#in reality it was three am and I had been asleep for near four hours

[wayfayrr]

I just have to. We are actually just an hour apart. And we both have terrible sleep schedule

man I thought I had a pretty good sleep pattern :((, I usually go to bed about 11/12ish and wake up anywhere from 7/9??? I'd like to think that ain't too bad of a sleep schedule

but 👁️👁️🫵

you gotta sleep better - this is a callout now [/lh], you gotta take care of your health

[potter-imagines]

Left Waiting at The Three Broomsticks (Fred Weasley x Read)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Request: Hi! I was wondering if I could have a Fred Weasley imagine where he pisses off his gf somehow and so she gives him the silent treatment and only talks to literally everyone (including George) but him so he gets all jealous and pouty lol. Eventually he gets her to start talking to him again and then it’s all fluff etc. Hopefully this wasn’t a confusing request! Thank you!! :)

Warning: Tiny bit of sexual content towards the end, little bit of swearing, kinda angst at the beginning ?? and a lil towards the end ?? I think that's all, a lot of fluff scattered about

Word Count: 9.5k (I am so sorry I got carried away)

Two hours. Y/n had spent two hours waiting for him. Two stupid hours on a Saturday night that she could have spent elsewhere making something productive of her day but no. The last two hours Y/n had been seated in a small booth in the corner of The Three Broomsticks waiting patiently for her boyfriend, Fred Weasley.

The thing that infuriated her the most was that it was his idea in the first place! Originally, the couple had planned a stay-in date in her dorm room for the night before, Friday, but other plans came up. Fred got tangled up in a prank with George that had landed him in detention with Snape for the night. Yes, it annoyed her but what could she do? It wasn’t like Snape would excuse Fred because she tells him they have a date. If anything, Snape would hold him back longer.

When Fred and George were finally dismissed, it was nearly eleven at night and Fred was sprinting down through the dungeons to the common room. Their arrangement was for eight and he was praying to anyone listening above that she was still awake, but not furious at him.

Skipping up the transporting stairs, Fred basically shouted the secret password at the Fat Lady making her narrow her eyes at him. She swung open, not without muttering about how rude he was, and Fred jumped inside. Ten or so students were scattered around the common room, chatting amongst themselves. Hermione, Ron and Harry sat around the couch near the grand fireplace. They sent Fred a wave, which he frantically returned. The golden trio watched in curiosity as Fred darted up the stairs of the girl’s dormitory.

Hermione looked back to the group and asked,

“Wonder what that’s about- he seemed in a hurry.”

“Heard him and George got detention. They put stink-bombs in the Slytherin common room! Heard it stained some of the furniture maroon!” Ron chuckled at his brother’s antics then resumed his debate with Harry over their thoughts on the Quidditch World Cup happening every four years. Harry tried to explain the concept of the Olympics to Ron, but Ron was too focused on how amazing it would be for the World Cup to happen each year. Hermione went back to her studies, blocking out the mindless bickering of the boys.

Above the common room, Fred Weasley was scurrying to his girlfriend’s dorm room. He hoped Angelina and Alicia were out so he could be alone with her. Their time spent together had been oddly less than usual the last few weeks. Fred had no change of heart- actually, he found himself falling more in love with her every day, but their final year at Hogwarts was creeping up from the woods and he was working on a dream career behind the scenes with George that was eating up his time with her. He had shared this idea with her before- but it was just an idea then. Fred and George planned on putting their dreams to action once they finished up the next year. He wanted her to come- George did as well, but he didn’t want to mention it until it was a reality.

Reaching his destination Fred took a second to compose himself. A thin line of sweat was forming near his forehead. This was the first chance he had to take a breather since detention ended. Fixing his dark robes Fred knocked against the door, quiet enough not to startle her but loud enough to hear.

“Y/n… Y/n… love, are you awake? It’s Fred-“

Abruptly, the heavy wooden door cracked open and a weary looking girl poked her head out into the quietness.

“Darling, did I wake you up? I’m so sorry.” Fred stepped forward and wrapped the girl in a tight embrace. Y/n’s head fell against his chest out of instincts. His arms fastened around her waist as he invited himself in the room, slowly walking her back.

