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catghoststories · 1 month ago

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Howdy's Mail-in-Times Day Special - A Howdy x Barnaby Story

Pairings: Howdy Pillar/Barnaby B. Beagle Characters: Howdy Pillar, Barnaby B. Beagle, Eddie Dear Word Count: 5,590 Summary: Howdy is a busy bug, no time for arts and crafts! But when the local mailman suggests he write a letter to his favorite customer, Howdy finds it stirs up quite a few more feelings than he expected.

AO3 Link, if you prefer to read on there!

~ 🐛❤️ Howdy's Mail-in-Times Day Special ❤️🐛 ~

It was Howdy’s favorite day of the month: Restocking Day. He washed and blow-dried the dishes, married condiments, arranged cans, always putting blue first (rainbow order was too predictable, but Frank always came in and switched things around). It was busy, but a good busy. All culminating in a relaxing afternoon with his favorite regular, Barn.

Howdy smiled as he swept with his left set of hands and dusted with his rights. Boy, do I have a doozy of a story for Barn today! He’ll love it!

He and Barnaby chatted most afternoons, but Restocking Day was special. Barn was the only customer Howdy let in. What could he say? The guy was good company! Barn told the best jokes, and he always let Howdy blow off steam when one of his family members had peeved him off (usually Latter). Barn never asked for anything in return, although Howdy always split a sundae with him before the blue pup had to dash home before Sunset.

So when the door bell jingled, Howdy's antennae twitched. Barn was a whole quarter-clock-turn early! He wasn't nearly ready yet!

Howdy patted down his hair in the broken mirror he’d been selling to Sally in pieces before dashing to the front of the store. To both his relief and disappointment, it was only the mailman.

He motioned for Eddie to set down his mail while continuing to sweep and polish, hoping he would get the picture. Unfortunately, he couldn't escape the mailman's talkative nature.

"Why hello there, Mr. Pillar!" Eddie’s bombastic voice was even cheerier than usual. “Got any mail for me?”

“If I've told ya once, I've told ya a thousand times, Ed—Mr. Pillar is my dad. And no, you know I never ship out on Restocking Day." He made a pointed look at the ‘Closed’ sign. Then he frowned. "What's with the getup?"

Eddie adjusted his pink mailcap and heart-shaped tie. "Y'know—for Mail-in-Times Day!"

"Mail-in-What now?" Howdy peered at the calendar tacked on the wall behind his register. How could he have missed a holiday? All those sales opportunities!

"Y'know, Mail-in-Times!" Eddie’s smile faltered. “Didn't ya get my flyer?"

Howdy grimaced as he accepted the hot-pink paper from Eddie. Oh. That flyer. The one currently gathering dust in the corner of his register. “Sorry, Eds. Ya hand out so many fliers, I could wallpaper the store in ‘em!”

At Eddie’s slumped posture, Howdy sighed. “Oh, come on now, don’t pout. You’ve got a fellow salesman here." He resumed his polishing so he could at least multitask. "So what's this Mail-in-Times, then, and how can we capitalize on it?"

Eddie’s smile returned instantly. "Well, I don't know about capitalizin'—except for the first word in every sentence—" Howdy groaned. Only Barn could pull off a pun like that! "—but it's for telling your very special friends n' neighbors how much you love ‘em! Folks seem to be enjoyin' it so far. For example, Frank and I—"

Howdy held up all four hands. “I've heard enough about your newlywed life to fill a book, Ed. I'm kinda short on time here. Let's keep it to two sentences, if you can.” His eyes darted to the clock tower just outside his store window. Barn could walk in at any moment!

“Right." Eddie stowed away the photo album he had pulled out. "Well, you don’t hafta write to somebody you're in a relationship with. You can write to your best friend, or your ma, or your first cousin, your second cousin, third—" Howdy cleared his throat. "—or, in your case, your favorite customer!"

Howdy's antennae twitched. “Favorite customer, eh?”

“Yeah!" Eddie beamed. "I’m sure you got plenty of 'em. I'm not sure how, ‘cuz only eight or nine people live here, but..."

Howdy rubbed his chin. “So how would I—somebody go about doing that?"

"Just write your letter on this." Eddie unearthed a pink sheet of paper from his bag. “And I’ll deliver it to 'em by the end of the day.”

Howdy held up the nearly-transparent page to the light. "Ya know, I have perfectly good paper here, Ed. None of this cheap stuff.” He shook the page accusingly.

Eddie frowned. "But I bought it from you."

Howdy coughed. "Oh, of course. It's perfect, then."

Eddie offered him a pen, but Howdy refused, producing his own, one-of-a-kind, eight-color, self-erasing one. Eddie whistled in jealous admiration.

Howdy's hand hovered over the page, prepared to write something quick and snappy, but nothing came to him. He spoke to Barn every day. What else could he tell him?

Eddie leaned over the register. "Need some help?"

"'Course not!" Howdy scoffed. He observed Eddie out of the corner of his eye. "But, say you were writing to someone you’ve only known in a professional context 'til now. How would you go about doing that?”

“Oh, that's easy. You could talk about how much you enjoy spendin' time with ‘em, how you enjoy listenin’ to ‘em, how you appreciate him listening to you, how he makes you laugh—”

Howdy's fur bristled. “Who said I was writing to Barn?!”

Eddie blinked. “I didn’t. I was talking about Frank.”

Howdy grew warm. “Oh. Right.” How could a buzzkill like Frank make anyone laugh like Barn? A strange feeling bubbled up inside him. “How did you and Frank get together, anyway? A mailman and a scientist, that seems like an unlikely pair!" Just like a comedian and a salesman, Howdy thought, though he didn't know why.

Eddie looked wistful. “Well, we had talked at their mailbox a coupla' times, and one day I left 'em a sticker that reminded me of 'em with a short note. Then he wrote me back! I kinda thought he was angry at first, but we would go on for pages talkin' about all sorts of things, like his interest in bugs, and mine in foldin’ envelopes, and our families, and our favorite kind of scented colored pencils..."

He noticed Howdy's weary look. "Y'know, all sorts of things! It’s kind of where I got inspiration for the holiday." He blushed and pulled out a stack of pages from his back pocket. "I could read ya my letter, if ya’d like." He cleared his throat. "My Dearest Frank—"

Howdy held up all four hands again. "That’s plenty, Eds. I'm gonna need some time to write my own. How's about you come back in an hour, and I'll have something for ya then?”

"That’s perfect!” Eddie tucked the letter away and scooped up his mailbag. "See ya later. Oh, I'm so excited!"

Howdy couldn’t help but laugh as he ran out the door. Kids these days! Although he was pretty sure he and Eddie were the same age.

Howdy moved aside cans, curios, and cutlery to sit down at his register. He shifted uncomfortably. Sitting felt wrong, and not just because he had four legs.

He drummed his fingers on the faux-granite countertop. Eddie made letter-writing sound easy, but of course, Frank didn't have the sophisticated sense of humor that Barn did! He needed to knock it out of the park so Barn knew how much he appreciated him.

Howdy pulled out his Rolodex of jokes and went through all his best one-liners, but nothing fit. Eventually, he decided on honesty, which he knew Barn would appreciate. Once he started writing, the words flowed as easily as the sweet drinks from his soda fountain.

Barn,

Feels a little silly to be writing since we talk every day, but I just wanted to say thanks for always listening to me. Some people enjoy yakking a salesbug's ear off, but you let me do the same. We must’ve spent hundreds of hours talking about my aunts, uncles, cousins, parents, grandparents, siblings—even my wet blanket of a brother! Either you have an incredible memory, or you go home and write ‘em all down. You sure you’re part pooch? 'Cuz ya got the memory of an elephant!

Speaking of family, I feel like I've come to know your ma better than the back of my hand (top right—my best one!). Make sure she comes by the shop next time she’s in town. I’ll make her one of my Lean Green Leaf Machine shakes—on the house! Somebody needs to thank her for raising a guy who’s so dog-gone funny.

I’ll be honest, I was a smidge worried when I moved here from the 'big apple,' but it’s nice to have found someone with a similar sense of humor. I still think about the time you suggested I sell Sally that old sponge as fancy bread—what a hoot! She ate it up, literally! Of course, she stormed back here the next day and demanded a refund, but it was well worth it.

Howdy had to stop and chuckle. He and Barn had laughed so hard about that afterwards that Barn had to hold him upright. He was the only one in the neighborhood tall enough and strong enough to do that. (Outside of Poppy, who was too much of a scaredy-bird to ever leave her coop.)

Howdy reveled in the memory. Barn had supported him around the waist with one burly arm and gripped his shoulder with the other in a quasi-embrace until their laughter finally died down, and even then their closeness lingered, Barn's fuzzy paw brushing Howdy's bottom right—

Howdy shook his head. What an odd thing to daydream about. Knock it off with the dilly-dallying, Howds!

When he looked back down at the page, to his surprise, it was nearly full. Without hesitation, he reached behind him for his top-shelf advertising paper and continued writing.

You’re just as natural at being a comedian as I am as the world’s premier salesbug. And I don’t say that lightly! You'll have to let me host ya once you hit it big one day. I'll make sure you're sold out—not that you need my help!

After all, I didn't name the 'Top Dog' after you for nothing! I think my sales increased three times after I made that switch (though, I think 95% was to you :-) ). Like you said, no one can resist a cute dog. Not to mention the hula-hoop promo you did—now, that was something. Who knew you were so limber?

Well, this is getting long in the tooth, and I’d like to think I know when to shut up. I know you always leave right on the dot, but I wouldn’t mind you staying longer if ya had the time. After all, you’re the only guy I’ve ever talked to about my "wing deficiency"! And I still have to make you my special Ma’s Mean Bean Mash some time, off menu.

Or if it’s better, feel free to call me instead. You’re the only call I’d take after hours!

Your pal, Howdy Pillar

Howdy signed his name with a flourish. There. Perfect!

He took his reading glasses that he reserved for fine print out of the register and perched them on his nose, prepared to take in the best letter ever. But as he read, he fidgeted. Then shifted. Then squirmed.

Why did I say he could call me after hours? Howdy took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Do I actually want him to? 'Course I do—it's Barn! It's always fun talking to him. But it sounds like I'm asking him out. Am I asking him out?

Howdy sat, marinating in his feelings like his ma’s best bean salad recipe. Just how much did he like Barn, anyway?

He could chat with the guy for days on literally anything. They’d talked about pollen for two hours yesterday. And it was funny.

And Barn was the only person he let in on Restocking Day. After a month of non-stop service to his high-maintenance neighbors, it was sweet relief to take some time off and spend it with his best friend, like resting on a cloud of marshmallows. He didn't have to sell himself to Barn or feign interest in him or anything. It was nice. Relaxing. Easy.

Howdy tugged at his collar. ...And Barn was cute, right? He was a big, huggable, blue dog, for goodness' sakes! It doesn't get much cuter than that!

Howdy jumped up, unable to sit still for a moment longer. He paced the length of his store, for once ignoring any dust or out-of-place merchandise. What would Barn say when he read the letter? They'd rarely talked about anything serious. Well, that wasn't true: Howdy's wing insecurity, how much he fought with his brother, his humongous family where you had to put on a song and dance just to be heard—they'd discussed it all. But romance? Personal feelings? That was a total blank. And that scared him.

Howdy plunked down on a crate of expired cream-of-wheat boxes and gnawed on his fingers, which he hadn't done since he was a grub. He glanced at himself in the shattered mirror, his slender face, his green fuzz touched by a pink flush, his broad shoulders that could be a little broader, in his opinion. But how did Barn see him? Just as a shopkeep? A confidant? A friend? Could he ever see Howdy as something more? Howdy just couldn't picture it.

He ran back to his register to reread the letter. Maybe I misremembered it!, he thought, switching the two pages between his four hands. But no, the words were the same, full of confession and strange feelings.

Howdy stared at the letter, his stomach roiling. He couldn't handle all the new emotions it was stirring up inside of him.

So, he tore it up.

He threw the pieces in the trash, then covered them with the expired cream-of-wheat boxes. He then swept the whole store in record time and dumped the dust on top of it, for good measure.

“There! Feelings gone!” Howdy brushed off his hands. “Easier than selling an apple to Wally.” But his heart still raced, his chest still felt tight.

Howdy did not enjoy Restocking Day very much after that. He felt sick, which had never put a damper on him in all his days of working. He mistakenly marked everything as 001% off instead of 100% off. He mislabeled the soap flakes as corn flakes. He stacked his canned goods in the shape of a dog before gasping and covering it with an old bedsheet. All the while, he gave the trashcan a wide berth, as if it was radioactive.

He thought about calling Barn and telling him to stay home, but it was unnecessary. Noon had come and gone, and still no Barn. Howdy was relieved, yet worried. Had Barn walked in while he wasn’t looking, dug up the contents of his trashcan, and read his secret thoughts!? Even if he hadn’t, how could Howdy ever face him again? Barn was no slouch. He would know something was up! How could he hide his—his crush? How did other people keep this kind of thing to themselves?!

Howdy fretted, staring at his bulletin board, where he'd covered up any promotions involving Barn's face with paper napkins. He jumped nearly a foot in the air when the door bell jingled.

“Heya Howdy! Sorry I'm late. I got to talkin' to Sally about her screenplay, an'—"

Howdy shot Eddie a look. Eddie's sentence trailed off. "Annnnyway...it’s nearly sundown. Want me to take your letter now?” He held out his hand.

"No. I decided not to write one." Howdy crossed both sets of arms, but his face burned hotter than it had after tasting his Gam Gam's spicy chili. Why do I feel so embarrassed? It's not like I did anything wrong! He kicked the trash can under his register.

His feelings weren't helped by Eddie, whose face collapsed, as if he were the embodiment of lost love. “Aw. Why not?”

"Oh, come off it, Ed. Don't do that.” At Eddie's poor attempt at puppy-dog eyes, Howdy sighed. “Fine. I did write one. I just...didn’t like it how it turned out.”

Eddie tilted his head. “Could I read it? Maybe I could help ya out."

“I tore it up.”

“Well, ya got tape, don’t ya?”

"If you buy it."

Eddie thought for a second. "Okay!"

Howdy didn’t expect him to agree to that, but he also couldn't pass up a sale. "Fine. Just go easy on me, all right? I’m feelin' a little sensitive right now!”

He dug the pieces out of the trash, and Eddie helped him dust them off and tape them back together. When they were finally done, Eddie sat at the counter with the letter in front of him. He placed his heart-eraser pencil on one side and his notebook paper on the other. After they were perfectly positioned, he cracked his knuckles. Then he asked Howdy for a glass of water. "Editin' can be thirsty work!"

Now I know why the guy’s always so late. He takes a million hours to do one thing! Howdy fumed. But his hand shook while he filled up the cup, needing his other three to steady it.

He tried to work while Eddie was reading, but he couldn't. He peered over his shoulder while he swept the same spot again and again. He just couldn't interpret Eddie'sserious expression.

At long last, Eddie sat back. “I think it’s nice! A good length, passable penmanship..." He held the letter up to the light. "It's real sweet, too! I didn't know you had it in ya."

Howdy bit down on his finger. "It's not too personal, is it?"

“Why, a letter's supposed to be personal." Eddie grinned, handing him back the pages.

Howdy huffed and read through the note again. He supposed it wasn’t too romantic. Just friendly. Appreciative. A nice, normal, two-page letter for a shopkeeper to write to his favorite customer. Who could knock him for that?

"Fine. You can take it." He stuffed the letter into his own priority green envelope before he could lose his nerve. “Just don't make a big deal about it."

"Oh, I couldn't do that. Every letter is a big deal—"

"Ed, I swear on my dear Aunt Sally's chin hair.” Eddie froze, looking like a scolded schoolboy. Howdy shook his head. “I'm sorry. You've been real helpful to me. Guess I'm a little on edge.” He scribbled Barn's name on the front before handing it and his eight-colored pen to Eddie. “Here. That's for you. But don't go telling anybody about it! I ain't running a charity here.”

Eddie held up the pen, admiring it with sparkly eyes. “Gee, thanks, Howdy!" Howdy couldn't help but smile. Where'd they find this guy? He was more wholesome than an unsugared bowl of Crispy Sweets.

As Eddie tucked the pen and letter away, he blinked. “Oh, I plumb-near forgot! This is for you.”

Eddie placed a blue envelope on the counter. Howdy immediately snatched it up.

"You had this the whole time?" He flipped it over, his heart racing. "Who's it from?"

Eddie shrugged, giving a knowing look. “He said not to make a big deal about it. Guess that's why I forgot.” He tipped his hat. “Anyway, thank you kindly for the pen! I can't wait to show it to Frank when I get home. Happy Mail-in-Times Day!"

Howdy made sure Eddie was out of sight down the road before tearing the envelope open. A short but sweet note fluttered out.

Heya Howdy,

Why didn’t the chicken cross the road?

'Cuz he was too afraid to ask ya out!

Sorry I didn’t come by today. Truth of the matter is, I was too nervous. You always seem real busy, and I didn't want to bog ya down with boring conversation. So let me just ask ya this way, and then you can answer at your leisure—if ya even know what that means!

Will you go out with me sometime?

(This ain't a joke, for once. Unless the answer is no. In which case, this is the funniest joke of all time. Ba dum tsh.)

Yours truly, Barnaby

Howdy’s mouth fell open. What?

...What? Barn, the funniest guy he knew, had written him a letter? With feelings! And romance! He'd straight up asked Howdy out!

Howdy dropped the letter. He needed to see Barn, right now. He shoved aside his display of whirligigs and whatchamacallits to pull on his little-used winter coat.

Gosh, why do I have so many arms! he lamented, struggling with the sleeves. He finally managed to get them on and find his keys before dashing out the door, running smack into Barn on the way.

"Barn!" Howdy gasped. He hated how his voice cracked. He sounded just like his nerdy brother Latter!

"Howdy!" Barnaby laughed and shook his head. "Imagine going to Howdy's and running into the man himself."

Howdy gave a weak chuckle. Oh geez. I'm nervous. "I was actually coming to see you."

"Ya were?" Barn's sleepy eyes shot open.

"Yeah!" Howdy swallowed thickly. His mouth suddenly felt dry. "How's about you come inside? It’s colder'n a discount igloo out here.”

He ushered Barn in and took his winter coat, hanging it up with his own. He then retreated behind his register, where he felt safest. “So, what can I do ya for, Barn?” He tried to sound casual, but his voice still trembled. Not again! What are ya doing, Howds?

"Well, that depends." Barnaby took off his hat and held it behind him. He looked anxious, the total opposite of his normally-relaxed self. "You didn't happen to get a blue letter today, did ya?"

“It just so happens I did. Did you get a green one?”

“Yeah, but I was too scared to read it." Barnaby chuckled, seemingly at himself, for once. "And not just 'cuz it looked like it had been through a wood chipper! Was that your doing, or Eddie's?”

Howdy winced. “Mine, unfortunately.”

“Guess I shouldn’t've chased him up that tree, then," Barn said, rubbing his chin. Howdy wasn't sure whether to laugh, because Barn had actually done that before. "Sooo...what’d it say?”

Howdy ran a hand through his hair. What didn't it say? “Oh, you know! Just thanks for hanging out, for always being a pal. Normal, friendship stuff!"

Barnaby grimaced. “Sounds like yours was a lot more normal than mine, then. Perhaps I'll just...show myself out..." He slowly walked backwards towards the door.

"No, Barn, you aren't understanding me." Howdy placed two hands on his chest, the other two held out in front of him. "It wasn't normal for me. It took me hours! Heck—I didn't even get around to polishin' the ceiling tiles!"

Barnaby looked up. "Oh brother, I can tell. It looks awful!”

Howdy had his first genuine laugh of the day. There was a sweet release of tension, an unknotting of his stomach. He could finally breathe again. “You’re tellin’ me, pal. What a racket! Nobody's ever made me miss that much work before." He picked up Barn's letter from where he'd dropped it on the counter, rubbing the delicate corners of the pink paper. He stole a glance at Barn. "So, did you mean what you said? In your letter?"

"Well, yeah! I was bein' more serious than a heart attack, for once." Barnaby looked sick, as sick as Howdy had felt all day. "Which I'm about to have, if I'm bein' honest with ya!"

Howdy smiled. He held the note tightly. "Yes, Barn. I'd love to go out with ya sometime."

Barnaby pretended to fall over. "Sheeeesh! Way to leave a guy hangin'!" He straightened, casually leaning against the counter, although one of his ears was still flopped over. "Sooo...when's good?"

"Well, how about now?" Howdy glanced outside. They still had a few hours left in the day, if they hurried.

"Now? But it's still daylight out! That doesn't sound like you." Barnaby leaned over the register to grab Howdy's shoulders, shaking him gently. "Who are you, and what have you done with my pal?"

Howdy legs turned to jelly to again feel Barn's strong grip on his shoulders. "Ha, haven't ya heard, Barn? It's Mail-in-Times Day! I’m closing early." He tightened his coat with one hand while helping Barn with his others. "Come on, let’s hop to it before we become a couple of icicles!"

Howdy breathed in the cold air outside. He had to admit, it was fresher than indoors. A light snow had dusted their houses, like the aftermath of a newly-shaken snowglobe.

The neighborhood was mercifully quiet this time of day. Wally and Julie were catching snowflakes in the park, while Sally talked to Poppy outside of her barn, both wrapped in matching shawls.

Howdy and Barn did stop to help Eddie down from the tree that Barn had chased him into. Frank was there, too, berating them the entire time. Howdy managed to calm him down by promising them free groceries for a week. Frank begrudgingly agreed before dusting Eddie off and walking him home, arm in arm. Howdy gave Barn a scolding look before they erupted into giggles at each other's expressions.

After that, they strolled around the neighborhood, lapping it four times. It was nice to be one-hundred-percent focused on Barn, for once. Their conversation flowed as easily as ever, but Howdy found himself hanging onto every detail of Barn's past, from growing up on a farm full of chickens to the day he moved to the "big city" (which he called their tiny neighborhood). He never realized that Barn had lived such a colorful life! He filed away the stories in his mental Rolodex to ask more about them later.

The sun was low in the sky by the time they got back to Howdy’s. Closing time. Normally Barn would dash home right about now, saying he needed to help Wally get ready for bed or assist Frank with his landscaping, which was actually just digging a bunch of holes.

But Howdy didn't want his peaceful evening to end. As soon as Barn left, he'd have to go back to work. His stomach churned, but why not at least ask? Everything else had worked out so far.

“Wanna come inside?”

Barnaby raised his brow. “Jeez Howdy, what ever happened to romance? It's only our first date!"

Howdy grew warm, not so much at Barn's teasing but at his use of the word date. “I meant for a meal." He nudged him. "Got some fresh sponges for ya!”

"Oh boy, don’t tell Sally. Lady's feral for ‘em.” Barnaby took a confident step forward before stopping. He turned, looking bashful. "But your Restocking Day! Your tile-polishin'! What will your customers say? Don't wanna put ya behind schedule any more'n I already have."

"Well, the only customer I care about is standing right here, so..." The sentence came out before Howdy realized it. His face burned even hotter. Oh no, that was corny. Cornier than cornflakes!

ButBarn didn't notice, instead watching him with one ear raised. Howdy quickly unlocked the door and ushered him inside. "So if you don't mind, then neither do I!"

Upon entering the cheery interior, full of shelves stocked with colorful goods, Howdy again felt embarrassed. He ate most of his meals in five minutes standing behind his shop counter. He didn't even have a kitchen table! But Barn said he didn't mind.

