#threadfic
Text
Hero AU where school counselor!Phil has to deal with… interesting students.
Namely, the three boys he sees constantly bickering in the hallways.
And slamming cars into each other on the news.
Ridiculously, none of them know who the others are.
But Phil notices the *moment* new young vigilantes start popping up. The trio’s dropping grades, spotty attendance, and injuries only confirm it.
Or, y’know. Tommy mumbling, “What would you do if you were a hero?”
Phil helps in the least obvious ways he can.
Modifying their grades to be a bit less suspicious, leaving out ice packs by his office door (easy to steal), writing late passes without a bit of resistance.
But he can only be so subtle.
“So, Red.”
Tommy’s head jerks up.
Phil almost laughs. “You’ve heard of him, huh? I figure he’s your favorite.”
Tommy shifts awkwardly in his chair — readjusting the wound Phil knows lies beneath his sweater. “Better than the fuckin’ Blade.”
Techno. Honors student. Flawless GPA. Volunteer. And vigilante.
Far closer to a villain.
“If only I could give the Blade a lecture,” Phil says, unable to stop a chuckle, and barely managing to not say, *You two have to stop beating the shit out of each other.*
Eventually, Phil gives up on subtlety & calls them all down to his office.
“So. I heard you’ve been getting into fights.”
Wilbur, drama kid — or Siren, smooth-tongued — is the first to act, eyes widening. “I’m sorry, sir?”
Then Techno. “Mr. Watson, I would *never.*”
“Then what’s that?”
Phil nods to the bruise beneath Techno’s turtleneck — from a hit Siren landed. Then, to Wilbur’s knuckles, ever so slightly battered.
And neither seem to notice a thing.
Phil pinches his brow, sighing.
“Alright. Then Tommy. Care to explain the state of your shoes?” (Burnt, melted from running through rubble the Blade had created.)
*There* it is. Techno frowns, leaning back to peek — and Tommy quickly tucks his feet beneath the chair.
“Nothing.”
“Where were you all last night?”
Every single kid tenses.
And starts rambling out excuses.
“I was— studying, of course—”
“Well, *I* was trying to get ice cream, and that bitch the Blade showed up—”
“Bitch?” Techno cries before catching himself. “I think you mean *Red* and *Siren*—”
“What the fuck?” Wilbur splutters. “Siren was trying to calm those two fuckers down—”
“Boys,” Phil says. “Look. All three of those heroes would be better *together,* right? Not fighting, not hurting each other?”
“Maybe,” Tommy finally mumbles, toeing at the floor, “but… why are we talking about heroes?”
Phil tips back in his chair, face in hands.
“Come on. Someone figure it out.”
Silence.
Phil groans. “Wilbur, you quit band two months ago. Techno, Tommy, who showed up two months ago?”
More silence.
“Uhh… I don’t know.”
“Techno,” Phil says, almost desperate. “You tutor Tommy, right? What happens after he disappears from your lessons?”
“I… go home,” Techno lies.
Phil lets out an exasperated sigh. “No, you go where *he* goes. And where’s that?”
Tommy’s eyes start to narrow.
“You like Greek shit. Like… the Blade,” he says quietly, staring at Techno. Then, at Wilbur. “And *you’re* a pretentious bastard. Like *Siren.*”
Phil raises an eyebrow, fighting a smile.
“And you’re a little shit,” Wilbur snaps, then— pales. “Like… Red?”
“*There* we go,” Phil says, letting out a sigh of relief. “Now, I have a plan. If you three work together, I truly believe that—”
It’s a shame Phil’s office is so tiny.
There’s no room for three vigilantes to sufficiently beat the shit out of each other.
.
.
.
Just the idea of the three of them curled up at Phil’s, working on homework before heading off to fight crime (together, for once).
Phil being their “man in the chair” (even if he directs them to safer areas, too worried for anything more).
And of course, the best (worst?) part of being a school counselor — the actual *counseling.*
Except it’s not about what classes to take, or bullies to avoid.
It’s holding Wilbur as he sobs after killing his first villain to protect his brothers. (Because that’s what they are, now).
It’s comforting Techno as he fails his first class, too busy with heroics to focus or study.
It’s reassuring Tommy when his brothers get hurt, always ready to defend their youngest.
And it’s crying like a father when they graduate.
It’s *loving* them like a father, his home always open to them, filled with medical supplies and bedrooms for each kid, newpaper clippings pinned proudly on the fridge.
There’s a reason the city’s strongest trio of vigilantes always protect one specific man.
637 notes
·
View notes
Text
Reverse au where airplane transmigrates as sqh, a weak demon and minor character that rises as king of the northern kingdom with sketchy tactics, and then is killed soon after by mbj, lord of the AnDing peak
Sqh was working for mbj as a spy in the demon realm and that's the only reason why he stayed alive for that long. So here's airplane trying to survive as demon, using his speciality in patheticness. Then he meets an unconscious injured mbj in the demon realm.
He considers killing him but can't, so he saves his life and begs to work for him like the little critter he is. Mbj somehow agrees but doesn't trust the demon even after he saved his life and made sure nobody tried to eat him in the demon realm. Oh welp.
Consider Mbj thinking that sqh is an incubus and is trying to seduce him: "your tactics won't work on me" Sqh, looking up from his spy notes with a nervous smile, thinking that mbj refers to his weak ice demon powers: ok? Mbj, internally: fuck, his power too strong.
Basically mbj thirsting over smol demon sqh, and sqh trying to stick to mbj as much as possible because everyone wants his title as heir of a throne he didn't even ask for.
532 notes
·
View notes
Text
Kyo is an old man when it comes to tech
345 notes
·
View notes
Text
Jimmy perked up when he heard familiar voices. They were back!! Scott and Martyn were back! He hauled himself out of the water to sit on the edge of their covered outdoor pool, neck craned for any glimpse of his pod.
They'd left only hours before, but Jimmy always got worried whenever they went on their little 'extraction missions'. He wasn't sure if the fact that this one was so close to their little home base was a good or a bad thing. But they'd both reassured him that this was only some marine rescue, and not the Evo.
Thank the moon and tides it wasn't the Evo.
Martyn was first to enter, the mer they'd gone to get slung over his shoulder.
Jimmy couldn't take his eyes away from the new mer.
He'd been young, when Evo had snatched him from the ocean, so Jimmy had never had the luxury of meeting many other mer. It never ceased to take his breath away, each new glimpse of one of his own.
This mer was particularly pretty, and as Jimmy helped Martyn and Scott lower him into the pool, he couldn't help but drink in the bright red scales and the blonde hair-- just like his own!
Jimmy was sure that Scott and Martyn were probably talking, but he'd thoroughly tuned them out while he studied the new mer. The moment that he hit the water, his fins unfurled from along his tail, and Jimmy couldn't help but compare him to fire.
Jimmy knew that couldn't be it, not really, because fire was a human thing and no mer (except for him, probably) was familiar with what it looked like. Hopefully. But he couldn't help but thinking about the new mer that way. Each of his scales was edged in gold, and every fin was translucent, yellow to red and layered along his tail. There were a similar line of fins trailing down his back, each one their own little tongue of flame. His hands were webbed, the black creeping up his forearms and another set of fins trailing from them, almost like Scott's.
He didn't look like a fighter, lacking any spines that would act as weapons, but Jimmy could tell by the shape of his fins that he was built for both speed and tight, quick maneuvers, with how tightly his fins laid to his scales.
He was also covered in scars. Most of them looked fresh-- thin, silvery and wrapped around his arms and body and neck. Those would probably fade with time. But some of his fins were shredded in places they probably shouldn't be, and that would take much longer to completely heal, if it did at all. There was also splint on his wrist, which looked like Martyn's handywork.
Had they broken his wrist??
Jimmy certainly hoped not.
It took Scott grabbing one of his sails and tugging to tear his attention away from the mer.
"Jimmy, leave him. He's gonna be out for another hour at least, you can stare at him as long as you want in a minute. We need to talk." Scott pointed up to the surface where Martyn was still by the edge of the pool.
"Fine, fine." Jimmy stole one last glance at the fiery mer where he was laying on the bottom, before floating back up to the surface to talk with Scott and Martyn.
He'd be able to chat with their new friend once he woke up. Jimmy would have to be here anyway, Mer tended to trust their fellow mer over the strange half-human and human who hauled them to an unfamiliar place. And Jimmy would hate for any misunderstandings to happen and get anyone hurt.
#jimmy solidarity#team rancher#scott smajor#martyn itlw#tangotek#dont mind me#viviwrites#emberfish au#team rancher au#team rancher fanfiction#threadfic#injury mention#yall get to eat good today#i simply have brainrot#whoops#and once again i beg for asks about this au
46 notes
·
View notes
Text
#lanuary2024 Day 23: Lan Wangji's Birthday
Lan Zhan feels raw.
Usually, he has his weekends to decompress to avoid spiralling into either a meltdown or, worse, burnout. Unfortunately, this past weekend was filled with unmissable family events. Having Wei Ying with him helped.
But it wasn't enough; it merely delayed the inevitable.
He was doing okay getting by until work today. It's his birthday so the office decided to throw him a little party and so many people kept talking to him.
All he wanted was to come home and curl up in his husband's arms.
As Lan Zhan turns the key to their apartment he can feel the onset of a meltdown coming. He's standing on the edge and it won't take much to push him over.
He takes a slow, grounding breath, opens the door, and freezes.
The main lights are off and the apartment is instead lit by soft lamps. It's not too dark that he can't see but it's not harsh. He wants to cry.
He doesn't know how long he stands in the doorway but at some point, Wei Ying comes up and gently guides him in.
Wei Ying wordlessly takes his bag and sets it aside before he works on removing Lan Zhan's outer layers and shoes. Once those are put away, Wei Ying begins to slowly remove Lan Zhan's clothes before silently helping him into his softest loungewear.
It becomes easier to breathe.
Wei Ying meets his gaze with a soft smile. "Do you want a hug?"
Unable to reply, he nods.
Wei Ying wraps his arms around him and squeezes tight. Lan Zhan melts into him. He loves his husband so very much.
Some time later, Wei Ying pulls back to press a kiss to his lips.
"Happy birthday, my love," he whispers, letting his hands run up into Lan Zhan's hair to give his head a massage. Lan Zhan closes his eyes and leans into his touch, tension gradually leaving him with every press and tug of Wei Ying's hands.
By the time Wei Ying pulls his hands back Lan Zhan feels a hundred times better than he did when he entered their home. He lets out a sigh and opens his eyes to see Wei Ying staring at him with so much adoration it takes his breath away.