“Here, go back to bed, love. You look exhausted.” Fred led the sluggish girl to her familiar bed. Throwing back the covers, he readjusted her pillows so there would be room for him to fit as well. Fred then walked back to Y/n and took her hand softly. Kissing the back of her hand, Fred helped Y/n get into bed then slipped in beside her. His arms snaked around her body without thought. The naturalness of holding her in his arms made Fred feel confident in his dreams of starting a future with her. All the tension in his body collapsed when she leaned into his frame. Fred held her close and kissed the side of her cheek lovingly.

“I’m sorry about detention tonight but I promise I’ll take you out Saturday, alright? We can have a date at Hogsmeade and spend the night together, does that sound nice?”

The sleepy witch gave a tired mumble and nodded her head. She was cuddled under a stack of blankets, wearing Fred’s sweatshirt which made him smile. He’d usually crack a joke at this and tease her but, she was already asleep when he looked back to her. Fred couldn’t help but stare at her for a while. There was never a moment that went by where Fred didn’t think of Y/n as anything other than beautiful but in these moments, she looked ethereal.

Moonlight poured in from the open window and splashed across her s/c cheeks. Her hair was sprawled against the white pillowcase. Fred smiled at the sound of her light snores. Fred wouldn’t leave until he was sure she was deep asleep. It was their thing. She hated going to bed without him there.

“Okay, I love you, Y/n. Get some sleep, angel.” Fred whispered.

He pecked her forehead, then kissed her lips gently. Removing the covers, Fred tucked them back into Y/n so she could keep warm. He closed the open window then tip toed out of the room. Instead of rejoining his friends, Fred decided to head to his room. He felt too guilty for missing out on their plans to go have his own fun. Anyways he did have a Potions paper coming up and if he was going to spend the day with you Saturday, he surely wouldn’t be doing any homework.

So, the plan was confirmed the next morning, Friday. Y/n ran into Fred on her way to breakfast and they discussed where they’d meet and a time. They ate breakfast together, walked to class, then headed in different directions when six rolled around. Fred had a Quidditch match and she had a group project, so they didn’t cross paths for the rest of the night. Even though he refused to admit it, Fred absolutely hated when Y/n missed one of his games. His favorite thing to do was search for her in the stands during each game and it made him sad not to see her smiling face standing out in the crowd. Y/n entered the common room around midnight and went straight for her bed. Gryffindor had lost so there wasn’t a single housemate sitting in the common room. She could only imagine how upset Fred must be, she’d be hearing about it tomorrow. Y/n giggled to herself at the recollection of Fred’s angry rants about his teammates to you in private. She basically crawled to her bed, dreaming about the handsome, goofy, witty twin that had captured her heart.

Which would bring us to Saturday night. Fred and Y/n had made specific plans; they were to meet at The Three Broomsticks at seven then hangout for a while and spend the rest of their night sneaking around the castle with the help of The Marauder’s Map. Fred had practice at six so he was planning on meeting up with the girl at the pub. Y/n expected him to be running late- it wouldn’t be Fred if he didn’t show up a good twenty minutes late.

Only Fred never showed up at seven thirty, not at eight, and by the time nine neared, he was still nowhere in sight. The Three Broomsticks would stay open for a few more hours but the thought of sitting there alone for any longer, jumping at the sound of the door every time it opened, it made Y/n feel less than sane.

Throwing a handful of coins on the table, Y/n thanked her server then exited through the front doors. The walk back to the castle wasn’t long but being with Fred made it a lot more amusing. He’d pick her flowers, give her piggy back rides, play games, race, and hold her hand the whole walk back.

This time, Y/n walked alone hugging the material of her raincoat to her chest. A light drizzle had been pouring on and off for most of the day. Earlier, it was perfectly bearable- hardly noticeable. Although the weather had only worsened as the night grew darker. Hard rain drops crashed against Y/n coat, cascading down her covered arms and bouncing to the wet ground. Her black boots were soaked. She could feel the water rising to her socks, one of her biggest hatreds. Wet socks.

The hood of her jacket only helped so much before the pelting raindrops started to seep to her hair. Typically, Y/n loved the rain. If Fred was here, they’d be dancing right now. But he wasn’t, she had no clue where he was and that was exactly what Y/n was headed to find out.

By the time Y/n made it back to the castle and up to the Gryffindor common room, it was past ten.

Much as Y/n had expected, the common room was lively with energy and conversations. Katie, Alicia, and Angelina were all sitting in a circle with Fred, George, Lee Jordan, Seamus, and Dean. A dark bottle of Dragon Barrel brandy and Daisyroot Draught were being passed amongst them. Y/n watched as Fred leaned into his brother’s side, obviously tipsy and slurring his words while he practically shouted to their friends who were only sitting feet away.