It was nice making something more involved, and with good company, too. Howdy stirred the pot with one hand while setting the plates with another, regaling Barn with the story of why he was the only one his ma had entrusted with her secret recipes.

After they were done eating, Barn dabbed his mouth with uncharacteristic politeness. "That was pretty good. I might have to come over every night! Mayhaps I can make my special tin can o' beans next time."

Howdy was flattered by the compliment. "I aim to please! And I wouldn't mind. You don't gotta run outta here right at clock-turn, ya know."

"Well, I don't wanna to bug ya." Barnaby thought for a moment. "That pun was unintentional."

Howdy chuckled. "You'd never bug me, Barn. You're good company." He suddenly felt open, exposed. He didn't have to shut himself off from the outside world anymore, to always wrap himself up in a friendly package. It was scary, yet exciting. "It gets kinda lonely in here, so I wouldn't mind."

"Ya mean ya don't usually make people out of yer canned goods?" With horror, Howdy realized he'd never put away the bedsheet-covered tin can dog he'd made. As he scrambled to tear it down, Barnaby jacked his thumb at the paper napkins covering his visage on Howdy's announcement board. "And do I even wanna know what happened here?"

Howdy hid the napkins behind his back. "N-nothing! Just some hard questions you thankfully answered."

Barn laughed, and Howdy joined in, then they put away the tin-can dog together.

It was finally too dark, and Barnaby had to go home. Howdy helped him into his poofy winter coat. His hand brushed Barn's, and he noticed the fuzzy red hearts on his palms. He desperately wanted to nestle his fingers inside them, but he stopped himself.

They stood outside on the far edge of Howdy's welcome mat. Howdy shivered, but he didn't want to go inside yet. There was still so much to find out, both about Barn and whatever was happening between them. There just weren't enough hours in the day.

Howdy forced himself to sound casual. “Thanks for hanging out. We should do it again sometime.”

“How’s tomorrow?” Barn produced a blank sheet of paper from thin air and studied it. “I'm free, if you can believe that!”

Howdy’s heart fluttered. “You better not be late this time!”

The air grew thick between them, both unwilling to leave. Barnaby rocked on his heels. “Soooo—I'm guessin' you have some sorta rule about kissing in front of the bodega. At least, that's the impression I got when ya chased Frank n' Eddie with the broom that one time."

Howdy rolled his eyes. “Now, that was just excessive. So much tie-pulling." Then he grew flustered, imagining Barn doing the same to him. He stepped forward, off the mat, so little space remained between them. "Ya know, I happen to know the owner, and he said it was okay for us to.”

He caught Barn's eye, and he looked surprised, but thrilled. Howdy first touched Barn's palms, circling the velvety red hearts. He swallowed. How is he so cute!

He then leaned forward to kiss him, his two free arms fully encompassing Barn's wide waist. He was very soft, the softest thing Howdy'd ever touched, even more so than a stuffed animal or his ma's hand-stitched blankets. He wanted to run his fingers through his blue fur for hours. Could he, one day?

When he finally pulled away and their lips parted, Barn looked very red. "Wow, a guy with four arms. I sure know how to pick 'em!"

Howdy grinned. He enjoyed making his laid-back friend breathless. "Ya sure do, pal!"

Barnaby eyed the moon, now peeking above the trees. "Woof. Tomorrow feels far away. But hey, 'least I got my letter to look forward to when I get home." He tilted his head, one ear flopping over. Howdy blushed, thinking it looked cute. "I'm surprised you wrote such a long one. You always seem real busy."

“Yeah...me too." Howdy rubbed his neck. "Say, how's about you give Eddie a break from the houndin' tomorrow. I wouldn't have written it without him. And I don't want to be giving him and Frank free groceries for a month!"

"Okay, but only since you asked." Barnaby crossed his arms. "I ain't letting him off that easy! I had already written mine a month ago, 'fore he even came around."

Howdy's mouth fell open. "What?" A month? He felt his cheeks grow rosy, and not just from the cold.

"Yeah, crazy huh? When he visited me today in that pink getup, I figured I should take that as a sign." Barnaby laughed. "Anyway, I only told ya that so I could distract ya enough to do this!" He pulled a single red rose out from behind Howdy's ear. "Wait, no, not that." He then kissed Howdy on the cheek.

A weak laugh managed to escape Howdy's throat, despite all the air being gone from his lungs. "You'll be the death of me, Barn."

“Not if I can help it." Barnaby kissed the other cheek, too, before pressing the flower into his hand. "That's for you, pal. Laters!” He ran back home on all fours, only stopping to perform a somersault on the way. Howdy's shock only wavered to admire his spryness.

Howdy stood in the light of his store window for a few minutes, speechless. Only the neighborhood clock ringing for sundown reminded him to go inside.

He shuffled past upturned cans and mislabeled goods to sink down behind his register. Holding the flower tightly, he felt above him for Barn's note so he could read it again and again.

Once he had memorized it, he arranged it and the flower in a little vase on his countertop. He rested his head on his arms and gazed at them, his heart beating fast. He wanted to sit in this feeling of new love for a while, to fully savor it and let it grow.

For once, work could wait.

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storiesbyjes2g · 2 years ago

Text

3.65 Mistake

Sophia took advantage of her day off and slept in. I woke up around 11:00 and made sure the pups were okay. Kooper was snoozing while Rosie was completely awake, just like me. I showed her some love, then taught her how to go potty outside. Sophia was still knocked out at like 2:00, so I went for a jog, hoping the puppies wouldn't bug her too bad. See? Neither of us would survive this relationship either if we kept woohooing like that. One day, our brains would just stop working, haha. But if we croaked early, at least we'd be together.

After I returned and showered, Sophia had finally woken up and ate leftover frittatas. Dad called, saying Mama had called him this morning, all excited about me. He was relieved I finally decided to tell her, not because he had difficulty keeping my secret, but because he believed I shouldn't have hidden it from her.

"What's all that noise back there?" he asked. "It sounds like screaming children. Do you have another secret to share?"

"HA! No, I do not. We adopted two puppies. I think they're doing a duet."

"Oh my. Well, you've certainly got your hands full. I'll let you go. That's all I had to say."

We said goodbye, and I washed dishes.

"So...yesterday I got the feeling you wanted to go out," she said.

"Oh. I mean.... It's not that I wanted to go out. I'm just not really a home guy, so all my suggestions involve leaving the house. But I enjoyed being at home with you, though."

"Okay, well, yesterday we did what I wanted, so today we're going to do what you want, and I think you want to get dressed up and go dancing!"

"That's what I want, huh?"

She nodded affirmatively.

"That's what you want."

She took Gammy's advice way too seriously, but I had no problem with that.

Yasmine called while I was getting dressed, and I seized the opportunity for privacy while Sophia was in the shower. She wanted to see me, of course. I told her I had plans and was currently getting ready, but assured her I'd reach out tomorrow because I wanted to talk to her. Knowing she'd soon have my undivided attention, she let me go.

Sophia took her sweet time getting ready, but when she finally came out, I was floored. She had on a short skirt, a crop top with plenty of eye candy, and cowgirl boots. The boots were an odd choice, but surprisingly, they worked. Her hair was all curled up, and she had on a bit more makeup. She was smoking hot, and I did not want to leave the house anymore. But she insisted we get a move on, so we made our way back to Windenburg, the mecca of nightlife and the very spot where it all began for us.

It was like six something in the evening, but the place was packed as if it were 11:30. The DJ was on point, and I knew the night was about to be lit. We hit up the bar first, and I couldn't take my eyes off Sophia. She was already beautiful without all the extra, but damn! I didn't expect her to go all out, but she still had the simple elegance theme going. She never ceased to amaze me.

We finished our drinks, headed downstairs, and got in where we fit in. The dancefloor was massive, so there was plenty of space for us, despite the crowd. Still, we decided to stick to the back, where it was more relaxed and private. Mama would be bummed if she found out I was a just okay dancer, but Sophia and I were equally matched in that department. We had so much fun, moving and grooving, shaking our hips. Heh, I particularly enjoyed Sophia's hips.

I got my fill of dancing and turned around to check out everyone else. That's when I saw her...

I still thought her outfit was cool and would know it was her anywhere. Did she see me? Did she see Sophia? The dancefloor wasn't the best spot for our chat, but if she saw us, things could get messy—on both sides. I went to Sophia first to explain what I was about to do because I didn't want her to get the wrong idea when she saw me talking to another woman.

"Sophia... I just saw someone I used to hang out with. She's been calling me a lot lately, so I'm gonna go over there and talk to her."

She had a total deer-in-the-headlights look.

"O-kay?"

I knew deep down this was a bad idea, but it was already out there, so I tried to fix it up.

"I've been meaning to call her and tell her about us, but I keep putting it off. And she's right there. I could just do it right now."

She still looked confused, but not as much.

"Do what you need to do," she said.

I pulled her into a tight hug for more damage control.

"I love you. I'll be right back."

Yasmine spotted me, and I watched her smile fade as she connected the dots.

"That the reason you've been dodging my calls?" she asked, nodding toward Sophia.

I looked back at her and smiled.

"Yeah. That's my girlfriend, Sophia."

She shot me a glare that could melt steel.

"Girlfriend? Since when do you have a girlfriend?"

"Officially? Since this week. But I think I always knew she was the one for me. I met her a while ago."

Her jaw dropped, and I could tell she was getting heated.

"The one? Y'all getting married or something?"

I shrugged.

"Sure...one day."

She put her hand up to stop me from speaking.

"I just have one question."

My stomach did a somersault. This was a terrible idea, and I was not prepared for the coming storm. She seemed like the kind of person who was really good at causing scenes.

"How you gonna judge me for wanting an open relationship when you were messing around with both of us?"

I tried on different responses like clothes, but none of them fit. Our situations weren't the same—not by a long shot. Yet, I could see how she arrived at that conclusion.

"I didn't... That's different! I wasn't in a relationship with either of you! It was just casual dating. I thought you understood that."

She sighed.

"I did."

"So...what's wrong?"

"I played myself. I really like you, Luca."

"You know what I was looking for, and I have that now. Sorry I didn't say anything sooner, but I can't have you blowing up my phone."

"She's pretty."

"Yeah...she is."

"I hate this."

"What?"

"This! How it feels. I'm usually the one breaking things off. I hate you," she said with pouty lips.

I tried to keep a straight face.

"No you don't."

"Maybe just a little."

"I'm really sorry you had to find out like this. I wish I'd been braver and talked to you sooner."

"That makes two of us. I feel really stupid, Luca."

She was not going to give me even one inch.

"I'm sorry! Can we agree to keep things friendly from now on?"

She sucked her teeth.

"She's not gonna let us be friends."

I glanced at Sophia who was watching us closely with the most amazing smile.

"You're probably right. But that is something we're both going to have to respect."

I was mainly talking about her, but it taught me something too. Mama's problems began with this exact scenario when she refused to let go of Dwayne. But since I wasn't in love with Yasmine, I didn't see myself going there. Still, it was probably better to cut ties to avoid all suspicion and temptation. I'll never get why Mama did what she did, but maybe I could be more forgiving.

"Was this what you wanted to talk to me about tomorrow?" she asked.

"Yes."

As if on cue, Sophia sashayed toward us with that unwavering smile, glancing at Yasmine.

"Are you ready to go, babe?" she asked, brushing past me.

Yasmine shot her a dirty look as she walked past, but surprisingly, she didn't stay mad for long.

"Okay, Luca! She cute cute. I bet she's a closet freak. And thicc too? I know you like that. Not mad."

I let out a big breath and shook my head at her being so outspoken.

"Thanks...I think?"

"It hurts, but I'm glad you found someone who can give you what you want. If you have any open-minded friends or a twin, send them my way."

I'd never get her and this whole non-exclusive thing, especially after seeing her mope about us not hanging out anymore. Regardless, I hoped she'd find someone who could give her what she wanted. May the Watcher bless him.

#ISBI challenge #sims 4 story #sims 4 gameplay #adolting #adolting gen 3 #luca winston murillo #sophia aguilar #yasmine angel #kooper #rosie

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fightingnarcissism · 19 days ago

Text

Today the eldest 2 kids had a big event that they were getting paid for.

I was working all day and they had to leave at 1. He got up at 10.45 showered and left the house at 10.55 to get a haircut and conveniently didn't get back til 12 50. I got all their kit ready. And scrubbed boots. And packed bags. And cooked them lunch...all while I'm supposed to be working. He got back at 2 after dropping them off with my dad and I put the laundry on the line. He stayed downstairs on the couch until youngest got home from school then went upstairs for his daily session chatting to women who thinks he's an attractive man called David. I had youngest downstairs while I tried to work. At 4pm they napped on the couch and at 6 I finally finished work.

I then cooked dinner for the 2 of us and washed up. At 7.45 I told him the kids were working til 10 but he insisted on going early. He then sat in the pub for 2 hours. I made dinner for youngest and spent an hour chatting with them before He and the eldest 2 came home. Before I even asked how the event went he started screaming and shouting that there were dishes to put away and the laundry hadn't been brought in (I didn't even realise it was still out there)

Middle suggested he could have done it before going to the pub and got a swat on their leg.

It's now 11pm.and all the hard work we've don't with the youngest to make sure they go into school happy and positive is GONE.

#livingwithanarcissist

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monkeythefander · 4 months ago

Text

Patton’s Adventures in Parenting

Fic Summary: As the dad friend of the mindscape, Patton has always longed to be an actual dad someday. He thought he’d just have to wait for Thomas to one day adopt a kid and be an honorary dad that way. However, a wish on a star might make Patton’s dream come true.

—————-

Chapter 2: My Wish Came True?

Chapter Summary: The next day after Patton’s wish, the Moral Side wasn’t expecting to discover anything new. His expectations were proven wrong when he discovered a new person in the backyard. Looks like wishes do come true.

Content Warning(s): food mention (specifically cookies). Let me know if I missed anything else.

Click below the cut to read the chapter

——-

The next day, Patton goes about his morning as normal. He makes breakfast for himself and the other Sides and chats with them as they all eat. Then the Moral Side cleans up the table as it’s his day to wash the dishes. Afterwards, he’s free to do what he wants so he decides to go in the backyard of the Side’s home in the mindscape.

Patton has a little garden in the backyard that he loves taking care of, so he likes to check on his plants every morning. When he enters the backyard, everything seems normal at first. Until the Moral Side notices a child sitting under the single tree in the backyard. The child had pale skin, star shaped freckles on their face, blue hair, and was wearing a white shirt with black overalls. They appeared to be sleeping, so Patton slowly and quietly approached.

As soon as Patton was standing in front of the child, their eyes opened and Patton was amazed at how bright their eyes were. The irises of their eyes were as dark as the night sky, but had dots of light scattered throughout them resembling stars. The child looked at Patton and smiled up at him.

“Hi dad.”

“D-dad?” Patton asks in confusion.

“Mhm, you are my dad. You wished for me.”

Upon hearing that sentence Patton realized what was happening. This kid before him is the result of him wishing on a star last night. That explains the child’s night sky-like eyes, star shaped freckles, and blue hair.

“I guess you are my kiddo then, aren’t ya?”

The child nods happily in agreement.

“So, do you have a name kiddo?” Patton asks.

“No. The star said you would name me.”

“Ok, I’ll try to think of a name for you then kiddo. Um, do you know how old you are? And I know you’re from space and probably don’t know what pronouns are, but what pronouns do you use? What’s your gender?”

The kid closed their eyes, tilting their head slightly as if listening to something or someone. Patton wouldn’t be surprised if they were communicating with the stars or something like that.

“I’m eight. And I’m a boy like you dad, so he.”

“Okay kiddo, he/him it is for you. Do you want to come into the house with me?” Patton asks, holding a hand out for his son. The Moral Side didn’t know how long the kid was out here for, but he figured it was probably a while.

“Mhm!” The child stands up and takes Patton’s hand, humming happily and the fatherly Side takes him into the house. Patton watches as his son looks around the kitchen, which is where the door for the backyard is. The kid’s eyes seem to light up at something, and the Moral Side looks to see what caught his kiddo’s attention. It’s the cookie jar.

“Do you want to try a cookie, kiddo?” Patton asks and points at the cookie jar in case the child didn’t know what a cookie was.

The kid nods and bounces in excitement as Patton grabs a cookie and brings it over to the kid.

“Here you go. Take your time eating it.”

“Thank you dad!” The kid says and proceeds to eat the cookie, his eyes lighting up more to the point they look like they’re glowing.

As Patton watches his son enjoy the cookie he pulls out his phone and searches up names that mean light. His kiddo deserves a name that matches his bright eyes and magical origins. Patton immediately feels drawn to one of the names on the list in his search results.

“Kiddo, how do you feel about the name Lucian?”

The boy had just finished his cookie, so responds quickly.

“What does it mean?” The boy asks, titling his head curiously.

“It means light, which I think suits you very well. And it also would give you the nickname Luci, which I think sounds nice. But whether or not that becomes your name is up to you.”

The child appears to think about the name idea for a minute before nodding.

“I like the name, dad. I want to be Lucian. I’m Luci.”

“Yes, you’re Luci kiddo.” Patton says and smiles softly at his son.

Now that the name situation was settled, Patton goes to suggest Lucian come with him to the Moral Side’s room so they can figure out what to do from here. However, before Patton can say anything another voice joins the scene.

“Patton, who is that child and where did they come from?”

Patton looks over towards the voice and sees Logan standing in the entrance to the kitchen, looking curiously at Lucian. The Logical Side’s eyes seem extra focused on the supernatural features of the kid. Despite Lucian being completely calm the whole time he’s interacted with Patton, the boy seems nervous under Logan’s watchful eye and hides behind Patton. The Moral Side ruffles his son’s hair to provide some comfort and reassurance before answering Logan.

“Hi, Logan. This kiddo here is Lucian, and he’s my son.”

————-

End Notes: Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed the chapter, please consider leaving a like, comment, and/or reblog.

-Monkey💜

——-

Link to previous chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/monkeythefander/780771375782690816/pattons-adventures-in-parenting-fic-summary-as

Link to this chapter on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64686490/chapters/166184440

Link to the next chapter (on Tumblr): To be added

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #patton sanders #original child character #logan sanders #sanders sides fanfic: patton’s adventures in parenting

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wiseoldowl72 · 3 years ago

Text

Precious Moments

My entry for Day Two of #Suptober2022.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42149211 or text here:

Suptober Day 2 - Pillow talk

Precious Moments

“Hi Daddy!” Michael yells as he runs into the house after coming from Krav Maga for kids as his Papa trails after him. Cas walks tiredly into the kitchen, leans in to give his husband a kiss.

“I’m still getting used to the new floor at the hospital. Thank goodness I’m good with the 12 hour shifts.” Cas strips off the evidence of his new position as an RN in the ER.

“Well, is St. Luke’s even worse than the other place?” Dean says as he takes the potatoes out of the oven. “Let’s have a seat buddy, supper’s ready. Burgers okay with tater tots?” Dean asks. “You have to eat your mandarin oranges too. Hear me?” Dean’s ‘Dad voice’ makes an appearance.

“Papa, will you help me with bedtime? I want to tell you about school and my class?” Michael pleads.

“Finish your dinner and then I will because it is time for your bath, sharing and story time.” Cas reminds him.

Dean and Cas quietly take their spots at the table and hungrily dig into their cheeseburgers and baked potatoes.

“Oh hon, do you want a beer?” Dean had forgotten to ask before they sat. He did remember the butter, sour cream, and chives for the potatoes though.

“Do I like cheeseburgers? Don’t be stupid, of course I want a beer tonight, or two.” Cas responds. “Oh, these are good. I really dislike the cafeteria food or cafe food if I’m unable to get a break.” Dean nods his head in thanks. Turning to his son, Cas said encouragingly, “Michael, just a few bites left and we’ll get started for bed. Good job on eating your fruit first.”

Dean and Cas clink their bottles together as a symbol of surviving another day in this crazy world. Michael finishes up his supper and asks, “Can I please be excused, Papa, Daddy? I’m getting tired and we have to do ‘The Things’ before our cuddle time!”

“Sure thing bud, head on up to the bathroom, Papa will be right up.” Dean smiles at their five year old son remembering when the adoption company called with the exciting news they’d been chosen as parents. “Cas, I’m continually grateful for the gift of our son. I never thought I’d be a Dad.” They were the one to bring Michael Henry Winchester-Novak home from the hospital. He still dreams about those early days. Precious memories recalled while moving about his beloved kitchen starting to pick up the dishes.

“Love, I’m heading up to take care of Michael. Are you alright down here cleaning up and shutting down for the night?” inquires Cas.

“Sure thing,” Dean chuckles,” we do not deviate from the bedtime routine. I’m glad we share this time. I know there will come an age our boy won’t want us to have anything to do with him.” Dean is quite sentimental tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Michael, do you have your pj’s? You are always so sweaty after class. Let’s get your bath run and wash your hair. ” Cas smiles.

“Yes Papa, tonight in class we learned more about why we take martial art classes. It’s so I can protect myself from bullies and be strong like you and Daddy.”

Cas washes his son’s hair while humming along to let Michael know he’s paying attention. There will be a time when he has to tell the boy about the bullies he dealt with in school everyday. Heaven forbid you aren’t the popular or silent kid in the school. Cas distinctly remembers the bruises he came home with because he was smart and engaged in his classes.

“We practiced our bows and when they were used, ducking punches bad people, the proper right way to kick someone if they want to hurt us.” Michael happily chats on about his evening.

“All done boy-o. Let’s get your teeth brushed and hair combed.” Cas says. “Now after we’re done here, what are the next steps?”

“Pillow Time!” Michael yawns.

Cas carries his tired boy to his bedroom with a train theme. “Boy-o, what happened in school today?” He asks after he’s laid down next to Michael in his bed.

“I got asked to be the weather monitor for the week. I look outside every morning and put a sticker on the calendar showing what the weather outside is.” The Kindergartener quietly smiles proudly. “I’m happy it’s finally my turn. I waited so long.” The young child yawns loudly and his mouth drops open. “Can we read now, Papa? I don’t want to fall asleep without cuddling.”

“What is your book of choice tonight, my love?” Cas gently smiles preparing for the best part of the evening.

“I Spy!” Michael answers quickly.

Cas looks over at the group of about a half a dozen I Spy books they have accumulated in the short time Michael has started to read. “How about Spooky Night since it’s October?”

“Sure,” the boy agrees as he curls up on the pillows into his father’s side for quiet and reading time.“

“Can you read the riddle at the bottom of the first page?” “Cas gently prods”

“I think so,” The sleepy boy replies, “I spy a broken…” he looks up to his father for confirmation.

“Good job, that’s exactly what it says.” Cas softly encourages.

Michael looks at the rest of the sentence, “bone and —- BOO!”

“BOO!” Papa grins and tickles his miracle child on the ribs. Cas watches as his son looks for the ‘bones’ on the picture on the page, while he runs his fingers through his honey blonde hair, and he watches long-lashed eyelids slowly close.

Standing up slowly so as to not wake his sleeping child with a Halloween themed pillowcase he smooths out the covers and says, “Ol monons, sleep well as Jack watches over you.”

With one last look, he turns off the bedside light he backs out of the room.

“Dean is standing in the hallways by the door and asks,”Did it all go well?”

“Yes, I’ll fill you in while we cuddle tonight. Is everything shut down?” inquires Cas.

“All dusted and done, Mo grá,” smiles Dean. Using Irish because he wants to teach Michael his familial language.