Unable to form the words, Lan Zhan kisses him and means 'I love you' and 'I adore you' and 'I don't deserve you but I'm so thankful to have you in my life.' He knows Wei Ying understands.
"Here," Wei Ying murmurs. Gently, he places Lan Zhan's noise-cancelling headphones on him.
Wei Ying turns them on and starts playing Lan Zhan's favourite Classical Chinese playlist on low. Lan Zhan hums in pleasure and follows Wei Ying as he gently tugs him over to the dining table. Lan Zhan sits as instructed and watches as Wei Ying serves him his favourite meals.
Lan Zhan is so overwhelmed with love for Wei Ying. He feels his eyes starting to water as Wei Ying puts Lan Zhan's plate down in front of him while pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.
Wei Ying sits down and they eat in silence.
Lan Zhan is so thankful for Wei Ying thinking to put his headphones on him. As much as he adores Wei Ying talking over a meal, he knows he wouldn't have been able to handle all the sounds that come from eating. His husband knows him so well, sometimes better than even himself.
And, of course, he knows Wei Ying just as well. It's just wild to think about someone knowing him so deeply and truly as Wei Ying does. If someone told Lan Zhan when he was a teen that he'd be this close to someone (in every sense of the term) he wouldn't have believed them.
He was always so solitary and never certain on how to even attempt to get closer to someone. It was too daunting and confusing.
And then he met Wei Ying.
Wei Ying came crashing into his life in a swirl of light and laughter and joy and Lan Zhan cracked open.
Wei Ying always made an effort to reach out to Lan Zhan (even in the early days when Lan Zhan was too scared and overwhelmed by the enigma that is Wei Ying) and slowly, Lan Zhan began to understand what it meant to be wanted and treasured. Wei Ying enjoyed his company.
Over time, Lan Zhan grew more comfortable around Wei Ying. He began to feel settled when he was with him. Wei Ying became his safe space. Lan Zhan grew comfortable with all kinds of physical touch and making eye contact with him and Wei Ying always respected his boundaries.
It was inevitable that they would fall into each other, really. Neither of them knew it at the start, but others saw it (they heard the speeches at their wedding). Their love was something so real and natural that it only made sense. He can't imagine his life without Wei Ying.
After they finish eating, Wei Ying takes Lan Zhan's plate away before he has the chance to try to clean it himself and then he leads him into the livingroom where his yoga mat is set up with a pillow. Wei Ying gestures to it with a raised eyebrow in question.
Lan Zhan feels like his heart is too big for his chest. He nods and Wei Ying smiles softly. Lan Zhan watches Wei Ying wander off to grab the weighted blanket and then he lays down on his stomach on the mat. Wei Ying places the weighted blanket folded on his upper back.
He feels himself finally relax, the weight condensed enough to quite literally squeeze the tension out of him. There are so few ways that Lan Zhan can ever truly relax (especially his back) and this is one of them. The only other option is to have his back against Wei Ying.
Lan Zhan closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh.
He drifts.
An indeterminate amount of time later, he finally feels human again. He sucks in a deep breath, feeling the way his ribs expand and contract, and then pushes up, letting the blanket fall to the side.
He sits back on his heels and removes the headphones.
"Feeling better?" Wei Ying asks.
Lan Zhan turns to find him curled up on the couch, book in hand, a soft expression on his face.
"Mn. Much better," Lan Zhan replies.
"I'm glad." Wei Ying pats the couch beside him.
With a smile, Lan Zhan makes his way over and sits beside Wei Ying. They fold into each other, cuddling up close. "Thank you, my love."
Wei Ying sighs happily. "Anything for you, Lan Zhan. It's the least I could do, especially on your birthday!"
Lan Zhan hums and kisses him.
"So, Birthday Boy, shall we watch a few more episodes of your comfort show while we eat cake and cuddle?"
Lan Zhan hugs Wei Ying a little tighter. "That sounds perfect."
And so they do just that. Wei Ying ends up feeding them both while they watch the show.
It's truly the best, most perfect birthday he could have ever asked for.
----------
Link to thread
#lanuary#happy birthday lan wangji#wangxian#mdzs#threadfic#mo dao zu shi#grandmaster of demonic cultivation#lan wangji#lan zhan#wei wuxian#wei ying#from twitter#wisedawn13#fanfic#fanfiction
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
as promised :3
fengqing bodyguard/royalty au‼️ PART 1
-
prince mu qing, stuck in an arranged marriage
ask anything else of him & he would gladly do it for his mother, the queen & his people
but this? he’s torn between his duty & his heart
because he’s actually in love with his bodyguard
his bodyguard, feng xin, who’s been by his side for years
his mother had no idea he had fallen for the gifted archer she had assigned to him when they were just 13, after his father had been assassinated
how could she have? he never told her..
he hadn’t even told feng xin….
yet the karma of keeping his mouth sealed so tight seems to have caught up to him
because here he was - standing next to his mother, as she explains how now that he’s 18, he’s of marrying age
he nearly lets out a small gasp, but masks it, as he realizes what she’s implying
“mama….surely you don’t mean….” he hopes his voice doesn’t actually sound as strained as he thinks it does
“qing’er….I’m sorry…..the court has my hands tied here…they demand you marry…..to produce an heir…”
“mama?” mu qings eyes widened, his composure finally cracking. he whips his head towards her, finding her head tilted forwards, a common posture she took when hiding her face
“i know, I’m sorry qing’er….they’re having candidates come to meet you as soon as possible….”
his mother didn’t raise her head to meet his eyes, as if ashamed.
his hands trembled as they curled into fists
“but i—”
he stopped himself, biting his tongue
he couldn’t tell her about his love for feng xin
yes, his mother was a caring woman, a caring queen, basically his best friend - if he was being honest
he loved her greatly…
yet, what if she found out her son had fallen for someone most consider palace staff
HE sure as hell didn’t think of feng xin as just some random staff member hired to protect him
no, he was mu qings closest friend & confidante, even if mu qing didn’t act like it at times
mu qings mother loved him & respected him greatly, always listening intently to what feng xin had to say, always making sure he was fed & had the warmest clothing for the colder nights
…yet would that change if she discovered mu qing loved him?
would she kick feng xin out?
he told himself no, his mother would never do something as cruel as that, not to anyone - but especially not to feng xin
but what if she did? what if she blamed feng xin for ruining mu qings shot at what she hoped would be a happy marriage with a complete stranger
no, he couldn’t tell her.
he bit his lip, bending slightly in a bow, before all but stomping away from his mother & towards his chambers
he had half a mind to let the doors behind him slam, but he knew it wasn’t his mothers fault - and he refused to disrespect her like that. it was that stupid courts fault after all, & their bullshit about heirs
he shut the doors behind him slowly, before turning towards the hallway & coming face to face with feng xin - whom as usual, was waiting for him
“oh. hey.” he nods, cringing at the way his voice cracks
“what’s wrong? did something happen? are you hurt?” feng xin springs into action, noticing the littlest change in mu qings usual attitude & tone
he frantically looks over mu qing, simultaneously touching him as little as possible - since he “wasn’t allowed to touch royalty” (his words, not mu qings)
once feng xin decided mu qing was not in any immediate danger nor sported any wounds, he came back to stand before him
“the hells up with you?” he asks, eyebrow raised
mu qing sighed, pulling his arms around himself before swiftly walking ahead
“h-hey! your highness!” feng xin shouts, running after him to catch up
once beside him again, feng xin bends his head slightly to match mu qings height so that when mu qing turns, they’re making direct eye contact
“what.”
“what’s wrong? what happened?” feng xin asks again
“nothing, don’t worry about it” mu qing huffs, picking up speed in order to get out of the air that smells faintly of feng xin
“it is quite literally my job to worry about you, come onnnnn, tell meeeee!”
his eyes roll “if i tell you im safe, & moms safe will you drop it?”
“no, but thanks for trying!” feng xin smiles
mu qings heart beats three times faster & he feels his face heat up
gods…feng xins smile had always had an embarrassing effect on him
it always tore down his walls & made him feel warm & safe & trusting
damn you feng xin
he sighed, eyes flicking to feng xins smiling face once more before darting to the hallway ahead
“i have to….im……mama said….”
he bit his lip, pulling his arms impossibly closer in on himself
if he said it out loud, it would be too real
he looked to feng xin once more, seeking the bravery that the archer always radiated
feng xin nodded, gesturing for him to go on
with a deep breath, he rushed out “i’m getting married”
then, seeing the door to his chambers, he sped up even more, wanting to hide away forever
h-HUH?”
he could hear feng xins heavy footsteps race after him
he was so close to his chambers, so close….
he moved to pull open the door…..yet it was slammed shut, feng xins palm flat against it as he cornered mu qing
“married?! you’re getting married?!”
~to be continued~
(being posted on twitter in thread form first, if you’d like to follow along there!)
#fengqing bodyguard au#bodyguard and royalty au#fengqing#tgcf fengqing#fengqing thread#bodyguard au#royalty au#fengqing once again dumb#tgcf#heaven official's blessing#tian guan ci fu#feng xin#mu qing#tgcf manhua#tgcf fanfic#originally posted on twitter#tgcf donghua#threadfic#twitter thread
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Parent Trap AU, where Techno and Wilbur are identical twins who were separated at birth and somehow ended up at the same summer camp eleven years later.
Wilbur felt as if he were on top of the world. He advanced toward his opponent and lunged, saber flashing in the sunlight.
The other boy stumbled back. He was quick to take advantage of the opening and attacked without thought.
In a blink of an eye, his opponent hit the ground and their counselor, Dan, was lifting his arm up in victory. “The winner and undefeated champion, Wilbur Soot!” he announced.
Underneath his wire-mesh mask, he was grinning from ear to ear. Fencing lessons paid off after all— he’d have to thank Mum after the summer was over.
After being let go, Wilbur gravitated toward the fence next to the arena, where his friends hung around and cheered him on.
“That was sick!” Fundy exclaimed immediately.
“Right? You beat him in like, ten seconds flat!” Tubbo was perched atop the fence, legs swaying. “I swear we’ve been here all day. How have you not lost once?”
He laughed, face burning red from exertion and embarrassment. “Don’t jinx me.”
To his left, Dan scoured the clearing for more participants. “Do we have any challengers?” he called, cupping his hands around his mouth.
“I’ll have a go,” an unfamiliar boy answered, masked and already snapping on a vest. He had an air of self assurance about him, lazily flipping the saber in the air and catching it with one hand.
Dan blew the whistle. “En garde!”
The boy saluted, saber in hand.
Wilbur raised his eyebrows. He welcomed the competition, yet hesitated briefly before returning the gesture.