His frame twitched with every small hiccup he let out. The whole group was smiling, they were happy. Y/n wondered to herself if Fred even noticed that she wasn’t there. She wondered if he liked it more when she wasn’t there, they were having fun and although the group was also her friends, no one was interested enough to invite her. Biting on the tender skin of her bottom lip, Y/n bundled her fist to her sides. The anger refused to simmer, only continued to boil. Her dripping clothes weren’t helpful to her sour mood.

It wasn’t the fault of her friends, no, but they were bound to get caught in the crossfires. Fred was the one who left her waiting for hours on end. Her chest was tight- livid yet sad all at once. It was an aggravating feel, unfamiliar. Y/n hated the suffocation entering her drying throat. More than anything she longed to handle situations like these in an aloof fashion. The last thing wanted was to wear her emotions on her sleeve, but she couldn’t help it. Her head screamed ‘just go to bed, ignore him’ but her heart wanted to scream at him and let him know just how bad he had hurt her. Her breathing quickened, each inhale received a choppy exhale.

For the first time, Y/n decided not to join her friends or to even say a word to Fred about how he stood her up. She was sick of it- completely exhausted and drained from his lack of care and presences in their relationship the last few weeks. If he wanted her as bad as he claimed, he’d find a way to show it. And leaving her sitting alone in a noisy pub while he partied and drank with their friends, showed her the exact opposite of his words.

Diverting her leer from the inebriated group and studied the rest of the room, hearing voices near the sitting area. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville were all staring at Y/n in mixed judgement. Harry, Ron and Neville looked concerned by the appearance of Y/n. Hermione on the other hand, she was absolutely flabbergasted, Y/n could see the pity written on her face. You had mentioned having a date night with Fred in Hogsmeade to the four the night before. Harry had invited Y/n to hangout with them and visit Hagrid, but she politely declined and informed them about the special night Fred had planned for them.

Harry and Hermione stood up at the same time ready to comfort the teary-eyed girl. They motioned her over but just as she started towards them, Angelina Johnson noticed her friend who had been absent for most of the night. Setting the bottle of brandy down, Angelina wobbled up to her feet and smiled giddily,

“Y/n! Come- come drink with us! I was wondering where you- why… why’re you all wet?”

As the words fell from her mouth, a crowd of eyes planted on Y/n. Her fists clenched, bone white knuckles visible, at her sides. Angelina scurried over to her friend and wrapped her in a tender hug. If the scenario had been different, she’d gladly join in the fun but there wasn’t an ounce in her body that desired a drink.

Y/n’s eyes found their way to the boy she had been longing for all night. Her lips quivered, the anger and sadness reaching it’s overpour. He looked so handsome, so happy, but it meant nothing to her.

Pulling back, Angelina squinted in confusion at Y/n. The lack of embrace given back had thrown her off. The group had been awaiting her arrival, no one was quite sure where she’d gone off to. Angelina scanned Y/n’s reddening face, noticing the emotions bubbling under the surface.

Moving away, the dark-skinned girl turned to her friends. No one else seemed to notice the offset of Y/n’s attitude.

“Angel, where have you been? I missed you!” Fred’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. Quickly standing up, he held his hand out to his girlfriend. Y/n shot a dangerous look to his outreach, then up to his face. Usually she’d find his toothy grin and childlike state loveable but for obvious reasons, it made her irate.

Stepping back, Y/n sternly scowled at Fred,

“Missed me? You’re the one who left me waiting all goddamn night, Fred Weasley.”

A part of Y/n felt guilty for forcing her friends to witness their unpleasant exchange. George was now to his feet standing behind Fred, just as lost as the group he had been sitting with. Despite the alcohol running in his veins, George could sense an argument budding by the second.

“Not like any of you really seemed to care where I was.” Y/n kicked herself for this cold statement.

Her friends weren’t at fault- not in the slightest. But everyone was at risk of becoming a victim to her fiery wrath. In actuality, it did hurt her a little that no one had gone searching for her. It had been hours! Tears welled in her eyes as she took in the reactions of the group. George took his arm off Alicia and nudged his twin.