“Yes, Ol hoath, “ Cas uses native language. “My head is ready to hit the pillow after this shift. Let’s go to bed.”

#suptober22 #suptober day 2 #suptober #spn crack #destiel #domestic #hubands #original child character #easy read #lifeonosage

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helliontherapscallion · 4 years ago

Text

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Tuesday

Monday Wednesday Thursday (Part 1) Thursday (Part 2) Friday Saturday Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: anxiety, doctor’s offices, taking pain pills (not sure if I need to tag that, but just in case), stalkers, blackmail, swearing, non-consensual taking pics of nudes, slight body dysmorphia, self-loathing, toxic friends

Word count: 5,326

(A/N): another long chapter, my little wlw heart loved writing this chapter! Also holy shit I was not expecting the first part to blow up, thank you to everyone that read it! Gosh, it’s enough to make a grown woman cry :’)

You cracked open your crusty eyes to Wilbur poking his head into your room. “(Y/n), Dad wants you.”

You groaned rubbing at your eyes in an attempt to get the sleep out of them. “I’ll be down in a sec.” Your voice was scratchy and thick with sleep.

He closed the door silently and you heard his socked feet thumping down the hallway. Your pain faded slightly into soreness, but your shoulders and upper back were slightly stiff. After you drug yourself out of bed, you shambled down the stairs to see your family at the table eating breakfast. Your stomach growled loudly, making you blush slightly in embarrassment.

Your eldest brother snorted. “Hungry (y/n)?”

You slumped into your seat next to him slowly shoveling food into your mouth. “You have no idea.”

“You wouldn’t be that hungry if you ate dinner when you got home like I told you to do last night, young lady. You better eat every single thing on that plate.”

There was no arguing with a stern Dadza, so you reluctantly complied. Meanwhile, Tommy and Tubbo were telling Wilbur about your match animatedly.

“And the ball was like fwoosh and she- the ball and-and-”

“And she hit it and Haley hit it to the other side! It was so cool!”

Wilbur merely smiled listening to them ramble about how badass you were last night. They made you feel genuinely happy that they admired your volleyball abilities; they were probably your biggest fans and that made your day most of the time. You remembered the first match they came to during your freshman year, they had run up to you right after the end-of-match whistle blew to spew about how good you were on the court. They met the team that day. Your team adored having them at your games, over the years they slowly replaced your school’s mascot. They played a huge part in morale boosts before and during matches.

He looked over to you, “I didn’t know my little sister could be so badass.”

You felt your cheeks flare up. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before. It really wasn’t anything special.”

“(Y/n),” Philza pursed his lips, “you did all that with a bruised back, I’d consider that something special.”

“Wait (y/n), you’re hurt?” Tommy and Tubbo looked at you with wide concerned eyes.

“Yeah, but it’s not that bad. I can still move and stuff.”

Techno rolled his eyes, “it’s bad if you’re going to the doctor for it.”

“Eh, it doesn’t hurt as bad as it did yesterday, so I’m not worried.”

“You’re deadass wincing everytime you move your arm,” WIlbur deadpanned, “it clearly still hurts.”

“Well yeah, I didn’t say the pain went away completely. Fuckin’ dumbass.”

“Language,” Philza glared at you two, gesturing to the two fifth graders watching the exchange with interest.

You and Wilbur resumed eating and murmured out a defeated “sorry Dad.” You both glared at Techno when he huffed in amusement.

“If you three keep bickering, you’re going to be late to school. Remember, you two have to drop off Tommy and Tubbo today cuz I’m taking your sister to her appointment. Now go get ready, I’ll take care of your dishes.”

Your brothers took off up the stairs, each competing to get to the bathroom first. Occasionally, you would hear shouts and slapping noises. You felt glad you didn’t have to deal with that today. Judging by Techno’s gruff voice laughing and an explosion of loud complaints from the rest, you assumed that he won today. “I swear, they’re gonna put me in an early grave.”

“You and me both Dad, you and me both.”

You went into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of pain pills from the junk drawer. Various bottles of Motrin and Advil were scattered around the house because when you live with a rambunctious family like this one, people are bound to get hurt and headaches are common. Popping three into your mouth, you washed it down with a glass of water. The sound of the running water faucet and the slight splashing of water filled the silence of the room.

“How’s your back? Does it feel any better?”

“Kinda, today it just feels more sore than throbbing, my headache went away mostly, and my shoulder doesn’t feel any worse, so that’s better I guess.”

He shut off the water and reached for a towel to dry off his wet hands. He moved over to the freezer and grabbed a frozen package of peas that your family never ate. You all used it whenever one of you would get a bruise. He moved behind you and held it against your back without warning. Flinching forward from the unexpected temperature change, you winced with the wave of pain moving brought you.

“Shit, sorry.”

“You’re good. Just give me a little warning next time,” you chuckled. He gently placed it back on your back and you sighed from the slight relief that it brought you. You leaned into the peas and closed your eyes. “That feels amazing.”

“I bet. That bruise was pretty bad yesterday, can I look at it again?”

You reluctantly left the sanctuary that was the medical grade frozen peas and leaned forward, moving your hair out of the way for him. “Knock yourself out.”

He made a hissing noise as soon as he moved your shirt out of the way. “Dad, it probably looks worse than it feels.”

“...Have you seriously not looked at this yet? It looks pretty bad, hun.”

“Well, sorry I can’t move to look at my back without being in pain. I’ll try harder next time.” You snarked him.

“Hey, watch the attitude. Here, I’ll take a picture so you can see how bad it is.”

You heard the rustling of fabric as he fished his phone out of his pocket and the obnoxiously loud click of his camera app. You turned around to look at the damage. You squinted at his bright phone screen. Your entire back was swollen in some areas and was covered in ugly reds, blues, blacks, and purples. You made a disgusted noise in the back of your throat and cringed away from the screen. You always got nauseous seeing injuries.

“Yikes.”

“Yikes isn’t the only word I would use, it’s bad (y/n).”

“It looks worse than it feels, I promise. I’m gonna go get ready so we’re not late to my appointment. It sounds like the boys are finally done with the bathroom.”

You hobbled up the stairs slowly and made your way to the bathroom. The door was wide open ready for you to use. Turning on the light, you closed the door in a hurry so that your brothers wouldn’t try to get in again to hog the bathroom like they usually did. You frowned at your appearance. Your hair was sticking up in every direction and you had dark eye bags around your dull looking eyes. A few pimples dotted your skin like constellations in the night sky, but much uglier and more out of place. Turning your body, you scanned your figure. Your eyes watered as you realized that you had gained some weight. Adrian, Sammy, and Annie were right, you looked like garbage all the time.

You ripped your eyes away from yourself in the mirror with disgust etched deep into your features. You were disgusting through and through. Ripping your brush through your hair, you winced at the pain emanating from the back of your head. You deserve the pain for letting yourself go. Once you were slightly more satisfied with your appearance, you stepped out of the bathroom and quickly changed into the clothes you would wear today. You decided on a hoodie and a pair of tights. You didn’t feel like dressing yourself up.

You once again walked down the stairs and slipped on your shoes to meet your dad in his car. You idly scrolled through your phone while you waited for him, looking at your notifications for the first time that day. You had ten texts from the group chat that you were in with Adrian, Annie, and Sammy.

Sammy <3

(Y/n) where the hell are you?

Adrian <3

Do you guys think she ditched us?

I knew she was ignoring us

Sammy <3

Who ignores their friends?

Annie <3

(Y/n) apparently.

She has more important things to do ig

Oh my god

Do you guys think she skipped school?

Adrian <3

I wouldn’t put it past her

Maybe she finally gave up

(Y/n)

I’m sorry guys, I just have a doctor’s appointment today

I would never ignore you

Sammy <3

Yk, it’s hard to keep defending you when you keep ditching us..

(Y/n)

I’m not ditching you!

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys about my appointment

I’ll make it up to you guys

Adrian <3

How?

You’ve already skipped out on us enough already

Annie <3

Oh ik!

She can write our final research paper for us Dri!

I haven’t started it yet lmao

Adrian <3

Saaaame lmaoooo

Sammy <3

Guys, what about me???

Adrian <3

Idk, figure it out yourself

Sammy <3

Rude!

Uhhh

Ur gonna put together my final presentation for us history

(Y/n)

Alright, I can do that for you guys

Sam can you pls send me the rubric?

Annie <3

Thanks love ;)

(Y/n)

No problem, I like doing things for friends

My dad’s coming, I gotta go

Talk to you guys later

Adrian <3

Byeeee (y/n), ur the best!

(Y/n)

: ) <3

You put your phone down as your dad started up the car and pulled out of the driveway. The drive was quiet as you stared out the window and thought about how much work you now had to do. On top of your own classes, you had two more to write and a presentation to make in a class you hadn’t taken since the first semester in your sophomore year. The research papers had to be at least four full pages long with a minimum of ten sources each due on Friday and you had no idea how big Sammy’s US history presentation has to be or what it’s even about. But that was fine, you’d do anything for your friends.

“So, who were you texting? Your boyfriend?” He asked jokingly.

“Oh, just Adrian, Sammy, and Annie. I don’t have a boyfriend Dad,” because you were a closeted lesbian, but you wouldn’t tell him that anytime soon. “You know that.”

“I know,” he chuckled, “it’s been a while since I’ve seen them. How have they been?”

“They’re good. Adrian got a job at the diner, he’s a host. Sammy and Annie have been focusing more on raising their grades.”

“Good for them! You should invite them over for dinner sometime.”

“I was actually thinking that I could maybe go hang out with them on Halloween...?”

“(Y/n), the family was going to take Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating.”

“I know, but there’s always next year. Plus, we haven’t been able to hang out in so long! We’re always free at different times.”

“I don’t know (y/n), what if they don’t want to trick-or-treat next year? What were you planning on doing with them?”

“We were just gonna hang out at Annie’s house and watch some horror movies,” you lied. He would never let you go if he knew you were going to a party. Especially one where alcohol would be involved and hormonal teenage boys ran rampant actively scouting for an easy lay.

“...I’ll think about it.” The car pulled into the doctor office’s parking lot.

“Thank you Dad! It’s been a while since we’ve all hung out together.”

He chuckled as you both walked into the lobby, checked in, and waited for your name to be called. About ten minutes later, you were summoned by a nurse so you went into the back leaving your dad to wait in the lobby. The nurse recorded your height and weight (much to your dismay, you gained four pounds) and asked you the standard questions about your injury and uncomfortable questions about your overall health. The clacking of her acrylic nails on the plastic keyboard filled the awkward silence.

Once that was done, she left and you had to wait a little bit for the doctor. After slipping into the backless gown the nurse left, you mindlessly scrolled on your phone. Jumping when someone knocked on the door, you looked up to see your family’s doctor smiling at you.

“Hello (y/n), how are we feeling today?”

“I’m alright.”

“I hear that you had quite the fall onto some concrete, is that true?”

“Yes, I landed on my back and the back of my head.”

She reached over and squirted hand sanitizer onto her hands, rubbing it in and looking back at you. “Can you please lay on your stomach so I can take a look at your back?”

You nodded, shifting on the uncomfortable paper covered cushioned table onto your stomach. You felt her cold hands gently graze your bruises before she pulled out her stethoscope. “Can you take a good deep breath in for me?”

You complied and she instructed you to let it out. Doing this multiple times along your back, she put her stethoscope away and continued prodding at your exposed back.

“There’s definitely some swelling in multiple areas… It doesn’t feel or sound like you cracked or broke any ribs, which is excellent… Do you have any pain deep in your shoulder when you move it?”

“Yes, I landed on it wrong last night at my volleyball match.”

“How would you describe your pain? Stabbing, sore, throbbing…”

“More sore, but a little stabbing pain when I move my arm.”

She moved her fingers to examine your shoulder. “It doesn’t sound like a sprain or fracture, can you move it up and down for me?”

You moved your arm up and down, front and back, and side to side. “You still have a full range of movement, that’s good. Can I have you sit back up again?”

You sat back up and she started testing you for a concussion. After passing her tests, you were cleared of having a concussion. “Alright (y/n), it appears that you only strained your deltoid and teres muscles and you have severe bruising along your back. Make sure you ice your back and, if you have one, wear a shoulder compression sleeve. Anti-inflammatory medications such as Ibuprofen will help with the swelling. Other than that, you have a clean bill of health! You can still participate in volleyball practices, but you need to take it easy. Don’t do anything that will strain the muscles any further.”

“Thank you Dr. Samson,” you smiled at her.

“You’re welcome. I’ll leave you to change back into your clothes and you’re free to go! You may leave the gown on the table.”

She left the room and you redressed yourself. Walking out to the lobby, Philza’s head perked up when he heard the door opening. He stood up and walked over to you with a slightly worried face. You both walked back out to the car.

“So?”

“Dr. Samson said that I don’t have a concussion, sprains or broken bones. She told me that I just strained my shoulder muscles and I need to keep ice on my back.”

He visibly slumped in relief. “Thank god. What’d she say about volleyball?”

“She said that I could keep playing, but I have to take it easy.”

“Good, wouldn’t want you missing finals on Thursday. Do you know if the team you’re playing is any good?”

“Dad, of course they’re good, we’re the top two teams in the area.”

“I bet their setter is nowhere near as good as you are and I bet the setter and spiker aren’t as synced as you and Haley are. You two make a good pair.”

“Yeah we do, don’t we?” You looked out the window and smiled a little and felt your ears turn red. The very mention of Haley’s name was enough to make you feel like you were on cloud nine. The car fell silent again as you neared your high school.

In your AP world history class, the class was looking at the test you had taken yesterday. Surprisingly, you got a 74% on the multiple choice part and a 50% on your essay portion, so that landed you with a just below passing grade. You thought you completely flunked that test yesterday, so that was a pleasant surprise. It took a good portion out of your overall grade in the class, lowering it from a comfortable A- to a slightly alarming B. You supposed it could’ve been a lot worse. Besides reviewing your tests, the class didn’t do much except starting the reading for the next chapter.

Your psychology online class went like it usually did, however your phone blew up with texts about midway through the block. Glancing down, you saw that it was Haley. Shouldn’t she be in class?

Hales : )

(Y/n) meet me in the locker room right after school

I need to talk to you before practice starts

It’s an emergency

(Y/n)

What’s going on?

Hales : )

I’ll explain after school.

Can’t talk about it over text

(Y/n)

Alright, see ya then ig

You felt your gut twinge. Something’s wrong, but you didn’t know what. You were worried about Haley, usually she was really bubbly. You’ve never seen the senior act so strange before. You could only wait the block out until the bell would release you from the confines of the library and into the locker room. After sending a quick text to your brothers that you were going to stay after school for your practice, you stared blankly at your laptop’s clock as you counted down the minutes left in the class period. Ten minutes. Eight minutes. Four minutes. Two minutes. Thirty seconds-

You shot up from your seat as the bell rang. Pushing past some groups of freshmen that congregated in the hallways, you made a beeline for the locker room. In the locker room, you found Haley sitting on the metal bench on the opposite end of the locker room with her back facing the last row of lockers and facing the brick wall. She was clenching her phone in her hand with an iron grip. You hurried to sit next to her.

“Hales, what’s going on? Talk to me.”

“It’s bad (y/n). Like, really bad.”

“What’s bad? You’re worrying me.”

Wordlessly, she unlocked her phone and handed it to you. On the screen was something that you weren’t expecting to see. You scrolled through the contents and felt your stomach drop with each scroll; someone took pictures of you and Haley throughout the match last night. Every picture was a violation to yours and Haley’s dignities, they had gotten zoomed in pictures of your boobs and asses. Deeper, there were even pictures taken of you changing into your volleyball uniform through your open window. You were only in your underwear. Haley had a similar picture that you scrolled past as fast as you could. Scrolling to the bottom of the text message thread, the person that sent Haley the pictures added a caption to the last picture. It was a picture of you and Haley together celebrating your match, her arm slung around your shoulder with your mouth open mid-laugh.

Unknown

I’m sending these out to the entire school unless you stop hanging around her.

If you tell anyone, the pics will be printed off and put in every single locker and bathroom the school has.

You’ll be the sluts of Klinkver High.

Cut all ties now. You have two days.

Do not try me.

“Jesus christ Haley. Who the fuck would do this? This is sick.”

She took her phone back and locked it without looking at the screen. “I don’t know (y/n). I wanted to tell you not to openly talk to me for a few days. We don’t know who took these, we don’t know what they’re capable of. I don’t wanna risk angering them.”

“We can find them! If we look close enough, we might find a few clues where they were sitting. Do you remember seeing anything suspicious last night?”

“(Y/n), our best option is to leave it. We just can’t talk in person anymore; we can still text each other.”

“Hales, how are we gonna not talk? I’m your setter.”

She ran a hand through her thick black hair. “I don’t know (y/n). Just-just don’t talk to me anymore, I don’t want your pictures leaked.”

“I don’t care about my pictures. My name’s been drug through so much shit this past year that it won’t affect me. I don’t want your stuff leaked.”

She gave a watery laugh, “you care too much, I love that about you…” Glistening eyes turned to look deep into your own. “I’m so scared (y/n), I don’t know what to do.”

You pulled her into a hug, wincing slightly when she squeezed her arms around your upper back. She buried her face into your shoulder and started shaking with muffled sobs. “Haley, I promise I’ll catch whatever sick bastard is doing this to you. You don’t deserve this.”

She said nothing as you rested your chin on the top of her head and started to rock her back and forth slowly. You two stayed like that even after her sobbing resided, finding comfort in each other’s presence. Glancing at the clock, you realized that you two have been in the locker room for an hour. Practice was set to start in fifteen minutes, people were going to start coming into the locker room soon.

You reluctantly pulled away from the hug and looked Haley in her bloodshot eyes, “I’m not going to let those pictures of you get leaked. I swear on my-”

The door to the locker room swung open and loud laughter echoed throughout the room. Haley pushed you away and speed walked off to a bathroom stall, slamming the door shut behind her.

“Damn (y/n), what’d you do? She’s pissed.”

“It’s none of your business, Zara.”

“Oh, so it’s a lover’s quarrel then~” She cackled, her hair bouncing slightly with each heave of her shoulders.

“For the love of… Haley and I aren’t dating, we’re both straight.” She’s straight.

“Mmhm.” She brushed past you to go to her locker. You followed her, your locker was in the grouping next to hers. You shared the area with Haley. You changed as fast as you could so that Haley would have time to change before practice starts. Speed walking into the gym, Zara was hot on your trail wearing a shit eating grin.

“Why are you in such a rush? Giving your girlfriend the silent treatment?”

“Zara. We aren’t dating. For the last time, we’re both heterosexual, not homosexual!” You wildly gestured with your hands to emphasize your point, your voice being amplified by the vast gym. Coach Williams gave you a confused look from across the gym.

“You just keep telling yourself that.”

“I’m serious.”

“Hi serious,” a soft voice replied from behind you, “I’m Jazzy.”

You groaned at the pun at the same time Zara started cackling, giving the short libero a high five. “Nice!”

“That was so bad, Jaz.” You couldn’t help the smile that found its way onto your face.

Zara poked your cheek with a wide grin. “C’mon, you’re smiling!”

“I am and I hate it.”

Your bickering continued with Jazzy watching you two with a content smile. The remaining members of the team (Haley, Marlene, and Zuri) filed into the gym right as Coach Williams blew her whistle.

Practice went by slowly without Haley talking to you. Sure, you had the rest of the team, but it didn’t feel the same with you guys ignoring each other. If the team or Coach Williams noticed you two not talking to each other, they didn’t say anything. By time practice was over, you all went to the locker room to change. After slipping into your fuzzy pajama pants, you sat on the bench and texted Wilbur to come pick you up. He was supposed to pick you up after practice today because he and Techno took the car home after school. Five minutes passed and he still didn’t reply. He probably won’t see the text until you got home from walking.

You sighed, resting your chin in your palm as you leaned forward. One by one, the girls left the locker room until it was only you and Haley left.

“Do you need a ride (y/n)?” She asked gently.

“But what if the person sees us together? I can just walk home, it’s not really a big deal.”

She rolled her eyes at you. “It is a big deal. It’s cold and dark out. You could get kidnapped or something. You don’t even have a coat with you. I’m giving you a ride whether you like it or not.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her and stood up to walk next to her, “okay, mom.”

“Don’t give me that attitude young lady.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not my real mom!”

She gasped and lightly smacked the back of your shoulder, “I married your- are you alright? Shit, I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, you’re good. It’s just this damned bruise.”

She moved her hands and frantically turned you around to pull the neck of your shirt down. You two stood in front of the school’s main entrance with the nauseatingly bright fluorescent light bouncing off the reflective surface of the tiles. The orange tinted street lights lit up the sidewalk outside.

“(Y/n)-”

“I know what you’re gonna say.”

She scoffed, “oh really? What am I gonna say then, o wise one?”

You turned around to face her, “‘oh, this is bad, yadda yadda yadda.’ Everyone’s been saying that about it. Honestly it looks worse than it feels. Tis but a scratch, m’lady.”

She snorted and covered her mouth, “never call me ‘m’lady’ ever again.”

You started to walk to her car in the empty parking lot. “Or what? What’re ya gonna do?”

“I swear to god, (y/n), I’m gonna leave you here.”

“Do it, pussy. Bet you won’t.”

“You really wanna bet?”

You grinned at her, “hell yeah.”

She broke off into a mad dash to her car, laughing freely into the night sky. You chased after her trying not to move your arms much, your laugh mixing with hers like a perfect symphony composed of the world’s best musicians. The sound of your rubber soles slapping the pavement resonated throughout the parking lot as you quickly gained on her. Reaching out to grab her shirt, she smirked at you and sharply turned to the right into the grass.

You grinned as her pace slowed down slightly. You’d be able to catch her at this pace. You pushed your legs to move faster as she looked at you from over her shoulder and shrieked in surprise at how close you were to her. You cackled at her reaction, reaching out once again, you grabbed her hand. She was stopped dead in her tracks as your shoulder was yanked with the sudden momentum, making you hiss in slight pain. Despite that, you didn’t let go of her soft hand.

You both stood there under the moonlight and the soft orange street lamps trying to catch your breath. The slightly damp blades of grass tickled your ankle as you shifted to face her better. Through gasping breaths and a dopey grin, you said “you… lost, pussy.”

She let out a breathy laugh as she pulled you to her car. “Shuddup.”

“Make me~”

She opened the passenger side door for you and got into the driver's seat. Her car smelled like vanilla and citrus. “Oh, you will later when I make you do more sets in weight lifting tomorrow, hurt shoulder be damned.”

She turned on the ignition and the car revved to life, soft indie pop wafted from the speakers. She backed out of the parking space and sped off to the main road. “You wouldn’t…”

“I’m your captain, (y/n). I can make you do whatever I want.” You felt your cheeks heat up a tad. You were happy that she couldn’t see you.

“Naw, you’re too much of a softie for that. Admit it, I’ve got you wrapped around my little finger.”

She chuckled as she pulled into your driveway and put the car in park. “...Alright, maybe you do. Just a bit.”

She turned to look at you. She looked stunning with the shadows accentuating the contours of her face perfectly. You found yourself glancing at her lips and leaning slightly towards you. To your surprise, she started leaning into you as well. Before your lips could finally mesh together, she pulled back with a sigh and ran her hand through her hair. You felt a rush of disappointment and fear course through your veins. She didn’t like you like that, you should’ve known better. You were so stupid. So, so stu-

“I can’t (y/n). I want to kiss you so bad, but we can’t. Not yet at least. Not until we find the pervert that took those pictures of us.”