With another blow of the whistle, it begun.
His first thought upon dueling the boy was that he was quick. If Wilbur came near he would simply glide away, the reflex seemingly automatic.
Through a flurry of thrusts and a parries, he attempted to knock the blade out of his opponent’s hand.
His opponent deflected the attack and whirled around, catching him off guard and getting him in the shoulder.
0-1
They danced back and forth for another eternity. Wilbur managed to get a touch in by going low, though now he was sweating and his opponent still seemed to be going strong.
1-1
Their sabers locked together and Wilbur swept them in a circle, hand steady.
His opponent twisted his wrist, breaking away. Then, to his surprise, charged directly at him.
He sidestepped, but his opponent pivoted last minute and forced him to hop back on his heels. Now off balance, Wilbur retreated, forced to parry blow after blow.
Focused on defending, he failed to notice the water trough behind him before it was too late. The back of his knees hit wood and within the millisecond only gave him enough time to let out a surprised shout.
He fell hard. Sun baked water buzzing with water skippers splashed around his ears and soaked through his clothes. Sputtering, he wiped the murky liquid from his mask and stared up at his opponent in disbelief. A chorus of laughter rung out in the clearing, to his mortification.
The boy had one hand over his mouth, as if holding back his own laugh, and the other outstretched as an offering.
Wilbur narrowed his eyes. He’d lost, but it wasn’t fair. There weren’t water troughs in fencing arenas— at least not in the UK— and he was doing well before the incident.
He took his hand roughly and yanked the boy in with him. Petty? Yes. Jerk move? Definitely, but it made him feel slightly better.
He careened into the space next to him face first, sending up a wave of water. When he surfaced he was thoroughly drenched. He couldn’t see his eyes but his body language implied he was glaring daggers toward Wilbur.
They were both silent as they clambered out of the trough, water pooling in the dirt below.
Wilbur unfastened his mask and crossed his arms over his chest. He refused to look at Dan or his former opponent.
“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a new champ, Mister Techno Craft! Let’s shake hands, gentlemen.”
Water dripped from his curls and into his eyes, forcing him to swipe it away. He still didn’t acknowledge the counselor.
“Boys,” Dan said warningly.
He rolled his eyes, heaving a dramatic sigh as he turned, hand extended.
His opponent, Techno, must’ve turned at the same time because their eyes met. His hand hovered in the air between them, mask dangling at his side.
Techno had curly brown hair that reached the nape of his neck and freckles dotted along his nose bridge.
His eyes were drawn to a birthmark below his lower lip. That would be all well and good if Wilbur didn’t have one in the exact same spot.
After scanning the rest of Techno’s face, he deducted he even had the same curved jawline and pointed ears as him. A portion of his hair was dyed pink and both his ears were pierced, but minus the cosmetics, they were identical. It was as if he’d just been transported into The Twilight Zone or something.
Dazed, Wilbur shook his hand. Surrounding campers close enough to see both their faces gasped.
“Why’s everyone starin’?” Techno asked, blinking familiar brown eyes. His accent was painfully American.
“Don’t you see it?”
“See what, exactly?” His tone was curt.
Maybe he was going insane. “The resemblance between us.”
“Uh, no. Not really.” He shrugged. “Your hairline is way worse than mine.”
Wilbur’s jaw hung open. “Hey!”
“Just sayin’,” Techno continued. “Plus those glasses make you look like a wannabe Harry Potter.” He mimed the circular frames of his glasses with his hands.
Some blond kid was crying with laughter over the fence railing. It wasn’t even that funny.
Tubbo slid off his perch, frowning. “Want me to punch him for you?” he offered with a crack of his knuckles.
Wilbur waved him away and took a step forward, balling his own fists. “You want to know the real difference between us?” he began.
Techno seemed uninterested. “Let me guess, that I know how to fence and you don’t?”
He was about to punch his identical “twin” in his identical nose when Dan stepped back in.
“Okay, okay, gentlemen. Break it up,” he scolded. “Techno …” Dan did a double take upon seeing them together. “I mean, Wilbur, sorry—“
The lunch bell interrupted him mid-sentence and Wilbur was pulled away from the encounter by Tubbo before he could get into trouble.
“Do we really look that similar or am I going insane?” he asked his friends.
“Probably just a coincidence,” Fundy said, kicking a stone on the trail as he walked. “Freak of nature type of thing, yeah? Or a glitch in the multiverse— he’s like, the discount version of you.”
He huffed out a laugh.
“Please accept my condolences, Wil. I can’t imagine having your sworn enemy look exactly like you,” Tubbo added solemnly.
Wilbur glanced back and saw Techno being pulled away by his friends as well— one of them being the blond kid who thought him being compared to Harry Potter was peak comedy. He caught Techno staring back at him and quickly looked away.
He’d get his revenge soon, and he had the perfect idea for it. Wilbur would show Techno Craft not to mess with him.
—
They were returning from a morning hike and even Techno was feeling weary, boot soles digging into his heels with each painful step.
“I’m crawling into bed and sleeping for the next week,” Tommy groaned, backpack slung over his shoulder bouncing as he moved. Even exhausted, he still somehow oozed energy with exaggerated motion.
Quackity nodded. “I’m crawling into bed and sleeping for the next year.” He was the shorter of the two, and wore a navy blue beanie with various colorful pins stuck in the wool.
Techno wondered how he could wear a beanie in the heat of the summer outdoors without dying.
The trio rounded the corner, pine trees retreating and revealing the Pogtopia Cabin.
He expected to be greeted with cozy pine logs and screened windows, the usual sight, instead he was met with something abnormal. Techno froze. “That doesn’t seem to be a possibility,” he drawled, pointing at their cabin roof.
“What the hell?” Tommy and Quackity exclaimed in unison.
Every one of their cots were nailed onto the roof, crooked yet somehow stable. The British flag flew high in place of the American flag, stars and stripes no where to be seen.
“This has got to be some sort of hate crime,” Tommy muttered under his breath.
Quackity snapped his fingers. “I know who did it.”
So did Techno.
There was no doubt who was responsible. He’d only offended one British person so far during his time at Camp Manberg and that was Wilbur Soot.
Quackity’s face was scheming. A lightbulb must’ve gone off because he suddenly brightened. “Hey, I have a payback plan.”
“Yeah? What is it?” Tommy asked eagerly.
“I’ll tell you guys later. Let me get in touch with an associate of mine.” He rubbed his hands together, then ran off in the opposite direction— giggling all the while.
Techno mentally stalled and had to boot himself back up. “Alright, then,” he said hesitantly, gaze following Quackity’s retreating back. He didn’t know who his “associate” was nor did he want to know. “Now … how do we get our beds down from there?”
“Beats me, man.” Tommy shoved his hands in his pockets. “Dibs not it.”
“Bruh.”
—
The prank war continued, with Techno and his friends retaliating via rigged booby trap in the enemy cabin.
Quackity’s “associate” turned out to be an older boy dubbed Slime, who— and quote, “don’t ask why”— had a huge reservoir of honey, shaving cream, and maple syrup.
“No, you really don’t wanna go in there, trust me—“ Techno tried nervously, leaning all of his weight against the screen door in an attempt to keep it shut. His gaze wandered to the bucket rigged above.
Schlatt rolled his eyes, foot thumping against the wooden deck. “Give it a rest, kid. You don’t think I’ve seen some sick kids before?”
“He’s contagious,” he blurted out.
Wilbur, still in his pajamas, smiled sweetly at them from inside. “I have no clue what he’s on about. Come right in, guys.”
“Listen,“ Schlatt started and brute forced his way past Techno, yanking open the door. “I’ve had the pox before, no big—“
The bucket tipped.
Five gallons of water crowned both counselors, soaking them through and splashing onto the floorboards.
Schlatt let out a string of expletives that would’ve got him fired if any higher ups were around to witness. He stumbled forward, farther into the mess of a cabin. Dan followed suit.
Techno could only stand and watch in horror.
Wilbur backed away with a smug grin.
They both screamed, scrambling feet finding purchase on nothing but oil slicked wooden planks. Twine filled the cabin like a spiders web, so naturally they hit every possible one on the way down and triggered all the other traps. Feathers drifted in the air like snow along with glittery plastic confetti. At one point Dan tried to grab onto something to steady himself, only to trigger the next sequence.
Wilbur’s friends sat upright in their cots, shaving cream still formed into shapes of beards and wild hairstyles. The brunet one looked like he was having the time of his life, while the older was pale and looked like he was seeing death itself.
It summed up Techno’s feelings pretty well. He was horrified. Shouldn’t Quackity have warned them if they were doing cabin checks that day?
Soon enough, the counselors were covered in syrup and feathers and thoroughly filled with rage.
“That’s it!” Dan roared. “You two— start packing.” He jabbed a finger at Techno, then at Wilbur.
Wilbur’s expression dropped. “What?
“I have never, in all my time here,” Schlatt grunted, steadying himself against the doorframe.
“But I didn’t do anything!” Wilbur pleaded, gesturing around the ruined cabin. “It was all him.”
“The blame game, really?” Techno cocked an eyebrow. The last thing he wanted to do was get sent home because of him. Phil would be furious.
“Well? Get going,” Dan prompted, face red.
Wilbur scowled, turning to leave.
It couldn’t get any worse.
—
It got worse.
“Coming from two brothers that should be setting an example—“ Dan lectured. He’d taken a shower since the incident and no longer resembled a plucked chicken.
“We’re not brothers,” Wilbur spat.
He gave him a dead stare. “I’m sure you understand why I don’t believe you.” Dan nodded toward Techno.
The pink-haired thorn in Wilbur’s side held a duffel in one hand and had a backpack slung over his shoulder. “It’s true,” he responded slowly. “Pretty sure that’s the whole problem here.”
“Now, me and Schlatt have come to decision. Since we can’t send either of you home yet— we had to improvise.”
Uh-oh.
—
“You two will be sharing this cabin for the next six weeks. You’ll eat together, you’ll bunk together, and you’ll be doing all your activities together. Either you’ll find a way to get along or you’ll punish yourselves better than I ever could.” It’s said with finality, with Dan gesturing to the interior of the remote cabin.
Wilbur dropped his bag on the floor with a thump. He made sure to shoot Techno hard glare, saying, “you got us into this mess”.
The message seemed to get through just fine. Techno responded with a middle finger behind Dan’s back.
His nostrils flared.
—
They spent the next morning at breakfast in dead silence. A tacky sign with hurried marker read: “Isolation Table - Do Not Disturb”.
Wilbur could only stew in his misery, shoving forkfuls of salad in his mouth while glaring at Techno between book pages.