“What- I don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout, love. I think you should have a drink and loosen up-“

Y/n couldn’t take it. She just couldn’t take it anymore. Scrunching her face, she used every bit of strength to force her salty tears to hide at bay. Although her emotions screamed to be heard and saw right through her façade. Sweeping her hand across her cheek, Y/n caught the stray tears that rolled down her rosy cheeks. Huffing all her emotions out at once, Y/n shook Fred away from her and hurried towards her room.

Fred stood appearing dumbfounded. He could only gawk in perplexity. Blame it on the alcohol, but Fred’s mind was drawing a blank when surveying her words. For most of the night, he was the one thinking she was leaving him waiting. No one else had a clue as to where she’d gone off to, so he assumed she was in the library or wanted some space.

“You’re an idiot, Fred.” Hermione’s sharp voice cut through the thick air. The happiness and drunken laughter was extinct. The girl’s shared an exchange, all confused as to what just happened. The glass bottles didn’t help clear their judgement. Dean and Seamus took small sips from the Daisyroot Draught. The tension was unbearable, it felt wrong for their friends to be a part of it.

George set a hand on Fred’s shoulder, pulling him back slightly. Leaning forward, George whispered to his twin,

“I reckon it’s best if we turn it in for the night.” Fred gave a tug of protest. His intoxicated fought against him though he knew he did something wrong and needed to find Y/n. In spite of his desire to chase after the girl, George couldn’t let him do that. It was obvious Fred had forgotten something and Y/n was more than upset. Sending his brother up to drunkenly apologize to his hurting girlfriend for a reason he can’t even recall, that was a recipe for disaster and would only cause a bigger mess.

“Fred, you’re going to bed. You’re too drunk to talk to Y/n right now, okay? We’re going up the boy’s stairs, not the girls, okay? You two can talk in the morning, maybe you’ll remember where you fucked up tonight by then.”

Suddenly, Fred stop moving and let out a low groan,

“Oh shit… merlin’s sake, I fucked up, George. Oh my god- Hogsmeade… shit! I told her we’d meet at Hogsmeade and I forgot-“Fred whipped around in his discombobulated state. Everything clicked at once. Fred had been so concentrated on Quidditch that once practice had wrapped up, his exhausted body dragged him back to the common room out of muscle memory. It was his typical routine; Quidditch practice, head back to his dorm, shower, change, eat, work on some possible products with George, then hangout with his friends. How could he be so neglectful?

George sent his brother a comforting look then grabbed him by the shoulders, helping aid him up the winding staircase. It came as a shock to him that Fred had forgotten about their date. All he spoke about was Y/n, it was a rare occurrence for the couple to

“So that’s where she’s been all night?” George pushed open the door to their room, looking to his twin sternly. Fred had most of his weight piled on George, trying his hardest to remain upright. Lee had decided to stay back, allowing the brothers a chance to talk.

George helped his frantic twin in the dark room, then gave him a light push towards his bed. Fred plopped down, burying his face in the fluffy pillow. Pulling off his jumper, George threw the large maroon comforter over Fred’s tall frame while he wailed,

“I’m a terrible boyfriend. I planned the bloody date too! I left her-“

“How ‘bout you get some rest? You can find her in the morning and apologize to her and… hope for the best. It’ll give you more time to think of a way to make it up to her. You’re just a rambling mess right now.” The alcohol was not wearing George down. He had been on an adrenaline high since his second shot. This was the first moment of the night where he had stepped back. His tiresome hands rubbed against his face as he made his way to his bed and collapsed on it.

Fred was still moaning on, the sound of his drunken voice making it harder for George to fight back the urge to sleep,

“She’s gonna dump my sorry ass-“

“Go to bed, Fred. It’ll be okay.”

George let out a sigh of exhaustion. The twins had been best friends with Y/n since they were just children, new to Hogwarts and unfamiliar with the power of magic. It pained him to see his brother hurt, but it also hurt to see Y/n upset. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Turning his head, George let out a breathy chuckle at the sight of his twin passed out cold. The worry that dripped from his voice was now gone as he eased into his dreamland.

George wanted to scold him, knock him upside the head for skipping out on Y/n again. He cared a lot about her, she was basically a sister, a triplet to him. If Fred was gonna win her back, it wasn’t going to be easy, George knew this. Y/n was stubborn, and the twins had witnessed this first hand for years, it was a trait they loved, when not directed towards either of them.

As George’s head hit the pillow, all he could do was pray to Godrick that the morning would bring good news.