You sighed, “right.”

The car was filled with awkward silence. Not even the soft music streaming from the speakers could alleviate the awkwardness. God, you really screwed up your friendship, didn’t you? Sammy, Adrian, and Annie were right; you messed up everything you touched.

You coughed, “I think I’m gonna…”

“Yeah…”

You grabbed your bag and walked into your house, the smell of chicken slapping you in the face instantly. Without checking in with your dad, you hurried up the stairs, desperate for the warm comfort of your bed. That, and if you wanted to get Sammy’s presentation and Adrian’s, Annie’s, and your research papers done by Friday, you had to start as soon as you could. You were going to skip dinner for tonight, you’d just grab more breakfast tomorrow morning.

You plopped on your bed and got started on your research paper. Luckily, you already had all of the sources you were planning on using and the rough outline of each body paragraph, so writing the actual paper wasn’t going to take long. You worked until you heard a knock at your door.

“(Y/n),” Techno’s monotone voice called out, “dinner’s ready.”

“Tell Dad I’m not hungry. Practice’s got me beat, I’m going to bed soon.”

He grunted, “you know he’s not gonna like that right?”

You felt frustration start to swim circles around your chest, “Techno, just tell him that I’m not hungry right now. Please.”

“Damn, you don’t need to be like that. I’ll tell him.”

You heard his stomping footsteps thumping down the hall. Shit, you pissed him off. You were a terrible person, he was just trying to get you to eat something, Pushing back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, you forced the panic that was starting to swirl around your body in laps deep into your being. You didn’t have time to deal with your failures and stupid emotions, you had to get this done. You didn’t have time to think about Haley’s warm breath ghosting across your lips. You didn’t have time to think about how she probably regretted almost kissing you. You didn’t have time to fall into an anxiety spiral, you needed to focus if you wanted Adrian, Annie, and Sammy to forgive you. You ruined yours and Haley’s friendship and did the same to yours and Techno’s. They were the only ones you had left. You needed to be a better friend.

Taglist (comment if you want to be added or if I missed you, it won’t let me tag some tumblrs :((( ):

@immadatmostthings @thaticecreambish @hee-hee-haw @dearnataliealoveletter @wasteofspacze @dcml04 @bbigbbrainn @dirtydiavolo @vanhakirja @rinzyx05 @misselsbells06 @ialexabsuniverse @im-a-depressed-gay @energy-drinkk @mothra-main @i-need-hugs @dragons-lurk-here @katj733 @m4r-s @vievi @dykeragee @waterstrawberry @aplaintart @kakamiissad @myunfinishedsymphony @nagitokinnieissad @autumnpleaves @justanothergirlwithdemons @zachariethememerie @moon-asia @m0on-blue @strawberrysodababy @akikko-yataro @haikkeiji @shiningsunrises @cinnamonmochi @queen-turtle-boiii @imanewsoul @sparkling-gayyyy @angelicaschuyler-church @vixenfoxpup @ella-ivanov @shio-yuki @mosstea-png @ijustshatbricks

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whackmewithwhump · 2 years ago

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completely unwhump related vent under the cut I just need to write this out to process and if you have suggestions or advice it would be welcome

okay so for the past couple of years I’ve been helping out an elderly woman (mid 80s) who lives across my street. it started with about an hour around dinner time every day— lifting heavy pots, washing dishes, doing trips up and down stairs for her to grab her things. she paid me minimum wage for my time, and it was honestly lovely. she’s eccentric, and has a lot of particularities but she liked me and it was a nice lil change of pace and change of scenery.

during this time I was really struggling with my chronic illness. I was losing weight rapidly, wasn’t diagnosed, wasn’t treated, and getting weaker but I liked helping her, partially cause again, it was nice to get out of the house (this is during Covid) it was nice to have a friend when I was so limited due to my own illness, it was nice to help her, and selfishly speaking, it was nice to feel like I was still contributing. It felt good to make a little money and help someone when otherwise I was really struggling feeling useless. my friends had all just graduated and were getting grown up jobs, or moving out, or pursuing further education but my life was on hold. but helping her gave me some purpose.

flash forward and she fires the PSW she had for a while. tbf she was a bitch, and deserved to be fired. however, due to her eccentricities and sensitivities she rejected all other PSW candidates and asked if I could also take on the role of cleaning her entire house every other week, helping her with groceries the weeks I wasn’t cleaning, and doing her laundry. it was a lot for me, but I decided to do it, cause she didn’t have anyone else, and I could make a little more money.

over the years I have had I think three near fainting incidents at her house. two were resolved I think by my mom coming over and bringing me juice, but one ended up with collapsing on my neighbour’s lawn, my dad having to drive a van over (even though our house is about 30feet away) and carry me into the van to get me home, and when it couldn’t be resolved ended in a hospital trip. I’ve also gone in so much pain that I went to help her and then afterwards went to the ER, where even IV morphine didn’t touch my pain. but I still prioritized seeing her before receiving care. (this is not me trying to make a hero of myself, this is not healthy behaviour on my part, I really need to set boundaries and take care of myself, this is not cool and cute of me it is a problem). I’ve also been in the hospital and not told her and gone straight to her place afterwards. If I make a commitment to someone or something, I just take it pretty seriously even when sometimes I should deviate from it.

Fortunately, my health is finally improving but I am not back to 100%. My recovery time is faster after doing activities, I’ve been getting out more, I’m starting to have a little bit of a life again, but I still definitely have limits.

Recently she injured her leg. We don’t know how, but it’s been pretty bad. And suddenly I am at her beck and call. I’ve been over there morning noon and night, helping her up and down stairs, on and off the toilet, doing meals for her, cleaning, transferring, the list goes on. I am on my feet a lot of the day, visits that are supposed to be brief go on and on. I really really struggle with standing still for very long, more than walking, and much of what I’m doing there involves standing for long periods of time. Because she wants me over there so often and every single day, I don’t have any recovery time so everything is just compounding. I am in so much pain myself, and I am exhausted.

Today my mom came over because I have a hard time advocating for myself and we chatted with her and kinda explained that the current increase is hard for me, and she’s not receiving it the best. The manipulation has suddenly been turned on and it’s like— she’s telling me that I’m tired because of my physio and I shouldn’t do so much physio, and I just need better shoes, or I’m in pain because of the floors at MY house, or blah blah blah— she also thinks I shouldn’t go back to school in the fall cause I’m not healthy enough, which frankly isn’t her business— she can be concerned, sure, but obviously there is an ulterior motive. She wants me around for another year to take care of her. She also suggested that I stop doing things that are too fun because I might get overexcited and wear myself out. LADY. I am 23. My early 20s so far have consisted of trying not to die of starvation and taking care of an elderly woman, and now that I’m finally feeling a bit better I just want to literally go for walks and look at animals and volunteer at the wildlife rescue. I’m not even gonna stop helping her, I just can’t be her full time caregiver. Because I’m 23. I’m not related to her. I’m not qualified to give the care she needs. I’m not healthy enough.

She also whipped out the “I think it would be easier if I wasn’t around” and it’s like, ughh, let’s not talk like that. I genuinely do love her. I often half joke that my best friend is an 86 year old, and she really has become one of my best friends. This injury though which is only like a week or so old has just put way too much pressure on me. Ive never had any tension with her until now, or really even any frustration. I know she’s scared, and I know I’ve become one of her safe people, but physically and mentally I can’t do this much for her. I feel so trapped, and I know she’s manipulating me a bit but it is kinda working because the issue is I do like her outside of this new incident. Because I care about her even though I know she’s being kinda slimy, it still makes me feel bad. She does genuinely need help it just can’t be from me to the degree that it is.

And even though she wants me to not return to school she’s gonna be in for a rude awakening when I do. plus my family just wants to yell at me for being too much of a pussy to stand up for myself bruh idk but my health is already taking steps back and I can’t do this shit anymore but she just can’t get it through her head

#enn talks

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studysprine · 3 years ago

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7/100 days of productivity & doing better | 07.29.2022

today's goals: wake up early 4 jay, take meds, brush teeth, wash dishes, pack bag, move R’s blue bin out room, wash face or at least spf, make eggplant and spinach HAVE TO because no good soon, get gas, move body, shower, ask m how to send interest email, call dad, clean up a little, drink more water, do The Thing (tried), review german, start driving home before 3:30, send email, dog sit, and plan tomorrows day.

if i have any extra energy: - tidy up laptop. - look into credit cards - library resources - do an hour of spanish grammar studying - make spanish &/or german post -

things I have accomplished today:

baked eggplant and cooked spinach for breakfast. starting the kettle for some chamomile tea as well. it was tasty but in the process of making it i accidentally broke the house's bottle of sesame oil, but thats okay because M helped me clean it and that was very kind. then ate a brownie! in the evening i ate some egg rolls and chips

brushed teeth, washed face, showered, texted jay about later,

i have organized and put away some of the laundry that was on my floor to it's different categories of worn only once lately, clean just forgot put away, and clothes for washing machine today. i will try and start the laundry machine soon

M helped me draft an email to a professor for my major, washed all my dishes while chatting with my friends, and now i need time to mentally rest from doing so much so back to back.

Did just that then began gathering my stuff to pack, reviewed some german, drove home, dog sat, and opened my letters

what am i doing right now as i type this? (12:07 noon) sitting inside with A (friend who's temp living with us) who just came home and M as I eat my breakfast and drink my tea. It looks really pretty outside, but it's getting too hot to enjoy outside unfortunately. Thinking about the busy day and weekend I'm about to have. I need to do many things before it turns 2pm! Good luck to me. (9:38pm) i needed all the luck. today was difficult. but i persevered!!! now i’m sitting down in my fathers house, sitting on the couch, just ate, and i’m now watching a show. ALSO LOOOOK I DID SOOO many things that were on my list today!!!!! and i actually ate breakfast at a breakfast time!!! i’m very proud of myself.

gratitude timeee: gonna return to this later, a little stressed from breaking the bottle. grateful M is so kind and helpful to me, grateful for the AC because its HAWT out, and happy to have a cup of tea in my life. thankful for digital studying tools, like duolingo really makes learning language vocab simple and enjoyable. grateful to my dad and these dogs and the green trees and the green grass. may they all stay healthy.

last updated: 9:41pm

#100 days of productivity #100 days of getting better #100gb #100p #autistic studyblr #adhd studyblr #langblr #self care #self love #light academia #actually adhd #actually autistic #chaotic academia #m

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sweetmidnights · 4 years ago

Note

Leah Clearwater holding me after a long day at work, petting my hair and kissing my face, snuggling together on the couch.

Hi nonnie! I’m just gonna write you a little blurb because I’m not super familiar with her characterization :)

It had been the longest day at work, you swore that the clock was ticking in at least half time, if not slower. It seemed like task after task was hurtled your way and they all needed to be done now. On the long drive back to La Push, the only thing on your mind was getting home to your girlfriend, Leah.

You had been dating Leah for a few years now but it was only recently after she asked you to marry her that she revealed that she had imprinted on you. Being that your step-brother was a werewolf and had joined the pack when you were visiting you dad as teenagers, you were well aware of Leah being one, too—her tattoo gave her away. Because you lived with your mom in Seattle, you never really met any of your brother’s friends until the summer after you graduated high school. Your dad had insisted that you spend a month with him in La Push before going to UW.

It was the first Friday of your stay when you were at a family bonfire with the entire pack and Leah came. She near immediately sat next to you and chatted you up and gave you her phone number. For the rest of the summer you were nearly inseparable. Because of the stigma of being gay and already being the black sheep of the pack because she’s a woman, Leah kept it to herself that she imprinted on you. The pack could read each other’s thoughts, so they all had a sneaking suspicion, but Leah did everything in her power to keep it a secret. That is, until she knew she had your consent to be with her romantically for the rest of your lives.

When you pulled into the gravel driveway of your shared home with Leah, she was standing in the kitchen window, probably washing the dishes. Her face lit up when she saw you pull in and you rushed inside, desperate to be filled with her warmth. Leah immediately scooped you up in a hug, your stress and exhaustion radiating from your body in waves.

“Are you feeling okay, baby?” she asked, smoothing her hand over your hair as you relaxed in her embrace.

“I had a bad day,” you returned. “Will you snuggle with me on the couch?”

Leah bent a little and scooped you up into her arms and carried you to the living room, sitting with you in her lap. She turned on the tv and put on your favorite show before covering the two of you with a blanket and kissing your cheek.

“You want to talk about it?”

You buried your face in her neck, pressing a kiss to her pulse point.

“No, not really. Can we just stay like this for a while?”

Leah nodded her head and you pulled back a little to look at her, pressing a kiss to her lips.

“Thank you, baby. I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart. Forever.”

#ask iv #anon #my fic #leah clearwater x reader

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mae-gi-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Obtuse | Bang Chan (Stray Kids) - PART TWO

Summary ☆ "I don't know. I want to be his friend but then again, I don't. I mean, how can you simply be friends with someone when every time you look at them, you're thinking about how much more you really want?"

Genre ☆ bestfriends to lovers au, angst, slowburn, suggestive themes, college au, fluff, soft Chan x oc (Micha)

Word count ☆

. ° ☆ ° .

PART ONE | PART TWO

. ° ☆ ° .

Idiot, Micha kept on replaying the words like the words to her favourite song, Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

There she sat in the hospital chair beside her mother’s unconscious body, her life hanging by a thread with the help of the machine that beeped obnoxiously in the corner, and all she could think of was of the messed up realization that she was in love with her best friend.

Chan hadn't spoken a word as she'd sobbed and sobbed, even though she wasn't sure what she was crying about exactly. He'd only wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in to rest his head against hers in an embrace so firm and filled with warmth that her heart tugged in pain. He was so close that it pained her, the realization that he was so close yet so far was a blow that left a permanent bruise.

So she'd pushed him away, wiped her tears and gestured him to follow her.

He said nothing as he sat beside her, shifting every now and then as he succumbed to the dreadful silence filling the room.

And she hated it, that he was here as if this was the most normal thing for him to do. Because it wasn't. As if on impulse, Micha couldn't help but glance at his attire that confirmed her suspicions he'd just gotten out of the gym, probably having dropped everything to rush to her side.

"Who told you?" Micha asked. Her voice felt weird, strangled as she spoke.

Chan shifted and she felt his eyes on her face, the warmth of them permeating through her skin, "Felix called."

A stagnant pause ensued. In the silence, Micha forced herself to swallow down the lump of emotion stuck in her throat, forced down the feelings that seemed to have erupted through her every pore like she had just opened up a pandora's box of truths.

Go away, was what Micha's brain screamed. Go away.

But her heart protested. Please don't leave me.

Her brown orbs lifted to his side profile. Please don't leave me.

Even if I love you.

"You should go," is what she murmured out instead, "you're wasting your time."

"Don't say that," he replied, tone firm.

His silent assurance, that made it even harder to push him away. Micha didn't know how to feal with these feelings and though she wished she had stayed blossfully ignorant of them, there was no denying the cold hard truth that now blared atop her head like a red alert sign.

At some point, Micha's eyelids had fluttered closed for the next thing she knew she was squinting, disoriented and cuddled into a warmth that smelt of familiar pine and boy aftershave. Chan.

It was so familiar, laying on his chest and smelling that comforting scent of his, a scent that reminded her of home. She couldn't help but notice how well she fitted against him, the warmth of his hands casual on her waist and his nose nudging her temple and her heart skided to a momentary halt.

This was Chan. Just Chan, her best friend. Nothing else, nothing more.

So it was a relief once the doctor slid through the door, causing her to instantly jostle Chan out of the way. He stated that while her physical injuries would heal in a few weeks, though the one thing that worried him the most was the fact that her mother might not wake up from her vegetative state.

Micha would've fainted if not for Chan's strong hold on the back of her elbow and at some point, her father ushered her out with firm orders that the young man take her home.

"Here," he stuffed a few dollar bills in Chan's hand despite the latter's protests, "get some dinner. I insist."

The next few weeks were a blurry mixture of visiting the hospital while helping her father to run the family restaurant whenever she could. They took turns sleeping and watching over her mother's unconscious form, talked about the happenings of their everyday life in hopes that it would trigger something, anything.

The unforseen circumstances caused Micha to push back her internship by a semester and that so meant that she was permanently home and permanently swamped by none other than her best friend.

"What are you doing here? You’re supposed to have class," Micha asked upon noticing him slide out of the the kitchen with two sets of noodle bowls on a tray. It was no understatement to say that NomNom Noodles Restaurant was bustling with hungry customers as it was a Friday evening. What Micha hadn't expected though, was to see Chan's sloppy smile and sweaty forehead.

He shrugged, "your dad told me you could use the help."

Her heart tugged, partly churning with affection followed by this burning annoyance to get him out of her sight.

And he was helpful; he was a charming waiter that cracked jokes whenever he could, grabbing the dishes from her hands the moment she walked out of the kitchen, wiping tables he wasn't even assigned to. And all that made it harder for Micha to push him away. Oh how she wanted to ignore him, to make him understand that she needed a space, and a lot of it.

But she didn't want to hurt him. Not when he deserved so much better.

"Oi."

Micha was whipped back to reality when she felt Chan's finger poke her forehead, only to be faced with his dimpled grin, "earth to Micha. Customers are waiting."

Heat flushed through the back of her neck. She swatted him away, "don't touch me with your greasy hands."

"Aw shut up you," he made a move towards her, causing her to sidestep with ease, "stop it, Chan--"

She whipped around, almost bumping into one of the chairs as Chan's arms circled around her shoulders to pull her back to hug her close, "Chan!"

"Don't I smell nice? I'm just sharing it with you!"

And as if on cue, the door chimed open, both their heads whipping up with welcoming grins.

Only to face Ayeong's smile.

"Ayeong!" Micha all but shoved Chan away as she noticed the slight, barest slip of the said girl's smile.

Chan whooped and ran up to his girlfriend, cheeks flushed and eyes crinkling into crescents, "baby girl! You came!"

"And I brought company," she allowed him to kiss her cheek just as the door opened to reveal Minho and Seungmin bundled up into their coats.

Swalllowing down the sudden lump of pain, Micha went forward into Ayeong's open arms, "hey, it's been a while."

"I know!" Ayeong hugged her tight, so genuine that tears threatened to fall. Micha squeezed back slightly before quickly diverting her attention to greet the two other boys.

The restaurant was empty by the time their noodles were fresh out of the pot, meaning that they had the restaurant for themselves as they caught up on life and remembered their high school days. Micha learnt that Minho was interning at another restaurant, Seungmin had passed his Design projects with flying colours, and Ayeong had already signed a contract with the business hotel that she had trained with.

"That's amazing,” Micha said to Ayeong, "do you like it?"

"I do," Ayeong beamed, "and my superiors are nice too. They're all a bunch of guys so they aren't complicated."

"Careful Ayeong, one might think that you're gonna change boyfriends," Minho teased and caused the girl to stick out her tongue at him before leaning against Chan's shoulder.

Micha's eyes instantly shot away, swallowing hard at the knot forming in her stomach. She couldn't help it. It was like second nature to hurt herself by catching small glimpses of their entwined hands, of the adoration dripping from their eyes and she wished she could just make all the pain end.

It seemed like Minho noticed her unusual demeanour, for as they were leaving the restaurant after washing up the dishes, he'd stopped by the door to shoot her a concerned look.

"You okay, Micha?"

Surprise flitted through her face for a few seconds, "uh, yeah. Yeah I'm fine."

She saw him glance at Chan's figure before looking back at her with pursed lips, eyebrows knitted together as if deep in thought, and shook her head.

After all, who could deprive Chan of his happiness?

. ° ☆ ° .

It was safe to say that Micha fell into a routine; waking up to visit her mother in the early morning hours, replacing her father at the restaurant when it was his turn to sit at her mother's bedside, avoiding Chan at all costs even though he was practically throwing himself in her way, and locking up at around ten, nine earliest if the restaurant was void of clients.

She would've made a much greater effort at pushing Chan's helping hand away if not for the fact that her mother was mostly occupying the forefront of her mind. The truth was, a small part of her was actually relieved that Chan stayed no matter how angry she seemed, how cold she was to him. He was a big puppy constantly coming back for more no matter how much she kicked at his countenance.

And that made her feel even worse.

"Me and Aejong made pancakes the other day," Chan chatted on one late evening as they were clearing the tables, with Micha responsible for wiping them down while he mopped the floor, "she's a horrible cook. As unbelievable as that sounds."

"Why? Because she's too good at everything?" Micha knew she sounded bitter, but her tongue seemed to have a mind of its own, lashing out without control.

Chan, as oblivious as he was, didn’t seem to catch her sense of mockery, “maybe not everything. But she’s definitely very talented in many ways. I never knew she took piano lessons until she was seventeen. She passed the exams and all.”

"Good for her.”

“You know what’s the best thing though? I really like that she never boasts about herself. That, I admire that--”

“Yes Chan, I get it,” Micha finally snapped.

Chan paused in mid-mop, “What? What did I do now?”

Her teeth sunk onto her lower lip as she kept on wiping down the tables instead of answering his question.

“Why are you angry with me?”

"I’m not angry with you,” she folded her dishcloth a little too aggressively and turned to the other table.

“Then why are you talking to me like that?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Micha.”

“I said it’s nothing!” Micha finally whipped around to scowl at him and maybe it was the mixture of saddened pain whenever she thought of her dying mother along with the continuous stab, stab, stabbing of knives that pinched her heart every time she saw Chan so much as utter his lover’s name, a name that wasn’t hers, that brought tears to her eyes despite her not wanting to let him in, not anymore, not when he was one of the sources causing her pain.

But the young man’s frustrated expression gave way to instant worry the moment he caught her eye. He made a move towards her.

And that was when she burst into a fit of angry, heart-wrenching sobs.

It was as though all the pain and the pent-up emotion that she’d stuffed at the back of her heart like an unused closet she could throw away the key suddenly burst open without warning, for once she started crying, Micha found that she couldn’t stop. Her tears only heightened upon feeling the warmth of her best friend’s embrace, pulling her closer and allowing her to sob her way through the tides of pain and worry and sadness that seemed to have taken over her countenance.

Cheek pressed against the side of her head and hands softly rubbing comforting circles along her back, Micha just allowed herself to feel sorry for her state, if only for this one night where she thought that everything was slipping through her fingers; her mother, Chan. Her career. Her future.

Once Micha had cried all the tears from her body so that there were none left, she could only rest against Chan as he rocked her from side to side, the only comfort that was holding her broken pieces together at this point. She hated it, loathed it. His kindness, his genuine concern for her.

It made it so much harder to push him away.

“How long have you been holding this in?” came his softened murmur against her hairline. She shivered unconsciously, hating the way her heart seemed to beat a little faster merely for his alto. Or maybe it was the closeness, the intimacy of his touch, especially in the dim lights of the restaurant with only the soft distant sounds of traffic in the distance to keep them company.

“It’s not about how long,” Micha’s fingers unconsciously gripped the back of his hoodie, hoping to extend this moment for a little longer. Just for tonight. She continued in a mumble, “everything is...everything is just so overwhelming.”

"Want to talk about it?”

Micha’s lips pressed into a thin line. When she spoke after her slight bout of hesitation, her voice trembled, “it’s like I’m not even in my life anymore. I feel like I’m in a nightmare-- and I can’t wake up.”

He hummed in reply, hugged her just a little tighter and kept rocking from side to side. That was all the encouragement she needed.