Meanwhile, Techno clicked away on his Game Boy, unbothered.
He wanted to slap the stupid machine out of his hands. Wilbur could tell it was going to be a long summer.
—
“Of course you do ballet.” Techno sighed inwardly, meeting Wilbur’s gaze in the wall mirror.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He crossed his arms over his chest defensively.
“Nothin’, nothin’. Just suits your amazing, definitely not stuck-up personality.” He made sure to lace each word with heavy sarcasm.
“I am not stuck up.”
“Then start acting like it.”
He could almost hear Wilbur’s jaw crack with the force of how hard he ground his teeth.
“Leave me alone,” he said.
“You leave me alone,” Techno retorted, setting down his boombox. He pressed a button and began blasting music. It had an upbeat tempo, the lyrics incomprehensible.
A challenge.
Wilbur seemed thrown off. “Fine, whatever.”
He went back to the barre, but Techno could tell the music was bothering him.
Served him right.
#mcyt#dsmp#dsmp au#wilbur soot#technoblade#twins duo#threadfic#going to be honest no clue what to tag this …#unfinished#wip? might not come back for this#fleur writes
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
Escort Gojo 🤔
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
“it’s worth it if it’s you”; haikaveh, t 🌱🏛️
One dark day in November, one of their arguments spirals out of control. It started out as something harmless, certainly nothing to get serious about, but somewhere along the way, things became personal.
Kaveh’s eyes have had that wild look right from the start, the one he gets when he’s backed into a corner, but something flashes behind them the moment Alhaitham carelessly says something he shouldn’t have: “I wish I’d never asked you to stay with me.”
Kaveh flinches, eyes going wide. Alhaitham opens his mouth, an unfamiliar feeling of guilt rising up his throat. He immediately regrets it, but the damage is done. He fumbles for words, but before he can say anything, he feels a sharp sting against the side of his face.
White hot pain blooms across his cheek, but the expression on Kaveh’s face sends a completely different sort of twinge through his heart. A single tear runs down Kaveh’s cheek, which somehow feels ten times worse than getting slapped in the face.
“Kaveh,” Alhaitham starts, but Kaveh is pulling away, rapidly putting distance between them. Alhaitham‘s heartbeat quickens to a frightening pace. He realizes that he‘s starting to panic — panic that they cannot recover from this. That Kaveh will not want to.
When he said that, he didn’t mean it. He never meant to hurt Kaveh. He just said it for the effect — to make Kaveh snap out of his tirade, but he knows he went too far.
“Kaveh, wait,” he manages, his own voice sounding alien to his ears. This is foreign territory to him. Their altercations have never become physical. Kaveh‘s never looked at him like that. There‘s an unbidden thought coming to him — what if he‘s hurt Kaveh like this before?
Kaveh’s lips form a tight line, and he‘s got his arms wrapped protectively around himself. “What,” he presses out.
“I didn’t mean that.”
“It sure sounded like you did,” Kaveh says. His voice comes out weak, but there’s certainty in it.
“I’m sorry.”
Kaveh shakes his head. “Until when do you want me gone? Just tell me, I’ll figure something out.”
Alhaitham’s heart sinks. “No,” he says, “I don’t want that.”
“Well, what do you want?” Kaveh snaps. The words are venomous.
“I want—.”
I want to stay like this. I want us to get along. I want… Alhaitham swallows. He takes a step forward, one hand extended hesitantly towards his roommate. “I want to understand you.” Kaveh’s eyes flicker, but he stays quiet. “I truly want you to stay, Kaveh.”
Kaveh wipes at his eyes, more tears spilling down his cheeks. “How do I know you’re serious?” For a while, there are no words Alhaitham thinks would convincingly convey what’s going on in his mind. Frankly, he thought he was being quite obvious about how he feels about Kaveh.
Kaveh clears his throat. “All we ever do is fight. You never let me win arguments, even when we both know I’m right. Why?”
Alhaitham usually never takes long to come up with a good comeback, but he’s stumped for words. To him, the dynamics of their relationship have always been clear. He’s never questioned that Kaveh might think of their arguing as anything other than a way of showing interest and acknowledging each other’s intelligence. A way of caring. Maybe that is what he needs to tell Kaveh. He doesn’t know if it’ll translate, considering Kaveh takes things much too personal and tends to misinterpret words seemingly at will, but it’s maybe the only way to solve this.
“Listen. I don’t know if you’ve noticed at all, but you’re the only one I argue with like this.”
“Oh great. Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
Alhaitham scratches at the back of his neck. “I do it because it’s worth the hassle. With anyone else, I wouldn’t even bother. It’s worth it if it’s you.”
Kaveh regards him for a long moment. He’s still got his arms wrapped around himself, but his shoulders are slowly beginning to relax. Alhaitham waits for him to say something. His heart is still beating quicker than usual, breath stuck somewhere in his throat. Finally, Kaveh uncrosses his arms and wipes his face one last time. Then, he takes one long stride and then he’s right in front of Alhaitham. He lifts a hand, and Alhaitham winces, bracing himself for another slap.
It doesn’t come.
“Relax,” Kaveh says, a hint of amusement in his words. He swipes his thumb along Alhaitham’s cheek, his touch feeling cool against his burning skin. “You’re all red. Did I hit you too hard?”
Alhaitham averts his eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”
“So… I’m special to you? Since I’m apparently the only one suffering the consequences of your terrible way of dealing with, what, respecting people?”
It’s not just respect, though, Alhaitham thinks. There’s something else mixed in, something warm and sweet. Something that’s a little bit scary to accept. So he just nods, half hoping for Kaveh to step back, half wanting him closer. Kaveh exhales, his breath hitting Alhaitham’s cheek, and lets go of him. “I’ll remind you of that, then, the next time you’re being an asshole.”
“Fine with me. Won’t change that I was right this time,” Alhaitham retorts, feeling relieved.
Kaveh rolls his eyes. “I might forgive you if you tidy up the living room.”
Alhaitham ends up cleaning the kitchen as well. Kaveh watches him while working on a new sketch. It’s okay, Alhaitham thinks. He gets the feeling that he’s come a bit closer to realizing what it is that made him so scared of the thought of losing Kaveh’s company in the first place. It’s definitely something more than respect. He has a vague idea where his heart is trying to lead him, and he hopes Kaveh will stick around long enough for him to get there.
106 notes
·
View notes
Text
Love Letters
Hualian, Xianle quartet (romantic), 3 times Xie Lian sent love letters, and the 1 time he received them in return. Threadfic, this is part 1.
1:
In the hot and heavy summer air, Xie Lian lay dozing. He and Hua Cheng were outside their little house in the mortal realm, laying in the shade of a tree on a blanket spread over soft grass. Xie Lian pillowed his head on the chest of the half-reclined ghost king, tracing patterns onto his skin with his fingertip where Hua Cheng's robes had almost fallen off his shoulder.
They had come out here under the pretense of relaxing, or perhaps even meditating. But it had turned into an amorous embrace, robes loosened to cool off as they added to the summer heat. They had slowed down now, simply basking in each other's presence.
Hua Cheng carded a hand through Xie Lian's hair, having taken it down and mindlessly wove little braids on either side. This was what had caused Xie Lian to doze, relaxing under the hypnotic feeling of Hua Cheng's hands playing with his hair.
Xie Lian sighed contentedly, melting even more until he felt he could conform his body to the one he laid on. He turned to press a soft kiss to Hua Cheng's chest, gone almost fever-warm from the humid atmosphere, like stone left in the sun.
"Are you awake now, gege?" Hua Cheng murmured, kissing the top of his head.
"Five more minutes." Xie Lian replied, wrapping his arms more securely around him and curling his legs closer.
"Gege isn't too hot?" Hua Cheng's hand left his hair and he gave a protesting whine. Then there was a soft breeze, and he cracked open his eyes to see that he had summoned a fan, waving it steadily.
"No, this is perfect." Xie Lian yawned. "But we really should get up in a few minutes. We're supposed to have guests today."
Hua Cheng scoffed. "If they bother showing up."
"San Lang, be nice. They're making an effort."
Even so, he let himself drift off for longer than he perhaps should have. When they finally disentangled themselves and prepared to receive their guests for dinner, Hua Cheng succeeded in distracting him no less than ten times.
By the time dinner was ready, Xie Lian had hardly finished setting it out on the table when he was once again swept into the arms of an impatient ghost king. He was up against a wall, kissing Hua Cheng with his hands buried in his hair when there was a knock at their door.
"Be right there!" He called, and Hua Cheng reluctantly let him go, stealing one last kiss.
His dear friends Feng Xin and Mu Qing stood outside, looking like they could tell exactly what had been happening before they had knocked. Xie Lian smiled. "It's been too long! Come in, I just finished making dinner."
Their expressions turned grim at the pronouncement.
"There's no need, we're just dropping in for a short while." Feng Xin said.
"Does he have to be here?" Mu Qing added, looking at Hua Cheng.
The ghost king grinned. "Do you?"
"Sit down, both of you. I'm just dying to know what's been happening in heaven while I was gone."
His guests took one side of the table, and Hua Cheng sat next to him. His heart sank a little when they didn't take any of his stew, he thought it looked quite good this time around.
The news from heaven was sparse. Nothing exciting, just the usual petty drama.
"Except for our mission." Feng Xin finally said.
"A mission? What for?" Xie Lian tried to surreptitiously serve him a bowl of stew.
"It's not that exciting." Mu Qing said. "Some village praying for help, an infestation of ghosts causing trouble."
"And both of you are going?"
"We were both asked for." Feng Xin said. "And neither of us were willing to concede to the other for the privilege of taking on the task."
Mu Qing shot him a humorless grin. Evidently they had already fought about it.
Xie Lian sighed. "Be safe you two. If anything goes wrong don't hesitate to ask for help."
"They'll be fine, gege." Hua Cheng reassured.
Later, when their guests had left, Xie Lian started writing a letter. It was a silly idea, like Hua Cheng had said, they would be okay without him. But it was reassuring to draw up spells along with well-wishes. He'd make two, and send them along when they left for their mission. Hopefully the letters would cheer them up and keep them from fighting each other too badly. And the spells could be useful, if the situation turned dangerous.
Hua Cheng watched over his shoulder, and insisted on adding his signature as well. When they were sealed, the last of the evening light far gone, he pulled Xie Lian to bed. He had his own method of settling his worries.
Having poured his affection into the letters, Xie Lian had no idea just how much they would affect his two closest friends.
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fae/Foster AU where Fae aren’t trusted to speak for fear of making deals — and so each foster family is given the Fae’s name to immediately mute them. Like Tommy, the unwanted Changeling.