Sunday morning arrived much faster than Y/n had hoped. A bright, loud, light interrupted her sleep as the gears in her head started to turn. Her mind was groggy, the events of last night were foggy. Warm sunlight broke through the glass stained windows. Y/n wiped her eyes and slowly sat up. Her mouth was dry, screaming for a drink of water.

For a minute, she felt calm- happy almost. The room was half empty; Angelina’s bed was bare and Alicia laid in a star-fish position, a snore sounding from her mouth. The image made Y/n laugh.

Standing up, Y/n’s hands flew above her head as she stretched. She cracked her back, a morning ritual for the girl. Just as she reached for the knob of her dresser, a wave of recollection nearly knocked her off her feet.

Fred had stood her up, of course, how could she forget? The irritated skin under her eyes and nose suddenly made sense. Leaning against the wooden cabinet, Y/n huffed. It was times like these she wished she could crawl into bed and stay there for eternity. Nothing would get better though if she didn’t at least try to fix it.

As quick as the thought came, it had evaporated once more. Why did she have to be the one to put forth the effort to fix things? There was no use in fixing their relationship if Fred wasn’t willing to try too. More than try, Y/n thought. It took a piece of her when she came back to the castle just to see him drinking with their friends, not thinking a thought of her. She needed to see that he cared. His words held no value to her anymore, not until he could prove he meant what he said.

Y/n went through her morning routine like a snail, wanting to drag out her time. Eventually, she was fully dressed and ready for the day. She liked to take advantage of the days her school robes weren’t required. The cooling weather led her to a fuzzy black sweater, and light washed jeans. Sliding her delicate wand into her back pocket, Y/n exited the room and took the stairs down to the common room.

Approaching the bottom of the steps, Y/n could hear familiar voices exchanging hush words. She stepped into the room and was surprised to see the lack of students. The only ones present were sat one the long leather couch on the left half of the massive room. All of their gazes fell on Y/n.

Fred, George, Ron, Angelina, Harry and Hermione were all relaxing- well all of them except Fred. He on the other hand was frantic- disheveled. His knee bounced in anticipation. The clock was sneaking

“Oh, uh, hey Y/n!” Ron Weasley moved his hand side to side, waving to Y/n. The temptation to admire the handsome boy at his side leaped into her heart. Using every ounce of strength, Y/n trained her eyes on Ron, not allowing a single peek at Fred.

“Hey, Y/n/n!” The voice of Angelina brought a perk to Y/n’s head.

“Hi.” She greeted the younger Weasley and her close friend back, then headed for the portrait. Before she could make it half the distance, the tall figure of her boyfriend appeared.

“Angel, how did you sleep?” Fred was by her side in an instant. He was desperately trying to read her expression, testing the waters to see her mood. He had hardly slept, he spent most of the night thinking about this exact moment, when he’d have the chance to apologize and make it up to the girl he loved. “Can we please talk? I’m really sorry for last night, honestly, I am so so sorry, darling.”

Y/n stared at him, or rather, through him. It was like she didn’t see the tall wizard in front of her.

“I’m gonna go study, I’ll meet you with you guys later.”

“Y/n, love-“ His warm hand took hold of her of her own, an action she’d typically love. The familiar grasp sent a burst of comfort in her stomach, but she ignored it.

Wiggling out of his grip, the girl shot him a look of displeasure then rushed off. Hermione chased after her, no one else brave enough to step in. Besides, Hermione was one of her closest friends. Watching the younger girl follow after her roommate, Angelina walked after them. Fred stomped like a toddler having a tantrum as the portrait swung open then closed. He knew he had to do something- anything to get her to talk to him again, and that was his plan.

For a Sunday evening, the school library was relatively empty. A majority of the students occupying the tables were studying away for their O.W.L.S. The exams weren’t for another two months but hardly anyone dared to procrastinate until the last week before opening their books. The stress of the exams was enormous, but the students still had other classes to keep in mind.

Y/n Y/n/l and George Weasley were sitting across from on another at a study table. Three hefty textbooks were open as the two discussed their Potions paper. Y/n had been stuck on hers and George had yet to start so they decided to head to the library together and get it done.

Fred was usually right by their side, his hand wrapped around Y/n’s shoulders, but she neglected an invite for him. About an hour after their exchange in the common room, Y/n had apologized to each friend she had snapped on the night prior. They were understanding, clearly seeing where her frustrations had come for. They also felt bad as she was right, no one had even checked to see where she’d gone, and George especially felt terrible for not searching for his friend.