“I mean, my mom’s a vegetable and she’s--dying,” a small sob echoed through her throat, “I know how these patients end up. I see no other solution. She’s going to wither away in that bed and I can’t do any fucking thing about it. And then there’s my degree which I’m not completing because we obviously need the money for mom so I don’t know what’s going to happen to me, to my life and to my career and just, I just can’t breathe Chan and it scares me, it scares me so damn much--”

“Hey hey,” he pulled back just enough to see another path of tears dribbling down her face, thumb reaching up to brush it away, “it’s okay, shh. Enough crying, hm? You know I hate it when you cry.”

That only incited her to cry some more and Chan made a noise of protest before he cupped her cheek, gently wiping them away as they fell, “I know that everything sucks right now. I--I can’t even imagine how impossible everything must be for you, and I can’t tell you that things will sort themselves out because we never know what might happen.”

“But,” he continued with a gentle squeeze to her hip then and she tensed slightly at the intimacy of his gesture, “I swear it gets better. I swear it on my heart. And if you want to cry then cry, I’ll be here. If you need to shout, to scream, to punch someone, I’ll be there Micha,” tilting her chin up so that she had no choice but to gaze at him, he cracked the softest of smiles that left her all giddy inside, “I’m not going to let you go through this alone, that I can promise you.”

Swallowing thickly, it was hard not to squirm underneath the soft glimmer of his soft maroon-eyed stare. So she dropped her eyes while mumbling out a soft, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he whispered back.

“You don’t deserve to be here, you-- you’ve done so much for me and I don’t even know how I’m supposed to repay that--”

“There is nothing,” he cut her off firmly while his hold tightened unconsciously, “to be sorry for.”

Still, Micha’s eyes suddenly found interest in the patterns of her best friend’s shirt, knowing that there was no possibility of eye-contact now, not if she wanted to keep her self-control in check. Maybe it meant nothing for Chan to hold her so casually in his arms, but there was no denying the fact that anyone looking through their restaurant window could mistake them for a couple, and the thought caused Micha to reel back in self-disgust.

As if sensing her inner turmoil, her best friend’s hand went up against the back of her head before he nudged her to his shoulder. And while Micha’s brain was shaking in disapproval, she couldn’t find the strength to fight against what her own body yearned for, returning back into his arms and telling herself that it was just for tonight. Tonight, she would push everything at the back of her mind and just for now, would enjoy the mere warmth and comfort that came with Chan’s arms.

Burrowing her face into the crook of his neck and taking in his scent, Micha allowed her eyes to slip closed for a moment, trying her best to engrave this into memory.

Just for tonight, she promised herself inwardly. Just for tonight, she would be selfish.

Just for tonight, she would imagine that Chan was hers. And no one else’s.

. ° ☆ ° .

"Do I have to be there?"

Micha caught Minho's eye as he helped her hand through her coat sleeve. The said young man's eyebrow rose at her question as if she'd never asked a thing so dumb, "yes you do."

"But why?" She stomped her feet while whining, "I don't even like to drink. Or dance."

"It's my birthday. I call the shots."

"I hate you."

"Aw, me too," he pinched her cheek with aggressive fondness and Micha batted him away with her hands, scowling and muttering a string of curses under her breath as she trailed after him towards his car.

Minho's birthday was to be special as he was turning twenty-two, the perfect excuse to go out and drown themselves in alcohol. Felix, Changbin and Jisung had even rode all the way from their campus to stay over for the long weekend, taking advantage of the public holiday to party the night away.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Minho asked as he slowed to a stop at a red light.

Micha turned to him, "yeah?"

He hesitated for a few seconds. Then, "do you like Chan?"

It was so sudden, like ice running down her back and making her go tense, fingers curling onto the material of her dark pants. Micha gazed out at the stop light until it went blurry, not knowing what to say to make it sound truthful.

"No--"

"I know he doesn't see you," Minho spoke up hurriedly, "but I see the way you look at him. I couldn't help but ask."

It wasn't like she had planned to let her secret out so soon. But he'd caught her red-handed. Her shoulders slumped, followed by the softest of sighs escaping her lips.

"You caught me," was the only thing she said.

Another pause that allowed the words to settle between them, before the light turned green and the car moved forward. A good distraction against the awkwardness sticking to Micha's heart like sweat.

"Do you..." Minho paused, "do you think you should tell him?"

"No."

"Don't you think he needs to know?" Minho turned his car down a street lined with pubs. They were slowly approaching their destination, “It’s not fair to him.”

She kept her gaze out of the window, partly too embarrassed to face him and partly to keep herself from crying, "what good would it do?"

She was glad that they had reached the parking lot of the restaurant bar at that point, for she had no intentions of continuing a conversation that led to nowhere and, ignoring Minho’s call for her name, quickly jumped out of the vehicle and strode right up to the doors of Seniora’s.

The restaurant was already full and she was glad that they had at least booked a private VIP spot in advance, thanks to Seungmin’s amazing organization skills. Micha weaved her way through in the dim spotlights shining atop dark mahogany tables that blended in with the darkness, trying to find their respective table among the throng of pretty, made-up girls in too-short dresses and guys who had no problem puffing out their cigarettes right into her face.

“Guys!” Felix’s voice boomed through the jazz notes floating through the air, and Micha turned towards his voice to see him waving frantically, a huge grin on his childish face, ‘over here!”

His excitement was contagious as it caused her own lips to stretch into a mirroring grin. She bounded into his arms without hesitation, “Felix! You made it! You said you had an assignment to finish.”

“You know how convincing Minho hyung gets once he sets his mind to it,” the freckled man gave her a once over before he whistled, “don’t you look--”

“--Fucking gorgeous, Micha,” the pair turned towards the voice, seeing Changbin with open arms while she squirmed at his compliment. He was being too kind, though her sleek black jumpsuit that clung to her curves was definitely a contrast to her usual sweater and jeans. Behind him stood Jisung and Seungmin, as well as a few other of their classmates, girls and boys included.

Her eyes suddenly locked onto a familiar pair of dark orbs. Chan.

“Hello! Hug, please?!” Changbin’s hand brought her attention back as he waved before her, scowling in mock annoyance. Micha grinned, wrapping her arms around his neck, “come here you big baby.”

“Careful Mi, he might have wandering hands now that he sees you’re more than just a replacement for Chan,” Seungmin commented while giving her shoulder a squeeze.

That earned the latter a glare from the said muscled man, “what? I’m just stating how beautiful she looks.”

Micha made her rounds of greeting -- did Minho’s friend group triple by tenfold since she was gone?-- and was exhausted by the time she finally stumbled before Chan.

“Hey, look at you,” Chan offered her a dimpled grin and she swore she wanted to coo at how cute he was. Stop that, Micha gave herself a mental slap as he continued, “all I’m gonna say is, stay away from Changbin tonight.”

“He’s not going to do anything,” she rolled her eyes, “I’ve known him long enough. I’m basically his brother.”

Her best friend said nothing, only gazed at her in that undecipherable way of his, like he was trying to solve a puzzle that couldn’t be solved.

“What?” she asked.

“Uh--nothing,” he dropped his gaze, looked away just in time for their attention to be diverted by Minho calling for a round of shots, “alright alright everyone! I’ll open up the party, shall we?”

Before she knew it, Micha had been tugged along by none other than Felix only to be dragged to the counter where a row of shots were being filled to the brim. She didn’t have to ask, knew instantly by smell that this was definitely not water. Her nose burned at the sting of vodka permeating her nostrils and she cursed under her breath as Minho handed her one with a teasing, yet sympathetic grin.

“I think you’ll need it tonight,” Micha couldn’t stop herself from scowling at the underlying meaning in his words. She swore at him, “dick.”

Micha hadn’t realized how monotonous, how boringly routine, her life had become ever since she flew back to her motherland. What with her mother’s situation in hospital and her running around trying to cover up all of her father’s blind spots, Micha had forgotten how it actually felt to be young, to be as carefree as she usually would be during university in-between her constant flow of assignments, how she used to get into this ‘fuck-it’ mood and hit up the arcade with the rest of the boys before winding up at one of the local bars, beers in their hands as they competed on who could chug down their drinks faster.

So she took advantage of Minho’s birthday to let herself relax and actually pay attention to what was happening to her, around her. Just in this moment. Nowhere else. And it felt good. It felt...alive. Free.

She danced along to the music, chatted with the other girls who she now realized were quite cool and sassy in their own flirtatious ways, drank shot after shot every time another one of her friends dragged her back to the bar without realizing that maybe she should’ve kept count.

Until it was all too late. The alcohol didn’t have any effect. Until it hit her like a tow truck.

And maybe this sudden rebellious streak had manifested itself the moment her eyes lingered over the familiar pair of figures on the dance floor, chest clenching and heart crumbling at the sweetest brush of Chan’s fingers against Ayeong’s forehead. Micha turned away just in time to halt the tears burning through the corners of her eyes and she impulsively made a grab for Changbin’s arm before pulling him along with her, “let’s get another drink.”

“Are you sure Mi? You kinda look tipsy already--”

“It’s on me. Now stop being a wuss and come on.”

Seniora’s was filled to the brim now that it was almost past midnight and the sea of bodies aided to calm the storm threatening to split her heart into. It made it easier to breathe, easier to push back the thought at the back of her mind as the alcohol paved its way through her blood and thrummed against her veins.

It felt good. Too good. And Micha wanted this numbness to last forever.

. ° ☆ ° .

Unfortunately, it didn't.

"It's alright, you're alright," Changbin's soothing alto comforted her as she kept on throwing up the contents of her dinner, continuously dragging her hair back to hold it up and out of the way.

"Oh god--" Micha's stomach lurched "I'm sorry--" she couldn't stop herself from vomiting once more and boy, was she glad that Changbin had dragged her out of Seniora's just in time.

"So?" Felix called from the corner of the small street in which they were hiding from curious eyes. No point in giving people something to talk about, "how is she?"

"Holding up," Micha called back despite the sour taste in her mouth. When it felt like she wasn't going to pass out anymore, she slowly dragged herself upwards, throwing Changbin's concerned expression a weak smile.

To which he replied, "you look like shit."

"Thanks Changbin. That's exactly what I need to hear," Micha rolled her eyes, feeling his strong arm wrap itself around her waist. She allowed herself to lean into him just this once, fearing that she might trip over her feet and fall flat on her face if she wasn't careful.

They stumbled over to Felix who, upon giving Micha a once-over, stated that she was to be sent home at once.

"I'm fineeee guyssss," Micha whined through slurred words, "pluss, I really wanna...dance y'know?"

She swayed a little for good measure, only to stumble and she would've landed flat on the sidewalk if not for Changbin's arm holding her upright.

"I'm bringing you home," Changbin's tone was firm.

"Nooo, I don't want to go home yet!"

"Micha, you and I both know that you're too drunk to make those decisions right now."

"But Changbinnieeee I just--I really want to--" and as soon as the picture of Chan's face flashed before her eyes, she felt her resolve crumbling into the form of tears, "I want to...forget about him--"

It hurt too much. She couldn't keep it together. It was like she was forcing herself to hold in the pain burning through her loins and no sooner had had she tilted up to meet Changbin’s eyes that she burst into wretched sobs.

She felt him still for a moment, arm hesitantly tugging her closer, hand wrapping around her head in comfort, “h-hey,” he peered into her face, slightly panicked at her outburst, “what--what’s the matter?”

“Mi?” Felix’s voice joined in. Warmth swept over her side, “Mi, what’s wrong? Do you not feel good? Do you want to go home?”

Micha nodded, and felt herself getting tugged to Changbin’s chest. That made her cry even harder, for while his scent was nothing short of comforting, it wasn’t the warmth she was looking for.

All she wanted was for Chan.

But he wasn’t hers. And he never will be.

“I got her,” she heard Changbin’s words over the raging storm tossing her heart aside. Warmth circled her shoulders -- his leather jacket, no doubt -- and she allowed his hands to steer her away from the loud bass beats of the restaurant bar and she had to give that to him. No matter how much of a bad boy he was, no one could possibly deny him of his heart of gold. That Micha was pretty sure of.

They were halfway up the street with Changbin flailing for a cab when a familiar car pulled up their street. Its window rolled down, causing Micha’s breath to halt in her throat.

“Need a ride?” Chan’s eyebrow was raised in amusement, only to drop in concern upon noticing her pale composure, “what the--Micha?!”

“No,” Micha quickly stuffed her face into Changbin’s shoulder, “Changbin, please...”

The latter, as confused as ever, nudged her towards the car, “come on Mi. Chan’ll take you home.”

“Nooooo.”

"Not the time, Micha. Seriously, get in the car.”

“I said noooo--”

Too late, for Changbin simply whipped her up in his hold, walked right around to the passenger door while ignoring her trying to sock him one, before plopping her into the seat. He slammed the door in her face and waved goodbye, “see you tomorrow, loser!”

Great. That was exactly what she needed. To be alone with Chan.

“Well someone drank a little too much tonight,” was the first thing he said the moment he pulled onto the street, a little smirk sent in her direction. Micha only sighed heavily, before leaning away to look out of the window pane.

This was painful, sitting here with Chan with all those unresolved feelings burning her loins while he sat, totally oblivious and charming and just so breathtaking that it physically hurt her fingers from stopping any attempts to hold his hand, just touch his skin, just-- feel him.

“Where’s...Ayeong?” she mumbled against the glass.

Just the name caused her chest to tighten.

“I dropped her off with the other girls. They’re having a sleepover or something.”

“She’s not spending the night with you?”

“No.”

“Ohh how dumb of her,” the words rolled off her tongue so easily now that there was alcohol swimming through her veins. It actually felt good to know that Ayeong was not to be with Chan that night, “it’s her-- it’s her lossss.”

“Oh you are so drunk.”

“I am...” she hiccuped and threw him a scowl, “not drunk!”

Chan chuckled, reaching over to ruffle her hair playfully and that simple act merely got her heart racing, “I’ll see if I have some extra aspirin to give you for your headache tomorrow--”

"Chan, can I--can I tell you something?”

He stopped at the red light and as his head turned, eyes finding hers in the darkness of the morning hours, a surge of courage suddenly overtook her.

She wanted to blame it on the alcohol even though deep down Micha was certain a small part of her had always wanted to let her best friend in on the most deepest, darkest secret she wished she could carry to her grave.

But this secret that had been eating her from the inside out, was something that was making her heart to burst at the seams. And while she never even imagined of hurting Chan that way, she knew that this was inevitable. It had to be done, for her to move on from it. Because she’d realized then and there, that it would be impossible for her to just bury those feelings away, no matter how hard she tried.

So that left her with no other choice.

“I think that,” her hand rose up as if on instinct to poke his cheek then, eyes drooping with sleep, “I think I....might be in love with you.”

-----

Tagging: @allyg-onz @elysianxshepherd @rindomo @freckledquokka @maedesculpaeusoubi @missskzbiased @seungoclock

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themonotonysyndrome · 5 years ago

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Chaos Horizon

Part 6 of the ‘Successors of the Future’ is out! Man, next week is already the new year... what a year this has been! Anyway, I don’t have a lot of things to say today so let’s get right to it! Oh, and have a happy holiday everyone!!

Let us never forget that this whole series begin because of the amazing @tri3tri and her equally amazing fics and galaxy brain. If you haven’t check out her blog yet, then please do! I’m such a sucker for family drama and yandere characters and her blog continues to feed me whenever work stresses me out.

A year has passed in Twisted Wonderland. More importantly, for the students in Night Raven College.

Renata has learned quite a few important things just this one, short year. Yes, she needed allies for the time when her father finally discover her presence here in Night Raven College, but she never expected to honestly care and dare she admits it, love Hoyle and Rex.

They were nothing like the friends she made in her old school back at the other world. She noticed their true personalities underneath the surface with each passing days. Underneath his sarcasm, gung-ho attitude and sly tongue, Hoyle Trappola is someone who cares deeply for those who managed to see through him; see past his defences. Renata felt blessed to be his close friend after a night the three of them shared in her bedroom, just playing games and watching movies on his laptop. In a rare window of honestly after Renata explains about her family life and circumstances, Hoyle repaid her honesty by admitting that he wish that he could be a better son to his Dad. Being a single father is tough and despite doing his best to shield him from the hardships and struggles, Hoyle overheard one night when his Dad is talking to his grandparents on the phone. How they urged him to consider marrying a woman so he could have someone to support him and Hoyle in the house.

This was when he was still a child.

Renata didn’t offer sweet, comforting words. She knows that all Hoyle wanted was to vent, so he let him talk while tucking her head on his shoulder and pressed close to his side. She listens because that was Hoyle needed.

Rex is the total opposite of Hoyle, yet just as bright and amazing in his own way. Underneath his serious demeanours, resting bitch face and volatile impulses, Rex Spade is actually an insightful and gentle-hearted boy who looks out for Renata and Hoyle even when it’s unwarranted. Though it’s quite easy for them to persuade him to join in their shenanigans with a few teasing words and in Hoyle’s case, a challenge.

Never had Renata enjoyed her school life with friends like these!

The other important thing - or realisation - that Renata discovered is that her Mama’s friends always kept her in their thoughts.

Though Hoyle’s Dad gobsmacked expression when he brought her to his home for Winter’s Break was, uh, an experience. To put it very mildly.

Renata originally planned to return home via the same spell that Headmaster Crowley used all those years ago to send Mama and her siblings back to her world during Winter’s Break. But while Hoyle, Rex and her were hanging out and playing cards in Heartslabyul’s main lounge, Hoyle brought up in mid conversation that his Dad offered their home to stay if she had no way to go during the holiday.

“You’ve been talking about me to your Dad?” Renata had asked, folding her cards on the table. It sucks to learned that she’s terrible at poker and she pouts whenever Hoyle snickered at another bad hand on her. “Or have you been complaining about me?”

Beside him, Rex stares down at the cards in his hands, hard. As if they hold the answers to the universe. Around them, the other Heartslabyul students gave their table a wide berth, though there were a few brave souls that greeted Renata when they came over to tease Hoyle.

Renata happily introduces herself to them as a show of appreciation.

“A bit of both. Mostly complaining when we had to clean the Hall of Mirrors.” Hoyle easily admits without a shame. He gathered all their cards into a deck and shuffled them. ��Anyway, you down? My Dad seems to know your Mum so he offered our place to stay if you don’t have any plans.”

Ace trappola, one of Mama’s best friend that she mentioned before. Renata would like to see just what kind of man he is.

With a nod, Renata reply, “If it’s no trouble then, yeah. I’d like to hang out at your place for Winter’s Break. I’ve never been to the Rose Kingdom before.”

And we’re now back to the present - where Renata and Ace are hanging out at his home; both waiting for Rex to show up with his Dad.

It’s the last day before they had to returned to Night Raven College.

“Have you met Rex’s Dad before, Hoyle?.” Renata asked, her eyes glued to the TV as she munches her bowl of cereals. They could hear his Dad walking about upstairs.

“Have I met him before? Dude, he’s my godfather.” Hoyle scoffed, scarfing down the last bits of his own cereal before placing the empty bowl on the coffee table in front of them. A simple breakfast while watching the morning cartoons are the best. “Rex got his stick-up-the-ass attitude from his Dad.”

“Ah. So he’s super strict?” Renata guessed.

“More like serious, but he’s actually silly.” Hoyle amended. “He and my old man love to argue literally about anything and everything. They’re weird like that.”

Renata just hums. She’ll get to meet him soon enough. Upstairs, his dad hollered at him to clean up so they could go out as soon as the Spade arrives. While the Trappola are getting ready, Renata gathered the dirty dishes from their breakfast and went to the kitchen to wash them.

Mama always told her to be on her best behaviour if she’s under someone else’s house.

Just as she puts the last bowl away, she heard heavy footsteps - heavier than Hoyle’s - coming from behind.

“You really didn’t have to clean the dishes, you know. Usually Hoyle does it before we go out every Sunday.” Said Ace, leaning against the wall.

“It’s not trouble at all, Mr. Trappola.” Renata assured him. She dry her arms by blowing hot air onto them before turning around to face her Mama’s best friend. “It’s nice that you finally look at me, instead of my horns.”

“A-Ah, you noticed that?” Ace stammers, abashed that he wasn’t as subtle as he thought.

“It’s cool, Mr. Trappola. I get that a lot at school too.” Renata admits easily. She’s gotten annoyed at him tip-toeing around ever since Hoyle introduces her. It was obvious that he has questions; it just that he doesn’t know how to ask them.

Scrambling to salvage the situations, Ace took a moment to exhale harshly before he decides to be his honest self. “It was rude of me, yeah? We all didn’t know what to think when your mother just... disappeared one day and then suddenly, my kid brought back her own kid who just so happen to look like the King of the Valley of Thorns...” He trailed off and then he regards Renata with a severe expression. “What happened your mother, Renata-chan?”

“It’s a long story, Mr. Trappola.” Renata said instead, smiling ruefully. “And I don’t want to ruin our day. Can I tell you and everyone what happened to Mama and us later tonight?”

“Sure, kiddo... Is it alright for me to called you that?”

“Mm-hmm! So what are we doing today, Me. Trappola?”

It was nice to see the ice chip away from Ace little by little, now that the man sees past her appearance. While waiting for the Spade to arrive, Renata had a lot of fun chatting and laughing with Hoyle and his Dad, now that there’s no awkwardness lingering between them. Ace didn’t waste any time telling the teenagers all the trouble her Mama and him got into at Night Raven College and hearing the life that Mama had before Father kidnapped her was a blessing to hear.

Judging from Ace’s story, it sounded like her Mama had a lot of people who truly loves her. It’s good to hear it.

The buzzing of the doorbell interrupted Ace mid ranting how it was Deuce who often got them all in trouble - not him! - and MC never seem to realised that and no one back him up. His reminiscent were put on hold when Hoyle went up to usher the Spades in.

Deuce Spade immediately blanked out, mouth slack-jawed the moment Renata waves hello to him. He looks as if he just saw a ghost.

“Yeah, I know how it looks like.” Ace interjects when Deuce couldn’t stop spluttering and stammering, his eyes kept switching to Ace and then at Renata...and then back to his best friend. Ace just clap his shoulders in a comforting manner. Meanwhile, Rex ducked underneath the two men to scurried over where Hoyle and Ace are seated. He squeezes himself in between them to show them the new café that just open up in the Rose Kingdom through his phone.

Once Ace managed to stressed out to Deuce that Renata will explain hers and MC’s story later in the evening, they all head out to town.

“You said that you’ve never been to the Rose Kingdom before, Renata?” Rex asked out loud for the others’ benefit. The town nearby to the Trappola house is bustling with life today. “Then there’s so many things you gotta check out! Do you like desserts? What kind of desserts do you like? Have you ever tried ice-cream cake before?”

“Easy there, Rex. You’re going to overwhelm the poor girl.” Deuce lightly scolded his son. His eyes linger a little too long at Renata before he caught himself and jerk away. “A-Anyway, how about we all walk around first and see what catches Renata-chan’s attention.”

“Sounds like a plan, Mr. Spade!” Renata internally wondered if all of Mama’s friends would react this way when she introduces herself to them.

That entire day, the Spade and Trappola played the perfect hosts to her. As they brought her to one shops after the other, chill out at the park after lunch and regale how the Queen of Hearts used to govern her kingdom, Renata found herself comparing the Country of Thorns to the Rose Kingdoms with every little things that she saw. Everything is so bright and... open here. The sun is shining down on them and everywhere they go, humans occupied the land but Renata did notice a few beastmen going about with their lives. It was nice to truly witness the world outside of Night Raven College and the Valley of Thorns.