And yet the Watsons let him communicate.
By… writing on a cheap plastic whiteboard.
It’s an incredible gift.
He’s practically giddy with joy, scrawling out words that someone *finally* listens to. And not just anyone — the kindest, sweetest people the world has to offer.
And selfishly, Tommy wants more.
“Thank you.”
He holds the whiteboard out to Phil after supper. He’s eaten their food & thanked them, gave them so much power. As if his name wasn’t enough.
Phil… smiles. At *Tommy,* the inhuman, unwanted creature.
And that makes the silence worth it.
Almost.
Because it hurts.
To not be able to laugh during meals. To not banter with Wilbur or ramble with Techno. (Even when they say, “You’re a great listener, Tommy.”
Because that’s all he is.)
And to know that if he ever said, “I love you,” it would be accompanied by the acrid stench of the marker.
And silence. Always silence.
That’s what makes him desperate enough to try.
“Hey, mate.”
Phil turns around, halfway through a sink of dishes. His smile falters to a look of concern as he sees Tommy’s hunched, shaking frame.
And that concern evaporates as he sees the message scrawled on Tommy’s whiteboard.
“Can I have my voice back?”
Tommy’s stupid enough to hope.
That maybe a year with the Watsons was enough. That maybe he’d gained their trust through his quiet help & shaky smiles. By being *easy.*
But Phil’s face tightens, grip tightening on the silverware in his hand.
They’re thinking the same thing, Tommy knows.
Fae are dangerous. It’s a good thing there’s iron everywhere — if worse came to worse, they could ward off Tommy with it.
(What Phil doesn’t know is that Tommy would let them.
That he’d take the pain and rejection silently.)
“We need to talk.”
It’s not said to Tommy. It doesn’t involve him at all. Just Phil and his sons who he’s called to the living room, voice quiet as Tommy eavesdrops.
That doesn’t make the words any less gutwrenching.
“You can’t let Tommy speak.”
The twins tense, but they… they don’t even argue.
Phil’s jaw tightens. “He tried to ask me. You two have his name, too, he’ll go after you next. We can’t risk anything.”
What isn’t said is, *He’s too dangerous to trust.*
But they all know it.
Tommy somehow gets quieter.
Because horribly, it makes sense. The Watsons can’t risk their family falling into a dangerous Fae deal.
And even if they did give his voice back, he’d be different. Too loud, too bubbly, too desperate for their love.
So he cuts his losses.
“Just for one day.”
It’s Wilbur he approaches, months after Phil’s warning. The boy looks up at Tommy, his incredible, undeserved fondness masked by confusion.
“One day for what?”
*To have my voice back,* is the true answer.
But there’s more. So much more. *To say I love you. To call Phil Dad, just once. To call you and Techno my brothers. Just one day to speak, and all I’ll say is how much I love you.*
*I’ll be quiet after that.*
“To have my voice back.”
In the end, that’s all he writes. There’s not enough space to write out all those vulnerable truths, the stench of the marker making him dizzy.
And Wilbur’s face falls.
“Tommy.”
He sounds… doubtful. Tommy’s heart dares to rise, hands shaking as Wilbur stands, face drawn tight with grief, pain, and… guilt?
It only takes a second for that last emotion to make sense.
Because Wilbur snatches the whiteboard from his hands.
“You can’t be trusted with it.”
That’s Wilbur’s explanation as he stalks down the hallway, Tommy clinging to his side, mouth desperately forming muted apologies.
And when Wilbur hands the whiteboard to Phil, those damning words still scrawled across it, Phil says the same.
That’s not the end of it.
The notebooks around the house are taken. So are any scraps of paper, loose pens, pencils, or markers.
And Phil, voice thick with grief, orders, “Tommy, don’t try to talk to us again.”
It didn’t have to be an order. Tommy would’ve listened.
But the end result is the same. Tommy stays silent, buried in his room, unable to even cry out. To ask for *anything,* let alone the chance to say, “I love you.”
And like this, he’s lost the chance to ever hear it, too.
242 notes
·
View notes
Text
Deep Breath
experimenting with threadfic to test out some twelvejack dynamics. I have no idea how long this will end up being, but every addition will be in a reblog and any of my thoughts on that addition will be in the tags. This should be like a g or t rating on ao3 but if anything happens I’ll edit this intro with warnings
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Rengiyuu!
275 notes
·
View notes
Text
threadfic miya twins character study / sakuatsu 6.7k
miya twins angst, hurt/comfort, loneliness, learning about self worth, skts but mostly a miya twin focus
There’s this thing in most SakuAtsu fics that always gets me, but I never feel like it’s gone into enough, and it’s when there’s a fight/miscommunication between the Miya twins. There’s always some angst and then they get into a fist fight and all is well. But 9 times out of 10 what happens is, it seems like Tsumu is being a whiny brat over something small, he brings it up, they fight, and they settle it like ‘Yep, Tsumu’s just dramatic’, and it always feels like the whole thing boils down to Tsumu being unable to move on, Samu being more mature, and Tsumu ends up kind of being comedic relief for getting so worked up. (Also, half the time, it’s Tsumu being worked up because Samu tells everyone something or whatever, and in the end Suna and Samu are like ‘You’re being a brat lol’ and that’s that). And, without fail, it drives me CRAZY bc it always feels like it never addresses the root issue, so it never feels resolved to me.
PSA: I’m not saying this as like, "These are real people- how dare you ignore their feelings!!" but more like, "You're setting up this character with really valid emotions and reactions, and then failing to carry them through and it falls flat. So, here are my thoughts:
The reason Tsumu gets so worked up when it comes to Samu is because Samu is his Most Important Person. Nothing & no one has ever been, or will ever be, more important to him, and he is fully shameless about it.
It's so obvious, even when they bicker. But Samu, from an outside perspective, but also from people who know him, sees Tsumu as his twin, his brother, but not necessarily his Most Important Person or Thing.
Maybe he was when they were younger, but as they grew up, he sort of moved on. Found other things more important and whatever. This is usually where the issue happens: many fics will see the moving on as part of maturing and "resolve" the issue by implying that the solution is that Atsumu needs to move on, and then Omi comes in, etc., etc., everything's good! But that never seems right to me.
I need Samu to be confronted about the fact that Tsumu has always loved him before anything, has always put him first, and yet he, time after time, doesn't do the same.
He tells Suna about quitting volleyball first, he sees Suna more than he sees Tsumu, he doesn't tell him they're dating. And he and Suna- who's known them for a long, long time, who knows how Tsumu is- will regularly poke fun at Tsumu for being dramatic, whiny, overly sensitive, and it hurts Tsumu to know that the two people he's known the longest- including the one person who's supposed to be his other half, who's supposed to always be by his side and always have his back- never try to understand him.
They never seem to care about him as much as they care about each other. And worse than that, they make him feel like something's wrong with him for caring about them the way he does. Like he's too much, too immature, too clingy, and they tease and mock and belittle, knowing exactly where Atsumu's most vulnerable. Crossing all the lines of ‘too far’ and then, instead of apologizing, they laugh it off and tell him to grow up.
And everyone seems to agree.
Just once, JUST ONCE, I want Atsumu to have enough.
I want him to realize that he doesn't deserve that. That nothing's wrong with the way he loves, and the way he needs love.
I want an Atsumu who realizes he's giving himself up over and over just to be ridiculed.
And sure, Samu checks on him when he's sick, and Suna invites him to drink after they play against each other, and eventually they even ask Tsumu to officiate their wedding so they don't have to fight over him, but that's not what Tsumu wanted.
Tsumu wanted to be Samu's best man, the way they'd always planned since they first found out what marriage was. And if, or when, Tsumu ever got married, he'd ask Samu to be his. But it was supposed to go both ways. And Samu was supposed to call when good things happened too (like Suna asking him on a first date, or the loan for the restaurant being approved), or even bad things, not just out of a sense of obligation to make sure Tsumu was okay. And Suna was supposed to invite Tsumu out whenever he was nearby, the way Tsumu did, not just drop a time and place as their teams lined up to shake hands.
Tsumu is always treated like the Least Important Person, and eventually he has to recognize it's not good, it's not fair or healthy or right, and he owes it to himself to stop, because losing his Most Important Person is less painful than what he has right now (at least he hopes). So he starts treating Samu and Suna the way they treat him.
He answers calls (most of the time) but rarely calls first.
He doesn't send pictures of things that remind him of them anymore.
He doesn't send "I miss you" or "Love you" anymore, because they always laugh and brush him off.
He visits the restaurant if the team is in town, but he stops taking the train over on weekends just to say hi
When something big happens, he goes home alone and puts his head between his knees and breathes, because he ‘won't call Samu.’ He won't. Because Samu wouldn't. And it's hard. God, it's so, so hard, and it hurts more than he'd thought. They'd say he was being dramatic, they'd tell him to grow up, get over it. But the way neither of them even seem to notice makes him realize it was the right thing to do.
It's also hard because now Tsumu struggles a bit (a lot) to let people in. Maybe it's not that deep, maybe it's not that big a deal, but if his twin thought he was too much, didn't even care all that much about him in the end, despite the fact that Tsumu would do anything in the world for him, then who the hell would do otherwise? His twin brother and their oldest friend didn't stick around, so Tsumu doesn't really believe anyone actually will.
He becomes closer with his teammates, slowly: Bokuto loves a lot like him- giving all of himself to everyone he cares for- and even with a boyfriend, he still makes so much time for Atsumu, still meets him where he's at, treats him how Tsumu always wanted someone to. Shoyo and Omi become good friends too, through trial and error. Shouyou is easier: Tsumu knows not to expect the same kind of attentiveness from him- he's kind of flighty and distractible, which isn't bad at all. He's so genuine and good regardless.
Omi takes longer, given their sort of warring personalities, but in the end he sees Atsumu as he is, and never asks him to change. He never asks more (or less) from him. Never makes Tsumu feel like he's wrong. In his own ways, Omi pours himself into their friendship wholeheartedly, and the same way he recognizes Atsumu's ways of showing it, Tsumu sees that Omi is doing the same. For once, Tsumu doesn't feel like his care is unwanted.
But even so, new friends (or maybe more?) can only do so much. It's harder and harder to admit it now that he's proven to himself that he wasn't the one in the wrong, but he misses his brother, misses his oldest friend, and he knows they don't miss him. And it's embarrassing, it's shameful, to know that, despite everything, he would still do anything for them because that's just who he is, who he's always been. No matter what, Samu will still be his Most Important Person, and Tsumu can't do anything about it.
