

You get changed and head downstairs. Sure enough, breakfast is already being served, and everyone besides George is already sitting round the table. You take a seat next to Hermione and tuck in, trying to regain some energy sapped due to your lack of sleep.

Once breakfast is finished, you head straight to George's room. Charlie gives you an enthusiastic thumbs up when he turns away from the washing up basin and sees you heading upstairs; you give him a smile, though a nervous one.

You have to do this now. You have to talk to him, tell him you're sorry, explain yourself a bit better than you did earlier, and if you don't do it now, you're going to back out and you won't ever do it. And so, you reach his door and do the secret knock that granted you access yesterday, and you wait.

There's a shuffling on the other side, followed shortly by George's soft voice calling, “What?”

“Hey, mate. Can I come in and talk to you for a minute?” You wince at how formal you sound – this is George you're speaking to, your best mate, the person you've grown up with. “Please?”

“You're just gonna tell me off again, aren't you?”

“No, George, don't be daft. Open the bloody door, or-”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up.” The door opens, revealing the exhausted looking George. He isn't smiling, but instead keeps his eyes narrowed when he looks at you. “Do you wanna come in, too?”

“Yes.”

“You don't ask for much, do you?” He rolls his eyes and steps out of the way, granting you access to the room that still sends eerie chills racing along your arms, because Fred is no longer occupying it, too.

You push these thoughts from your brain and enter, immediately spinning around with your arms folded. “Our argument was stupid.”

George falters, one hand still secure round the doorknob. “Come again?”

“Everything I said to you was stupid, and said in a fit of blind rage. I didn't mean it. Not really.”

“Right...”

“So, yeah.” You nod, glance around the room once before saying, “That's all I wanted to say.”

“Is it now?”

“Yes. I'll see you at lunch if you fancy coming down for a bit of food. If not, I'll – uh – see you when I-” You try to step around him, but he's quicker, blocking the door. You bite your lip. “George-”

“Nothing you said earlier was wrong, you know.”

You lift your eyes, and the tension in the room suddenly becomes a physical thing. He's staring down at you, that exhausted look in his eyes that he's worn for weeks pushed to the forefront. His lips are still chapped, and his knuckles are white around the handle of the door. You want to push his hair out of his face, but you're scared he'll push you away or cringe from your touch if you even try.

“I was being a selfish little git when I walked off, and I should have been – should have been thankful to have so many people come out to send Fred off. He would have liked that, I think, having a crowd around him.”

You laugh softly. “He always did enjoy the attention; you both did.”

“Oi.” He nudges your shoulder. “You were part of our group, you know. You liked the attention just as much as we did.”

And he isn't wrong. So many pranks, so many years of getting into trouble, so many years filled with laughter. When it felt like the world was falling apart, when your parents stopped talking to you, stopped asking you to come home for Christmas, stopped sending you owls – it was Fred and George who reminded you that you didn't need anyone. You were perfect on your own.

“I agree that our argument was stupid,” he says softly. “But you were right.”

“I shouldn't have made you feel bad-”

“You could never make me feel bad. Not with a voice like that.”

You roll your eyes, shoving his shoulder. He laughs, stumbling back into the door. You realise with a jolt that this is the first time you've heard him laugh since you arrived at The Burrow, and it seems as if George is realising this too. His smile fades uncertainly, as if he's not allowed to let himself laugh, not allowed to let himself smile when Fred isn't around to join in.

You tilt your head to the side. “Well that's a step in the right direction.”

He closes his eyes. “I haven't had the chance to tell you how happy I am that you're here.”

“Of course I'm here. I would never miss-”

“No, I know.” He opens his eyes and shrugs. “I'm glad you're here to – like – mourn Fred and all that, but I'm glad you're here for me. Most people would have given up on me by now. Nobody would have bothered putting me in my place.”

You shudder, can hardly help it when you're hearing him speak like this; it's so weird, so not what you're used to, but it hits a nerve nonetheless. You have the sudden urge to throw your arms around him, to pull him in for a hug that means more than just It's going to be okay.

“I'm a complete state when you are here, but I wouldn't even function if you weren't,” he continues, nervously scratching the back of his neck. “Everyone's told you that already, though, haven't they?”

You bite your lip to suppress the giggle. “I've heard I've been a good helping hand.”

George rolls his eyes. “Don't let it go to your head. No one likes an arrogant bastard.”

Your grin breaks to the surface before you can stop it. It feels weird upon your face after spending so long believing you would never smile again, and yet with George stood in front of you, it couldn't make more sense. You're brought back to your Hogwarts days, when this very smile would never leave your face, was a permanent fixture to your expression. And it doesn't feel like you're back there – it will never feel like that again, not with Fred missing – but it's a start. It's the first step back into the normal world.

Looking up at George's smile now makes you feel like you're walking back into it, slowly, with George by your side.

----

“So what's the point of all this then?” you ask, struggling to fight your way through the crowd of screaming school kids.

George moves with such grace, not even pausing when a group of kids nearly bowl him over in their struggle to reach the Pigmy Puff pens on the other side of the shop. He's grinning from ear to ear as he walks, his fancy, dragon skin blazer billowing out around him.

“This, my dear Y/N, is what Fred and I have built from the ground up – and we're about to take it to the next level.”

You raise a brow at his back. “Oh?”

“Oh, indeed!” He hurries up a flight of winding stairs and stops at the top. He spins and smiles at you, pulling a sheet of paper from his blazer pocket with that dramatic flair you love so much. “Have a read of this and tell me how proud you are of me, right now. Quickly!”

You roll your eyes, snatching the parchment and unrolling it. At the very top are the words Dear Mr and Mr Weasley, followed by the announcement that Weasley's Wizard Wheezes will be opening a shop in multiple areas around England and Northern Ireland.

Your eyes widen, snapping back up to George who is staring at you fixedly, waiting for your reaction. You don't even have words. All you can do is stare at him, jaw open, hands beginning to tremble.

George glances at your shaking hands and laughs, rushing down the steps towards you. He snatches the parchment back and bundles you in his arms, laughing brightly into your hair.

“Don't show too much excitement, Y/N, we're in public!”

“George Weasley, you brilliant old git!” You wrap your arms around his waist, burying your head in his chest, and together, the two of you laugh – you just laugh, unable to fully process that this tiny little business Fred and George have always dreamed about will finally be taking off, dotting itself around the globe for wizards everywhere to enjoy.

You pull away from the celebration and yank the parchment back, giving it yet another read. “Mr and Mr Weasley – you and Fred?”

“Of course,” George confirms. “I sent the request letter in using both of our names – it didn't feel right just signing it with my name and my name only. Fred would kill me if I did that.”

“Aye, it's better not to take the risk. I'm still convinced he's punishing me for ordering that BBQ base pizza the other night.”

“Yeah, definitely.”

You reread the contract over and over again, grin getting wider every single time. It gets to the point where George groans and has to pry it from your hands, getting tired of watching you read the same sentence over and over again.

You look at him and shake your head. “It's so cool that I'm able to say my best friend is a businessman. A real life businessman.”

George cocks a brow. “You're gonna use me to make yourself look good, are you?”

“You still owe me for that time I got you out of detention with Umbridge – it's the least you can do.”

George laughs, bundling you in his arms again. “Just remember to mention Fred when you're giving us the good reviews – he'd appreciate it.”

And you know, somewhere out there, Fred is nodding, saying, “You've done a brilliant job, Georgie.”

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