Hoyle and Rex made sure they kept close to Renata, shielding her with their bodies when strangers stare at her a little too long for their liking and would usher her into a shop or café to distract her from their curious stares. They weren’t subtle about it, but she is touched that they care about her that much.

Renata is beginning to understand why Mama always talk so fondly about their Dads.

After dinner, everyone returned to the Trappola’s house so Renata could finally explain herself. The living room is packed full and it reminded Renata of her siblings and Mama crowding in front of the TV to watch a movie.

“Did Mama ever told you guys that while she was at Night Raven College, she met Father at night?”

“Father... so your... Dad... really is...” Ace began, but unsure how to even continue but Renata save him the trouble with a nod.

“Malleus Draconia. Mama said he’s a pretty big deal during his time at the school, being one of the top 5 strongest Magician in this world and all...”

Hoyle scoffed. “Understatement, Renata. He’s the strongest Magician in all of Twisted Wonderland now. The number 1.” He explains.

Well. Renata wonders how her little sister would react to this when she tells her later.

Renata then continue on with the story. “Mama explained that they were friends and that in the beginning, everything was fine. But in the end, their story completely went off the train tracks.”

And so, for the rest of the evening, Renata did her best to explain what had happened to Mama as honest as possible. They love Mama and so they deserve the truth.

She told them everything that Mama had told her and her siblings. Of Mama’s friendship with Malleus Draconia and how what looked like a happy ending turned horribly wrong when her Father was consumed with the horror that one day he would outlive his wife and one and only dear friend. His intense love, possessiveness and obsession with her and their children blinded him to everything else - to the point that he kept their Mama and them in a gilded cage.

Renata kept her dislike over Bellatrix to herself when she explains how they managed to escape from the castle on the eve of her Father’s second wedding. In the end, it was thanks to Headmaster Crowley that they could live freely in the other world.

Until the Ebony Carriage came to pick her up and now, here they are.

Renata watches her audience did their best absorb the information overload.

“I never thought...” Ace muttered, distressed. His bit his lower lip, thinking hard. “I never thought that Malleus Draconia had MC all along... what a fucked up situation!”

Deuce is troubled as well. “Poor Prefect... to think the Malleus Draconia fell in love with her... No wonder we couldn’t find her!”

Beside him, Rex nods furiously while Hoyle is already growing bored of this conversation. “It sucks, but it sounds like your Mum is pretty badass for a magicless human. I mean, being able to escape from the most powerful Magician ever in Twisted Wonderland? The King of all dark Fae? Kudos to her.” Hoyle interjects. “So, what’s gonna happen now? You said that your Dad is crazy possessive over you guys, so I very much doubt it if he’s not looking for you guys. Even until now.”

Finally! They’re getting to the good parts.

And so with a curious smile, Renata asks, “Funny that you mentioned that. Do you guy know what Sebek Zigvolt is up to these days?”

Night Raven College’s Entrance Ceremony is always a big event on this island every year.

He was one of the main characters last year - of the many that was addressed by the Mirror of Darkness - but as a Second Year student, he’s standing among the rest of the older Savanaclaw students now. Scenting the newly sorted First Year cubs and waiting for the whole thing to wrap up already.

At the centre of the chamber, the headmaster continues to called out names to step forward and face the Mirror of Darkness.

Amber Leech, Aeacus Shroud, Felix Felmier... the ceremony goes on.

“Psst! Bakari!” A voice suddenly whisper.

Bakari turn his head to the side and there’s Renata with her ceremony robes’ hood up, beaming at him. She’s standing away from her Diasomnia mates, a good space between her and the crowd at the back that no one seems to pay her any attention.

Bakari slips away from the rest of the Savanaclaw students in favour of walking towards her.

“How’s the fresh meats?” Was the first thing that Renata asked him.

“Some of them look promising.” Bakari admits. “More predators than preys so far.”

“Oooh, Savanaclaw’s hierarchy is so harsh.” Renata reply a bit absentmindedly. Bakari notices that her green eyes are scanning the room and the crowds around them. Looking for someone. Something unpleasant churns in his stomach but he resolutely ignores it. “Are you gunning for the Dorm Leader’s position?” She wondered.

Bakari scoffed, his tail flicking irritably just at the mere thought. Unlike his Dad, he has no lofty ambitions to secure a powerful position for himself. “Savanaclaw is governed by the laws of the strong eating the weak. You have to be the strongest in order to be the Dorm Leader and I have better things to do than watching over my dorm members.”

Like figuring out how to appease his Dad after he told him to stay away from the lizard bastard’s whelp during Winter’s Break. Regardless of her surname.

As if he’s going to do that though. He wants to fully unravel the mysteries of Renata MC/S. For the time being, she’s the most interesting creature in Night Raven College.

“Sounds tough.” Renata murmurs. “Well, it’s a good thing that you don’t want to be a Dorm Leader! Otherwise your workload would take you away from me.”

Bakari just hums. Already gotten used to her offhanded flirting.

The two of them watch in the background as the group of First Year students gradually thinned out. The headmaster’s loud voice carried to the back of the chamber.

“... Sherrie MC/S, please step forward!”

Murmurs erupted when said student pulled down her hood, a pair of black horns is clear for all to see.

Bakari glance to his side to see Renata beaming. “You were looking for your sister?”

“Something like that! It’s so nice when everything is coming together, don’t you think?” Renata chuckles, pleased with herself for some odd reason. It just made Bakari more and more intrigue.

And the uncomfortable feeling within him vanish just like that.

“...Octavinelle!”

The murmurs now turn into confused whispers and fingers are pointing as they all watch Renata’s little sister melded into the crowd of new Octavinelle students. Some of the students nearby even glance behind to stare at Renata and when she cocked an eyebrow at them, they quickly turn away.

“Octavinelle? Did the Mirror made a mistake?”

“I thought only merfolks are sorted into Octavinelle.”

“Those horns looks just like her’s. There’s no way she’s a merfolk!”

“Maybe her magic is not as strong to be sorted to Diasomnia?”

The students of Night Raven College sure love to gossip, Renata couldn’t help but internally mused. Even worse than those back in her old school.

“Guess you’re planning to catch up with her after the ceremony?” Bakari assumed, casting a sideway glance to gauge her expressions.

“I’ll meet up with her tomorrow, after she settles in for the night.” Renata answered. “There’s no need to rush. We have lots of time to prepare for the future.”

Ok! I think I did ok with this oneshot. Editing, was as usual, a bit tedious but the power of Miku’s songs prevail and I manage to push this through! Hope you guys have a wonderful holiday.

#fanfic #twisted wonderland #ace trappola #deuce spade #Draconia Family series #Second Wive AU #tri3tri

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collecting-stories · 5 years ago

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Home - c. 14 - Georgia

Summary: With your dad home the house feels a little too suffocating.

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out.

Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

You were home. You had driven home from Tara’s on Sunday, early so that you could go to pick up your dad. He was silent the whole way home and said little more when he got in the house, shutting himself in the garage. He didn’t come in again until your mom got home, annoyed from work and from your dad’s presence in the house. It took less time for them to get into it with each other than it did for dinner to be finished and you knew, as you snuck out your window, that your dad would be back on the bottle before the night was over.

Leaving the jeep in the driveway, you headed down the street and cut through the catwalks, only half considering where you were walking. You hadn’t been home a day and already you felt like you were losing your mind. Maybe it was stress, all the minute components of life piling up on you, making you feel like you were seconds from probably losing your mind and the one thing that had been keeping you sane through all the other crap was suddenly gone, vacant from your life.

You stopped at the familiar house, almost knocking on the side door but you noticed a light on in the camper and you went to it. The light flickered for a second as footsteps sounded, just a few to get to the door and it was opening, the spring creaking as you stood there off the step, Daryl standing in front of you.

“Ya don’t give up, do ya?”

“Sorry, it’s just...a shitty night at my house. I just wanted to go somewhere I’d feel better, figured here was the best place.” You replied.

Daryl stepped back, holding the door wide open for you to step up into the camper. It was small inside but cozier than you expected. You stood there for a moment, a little awkward, feeling like it was the first time you were around him again. And maybe that was because of what you’d said. You couldn’t erase telling him that you liked him, and you certainly couldn’t make him forget either.

“Ya alright?” Daryl asked, handing you a bottle of water and sitting back down at the table. You sat on the bench across from him.

“I picked my dad up this morning.” You replied, “he’s been in rehab.”

“So ya came here?”

“I didn’t want my mom to see I was gone so I walked.” You said, unscrewing the water bottle and taking a sip, it occurred to you only once the water hit your throat how thirsty you were. “I can’t go to Tara’s, she’s in Woodbury, and I can’t go to Maggie’s cause I’d have to tell her.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard for her, the Reverend was a heavy hitter back in the day.” Daryl replied, continuing to eat his dinner, seemingly unfazed. He’d never show you if he was though.

“What?”

“Ya ain’t heard about it?”

You shook your head, Maggie had never said anything to you about her father having a drinking problem.

“He quit the bottle when Maggie’s mom got sick. I remember, musta been nine years old at the time, my mama dragged me to church and he gave this long sermon about sinning and asking for god’s forgiveness. Load a bullshit if I ever heard it, but he changed himself around.” Daryl replied.

“How’d you know the sermon was about him?” You asked, your mind swimming with information. You’d known Hershel all your life, at times when you were feeling lost he always felt like a second father to you.

“Used to drink down at The Wharf with my dad. Told him I was gonna tell somebody about him once when I was real angry and he just said ‘you go tell Reverend Greene or the sheriff, I see ‘em every night’. My dad ain’t big on socialising and he only goes one place.” Daryl said, “it was a poorly kept secret but then he sobered up and everybody swept it under the rug for him.”

“I had no idea.”

“Didn’t mean ta ruin the Reverend for ya…just meant, he’ll be understanding, if nothing else.”

“My mom would lose it if I told anyone that my dad’s an alcoholic. I mean, it’s just you and Tara that know, everyone else just thinks he works a lot or if they don’t think that they just don’t ask.” You admitted. You could practically imagine the hellfire your mom would bring down on you if you told everybody that your dad was a drunk.

“What about yer mom?” Daryl asked, getting up from the table and going to wash his dishes.

You watched him for a moment, thinking this was what you had been missing for those few weeks apart. This was the thing you craved the most from him. To just be able to sit and chat with him, listen to him talk, edging away at his reservations until he was talking to you about anything. You wanted to tell him you missed him, you missed this. That you loved him and that probably you always would but you kept your mouth shut, knowing that you had to take what you could get if you wanted anything at all with him.

“What’d you mean?” You asked.

“Til she died, my mom always stuck it out. Knew no one else was gonna deal with her. She was angry and she could mean when she wanted and she damn near hated my brother, ruined her life the way she saw it. So she knew nobody was gonna want that…she stuck it out til she died.” Daryl replied, “if your dad’s the problem, why doesn’t yer mom leave him?”

“I think it’s the other way around.” You admitted, “my dad drinks so he doesn’t have to be there with her but he doesn’t have to leave either.” Sometimes you thought he might be trying for a slow death, trying to drink himself out of the life he’d been saddled with.

“Yer mom that bad?”

“She can be.” You replied, “what about your dad, I don’t really see him that much, only the one time he thought I was a prostitute.”

Daryl scoffed, that nearly invisible smile appearing, “we don’t bother each other too much anymore. I pay most a the bills and he leaves me alone.”

“You should be the one in the house then,” you teased, smiling when he scrunched his nose and shook his head.

“Nah, I’d have ta redo that whole thing top ta bottom ta wanna spend any time living it in.” Daryl replied, “ain’t the best memories.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be, ya didn’t know.” He came back over to the table, sitting down opposite from you and leaning back against the vinyl seating. “Ya want me ta drive ya somewhere?”

“Can’t stay here?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Ain’t that I don’t want ya too…” he trailed off, “I don’t want ya doing something yer bound ta regret cause ya think ya feel a certain way.”

“Why do you think I don’t?” You closed your eyes for a moment to calm yourself down before looking at Daryl, this was not going to be like the last two conversations. “I came here because we’re friends and I needed a friend. If you just want to be friends then, I can respect that. But please, I don’t want to totally lose you because of something I said.”

Daryl nodded his head like maybe he was considering what you had said after all. “Fine, I ain’t gonna entertain ya though, I got things ta do.”

“Like what?” You asked, glancing around the camper. It was clean and the space was small, hardly looked like he could do much.

“I was headed down to the laundromat ‘fore ya came here. I got a bag a clothes ta wash in my truck.”

“Good, I’ll come with you.” You replied, standing up, all ready to go.

“I didn’t miss ya pestering me ya know, least I got a break from it.” He joked and you smiled, if he was joking about it then it didn’t bother him as much as he said it did. It wasn’t a far reach for you then, to assume that maybe he did really like you and he was only saying different because he was afraid of being with you.

“Yeah but I bet I’m way prettier than Rick,” you teased, following him out the door of the camper.

“Don’t know, he’s got his moments.”

“I’ve never been in the laundromat before,” you commented, holding the door for Daryl as he carried a hamper bag of clothing in. The laundromat was small, a little store front nestled in beside a law office and a psychic. You had suggested getting a reading, despite the late hour, and Daryl had scoffed at you. “Like, I always drive by but I’ve never been in.”

There were three vending machines besides the one that dispensed detergent. Coffee, snacks, and soda. You tried the coffee while Daryl threw his clothes in the wash. “It ain’t much.” Daryl replied.

“That’s what you always say.” You joked, setting your coffee down on the counter and sitting up on it beside the pile of dark clothes that Daryl was sorting through to throw in the wash.

Being here with Daryl was nice. It felt a lot like before you told him that you had feelings for him though you couldn’t deny the elephant in the room, knowing that Daryl knew you liked him, that you were in love with him, and that you knew he didn’t want to feel the same way.

“Will you still teach me car stuff?” You asked, handing Daryl your coffee to taste.

He took a sip, “ya always put that much cream in yer coffee?”

“To be fair, it’s powdered.” You replied. “I filled my own washer fluid the other day.”

“And yer car didn’t blow up?” He teased.

“No.” You huffed, kicking him with your foot. “So, will you?”

“Yeah.” He replied. He wouldn’t ever admit it but seeing you at his door had felt like a weight lifting off of his chest. Not seeing you or knowing that you were okay had driven him a little crazy. Daryl had considered going to see you at the diner and talking to you but he chickened out every time, convincing himself that you were better off distancing yourself from him. But maybe he had been wrong. Or maybe he just wasn’t better off being away from you.

taglist: @gigilame @enrapturedbythemoon @thanossexual @yespleasejayhalstead @cbarter @onemorebeautifulnightmare @mainokutan @twdeadfanfic @legit-emily @hopesxxhigh @coffeebooksandfandom @jodiereedus22 @tehfabbooty @thecaptainsgingersnap @of-storms-and-sadness @twdeadfanfic @mainokutan @sabertooth-potato @solllaris @bucky-barnes-babies @ly--canthrope @daryldixonandfrogs @jaycc7983 @easnuppa @imaginecrushes @tonystarkismyboy @watchmeaspire @harpersmariano @guccicloudz @sapphire-angel @buzzybhee @alexbealee @elodieyung @its-evita-here

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angrylizardjacket · 4 years ago

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dirtbags // 3: Charlotte

Summary: High school AU, 1985, Winter. The year’s off to a strange start as Charlotte and her friends find out that not only does Lola work at the new diner that opened up in town, but her dad owns it! Charlotte humbles Nikki in a very un-Charlotte manor, and Vince’s parents decide to host an English exchange student in an attempt to give him a good role model; instead, they get Razzle.

A/N: 8466 words. Do I care too much about this AU? Yes. as always, for my dears @misscharlottelee and @newyeareva ft. a softer world quotes

the city sometimes feels like a movie set. maybe this is the big scene. maybe i can be an extra at least.

Charlotte’s only a few practice hours away from being able to get her provisional license, and she berates her past self for not getting it sooner, especially not when her Winter Break has been kind of a shit-show and she’d rather tear off her own arms than ride in Tommy’s shitbox of a car with Vince Neil.

Since his blowout house party, Vince had essentially been grounded for the rest of the school year, had his car privileges revoked, and the only people his parents apparently trusted him to hang around with outside of school, were Tommy, Charlotte, Eileen, and Peach. Tommy was delighted. The girls, unsurprisingly, were not. Vince himself was downright somber, and had sulked for the remainder of the semester, and well into the break.

He had been in a particularly sour mood since last night, New Year’s Eve, when his parents had announced they were going to be hosting an exchange student from England for six months. Vince is convinced it’s an attempt to give him some sort of role model his own age, and spent most of his parents’ New Year’s Eve party ranting to Tommy and the girls while they played cards in his basement.

Her saving grace is Eileen, of course, who’s father had bought her mother a shiny, new car for Christmas, and had given Eileen the keys to her mother’s old station wagon.

“It’s kinda dumb that we’re taking two cars,” Peach, Eileen’s little sister, pipes up from the back seat, hands fiddling in her lap. It’s New Year’s Day, and while their various parents were sleeping off their hangovers, they’d suggested the kids check out the new diner that was opening today. Vince jumped at the suggestion of freedom, and everyone was in agreement, but Eileen and Charlotte took Peach in Eileen’s car the moment Vince slid into Tommy’s front seat, holding the flyer he’d gotten at the mall that told them all about the diner’s opening day, “just saying, we could all fit in one.” But she’s met with silence, “are you going to be mad at him forever?” She finally sighs.

“Yes.” Both Charlotte and Eileen answer automatically. Peach sighs as dramatically as she’s able, and sinks as low into the seat as she can. Charlotte turns on the radio, and hums along to something familiar, but that she doesn’t quite recognize, staring out the front window at the back of Tommy’s car. Vince turns around in the front seat and flips them off.

“I’m gonna ram them,” Eileen says, with absolute sincerity and serenity, leveling an intense glare at where Vince was now waving.

“Don’t,” Charlotte advises, equally level.

“I don’t get why you’re still mad, I’m not even mad,” Peach huffed, pouting. Charlotte and Eileen share a look; at sixteen years old, Peach was top of almost all of her math and science classes, but she was still a teenage girl, and an absolute fool for a blonde boy who made her cry. Charlotte knew that feeling all too well, but thankfully she’d moved on from the ‘wondering why she wasn’t enough’ stage to the ‘realizing her ex is a cheating douchebag and it was never her fault’ stage. She really hopes Peach can move on to ‘realizing Vince made her cry and hasn’t even tried to change since then and deserved to get his car keyed’ stage quickly.

The diner was bustling when they arrived, a large decal on the inside of window, black, thick and flowing lettering, outlined in gold, reading Leo’s. Through the window, several booths were already filled, as were a host of the stools along the counter. It looked warm inside, inviting in golds, yellows, peaches and oranges, neon signs and rusted street signs, band and comic book memorabilia, and photos. Behind the counter -

Lola. Smiling.

“I’m freezing my butt off, can we go in?” Peach asks, hands shoved deep in the pockets of her parker, the only person who did not recognize the girl currently pouring coffee for an elderly gentleman at the counter.

Inside, the diner is warm, filled with the sounds pleasant chatter, and of the Beatles coming from a cherry wood jukebox in the corner.

“Lola!” Tommy can’t help himself, lighting up at the sight of her, and once Lola finishes pouring her customer coffee, she looks to their confused little group, and waves.

“Find yourselves a seat, I’ll be with you in a moment,” she calls back, smiling bright and wide, hair tied back with a bright, red bandana.

The teens do as they’re told, pulling off jackets and gloves and scarves, sliding into a booth by the window, looking around, wrapped up in the smell of warm food, and the confusion of Lola’s presence, and completely unfamiliar demeanor. There’s an uncertain kind of quiet among them, having just expected to spend lunch at a cool new diner, but this has shift everything, only Peach, blissfully unaware of who Lola even was, seemed at ease, rearranging the sugar packets in their little holder.

Lola comes by with menus, and cups, and a pitcher of water for the table, looking pristine and put together in a tight, black blouse, skirt, and scuffed black combat boots, little peach-coloured apron tied around her waist. She pulls a notebook and pen from the pocket of the apron, looking around at them all, as if finally taking a moment to assess the situation.

Charlotte picked up a menu.

“You work here?” Tommy asked, and Lola confirms brightly, but doesn’t give any further details. She does, however, thank them all for coming, and recommend a few of her favourites.

“I’m also partial to The Lola, for obvious reasons,” she gives an actual laugh at that, as if implying one of the burgers was named after her was giving away too much information, and Charlotte was quickly scouring the menu.

Beef patty, double bacon, American cheese, lettuce, tomato, and a home-made smokey maple-barbeque sauce, on a toasted bun.

“The menu’s kind of misleading,” Lola admits, moving to look down over Charlotte’s shoulder as she was reading, “all the patties are home made too, with Leo’s signature blend of herbs and spices.” That asked more questions than it answered. No-one’s quite sure what to say.

“Can I get a milkshake?” Peach pipes up, and Lola’s smile grew wide as she asked what flavour, “chocolate, please, and do you have curly fries or regular?”

“Hand cut,” Lola tells her proudly, but that means very little to Peach, who’s just glad to be having food, “still need time to think?” Lola asks the rest, and they all give her awkward, quiet smiles and nods.

Lola leaves, heading back to the counter, and the moment she’s gone, the whole table explodes with whispered confusion, leaning in, asking questions and not getting any answers.

“You guys are being super fucking weird,” Peach hisses loudly at them all, while Charlotte and Tommy argue about how the other should have known. Eileen, quietly delighted by the chaos, demands to know if anyone else thinks Lola might secretly have a twin, and Vince, who’s had the least contact with her aside from Peach, is babbling about how it’s weird to see Lola so chipper; their mutual confusion is enough to set aside Eileen and Charlotte’s hatred of him, at least for the moment.

When Peach demands they explain what they’re all whisper-shouting about, disturbing the booth behind her, they all quiet down, and Tommy and Eileen take it in turns explaining their full understanding of Lola. Charlotte takes the time to actually look around the diner now that she was inside.

There’s two other waitress, one behind the counter, the other always moving on about the various tables and booths on one side, making sure the customers are happy and food and drinks are delivered, both in the same outfit as Lola, though with varying footwear.

The view to the kitchen is unobstructed behind the counter, a half wall where meals ready to be delivered were sat, but a clear view to where three people in the kitchen, two by the grills and fryers, turned away; a broad-shouldered man towering over the grill with the longest hair Charlotte’s ever seen braided neatly down his back, and a comparatively shorter man, also with far shorter hair, though enough to be pulled up into a messy pony tail. The shorter man’s working the fryer, and putting together burgers as the taller man cooked up their various ingredients. There was also a strangely familiar kid with a mop of dark, curly hair washing dishes on the other side of the kitchen, barely visible.

Lola worked diligently, smiling and chatting away; she collected dishes, and ferried meals, and handed out slices of desert from the cute, multi-tiered desserts display on the counter. When she came back, milkshake in one hand, basket of fries in the other, Peach is fully caught up on each of her friend’s short but confusing histories with her, and blurts out -

“You’re Lola?” Injecting new meaning into the words, into the name, as if anyone else at their entire school had the same name. Lola’s smile goes a little tight as she places the fries and the milkshake before the redhead. Standing back up, she taps her nametag, which reads Lola, with little flowers drawn around it, and confirms, though it’s clear she’s more on edge than she was before.