They still see each other, sometimes, and Tsumu breathes in each moment like he's been starved for air. He tries not to let it show, just how much he misses them, how happy he is to see them, even if it's not the same. Hell, they're probably happier to see him now than ever before, mentioning how much he's grown up lately, how much better he's doing now that he's not so dependent on them, on Samu. And it hurts infinitely more to hear, to know that they prefer this censored version of him to the real one. The one who was unashamed of how much he loved them, how much they meant to him.
It takes a while for him to heal from that, actually. His new friends help. Omi helps a lot. Bo helps the most- he's the first person Tsumu ever tells about it all, and he's the only one who he trusts to understand. Even then, there's no one who can really share the feeling. Even Bokuto can only speak about friends, his two sisters much older. It's different from a twin, and he knows that. So, to an extent, he has to go it alone.
That's the worst part. Tsumu always believed that being born a twin meant you were never supposed to be alone, not truly. How could you be born part of a perfect matching set only to end up on your own? It felt wrong, it always had. That was why Samu had always been the world to him. For Tsumu, being Samu's brother was as intrinsically part of him as his hands, his eyes, his legs; there was no way to remove that part of himself, not without far too much pain. So he remained Samu's brother, even if it was only in his heart, buried deep so it couldn't be used against him. It was a secret treasure just for him, one that hurt to hold onto, but would hurt much more to lose.
Everything kind of goes to shit eventually, when after a year or two, Omi proposes after they win the Olympics. It was on international television. It made headlines. The sports channel and gossip rags were talking about the same thing for once.
And then Osamu called.
Tsumu almost didn't answer.
He was so happy and he wanted to share it with Samu, but he wanted to hoard it to himself more. But Omi left him alone with a look that said 'answer it,' so he did.
It was silent on the line when he answered, and Tsumu didn't say anything to break it. It was Samu who spoke first.
"Yer gettin' married?"
It took a moment to respond. Samu's voice took him by surprise, how quiet and shaky it was. "Yeah," he said. "Eventually."
"I didn't know the two of ya were together."
Tsumu could've laughed at the irony of it if it didn't sting to hear.
"Never came up, I guess."
"I- Yeah. Guess not. Not much does, these days, it seems."
Atsumu pressed a hand to his mouth and stared at the door Omi had left through, pushing down the urge to scream or maybe cry. It had been two or so years since he'd left, and Samu had never even noticed the difference until now.
"What happened?" Samu asked, voice shaking that way it did when he refused to cry. "What happened to us, Tsumu?"
Atsumu took a deep breath, letting it out with a sigh. "Samu, if you don't know, it's not gonna matter."
He wasn't trying to be obtuse. He didn't want to guilt Samu into anything. But if Samu couldn't tell that he'd caused this, that he'd always been the one to push that distance further and further... If he couldn't see that much, Tsumu didn't know if he could fix it.
He couldn't do it on his own. He couldn't put himself through that again, not after he'd put this much work in to help himself.
"I don't- I don't know. I don't know why ya wouldn't tell me. I thought we told each other things like this."
Tsumu's laugh was harsh. "Ya can't be serious."
"What’d'ya mean? I'm dead serious, Tsumu."
"After Suna? Ya think ya have any right to say that?"
"What-I- that was different, Tsum. Ya found out eventually, and not because I got proposed to on live television."
"'Cause it was so much better walkin' in on the two of ya fuckin' after ya told me ya couldn't come visit 'cause ya got caught up at work!"
"And I told ya I was sorry! I didn't think ya were gonna come over, ya lived two cities away!"
"And I wanted to see ya!" Atsumu yelled. "I wanted to see my brother, was that so bad?!"
Of course that wouldn't have occurred to Samu, Tsumu thought, because he wouldn't have done the same. Samu only came when Tsumu invited him. At the very least he'd call ahead. He never surprised him. He didn't go out of his way because he wanted to see Tsumu.
"It doesn't matter," Atsumu said, sucking in a deep breath. "I already told ya. Look I- I don't wanna do this. At all. Right now. I just- I just got engaged, Samu. I just won the Olympics. You've had forever to do this, why'd'ya hafta do it now?"
Samu was silent for a long time. "Is it so bad? Did I do somethin' so bad to ya?"
"Samu, please, not- not now."
"Ya can't even tell me? I'm your brother, Tsumu, we can't just-"
"Brothers?” Atsumu laughed. It came out like a sob. "Samu, when was the last time you acted like a brother to me?"
"I- what?"
"Samu, when- God, I don't wanna do this right now. Fuck." He wished he could go back just five minutes and not answer the call. Hold onto Omi instead.
"Do ya even know when I realized ya were tearin' me apart?" Atsumu asked, throwing an arm over his face. "It's been two years now, and ya just now noticed. You and Rin just- the two of ya- ya don't even know how much ya hurt me. Ya didn't even care."
"H-hurt ya? Tsumu, what're ya talkin' about? What's Rin gotta do with this?"
"Look, I don't- I just- do we hafta do this now?"
"Yes we hafta do it now!" Samu spit. "What the hell are you talkin' about?"
"God, I just- fuck, Samu, I couldn't stand it anymore! You know I love ya more than anythin'. Do you know how it was for me? Always 'Tsumu's too much', 'Tsumu's being dramatic', 'Tsumu's too clingy'. I just cared about ya! But it was too much for ya. Both of ya. I thought, for so long, that somethin' was wrong with me. I thought 'even my own brother thinks it's too much, the way I love people'. Do you know how long it took for me to realize it was okay? That there wasn't somethin' wrong with me?
"Everythin' I did, everythin' I am was too much for ya. Too much for Rin. And ya couldn't even just- just pretend, or even tolerate it. Ya made- ya made me feel so bad. All the time. And ya never once- never made me feel like ya gave a shit about me.
"Yer my twin, that- to me, that means everythin', Samu. It means everythin' to me. You mean everythin' to me, and it- it hurts so bad, knowin' ya don't care, knowing I'm not the person you wanna tell things to, the person that ya rely on. God, to you I'm just- what? A burden? Just the person ya ended up stuck with? Did ya ever want me around or was I just there?
"‘Cause I always wanted you around. I wanna tell ya everythin', good or bad, big or small. Yer the one I've always- always relied on. I always told ya everythin'. And ya know what you did? Ya went and told Rin. Anythin' I told ya, secret or not, ya went and told Rin. And when you had somethin' to share, who did ya go to? Rin. Always Rin, never me. "Ya never cared that some things I only wanted you to know. Ya never cared that I wanted to be there to cheer you on or support ya. Ya never- I was never important to ya, not like you are to me. And that's- there's nothin' I can do about that, but I couldn't keep puttin' myself through it. So ya don't get to call after all this time and say I owe ya anythin' because we're 'brothers’. Ya lost that right, Samu."
Tsumu broke off, only vaguely realizing he'd ended up yelling. He was breathing heavy, eyes stinging, throat tight. This wasn't how he'd wanted his night to go. He should've been spending time with Omi, thinking about a ring since Omi had proposed with a medal.
He could hear Samu breathing over the phone, ragged and uneven, hitching with nearly silent sobs.
"D'ya see, Samu?" Atsumu whispered. "It's not- I can't fix this. I spent- I spent so long chasin' you. So long pretendin'. I won't do that to myself again, Samu. It hurt too much."
"I didn't-" Samu sounded broken. "I didn't know. I didn't mean to-"
"I know," Tsumu interrupted. "I know ya didn't, but that doesn't mean anythin' to me. I never wanted ya to treat me one way out of pity or guilt. I wanted it because yer my brother, and if ya- if ya cared about me like how I care about you, it wouldn't... It doesn't matter now.
"Look, Samu... I'm not mad at ya. Not anymore. And I still love ya more than anythin', that'll never change. But I got engaged tonight. I won the Olympics. And I don't wanna hurt right now. I just wanna be happy for a night, Samu. Can I have that much from ya, at least?"
Tsumu waited until Samu choked out a fragile ‘yes’, and then hung up and tossed his phone away. That was not what he'd envisioned for tonight. He felt simultaneously drained and like he might burst at the seams.
It took a while for Omi to come back, but when he did, he found Tsumu with his head between his knees, breathless and shaking as he cried.
Omi didn't ask him about anything, he just wrapped him up in his arms and told him he'd done well, and he was proud of him. It didn't ease the pain, but it helped some.
It helped because, even after everything, it was hard for Tsumu to not feel like he'd overreacted.
In his mind, Samu was talking with Suna right now, complaining about how Tsumu always did this, blew up for no reason just to make a fuss. Even after all this time, Atsumu wondered if he was the one in the wrong, the one making a big deal out of nothing, causing Samu problems again.
But Omi was there, holding him, reminding him with his words and his presence that it wasn't Atsumu's fault. That he hadn't done anything wrong by setting his boundaries, by recognizing what his love was worth.
They didn't celebrate that night, or even the next, but eventually they did, and Atsumu was happy even if he'd always pictured that his brother would be there for a moment like this.
Omi asked at one point when Tsumu would want the wedding, but Atsumu just fell silent and Omi understood. Nothing was going to happen yet. Tsumu has given up enough, but he couldn't... he couldn't give that up too. He may not have been Samu's best man, but he still wanted Samu to be his. and that couldn't happen right now, so he couldn't even begin to think about the rest of it. But Omi understood, and he was patient.
Time passed, as it was wont to do, and Tsumu settled again— or at least he would have, but Samu and Suna were acting... weird. It wasn't really anything obvious at first, especially since neither of them ever brought up the phone call, but...
First was Tsumu's mom, who mentioned on their weekly call that Samu had been bothering her like crazy, asking about their high school days and what she remembered about the three of them. Then Kita texted saying ‘Do you know if Osamu is in therapy? it may be a good idea.’ Which in Kita speak meant ‘Your brother's acting weird as fuck, tell him to leave me alone and bother someone who's paid to put up with him.’ Then Samu texted, saying he was going to be in town for a weekend. He'd be really busy, so he was getting a hotel room so he wouldn't disturb Tsumu with his comings and goings, but he had a potential opportunity to open up a new branch and he had to check things out.
“Could we meet?” he'd asked, and Tsumu stared at his phone for a long time, because they'd never been the kind of people who had to ask about things like that. “‘course,” he'd texted, biting his lip. “Lmk when you have time, we'll go out to eat.”
Then Suna called out of the blue after a game that Tsumu had watched on the TV in the living room. "Rin?" Tsumu answered, turning the volume down even though he liked watching post-game commentary. "Ya okay?"
"Did ya watch the game?" Suna asked, no greeting or anything.
"Yeah, just had it on. T'was good."