“You guys ready to order?” She asks, still trying to keep up her chipper attitude, pulling out her notebook again. Everyone’s quieter this time, looking over the menu and finally deciding on food.

“My mom heard the owner was a chef, is that true?” Tommy asks, looking up from the menu to Lola again, and the tense set of her shoulders loosens considerably at the question.

“Leo is a chef,” Lola nodded, grinning broadly, “trained at the Culinary Institute of America back in the sixties, and worked his way up to being the head chef of Parker House in Boston, which I know probably doesn’t mean much to you guys, but it’s,” Lola laughs a little struggling to describe it, “it’s fine dining at it’s finest, but for the past twelve years, he’s been running Leo’s in Salem, and now he’s here, still using all that fine dining training for the anyone who wants a good meal at a good price.”

“Is that something they have you memorize in training?” Vince says, a little awed, and Lola gives a strange little smile.

“Leo’s my dad.”

Everything kind of fell into place after that, finally making sense, and the gang’s confusion quickly shifted to understanding, and the air around the table seemed to clear. It was easier after that, the teens in the booth ordering quickly, and the chatter picked up to a normal level as she moved away, shouting their order back to the kitchen once she was back at the counter.

She doesn’t spend much time at their table, still in charge of waitressing half of the tables and booths, but she always gives them a nod as she passes, and their meals are being delivered efficiently, so there’s no reason to complain.

The food itself, for diner food, is nothing short of spectacular, which kind of just raises more questions - why if Leo can cook food that tastes this good, and with all the experience he evidentially has, would he open a diner in suburban LA, and not a high-end restaurant? But it feels kind of intrusive to ask, so Charlotte simply enjoys her food, and her friends’ company.

Up until Vince starts complaining about the exchange student again.

“His name’s Nicholas, he shows up in a week, and mom’s making me clear out the basement so he can sleep there,” he’s despondently poking his milkshake with one of his fries, head propped up on one hand, “I’ve been asking for years if I could move into the basement, and this fucking Nicholas just gets it?” His whole expression scrunches up at the thought, and he angrily eats his fry.

“Wait, so the issue isn’t that you have to clean up the basement, it’s that he gets to use it as a bedroom and you don’t?” Charlotte frowned, lowering her own burger, “why would you even want to sleep in the basement?”

“Privacy!” Vince throws his hands in the air, eyes wide, “Tammi keeps complaining about getting cramps in the back of my car, but my bedroom walls are paper thin,” he huffs, “I need my own space.”

“Tammi?” Peach asks, her voice high and almost painfully chipper, “Tammi Frisk? She scored the winning goal in the softball final, right?” She’s not looking at Vince, when Charlotte looks over to her, she’s looking at her plate of fries, pushing the few left around without eating any, smiling in a way that’s clearly forced.

“You were at the softball final?” Tommy asked, frowning slightly. Peach did not look up.

“For the school paper,” she explained, voice still strange.

“You’re still with Tammi Frisk?” Eileen asks, making sure the disgust is clear in her voice as she draws the table’s attention away from the clearly uncomfortable Peach. Charlotte’s lip curled; she wanted to make sure her expression was as judgmental as possible when Vince turned back to her.

It’s not that she cared about who he was dating, she was mostly apathetic to Tammi, and knew little more about her than the fact that she was on the softball team, but Charlotte knew Vince had been dating Tammi when he’d decided to crush Peach’s heart publicly at the start of the last semester.

Neither Peach nor Eileen had told any of them exactly how, but apparently Eileen’s hatred was well warranted, both against Vince, and according to Eileen, Tammi too.

Vince, immediately sensing Eileen’s shift in tone, and seeing the look on her face, frowns.

“Kind of,” he responds flatly, and his gaze flicks to Peach, “not really,” he backtracks, and his indignation at the whole situation seems to fizzle out with a sigh, and he slouches, going back to paying attention to his burger, “she’s sort of hanging out with one of the second-string football guys, but they’re not... and we’re not really...” he trails off, despondent once more.

At least Vince seemed to be self-aware of the fact that he was an asshole to Peach, at least he had the decency to feel bad about it. Why he kept inviting Peach to hang out, despite the fact that he knew Eileen, who hated his guts, would come along too - invited or not - baffled Charlotte.

Tommy was his friend, and a guy, Charlotte was a cheerleader and technically popular, and so was usually begrudgingly invited too, but Peach, sweet Peach, recent Science Fair Winner, junior reporter for the school paper, treasurer for the AV Club, by all accounts ‘a nerd’ when judged by her interests, was still on the guest list of Vince Neil’s life, even if he wouldn’t admit that out loud.

It kind of made Charlotte want to punch him in the face.

But that’s not news.

“I hope the English exchange student is a decent influence on you,” Charlotte tells him. Vince scowls.

“You sound like my parents.”

you make me want to pretend to be a better man.

Now that school has started back up, Vince has thankfully had his car privileges returned, and Charlotte can return to not glowering in the back seat of Tommy’s car when he picks her up on the way to school, and drops her home on the days they both have practice.

But it’s Wednesday, first week back, and he’s uncharacteristically quiet. Usually he’s babbling about practice, or cheerleaders he thinks are pretty, or Lola, but today, he meets Charlotte in the carpark, leaning against the trunk of his car, hands in his pockets, quiet. It’s decidedly unnerving.

“What’s wrong, Tom?” Charlotte asks, yanking the passenger door open once he unlocks it, sliding into the seat and putting her bag by her feet.

“Nothing,” Tommy voice betrays the lie, the thoughts so clearly on his mind that he was trying to avoid talking about. Charlotte won’t push him, if he wanted to tell her, he would, and he usually does, “put on some music, will you?” And Charlotte obligingly opens the glove compartment in front of her to look through the collection of 8track tapes he keeps in there, several of which had been Christmas gifts from Charlotte herself.

Feet on the dashboard, Charlotte’s more than content listening to Bon Jovi, bopping her head to the beat, when Tommy finally finds the words for his thoughts.

“Lola and Nikki Sixx are friends.”

Up until now, Charlotte was under the impression that Tommy, like her, thought Nikki and Lola would be great as friends, Tommy’s current tone implies otherwise.

“Is that not good?” Charlotte’s careful about her words, still not sure where Tommy’s hesitation was coming from.

“No, they make sense,” he’s quick to try and backtrack, words spilling from him almost too fast, “they make sense as friends.” He deliberates, before asking, “Charlie, you’re not friends with Nikki Sixx are you?” And it sounds like he already knows the answer. Charlotte hesitates.

“He keeps bothering me during my free periods, I wouldn’t exactly call us friends -”

“He called you Charlie,” its deadpan and accusatory in equal measure, and Charlotte shrinks back into her seat as Tommy keeps talking, “he called me ‘Charlie’s cousin’. It was weird.”

“I thought you wanted to be his friend -” she tries, right as they pull up to a red light, and Tommy fixes her with an unamused look, the only expression that makes him seem older than his years.

“Did you tell him I was obsessed with him?”

“No!” Charlotte snaps, automatically defensive.

“Because I’m not -”

“I never said - I told him you were a fan! That’s all! Like Duff was!” Charlotte tries to clear up, and Tommy looks back at the road, though this time he thankfully looks more pensive than angry. Only Bon Jovi cuts through the tense air between them for the rest of the drive back to Charlotte’s house, and when Tommy pulls up outside, he doesn’t say anything to her when she gets out.

The next day, like clockwork, fifteen minutes into her free period, Nikki Sixx comes climbing over the school’s fence, into the garden Charlotte had been trying to force herself to study in. In all honesty, she’d been waiting for him, picking at her nail polish beneath the table and reading the same sentence in Moby Dick over and over again.

“Miss Lee,” Nikki nods to her, a little gruffer than usual, “you seem more tense than usual; I can help you with that if you want,” but he still manages to smirk his way through an unsubtle come-on, and Charlotte rolls her eyes, not in the mood for their usual banter.

“I’d rather sit on a cactus,” she tells him icily, without even a teasing edge. Nikki’s eyebrows shoot up at the hostility, and he puts the packet of cigarettes that he’d about to offer her on the table, knowing she’d turn them down anyway, “I thought people weren’t meant to know that we know each other.”

“What people do?” Nikki frowned, raising his lighter to the cigarette between his lips, “is this about yesterday? I talked to your cousin, big deal. Everyone knows you two are related, and everyone knows you,” he looks pointedly to the embroidered logo on her cheer uniform, “I wasn’t even looking for him -”

“Dude,” Charlotte felt as though she was about to tear her hair out, “you called me Charlie to him, people don’t just call me that!”

“Plenty of people call you that! That leggy redhead you’re always hanging around calls you Charlie -”

“My friends call me that -” Charlotte snaps, “and I know you know that’s Eileen Austen.” And Nikki’s wearing a dreamy look, like he’s thinking unholy thoughts about Eileen as Charlotte speaks, before snapping out of it as the first of her words register like a bucket of ice water to the face.

“I’ve called you Charlie before. To your face.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Charlotte tells him dryly, crossing her arms, “it’s less effort if I don’t correct you. We’re so not friends that I don’t even care about correcting you.” Back when this school year started, Charlotte wouldn’t have dreamed saying half the nasty shit she’s thrown at Nikki Sixx, and at some point she may have to confront the idea that being around him has made her meaner, “but did you tell my cousin that I told you he was obsessed with you? Because I never -”

“I said I was glad he was a fan!” Nikki scowled, sitting back and glowering at her across the table, “all I wanted was to ask Lola if she wanted to sit on the roof with the rest of the smokers, and your fuckin’ yappy, dumbass of a cousin -”

Punching someone in the face hurts a lot more than Charlotte had been anticipating, but it’s worth it to see Nikki toppling backwards off of the picnic bench and onto the cold grass. His cigarette lies some few feet away while he lays groaning, clutching his cheek, and Charlotte’s standing, leaning, thighs pressed against the picnic table for support as she’s staring down at him, breathing heavy through her nose while the adrenaline rushes through her system.

“What the fuck, Charlie?”

“Don’t talk shit about Tommy,” her heart’s thundering in her chest, she can feel the blood rushing in her ears, and when she looks at her hand, she sees the skin of one of her knuckles has split enough to draw blood, “he has done fucking nothing to you apart from support you, and think you’re really fucking cool, for whatever dumbass reason, so don’t you dare talk shit about him.”

“Jesus Christ,” Nikki groaned, eyes closed, trying to catch his breath after being winded so thoroughly, hand still cradling his cheek. That’s how Charlotte leaves him, slinging her bag onto her shoulder, and stalking towards the library to finish the rest of her free period in peace.

When Tommy drives Charlotte, Eileen, and Peach home after school that day, he’s quiet once again, but it somehow feels completely different to the oppressively accusatory air of the day before. The three girls were chattering away, trying to plan a trip to the mall for the upcoming weekend, and only when Peach and Eileen were waving goodbye in the rearview mirror did Tommy speak up.

“Did you punch Nikki Sixx in the face?” There’s a smile in her cousin’s voice, and Charlotte’s not quite sure how to react.

“I had good reason to,” she says, carefully guarded.

“He said you guys were friends, and then he thanked me for being coming to the gig a while back; told me he’d asked you to bring me specifically,” Tommy’s tone was oozing pride, and if Charlotte had been looking at him, and not frowning out the window, she would have seen how he was all but preening.

“He told you all that?” Charlotte’s anger at her memory’s of the morning’s altercation was fading fast.

“He hung out with me and Lola by the carpark for lunch,” Tommy paused, snorting a laugh, “didn’t want his buddies to find out a cheerleader gave him a black eye.”

“I - what? No I didn’t...” Charlotte’s eyes went wide, and finally she looked at her cousin’s beaming face.

“You definitely did; Lola laughed at him for a full ten minutes because of it.”

“Serves him right,” Charlotte said, with a begrudging little smile.

Nikki sits with Tommy and Lola on Friday too, which Tommy is delighted to inform Charlotte on Saturday while he’s driving them both to Vince’s, where his parents have invited them over to meet the exchange student. Nicholas.

He arrived on Wednesday, but Vince’s parents have given him the rest of the week to settle in, and had invited around the few friends Vince has that they deem to be a positive influence, if only so he knew a few faces around school.

Charlotte had been picturing some over-gelled boarding-school boy, used to itchy uniforms and strict rules, and about to get a good deal of culture shock hanging around Vince and the rest of their motley little pack, but when Charlotte brings this speculation up in the car, Tommy’s quick to dismiss it. Vince, from the little Tommy had spoken to him in the past two days, was over the moon, claimed that Nicholas - Vince had called him Razzle - was amazing. If Charlotte felt an quiet sense of foreboding at that sentiment, she felt it was justified.

The first thing either of them hear after being directed down to the basement by Vince’s mother, is Alice Cooper playing almost obnoxiously loud; Charlotte’s not sure why, but it eases something in her chest.

Nicholas’s - Razzle’s? - room, first and foremost, is possibly the coolest bedroom Charlotte’s ever been in. He’s decked it out with movie and band posters, though most of the band’s she’s never heard of. There’s string-lights above a desk, a bed crammed into one corner with a bright duvet, and even a sofa, and a few beanbags all crowded around a low, wooden table that had mostly been taken up with a record player, which is where they found their friends.

The name Razzle suited him, Charlotte considered, as she took in the newcomer’s appearance, all spiked up dark hair and ostentatious clothing, animatedly telling a story while Peach and Vince hung onto his every word. He looked almost wild, like collection of half-thought ideas all vying to become a reality through the texture of his clothes, the height of his hair, the hint of amusement that tailed his words, the passion shining in the blue of his eyes when they flicked to look at her and her cousin, standing on the stairs and watching him.

His words grow quiet as he takes them in, as if waiting for something to happen, for someone to introduce them.

“You must be Charlie and Tommy!” His accent, thick and bright, made her nickname sound so familiar on his lips.

“Charlotte,” Vince corrects, giving a surprisingly respectful nod to Charlotte, who tries to shrug nonchalantly.

“Charlie’s fine. You’re,” and Charlotte hesitates for a moment, ignoring Vince’s eyeroll, “Razzle, right?” Razzle’s smile is blinding at her immediate use of the nickname, and he waves them in.

Peach throws Tommy a cushion from the sofa when he asks, and he settles himself on the floor next to Vince, while Peach and Eileen squeeze over to make room for Charlotte on the sofa clearly only made for two people.

“I was just telling these guys ‘bout my band’s very first gig, ‘nd how I had to sneak out just to get there,” Razzle settled back into his own beanbag, hands out and ready to return to his story, eyes still shining with anticipation at the memory, or possibly just glad to have an audience.

Oh, Charlotte thought, looking at this boy she barely knew, already fighting off a smile in the face of his infectious enthusiasm, maybe Vince was becoming a better judge of character.

“You’re in a band?” Tommy’s eyes light up, and Charlotte gives her cousin a fond smile; Razzle has already won his seal of approval.

we need more good crazy. it'd be nice to watch the news, and think, 'that's fucking insane', but feel a little jealous instead of just alone.

Heather hasn’t been glowering as much at lunch, and the rumour is that it’s because she’s getting laid. Well, it’s less of a rumour to Charlotte, since Heather confirmed as much to the rest of the cheer squad when one of the girls asked her, but she’s being coy and secretive about who she’s with, which is the really weird part; Heather won’t say, and no-one’s coming forward, and lord knows that most guys at their school would jump at the opportunity to claim they’re banging the Vice Captain of the Cheerleading Squad.

But Charlotte knows not to look a gift horse in the mouth, and instead just smiles back when Heather gives her a sunny smile in the cafeteria.

Tommy is less than thrilled with the news when Charlotte brings it up in the car after school. Nikki’s still sitting with him and Lola during lunch, despite his bruising going down considerably over the weekend, and Tommy is equal parts delighted and uncomfortable, for reasons he can’t seem to put into words.

“At least Pam’s single,” he says it with as much of a dreamy sigh as he can manage, though it comes out more forlorn than anything else. Charlotte pets his shoulder, and reminds him that so is over half the squad; he perks up a little at that.

They pull into Mick’s gas station, and Charlotte waves to Mick and Lola, who are sitting on the step by the door sharing a cigarette. Lola waves back.

“Meant to give this to you,” Lola says to Charlotte, still sitting while Mick begrudgingly heads inside. Tommy follows him in, not needing to fill up the tank, but rather just looking to drown his sorrows regarding Heather in a jumbo slurpee. Outside, Charlotte waits with her hands in her pockets, giving Lola an amused smile, watching as the dark haired girl pulls a pin off of the jacket she practically lives in, and hands it over.

It’s a piece of black card stock cut into the shape of a star, barely an inch in diameter, taped to a safety pin. It say Punched Nikki Sixx in silver pen, one of the points of the star already a little bit crumpled.

“You’re a little bit punk, so you get a pin,” Lola tells her, smiling around her cigarette, looking quietly pleased, and perhaps even a little bit proud; whether of herself or of Charlotte, Charlotte can’t tell, but it still makes her flush.

“I thought Nikki didn’t want anyone knowing that a cheerleader gave him a black eye,” Charlotte mused, looking at the little pin, and Lola’s face scrunched up, expression falling.

“So? Who gives a shit?” She shrugs, looking away tone having shifted to almost forcibly neutral in an instant, “wear the pin or don’t, I don’t care.” Lola stands with a groan, without giving Charlotte a chance to respond, and calls to Mick that she’s heading to the diner. Mick waves, Tommy calls out a farewell, and Charlotte frowns, wondering what just happened.

“I hate that,” Nikki says flatly, the moment he spots the pin where Charlotte’s fixed it to the strap of her backpack. There’s no hard feelings between them after last week’s altercation, thankfully, though they don’t talk about it. If Charlotte’s glad that he still showed up, if she’s realised she may, in fact, enjoy his company, she keeps that information to herself.

“Lola made it for me,” Charlotte tells him. Nikki leans in, squinting at the handmade pin.

“Of course she did,” he sighs, leaning back. Surprisingly, there’s quiet between them for a few, long moments; maybe, Charlotte considers, this will be one of those mornings where Nikki uses their time together to catch up on sleep, and Charlotte can actually use her free period for it’s intended, study-related purpose, but then Nikki sighs like he wants her to ask what’s wrong.

So she does.

“I need a new band.”

“I can’t help you.”

“I know,” Nikki nods with resignation, “I was gonna ask this guy I work with, Slash, he plays guitar, but he’s already in one -”

“Wait, you don’t mean Duff’s friend Saul Hudson, do you?” Charlotte frowned, intrigued despite the stab of anger she felt at the mere mention of her ex. Nikki seemed taken aback by her question.

“You know Duff McKagan?”

“I dated him for a year and a half,” Charlotte finds herself suddenly very interested in drawing connecting triangles in the back of her notebook, not looking at Nikki, who’s quietly processing this information.

“He’s in a band now,” and neither of them seem to be quite sure why he offered that information, but they both let is hang between them for a moment.

“Makes sense,” Charlotte nods, tone flat, “with Saul - Slash?”

“Yeah,” is all Nikki has to say.

“Slash is a good kid, I always liked him,” Charlotte offered, and finally she looks up, “Tommy plays drums.”

“Marching band isn’t exactly -” Nikki begins, but Charlotte’s shaking her head.

“No, like, legit drums,” she enthuses, “his parents fixed up their whole garage to make it sound proof for him,” but she doesn’t want Nikki to think she’s pushing her cousin on him too hard, not after last week, so she sits back, and crosses her arms, trying to play it cool, “I mean, you can ask him yourself, see if he’s any good.” She shrugs, but Nikki looks like he’s already considering it.

“How many musicians do you know, Charlie?” He finally asks, giving her a faint, amused smile.

“Probably too many,” Charlotte responds with a longsuffering smile, before her mind turns to the things Tommy himself had told her, “I heard you and Lola are getting along; what’d I tell you?” She teased, and much to her surprise, what she could see of Nikki’s face, for his hair, was turning pink.

“She’s a bitch; you know she’s a bitch, right?” He asks, but he’s grinning, all sharp and dangerously amused.

“I knew you guys would get along,” Charlotte gives a pleased little sigh, as if she’d manufactured their whole friendship herself. Nikki rolls his eyes at her, and the bell goes.

Tommy, as it turns out, thinks they’re sleeping together, at least that’s what he tells Charlotte when they’re on their way to Leo’s after school to meet up with Vince, Razzle, Peach, and Eileen. The news of Nikki and Lola’s potential affair surprises Charlotte at first, but after a moment of consideration, she thinks she should have seen it coming.

Tommy’s reasoning is that they’ve become friends far quicker than he’d realised, and Nikki’s always giving Lola lifts after work, like they’re going in the same direction, even though he’d pretty sure Nikki doesn’t live near Leo’s. It also turns out that that was what had been bothering him about Nikki and Lola being friends; he still tries to insist he doesn’t have a crush on Lola, but he and Charlotte both know that’s mostly a lie.

So Charlotte can see how conflicted he is when he tells her that Nikki’s looking to start a new band, and that he asked about Tommy possibly playing drums. A beat of silence follows, and then, without looking away from the road, Tommy mutters a quiet thanks, knowing without asking that Charlotte had been the one to recommend him. Charlotte leans over and bumps her forehead against his shoulder in unspoken acknowledgment.

“Duff’s in a band,” Charlotte’s voice is soft and a little unreadable.

“Sorry,” Tommy mutters, tone somber like it’s the worst news in the world, “we could throw rotten tomatoes at him?” He suggested, at the mental picture alone was enough to make Charlotte laugh, “or is that just in the movies?”

“I think that’s just in the movies,” Charlotte says, amid giggles, “besides, the rest of his band doesn’t deserve that.”

In the week that Razzle’s been in LA, Vince and his family have taken him to several, sophisticated restaurants in the vicinity, and Razzle had apparently loved them all; Leo’s was no different. He was sitting across from Charlotte in the booth, at the end of the table, reading the menu intently as the others chattered away about their day, making noises of intrigue every time he spotted something new he wanted to try. His knee knocked hers under the table, but it barely seemed to register, so engrossed in the menu that he muttered the faintest apology.

“Afternoon, guys, welcome,” Lola at work never failed to startle Charlotte, despite the fact that she’d been here once already since the first time. At least her chipper introduction seemed to bring Razzle back to reality.

“Hi, yes - oh! I know you!” Razzle lit up at the sight of Lola, and the rest of the gathered teens watched with interest, trying not to give away how intrigued they were to see Lola’s reaction, “Miss Honky Cat, you work here?”

What?

“Alright, Razzle, you found me, did you wanna order something?” Lola says, with a good-natured eyeroll, and an easy grin, hip cocked to one side. Razzle asks her what she recommends, and orders that, and then the rest of them, who had been sitting in stunned silence, are quick to order for themselves.

When she leaves, it’s mere moments before Tommy asks what that was all about, and Razzle’s eyes go wide.

“That’s Lola, innit? From school? She’s in my music class, was playing Honky Cat on the piano in the second music room, the Elton song, you know, when we had some free this morning,” he explained, confused, “she called me Rocketman when I picked what she’d been playing, but I told her my name’s Razzle.”

“You’re an enigma,” ironically, it’s Eileen who says this, wearing a fond little smile, while Razzle just looked bemused.

“I think it’s the accent, chicks fuckin’ love it,” Vince pipes up, smirking, and Razzle tries to hide his own pleased little grin since he can’t very well deny it, “Pam was all over him in Phys Ed yesterday -”

“We were just having a conversation -” Razzle was quickly turning red, while Vince clutched at his arm, putting on a high voice, twirling his blonde hair around one finger as he pretended to be Pam.