"It was ratshit," Suna grunted. "They got through half my blocks no problem, and shut me out more than not." Atsumu blinked at the TV screen, playing highlight reels of the game. The game Suna had just called him out of the blue to talk about.
"Wasn't yer best," he admitted slowly, Suna could be a bit prickly about his abilities when he didn't do well. "But ya knew goin' in yer usual tricks wouldn't be the most effective with them. An ace like that is hard to stop, and he happens to be built like a tank. Ya had a lot of good receives in the back row, kept yer team goin'."
Suna hummed, and Tsumu could hear the weary disappointment. "I guess. I just wanted to do better."
"I know ya did." Because Suna always did. Tsumu wondered if maybe Suna had meant to call Samu instead? "But what's done is done, no use workin' yerself up about it. Practice harder, so they can't shut ya out next time."
"I know. I know, yer right, I'm just..."
"I know. You should have Samu make ya some hirata buns. Ya always liked those when we lost."
Suna was quiet for a moment. "Yers are better than yer brother's," he finally grumbled, and Tsumu's cheeks flushed at the unexpected praise. "But yeah. Thanks, Tsum. I gotta go, coach wants to debrief. Thanks for pickin' up.”
Atsumu stared at his phone for a long time after the call ended.
Weird things like that kept happening. Tsumu came home to Omi unboxing a package of individually wrapped onigiri from Samu's shop that he'd found waiting by the door when he got home. Suna kept sending him pictures of the stray cat that kept showing up behind their apartment. Kita texted again asking ‘How have you been, Atsumu?', which made Atsumu's lip start wobbling and Omi called him a crybaby. Even Bo asked him at practice if something had happened with Samu, because apparently Akaashi had gone in to eat and kept having to text Bo questions because Samu kept hounding him about Tsumu; how he was? Was he doing well in practice? Did he have good friends on the team? Was Omi good to him?
Eventually, Samu was in town, and they met up to eat at a Chinese hot pot place between Tsumu's home and Samu's hotel. It was their first time seeing each other in person since before the phone call, and Tsumu was nervous. He'd thought about inviting Omi with him, but Omi had straight up refused. "Call me if you need me," he'd said, with a voice that said he'd be there in a heartbeat, but he told Atsumu this was something he probably had to do on his own. And Samu hadn't brought Suna, which was rare even when Suna was in season, so Tsumu agreed to return the courtesy. Just them, then. Tsumu and Samu, Samu and Tsumu. What a ridiculous thing to be scared of.
In the end, though it was just the two of them, they got enough food for four. it was almost distracting enough to drown out the inescapable awkwardness between them. Almost.
Atsumu didn't want to bring anything up, not when they were having an almost normal meal again, so he let Samu guide the conversation.
Samu told him about the property he'd gone to visit here in the city, a small restaurant that had been a ramen shop before it shut down. Tsumu looked at the pictures he was shown and agreed that it looked like a good place, though Samu would need a refrigerated display. Samu told him that their ma was trying to grow radishes in her window boxes, and Tsumu laughed and pretended that was the first he'd heard of it. Samu explained, staring fixedly at the vegetables floating in the spicy broth, that Suna thought it was best he didn't come this time, so it didn't feel like the two of them were ganging up on Tsumu again when they apologized, and Tsumu-
Tsumu blinked.
"If we came to ya, both of us at once, wouldn't it still feel like it was us versus you?" Samu asked quietly. "I didn't- I didn't tell him everythin' you told me, I swear, but he's always been smarter than us, he put it together since... with everythin' you said the last time, I didn't wanna seem like we were just apologizin' to get over it, ya know? And we thought, maybe, showin' up together might not be the best way to show we heard ya and everythin'."
Tsumu blinked at Samu, who blinked at the sweet potato that bobbed to the surface of the boiling soup.
"Look, Tsumu," Samu said, "I don't know when... when I started treatin' ya so bad. I don't know, and I don't know how I never noticed, or how I never saw when you… when you had enough of it. I never wanted to push ya like that. I never wanted to hurt ya. I know it's too late to say stuff like that, and I know it doesn't really matter, not when it can't change anythin', but it's true. And I'm sorry we made it impossible for you to talk to us. I know you tried to, and we just- just laughed it off. That was... fuck. I'm sorry, Tsumu. I really, really am. And ya don't hafta forgive me for it, not now, or- or ever, if ya don't want to. What we did, what I did- it wasn't fair to you. And more than that, I never should've... yer my brother, Tsumu. I should've been there for ya, I should've been the one you could come to when ya felt like shit or wanted to cry about somethin'. I should've been the person you could tell about yer first day in the big leagues, or yer new friends, or, or gettin' engaged. And- and ya still told me about so much of it, even when I-" he broke off with a frustrated sound. Samu had never been good at talking.
"I betrayed yer trust in me," Samu forced out. "And did it over and over, even when ya kept givin' me more chances." Samu took a deep breath, and he finally looked up to meet Tsumu's eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't keep yer secrets. I'm sorry I didn't listen when you needed me to. I'm sorry I ever made ya feel like you were wrong for trustin' me, for believin' that you deserved someone to be there for ya. You do, Tsumu. You always did, and I'm sorry it wasn't me.
“Most of all," he took a deep breath and started again. "Most of all, I'm sorry I made ya feel like you weren't a brother to me.
"We've always been more different that people think, but I still should've met ya halfway instead of makin' you cover the distance alone every time. I should've known how you are and what you need, the way you always have for me. And Rin- I'm not gonna apologize for him, he'll do that himself, but you always took care of him too. The three of us... we should've all looked out for each other, but you took care of all of us, and Rin and I just- we just looked out for ourselves. I'm sorry, Tsumu. And ya don't hafta let me, but I wanna make it up to ya. I wanna be- I wanna be brothers again, how we used to be. And i'll do the work, i'll go the whole distance, i'll do whatever ya need. You won't be alone in it anymore, I promise ya.
"I just want my big brother back, Tsumu. I miss ya, and I can't do all this without ya."
Atsumu met Samu's gaze, shell shocked at the sudden apology, and neither of them spoke for a long moment. Then suddenly, they both sniffed and tore their eyes away-the kind of in sync move that used to get them "There it is! Twin telepathy!" when they were young.
"Fuck, now I'm cryin' into the soup," Samu grumbled under his breath, wiping at his face roughly with the back of his wrist. "Why'd we hafta do this right now?"
"Hah?! Yer the one who brought it up, what do you mean we?!" Tsumu cried out, wiping his own face with a handful of paper napkins. "This is yer fault, not mine!"
"It's not my fault I had to apologize!" Samu retorted on instinct, and both of them paused. Tsumu sent him a thoroughly unimpressed glare- as much of a glare as he could manage when his eyes wouldn't stop watering.
"Say that again, slowly," Tsumu invited. "Yeah, yeah, I heard it as soon as I said it," Samu grunted, face pink. "Are we gonna keep talkin' about it or can we eat?"
"Well for one, I don't think yer in a place to be makin' demands right now," Tsumu said with as haughty a sniffle as he could manage. “And for two, I get hungry when I cry so food now, talk later."
"I know ya do, that's why I asked in the first place," Samu grumbled, but he swiped a piece of Tsumu's lamb and swished it around in the mala broth, just how Tsumu liked it, before reaching across the table and dropping it in Tsumu's dipping sauce.
It was hardly anything really, but Tsumu stared at it for a while. there were some things, he supposed, that Samu had noticed about him. Had remembered through the years. It didn't absolve him of his wrongs, it didn't fix things, but... it was nice to know, anyway. Tsumu wondered if Samu thought of him when he went out to eat with Suna, the way Tsumu always did; scanning the menu briefly to figure out what his brother would order if he was there.
Did Samu think about him when the first fireflies of the season began to appear, the ones they used to chase around with a glass jar in late summer?
Did he think of him, like Tsumu did, when that song came on the radio- the one their ma would sing out loud while she cleaned the kitchen, Tsumu and Samu watching cartoons in the next room?
Did he think of him, sometimes, when he woke up and there wasn't someone there? A matching set that had climbed under the covers with him when the thunder got too loud?
Even after all this time, so much of Tsumu's world was built by Samu. the smell of fireworks and takoyaki during matsuris, the sailor moon theme song they performed for their grandparents when they were six, the scar on his big toe where Samu nearly bit it off as a baby.
It was impossible to go a day without thinking about him, even if he tried. Samu was ingrained in his very being, always had been. Was he the same to him, tattooed on his soul from start to finish?
They ate in relative silence: Samu bracing himself for what would come next, Tsumu trying. his best to just make sense of things. A long time ago he'd posted on one of those advice forums, hurt and confused and searching for answers. They had come, mostly in the form of "Family or not, a relationship like that is more harm than good. Cut ties, put yourself first!", and some half dozen variations just like it. Tsumu had gotten sick thinking about it. He hadn't deleted the post because it was against the forum rules to delete once people had answered, but he made sure to reply to everyone. ‘You don't know what you're talking about. He's my twin brother.’
Dinner was long, though not as long as it could have been if they'd talked, but Tsumu still didn't really know what to say as they left. He wanted to say something like "It's alright, I forgive you, let's go back to how we were before" but he honestly couldn't really remember- couldn't remember when "before" was. It was hard, actually, to remember the last time Samu hadn't... hadn't scared him, at least a little.
When Tsumu went running up to him with something to say, or when he found himself crying after a bad game, or when he wanted attention just because- he couldn't remember the last time he hadn't gone expecting a weary sigh, an eye roll, a derisive laugh.
So he couldn't say it was okay. But he had a chance to have his brother back, and even if it was a bad decision, even if it meant he was the vulnerable one once again... for Samu, he would do it. He would do it again, with his trust and his hope on full display.
But this time- this time, Samu needed to do it too. Belly up and helpless, knowing the costs of failure. Tsumu wouldn't be the only one, not this time.
"I'll let ya," he finally said, the two of them frozen under some streetlight, hands shoved in their pockets to protect them from showing too much. "You and Rin, if he wants to. I'll let ya make it up to me. I want ya to, Samu, and I mean that. I don't want- this isn't some power play, alright? I'm not tryin' to guilt trip you into doin' whatever I want until I decide yer forgiven. you know I'd do anythin' for ya, even now. So, don't do this ‘cause ya want somethin' from me. I want ya to do this because you miss me too. I want-" it was hard to ask for what he wanted. "I want ya to treat me well, Samu. I want ya to treat me like someone ya want to be around, someone ya actually- actually love. Not someone ya just got stuck with.”
He took a deep breath. "We've always been brothers because that's how we were born. But I choose to be yer brother every day, Samu. I don't regret it, and I'll do it every day until I die. But you have to make that choice now. You have to prove ya want this, that it- that we, that I, am worth that effort for ya. Got it? Because I've had enough of bein' an afterthought, and I- I know now that I deserve more. So I don't really want yer apologies, to be honest, though I appreciate it nonetheless. If ya wanna make it up to me, I want ya to show up for me. I want ya to care about the things I love, to listen to me when I talk, even if ya think it's just a nod along if I'm mad! I want to know that I can go to ya about anythin'. That ya won't judge me, won't laugh at me or put me down, and I'm not- I'm not askin' ya to treat me like a princess or anythin'. I can take a joke, but ya need to know where the line is. And it won't work if I hafta point it out to ya every time. You need to pay attention. You need to care enough that I don't hafta worry about whether or not I'm linin' up to be laughed at. Understand?"
The worry that he was asking too much, making a fuss over nothing, was still incessant in the back of his mind. But he thought about his friends, about Omi, about the way he'd always shown up for Samu and Suna. If it wasn't too much for them, why would it be too much for him?
It still felt dramatic, a bit excessive, but- Samu was nodding fiercely, a determined frown pulling at his lips. "I'll do it," he said, so sure of himself. "You've always done it for us, haven't ya? If you can do it, I can do it."
Tsumu blinked. Scowled. "This isn't a competition, ya scrub! Take it seriously!"
"I'm dead serious!" Samu huffed. "Besides, what have we ever taken more seriously than a competition? All I'm sayin' is, genetically or whatever, there's no reason you should be all good at something that I can't do. So, if you can do it, I can do it. I will. I'm serious, Tsumu. Not to get anythin', not to prove anythin', just- just because, alright? You deserve it, and I miss ya, and I wanna be- I wanna be someone you trust again. I wanna be good to ya."
And it was just words- it was just promises that might or might not be kept, but it was more than Atsumu had ever expected. He was terrified, sure, but this... this meant the world to him, and he was willing to take the risk.
"Alright, alright. Then, that's it then, yeah? We've aired our grievances-"
"You aired your grievances."
"All that's left is puttin' yer money where yer mouth is. And if this is a competition-"
"It is, at least a little bit."
"Then ya should know the stakes."
Atsumu leveled Samu with a steady look. "It better end in a tie. ‘Cause if I come out on top again, I'm not risking a third chance. If I'm the one giving everything again, I'm not going to give any more.”
"Loud and clear," Samu agreed with a nod.
"And if I win, ya never get to bring up me quittin' volleyball around ma ever again.'' It was such a stupid bet, but Tsumu knew better. Samu put the odds in his favor- everything he did would be for Tsumu's benefit, not his own. If he won, all he would gain was Atsumu.
The way he looked at him now, eyes still a little pink around the edges, shoulders tight in that way they got before a fight... that was enough. Atsumu, for once, would be enough.
"Deal," Tsumu finally said, offering an outstretched pinky. Samu locked it with his own, pressed their thumbs together. "Deal."
Things weren't fixed yet, not by a long shot, but for once, Atsumu felt like things might be okay. Maybe in a year, he could plan a wedding. Have his brother as his best man, and his best friend could wipe his ma's tears when she started crying too hard.
It was far away still, but if there was one thing Tsumu knew better than anything, it was his brother, and the look in Samu's eyes said I'll do whatever it takes. Tsumu knew that look because he wore it the same.
To be brothers again, I'll do whatever it takes.
For the first time in his life, Atsumu entered a competition hoping he would lose.
#bakubajific#haikyuu!!#threadfic#long post#miya twins#post timeskip#sunaosa#sakuatsu#hurt/comfort#loneliness#insecurity#fix it fic#sort of#family angst#setting boundaries and making amends#this is not an osamu and suna loving fic#but i do love them dearly#slaps fic: you can fit so many feelings in this bad boy#but most of them are sad
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
#xiantober Day 17: Crowxian
Lan Zhan's new neighbour is annoying.
He is also alarmingly beautiful.
His new neighbour—Wei Ying—laughs often, talks a lot, and attracts crows to his house.
All in all, he's had worse neighbours.
Wei Ying treats the crows with kindness.
Lan Zhan often watches when Wei Ying goes out into his yard to talk to the crows. It's sweet to see, honestly, if a bit odd. He speaks to them as if they understand him—as if they respond.
It's not too long until a crow wanders over to Lan Zhan's yard one day when he's outside.
The crow eyes him warily from a distance, tilting its head as it sizes him up.
He stares at it calmly until it flies away.
Lan Zhan puts out a bowl of peanuts after that.
As the days pass, the crows visit him more and more. They gradually become comfortable around him.
They no longer flee if he moves at all.
But they don't get close enough to touch. Not like with Wei Ying.
He doesn't know why that hurts as much as it does.
So, he starts talking to the birds like Wei Ying does. He finds they make lovely little listeners.
He tells them about his day, talking about work and the incompetent coworker who never leaves him alone.
He tells them stories of his childhood and the dreams he used to have.
The birds listen.
As time passes, he gradually becomes closer to Wei Ying too.
Wei Ying noticed him with the crows one day and smiled wide before starting a conversation that Lan Zhan quickly found himself wanting to never end.
They talked more and spent more time together.
Eventually, Lan Zhan found himself quite fond of Wei Ying.
He's never expected to gain feelings like this, but he finds he does not mind. Wei Ying is, after all, wonderful.
It makes sense.
After he realizes how he feels he starts talking to the crows more about Wei Ying.
Then one day, Lan Zhan has an awful day at work.
Truly a horrible day.
Normally, at times like this, he would return home, listen to music, and run on his treadmill.
He's startled when he returns home but finds himself not at his front door, but rather, at Wei Ying's. His hand raised to knock before he even realized it.
There's no response when he knocks aside from a few crows cawing and flying off. He lets out a sigh. Wei Ying must not be home.
Frustrated, Lan Zhan walks home and changes into workout clothes. He's just pulling up his playlist when there's a tap at the window.
A crow.
One he doesn't recognize.
It's slightly larger than the birds he's used to seeing.
He stares at it and it stares back.
Then it taps the window again before making a motion with its head that almost looks like it telling him to open the window.
He does.
The crow caws once before hopping down on the floor. There are no other crows around, just this one.
Odd.
He continues to stare at the bird as it wanders around the space curiously, eyeing everything in the room. Lan Zhan isn't quite sure what's happening.
He's still frustrated and on edge, so he sighs. "Apologies, but I was just about to listen to music and run. I had a bad day at work." He turns back to his phone but just before he presses play on the music the bird caws twice.
Lan Zhan looks and sees the bird hopping over.
It stops right beside him and pushes its head against his leg. He sucks in a breath.
Why is this bird touching him? None of the others ever did.
He watches as it nuzzles against him. Shocked, he slowly sits on the ground. His shock only grows when it hops onto his leg.
It stares at him patiently.
"Do you want me to tell you about my day?" he asks helplessly.
To his surprise, it lets out another caw, its head moving in what could almost be mistaken as a nod.
"Alright."
He tells the crow about his day, sparing no detail.
He lets out his frustrations and the crow listens intently. At one point it nudges its head under his hand and he starts to idly pet the bird.
He tells the bird everything and then he tells it how he had wished to talk to Wei Ying about it all, but he wasn't home.
The crow chitters, pressing more firmly into his hand before it hops off him and moves away. He mourns the loss of comfort but lets the bird leave.
Only, it doesn't leave. It stops after a few hops and glances back at him almost shyly. It chitters once more and then—
And then suddenly there's not a bird there anymore.
Suddenly Wei Ying is standing there with his back to him.
Lan Zhan blinks. "Wei Ying?"
Wei Ying slowly turns around to face him, laughing awkwardly as he scratches the back of his neck. "Hey, Lan Zhan."
"What?"
"So... I'm a crow. Or, well, crow shifter to be exact. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to deceive you! That's why I never came around here in crow form before, but my buddies found me saying you showed up at my house looking down so I um... Well, I flew back to see you."
That's... A lot to process. But Lan Zhan only says, "Why did you not shift back and knock on my door instead?"
Wei Ying freezes. "Oh. Huh... I guess I could have done that, eh? Hah! Hindsight and all that."
Lan Zhan hums. "So, you can understand the crows?"
"Yep!"
"And how much do they understand and tell you? About what I tell them?"
Wei Ying's face immediately flushes a rosy colour. So, a lot then. Great.
"I see... I apologize. I did not wish to make you uncomfortable. If I had known I would not have—"
"NO!" Wei Ying yells.
"I mean no, don't apologize. I liked it. I like you too, you know? I just... Well, I didn't know how to go about telling you about that and the whole crow shifter thing."
Lan Zhan stares, mind whirling with all this new information. "You like me."
Wei Ying nods aggressively.
In a heartbeat, Lan Zhan is across the room and he's hugging Wei Ying. Wei Ying lets out a surprised squawk before he quickly hugs back.
"Can I kiss you?" Lan Zhan asks in a whisper.
"Yes," Wei Ying breathes.
And then they're kissing. Slow and sweet.
~
A week later, Lan Zhan comes home to find Wei Ying milling about in his kitchen. "Wei Ying."
"Hm?"
"Su She has been complaining all week about how he's being constantly accosted by crows."
Wei Ying doesn't look up from what's he doing. "Odd."
"Mn..." Lan Zhan agrees skeptically. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"
Wei Ying scoffs in indignation. "He must have just pissed off some crows, you know how they hold grudges. Serves that incompetent asshole right though."
Lan Zhan smiles as he hugs Wei Ying from behind and rests his chin on his shoulder. "You can tell the crows they can leave him be now. He was fired today."
Wei Ying laughs, leaning back against him. "Good."
"Mn."
----------
Link to thread
#xiantober#wangxian#mdzs#threadfic#mo dao zu shi#grandmaster of demonic cutivation#lan wangji#lan zhan#wei wuxian#wei ying#crowxian#from twitter#wisedawn13#fanfic#fanfiction
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
I’m a Tumblr user-boring, overused
My brain is filled with useless knowledge-interesting, conversation starter
#tumblr#fandom#brainrot#you know who u r#2012 tumblr#undertale fandom#sherlock fandom#riordanverse#1d#twenty one pilots#au#fanfic#fanart#ao3 stuff#quotev#threadfic#headcanon#the hunger games#tsoa#the lunar chronicles#magic tree house#renegades trilogy#mysterious benedict society
32 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
mallekweek
Mallek Week 2020
tasteofhateandlove
I Need An Escape
recklless-serenade
Cigarette Daydreams
timegays
Timegays
sedatacil
SEDAT AÇIL