“Oh Nicholas, tell me more about The Clash, please, I want to know more!” He ended with a fake moan, which had Eileen and Peach laughing, while Razzle grabbed Charlotte’s hand and exaggeratedly mouthed ‘help me’.

“Pam’s into Razzle?” Tommy groaned, breaking the moment, falling dejectedly against Vince, who was already leaning pretty heavily on Razzle, who was then ejected from his seat and onto the floor, while Vince was draped over where he was just sitting, and Tommy was draped over Vince, “I’m gonna die alone.”

Despite Tommy’s despair, the rest of the table was greatly amused.

Thankfully for Razzle, it wasn’t a far fall, and he’d held tight to Charlotte’s hand, so at least he hadn’t ended up flat on his back, and Charlotte gave him an apologetic grin as she helped him to his feet. He lets go to dust himself off, and it’s here Charlotte notices his maroon, velvet pants, and black and white leather shoes with their little heel.

“Fancy threads,” Charlotte points out, notes of approval in her voice. Razzle makes a move to straightening a jacket he’s not wearing, and clicks his heels together, drawing the attention of the rest of the table to his shoes, of which they all make various noises of approval, or at least interest.

“I dress to impress,” and judging by his tone, if he were as crass as Vince or Nikki, he would have winked, but Charlotte’s kind of glad he refrained. He then shoves Vince, and by extension Tommy, back up to a sitting position, retaking his seat across from Charlotte, this time purposefully knocking his knee against hers.

Charlotte’s glad that Lola’s back with their drinks, so she can look at something that’s not Razzle’s sunny smile, because she doesn’t want to think about how pretty it makes him look. Stupid, British, band boy and his stupid, blue eyes.

But then she’s looking at Lola, and all she can remember is Tommy’s dejected expression when he told her that Lola and Nikki were possibly sleeping together, and Nikki’s half-hidden, bashful grin when he calls a bitch with a kind of fondness that Charlotte had never heard from him before. The urge to protect her cousin, from harm, from heartbreak, is carved into her bones, but part of her knows it would him hurt more to let him keep falling for Lola when she’d never really end up catching him. Suddenly staring into the depths of her soda became the safest option.

i have loved since you. but when the new paint gets scratched, there you are underneath.

Heather, of all people, is holding a party, and she tries to limit the amount of people she tells - the squad and her friends were the first to be invited - but of course, the guest list spirals out of control, and it’s exactly one and a half days before Tommy’s mooning over the fact that he’s been invited to a party at an actual cheerleader’s house.

“Dude, you’re killing me here,” Charlotte tells him at lunch; she’s finally sitting with him, Lola, and Nikki, though Nikki’s late. Heather had coyly asked her to ask Vince to bring Razzle - the cute English guy, specifically - and Charlotte had picked up her bag and left. Something about Heather in a good mood was worse than when she was being catty.

“You don’t count, you’re my cousin,” Tommy waived her off, and Lola snorted a laugh from where she was laying in the grass, using her backpack as a pillow. “You going?” Tommy pokes Lola in the ribs and she smacks his hand away, but makes an affirmative noise, and throws her arm over her eyes to shield them from the sun.

Something about how that makes Tommy smile, almost pleased, has worry sinking heavy in Charlotte’s gut.

“Heather asked me to ask Vince to invite Razzle,” Charlotte’s not quite sure why she says it, or why it makes Lola bark a laugh of her own, but at least it get’s Tommy’s mind off of last time he and Lola were at a party.

“Of course -” Tommy sighs, but then, in the very same breath, he lights up like a lightbulb, “wait! If Heather’s preoccupied with Razzle, and Pam’s going, then I -” he turned sharply to Charlotte, eyes wide, “is Pam seeing anyone?” Charlotte gives him an amused, but longsuffering look, shaking her head.

“You gonna put the moves on her?” Lola’s smirking, and Tommy’s steadily turning red, but refusing to be embarrassed.

“It’s now or never, you know? She’s graduating in a few months, will go to college and date some meathead, college footballer, this is my chance,” he enthused, and Charlotte pet his shoulder in solidarity.

Nikki joins them halfway through lunch, right as Lola and Charlotte find themselves playing angel and devil on Tommy’s shoulders regarding how he should dress for the party. Charlotte’s firmly of the opinion that he should be be wearing bright, eye-catching things - “Come on, you know Pam likes those new-wave guys!” - while Lola was adamantly recommending to go all-out punk.

“Don’t ask Nikki’s opinion, you know who he’s going to side with,” Charlotte implored, and as if to prove a point, Nikki throws his bag to the side, and lays down with his head pillowed on Lola’s stomach.

“Because Nikki has taste,” Lola throws her arm above her head, into the grass, neck at an awkward angle as she looks, wide-eyed to Tommy.

“Thank you,” Nikki grumbles, and immediately closes his eyes, “what are we arguing about?” A pause, then, “and why is Charlie here?”

“Heather asked Charlie to bring Razz to the party next weekend,” Tommy says, the words sounding rote off his tongue, before he gets into the meat of the argument, laying himself back in the grass. Somehow it makes Charlotte feel left out, being the only one left marginally upright, and she slouches a little lower against the fence.

Tommy explains his conundrum, and much to everyone’s surprise, Nikki refrains from giving his opinion, sighting that he has no clue what Pam would like, and that he’s not taking the fall if Tommy looks like a dickhead and crashes and burns while talking to, arguably, the most popular girl in school.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, asshole,” Tommy groans, without really thinking, and as the realization and subsequent horror took over his expression, Lola barked a laugh, and even Nikki was grinning.

The moment was surprisingly light, Tommy’s face buried in his hands, though he’s now hiding a smile, and Charlotte is surprised at how easy it is to smile and laugh here, these people accepting her presence without another thought. The politics of the cafeteria make it all feel so foreign, but Tommy said ‘Charlie’s sitting here now’ and Nikki and Lola took it in stride.

And later, Eileen will ask her where she was at lunch, will go on to sigh and roll her eyes as she recounts barely sitting through five minutes of the cheerleaders buzzing like cheerful, little hornets, discussing who would be at the party, and how they would coordinate their outfits. She’d spent another five minutes with the swim team, who spent the entire time picking apart her backstroke technique since she ‘finally decided to join them’.

“This is why I don’t sit with them,” Eileen had frowned, sitting in the McDonalds carpark, absentmindedly violating her soda with it’s straw out of frustration, Charlotte, wide-eyed, quietly eats her terrible, oily fries, and lets Eileen vent, “if I have to listen to one more five-am-gym-going-wannabe-sports-scholarship tell me my form is off, I’m going to go full Carrie-At-The-Prom at our next meet,” Eileen warned, and reached over to snatch a fry. Very few people were ever privy to Eileen’s frustration, as the redhead seemed to do a rather good job of bottling it up, but Charlotte personally felt honored that her friend could be so honest around her.

“I was thinking of joining yearbook, maybe? Or the school paper with...” a strange moment of hesitation, “with Peach,” Eileen paused, taking a long moment to think, and take a sip of her drink, eyes glass as she stared out at the highway as cars passed before them, “auditions for the school play are on Friday,” she adds, like she’s seriously considering it, “it’s Singin’ In The Rain, Keanu actually suggested I should audition.” The idea that Keanu and Eileen have talked enough for him to suggest that she audition for a musical and for her to serious consider it is kind of baffling; Charlotte doesn’t process the meaning behind any of this now, however, just files it away in the back of her mind for later.

“Macy moved to Portland over the Summer,” Charlotte feigns seriousness with her suggestion instead, trying not to give away how amused she is, already anticipating Eileen’s response, “we’re holding cheer tryouts to replace her on Tuesday,” Eileen’s expression is already souring, almost comedically disgusted at Charlotte’s implied suggestion, though she lets the blonde finish, “you were the best bottom-right to the pyramid we’ve ever had,” she said, barely stifling giggles as Eileen turns to her.

“I’d rather die,” her lip curled, and Charlotte leaned over the center console of the minivan to press her forehead against Eileen’s shoulder, and Eileen reaches up with her free hand to scratch gently at Charlotte’s scalp, before bursting out with, “and my form’s not even bad! The coach loves me, Charlie, she loves me, they just think they’re better than me, bunch of clique-y, insular, webbed-toe bitches.”

The words hang in the air, a surprising outburst from the usually reserved and thoughtful girl.

“Do they really have webbed toes?” Charlotte asks, turning so her temple still pressed against the soft cashmere of Eileen’s sweater, but she was following the ginger’s gaze out to the highway ahead. Eileen gives a tired, little laugh, as if her outburst had left her exhausted.

“No.”

Charlotte wants more than anything to ask her what’s wrong, but knows better than anyone that Eileen only says exactly what she wants someone else to know. Instead, she offers her fries silently. Eileen takes one.

“Peach and I got into a fight today,” voice barely above a whisper, Eileen follows her words with a sigh, and suddenly her out of character frustration made complete, and utter sense. For all that she’s known both Peach and Eileen, Charlotte has never known their altercations to be quick or painless affairs, “Vince invited her to Heather’s party.”

“He invited her himself?” Charlotte’s not sure what the issue is beyond their general dislike of Vince, but if Vince himself is starting to possibly change, then it’s hard to see the issue.

“Yeah,” Eileen seems to know what Charlotte’s thinking, and pauses to find the right words, “I don’t trust him, and I don’t know how she can trust him either.” There’s a quality to her voice that Charlotte’s only heard rarely; uncertainty, “and I don’t want her going to Heather’s party, I barely want to go myself, and what if she drinks, and what if she does terrible things she regrets -?” Eileen cuts herself off, squeezing her eyes shut and leaning her head back against the headrest.

“I get it,” Charlotte says, so gentle, so understanding, but Eileen’s still quiet.

“She’s my little sister, Charlie,” Eileen sighed, “and it’s like our parents couldn’t care less, so I have to protect her, and I have to keep her from the guy she thinks is the love of her life, and I have to be the one to always remind her of all the shitty things he’s done and remind her that life isn’t a goddamn fairytale.” She sounds close to tears, soda cup between her knees and hands clutching, white knuckled, at the steering wheel, or else she may have been tearing her hair out.

There was a shake in her voice, tight and exhausted in equal measure, like the words had sat, unspoken, pressed against her teeth, for far longer than Charlotte had realized she’d been thinking them. Charlotte rests her hand on Eileen’s.

“She loves you more than anyone else in the world, you know that right? She’s just sixteen, you know all the drama and shit we went through last year -”

“I can’t watch her go through what you went through with Duff,” the words escaped Eileen in a rush, and she clamps her mouth shut, sitting forward in the driver’s seat, lips pressed into a thin line, as Charlotte’s heart sank in her chest, “I’m sorry.”

“No, I know what you mean,” Charlotte sat back in her own seat, nodding dejectedly, fiddling with her bracelet.

“You... Charlie, you know you’re my best friend, and I love you, and seeing you in pain with no way to help,” Eileen’s hands slid down the sides of the steering wheel as she forced herself to relax, though her words have Charlotte’s heart swelling with fondness, “it fucking killed me,” she admitted, leaning back, letting her shoulders sags with the weight of her words, like the weight of the world, and as she leaned back, she looked to Charlotte, so unguarded, so sincere, “I can’t let Vince break Peach’s heart like that.”

Eileen has always looked and seemed older than her seventeen years, but it’s strange to see her like this, to be reminded that she holds within her this unassuming duality. To protect is her first instinct, herself, her feelings, her friends, her family, but she’s still so young, just a kid; she still deserves to be protected too.

“I’m so tired,” Eileen murmurs, gaze dropping to her hands, now folded in her lap, and she huffs a humorless laugh, “I’m seventeen, Charlie, I’m fucking tired of feeling thirty.”

#nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #nikki sixx imagine #tommy lee imagine #vince neil imagine #motley crue #the dirt #the dirt imagine #motley crue imagine #the angry lizard writes #charlotte & lola #lola&charlotte

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vampiresuns · 4 years ago

Text

A Little Closer To The Edge | Asra x Milenko

☽ A LITTLE CLOSER TO THE EDGE ☽

2.1k words. Written for Asra Week 2021, Day 7: Free Day. In which Asra asks Aisha to teach him how to hold a man like thirst holds water. This is set after the events of the game. Milenko is not the apprentice.

You can read the entire Asra and Milenko’s pre-game canon, ‘Like Thirst Holds Water’, here.

As a note, ‘Sasi’ is one of Milenko’s nicknames. It comes from his middle name, Sisay. ‘Sisay’ means good omen in Amhraic.

Thank you @lisa-frank-cave my beloved for helping me come up with asratfits. No cws apply. Happy Birthday, Asra 🎂💜

O father, O foreshadow, press into her — as the field shreds itself with cricket cries. Show me how ruin makes a home out of hip bones. O mother, O minutehand, teach me how to hold a man the way thirst holds water. Let every river envy our mouths. Let every kiss hit the body like a season.

— Ocean Vuong, “A Little Closer To The Edge”

Asra had to excuse himself from his own birthday party, needing a moment alone after realising everyone who mattered to him was there, laughing and sharing beverages and stories of their own, talking about nothing of importance, but sharing a good time nonetheless.

It was his first birthday after the Devil had been stopped and the end of the world averted, the first birthday he could spend with his parents after a long, long time. There was Selasi and Muriel, free and happy, finding his own footing again; there was Amparo who had kissed his cheek when she wished him a happy birthday, there was Nadia and Portia, old friends recovered and new friends made. There was Anatole, his beloved friend, who had danced with him, spinning him in circles, and now insisted on sharing his chair with Ilya, even though there were chairs to spare.

And there was Milenko. Beautiful, joyful Milenko with his smile and the freckles on his cheeks, like the night-sky itself had blessed him with kisses.

When Aisha found him, he immediately began crying, throwing his arms around his mother in search of comfort. All had passed, all was forgiven, and none of them had to be alone again. More importantly, he didn’t have to be alone again.

He thanked his mama for the hug, as Aisha kissed his head and reminded him of the blessing that he was, and the many blessings he deserved.

“And you will have them, insha’Allah, Habibti,” Aisha said before they joined the dinner party again, asking Asra to lean his head down so she could kiss it again.

It was early dinner, they would later go to the theatre, Amparo had a performance and she was able to snatch good seats for Asra’s birthday, attributing it to her endless charm. When the time approached, some of them left with Amparo who had to be there earlier, while Nana, Ilya and Milenko stayed back to help clean around.

Asra didn’t know what it was, but Milenko looked radiant. His curls bounced when he laughed; a pair of crescent moon pendant earrings, gold pleated with blue topaz tears hanging from the bottom of the moon dangled from his ears. He was wearing black high waisted pants, a textured belt marking his waist. Right now, as he washed dishes with Julian and Salim as they chatted, he had pulled up the sleeves of his white, unbuttoned poet shirt. Milenko mentioned being interfaith, and his father began talking to him about it, Julian happily chiming in.

Asra noticed Milenko still washed the dishes with his hip popped to one side, and his backside sticking out.

When he came in, he had been wearing a navy blue jacket with clean lines and golden buttons that reached the beginning of his hips, too. Being 31 looked good on him, and either Asra had never stopped being in love with Milenko, or he was falling in love all over again.

The poet changed his weight from one hip to another. Asra was going to go insane.

“Oh, I think I know that look,” Aisha said, snapping Asra out of it.

His cheeks went cherry red as he tried to divert the topic. Anatole, leaning against an archway with a mischievous turn in his lips, was about to say something but Asra stopped him before he could. His friend threw his hands up in surrender; Aisha, thankfully, didn’t say anything else but Asra knew his mother would bring it back sooner or later.

Aisha laughed with Asra’s relieved face. Salim turned to her, and with him, Milenko did too, smiling at Asra once his chestnut eyes found his purple ones. Asra was doomed.

He was right about Milenko being brought up later, but it was Salim the one who brought him up first.

“He speaks very highly of you,” he said, as he and Aisha wished Asra a good night.

Asra’s choked up: “He does?!” didn’t go unnoticed. However, he wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about Milenko. While Asra had found a new sense of comfort in openly confiding in his parents about most things that went through his mind or his heart, everything was too muddled for him to even know what to say. So he promised he’d tell them more about it when he knew what to tell them, and they let it go for the time being.

To the chagrin of Asra’s sanity, the world wasn’t done throwing Milenko his way.

Running into Milenko once or twice a month wasn’t odd for Asra, but the more time passed, the more it seemed those chances grew. Asra was now running into him even twice per week, sometimes more. It was so much, he had discovered missing him on the weeks they didn’t run into each other, Asra turning at every possibility, perking up whenever he felt like he saw Milenko around.

On top of that, Aisha and Salim had taken kinship to Anatole’s parents —his father in particular. The three of them shared alchemy as a passion and profession. Anatole’s father, Vlad, still refused to become a palace magician, even if he liked Nadia much more than he ever liked Lucio. Still, he was always happy to stop around to see his son and meet up with his new friends, the three of them, along with Anatole’s mother, going out to dinner together rather often.

Asra knew all the Radošević-Cassano, so he needn’t be reminded Vlad was very close to his Radošević cousins: Violeta and Atanasie — Milenko’s mother and uncle. He choked on his drink when his parents told him they were just having dinner at Violeta’s and Aurora’s place.

“Milenko asked if you would join us,” Aisha said, tapping her index on her lips. “He seemed a little crestfallen when we said you wouldn’t. Perhaps you should come with us next time.”

The Milenko conversation, or rather, confession, didn’t come out of Asra until some months later. One warm but breezy evening Asra and his parents were having dinner in The Sphinx Coffee-house. Milenko had come down through the backroom, for once not wearing a shirt that made him flash his tits out to half of Vesuvia. What he was wearing was simple, but he looked handsome and elegant: a black, high neck shirt, black pants, and a shawl with embroidered constellations over his shoulder.

Amador, the Dos Santos sibling who was running the Sphinx that night, greeted him cheerfully, the Alnazars being close enough to hear, but not close enough for Milenko to see them yet.

“Hello, doll-face, how’d your date go?”

Milenko’s underwhelmed reply made Asra feel like he could breathe again. Both of his parents noticed, just like they noticed the way both of them startled when Milenko noticed their presence. He ended up excusing himself, claiming he was being waited on in the Community Theatre.

After that Asra couldn’t hold it in much longer. A day or two afterwards, he was basking in the sun with his mother when he sat up, and without any contextualisation he just said: “How do you do it, mama? How do you keep someone you love close, when you think you have lost them but maybe you haven’t?”

Aisha looked at him, sensing her child was not done talking.

“You’ve been with Dad for so long, how do you do it: how do you make home out of ruins, how do you hold someone like thirst holds water?”

Aisha sat up, taking Asra’s hand in hers. “I didn’t know you were good with poetry, habibti.”

“I’m not,” he sighed.

“But your Milenko is, isn’t he?”

Asra’s smile was sad and lovelorn. “He is, mama, he really is.”

This time, Asra told Aisha everything, and when Salim came back from getting bread at Selasi’s, he patiently listened to Asra too. They both offered the advice that they could, but mostly let Asra say everything he was holding in, reminding him he didn’t have to keep these things to himself anymore, that he could confide in people.

Once Asra was done talking he felt relieved. The best advice his parents could give him was that he tried. If he was honest about his feelings and communicated them like he had just done, he might realise that not everything was quite as it seemed. Perhaps he could start little by little, trying to spend time with him again. He had come so far, and he was such a wonderful person to know, that the worst thing he could do was not give himself the chance.

They both said that it was clear Milenko cared about him too, more than Asra noticed.

“You don’t have to take it from us,” Aisha said, squeezing his hand again. “What would your friends say? What would your Anatole tell you? Or Muriel?”

Asra laughed. “Muriel would either tell me to just do it or roll his eyes at me. Anatole would convince me to be more brave and hopeful than I ever thought it was possible being.”

Salim kissed Asra’s forehead. “Then try, you are very deserving of hope.”

His parents were invited to Aurora’s and Violeta’s in two more days, and they offered Asra to come with them: maybe Milenko would be there, and he would have a chance to at least talk to him, though Asra had insisted he did talk to Milenko, in general at least, so they shouldn’t worry too much.

Salim hummed. “I didn’t know you had talked all that is capable of being talked to him already.”

“Dad.”

When the day came, Asra dressed as nicely as he could think of, without being obvious. He wanted to look and feel pretty, even if he was trying not to get his hopes up. It was hard not to, however. Hope was contagious.

Milenko wasn’t around, even if Aurora and Violeta were thrilled to have Asra around for dinner again. They eagerly shared stories about Asra from the past. He tried not to feel disappointed Milenko wasn’t there, or mortified about the stories. He understood they shared them as mothers, subtly encouraging him to make his parents partake in the memories he had once made in their home.

After dinner, Violeta insisted on showing Asra her garden for old time’s sake, taking his hand as she walked into it, guiding him through the paths of the small space, and the two micro greenhouses she kept there. One housed venomous plants only, her speciality; the other, orchids.

Violeta turned to Asra. “How are your orchids, darling?” Asra had never told her he grew orchids, and while he wanted to suspect his parents might have told her, the way she spoke reminded him of Milenko. No, Violeta didn’t need to be told to know he did — Milenko got his clairvoyance from her after all.

“I’ve never asked,” Salim said, walking a little behind Asra and Violeta. Aisha was talking to Aurora about her latest restoration commission. “Did you teach Asra to grow orchids?”

Violeta blinked at him. “I’m afraid not.”

Asra rubbed the back of his neck, nervous. “If she had, I’m sure they’d grow better. I learnt from books, on my own.”

“I can give you a couple of tips, my son is a patient man.”

Aisha caught up with them, Asra wanted the earth to swallow him and spit him far away from there. “How romantic of you, and here I was thinking you were helpless.”

Aurora snorted. “Don’t worry: he may have a poet’s tongue, but on the inside, Sasi is no better.”

He didn’t see Milenko at all that night, not that Asra considered the evening unfruitful because he didn’t. He had come out of it with Violeta’s instructions for tending to orchids and he planned to apply them to the best of his capacity.

* * * * *

Milenko was writing in the little office he had in the periodical he wrote for, though office might have been an over-glorified word for a table that was in the corner, overflowing with papers, next to a window filtering sunlight in.

He heard his editor tell him he had a visitor, and Milenko, still half entranced by the sound of pouring water from the enchanted vases on his desk, just gave him a half-hearted hum, accompanied by an absent sounding plea to give him just a minute longer.

Asra stood there for more than a minute, but he didn’t care. There was too much adrenaline in his veins for him to care. Nerves piled up on the mouth of his stomach but he stood his ground, watching as Milenkos curls moved softly as he wrote, his ink stained hands carefully avoiding the places the ink had not yet dried. He had seen him do this so many times, acting like an automaton as the water filtered everything that wasn’t the words and the visions outside of his sphere.

Milenko finally looked up, mouth agape as Asra licked his lips and gave him a nervous smile, a blush expanding from his cheeks to his ears.

“Hi,” was Mielnko’s bewildered reply as he looked at Asra, standing in front of his desk, a rainbow shawl with tiny bells on the hem over his shoulders, a raspberry shirt and deep purple palazzo pants, as he held a flower arrangement with no less than seven orchid stems, blooming into multiple flowers each.

“I grew them myself,” Asra explained, not needing to tell Milenko who they were for.

“They’re— they’re my favourite flower.”

“I know. That’s why I grow them.”

#the arcana #asraweek2021 #the arcana oc #asra alnazar #asra #milenko #milasra #my writing #like thirst holds water #some hopeful ending after everything i put y'all through after days 4 5 and 6

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