At least three hours had passed since the two Gryffindors started their study session. Y/n was sneaking up on her last two pages while George still had three left. They collaborated every few minutes, then returned to tranquil silence, scribbling away.

Y/n was in the middle of sharing her idea for the last section of her paper when George’s eyes brighten and he interrupted her,

“Fred, how nice of you to join us.”

Turning in her chair, Y/n found her boyfriend standing behind her with a nervous smile. She hated how perfect he looked, even in the poor lighting of the library. He still managed to make her breath hitch in the back of her throat.

“Hi, Y/n. You look beautiful as always.” Fred announced himself softly. George scoffed teasingly, muttering a ‘hello’ to himself to make up for his brother ignoring him. Freds words were genuine though didn’t make much of a difference. Y/n was still hurt and a compliment wasn’t going to mend that. She needed to feel it, to see him truly show that he cared- that she meant something to him. That she was deserving of his time. Sweet comments didn’t not add up to that feeling.

George closed his textbook, then glanced up at his twin,

“Should I leave?”

Before Fred could answer, Y/n slammed her hand on top of George’s Potions book. Wide eyed and frightened, the boy gaped in shock. Even Fred was taken aback by her unexpecting movement. Leering at her friend Y/n replied,

“No. I want you to stay, we were in the middle of a conversation.”

Fred’s heart dropped at her words. It was heartbreaking to have the girl of his dreams now shunning him- brushing him off with ease. It was driving him mad. All he wanted was for her to acknowledge him, give him a little hope that he can earn his way back in her heart. He loved her, every bit of him loved her.

All he wanted was to make it up to her for his mistakes the night before. He couldn’t stop thinking about the look on her face when she saw him sitting with their friends. She was miles exceeded hurt- more devastated at his negligence than hurt alone.

Maybe it was the fear of meeting the reality that losing Y/n was a possibility, but Fred experienced a new sort of emotion when his girlfriend asked for his brother to stay. Yes, they’re friends, all three of them are. Fred had to remind himself of this like a record on repeat. He couldn’t fight the envy off though.

It made his heart twist as she stared at George. Never did he think he’d be jealous of his own twin, but Fred was livid. The seething stream of covetousness overtook his veins. Fred wanted to be the one you ran to for comfort, not his brother. His entire life he had shared everything with George, Y/n was far too meaningful to Fred for her to be shared.

Now it does take two for a turn of events like that to happen. Fred knew, clear as day, that George had no romantic feelings for Y/n and she had none for George. This was true, but for some reason, it didn’t help tame Fred’s envy.

He knew causing a jealous scene would do no good for anyone, so Fred realigned his train of thought and asked,

“Could I steal you from that conversation, please love? I really need to apologize to you.”

Fred allowed his hands to reveal themselves from their previous position hiding behind his back. When he moved them, a full bouquet of colorful flowers and small green plants of different shapes and sizes. The flowers were a display of fuchsia, pink, orange, red, and yellow. They were beautiful, so beautiful, Y/n thought to herself. She couldn’t help the gasp that slipped past her lips.

Fred had gotten her flowers their first-year dating but since the last month or so, she hadn’t received many of his heartwarming gifts. It wasn’t the monocle value of a present but the thought and attention to care that captured Y/n’s heart. Fred had always been the best at creating meaningful gifts on a tight budget. Whether it was flowers he stole from school grounds, or necklaces he made out of stones she found around the Great Lake. He’d make her perfume- proving rather excellent in the Potions department. He also asked Molly to teach him how to knit in order to make Y/n a sweater. This of course delighted Molly over the moon.

George bit on the skin of his knuckles to keep for laughing at his brother. He recognized the flowers, as did Y/n. Fred had picked them from the garden outside the castle- something that had earned him a detention before. George decided not to comment on his observation, Fred was sure to murder him in his sleep if he put his apology in any jeopardy.

Fred extended the bouquet to his flustered girlfriend. He felt a sense of accomplishment while watching her reaction. It was small to most, but for as stubborn as she was, it was big in his eyes. The girl reached forward, accepting the gift with a tiny smile rising to her lips, one she didn’t force down.

For the first time since the night before, Y/n fully saw Fred. She peered directly at him silently. George glanced between the two, stuck between a dual. Without speaking, Fred took some steps forward and pulled the chair next to Y/n out. He slipped into the seat, the couple still staring at each other. Y/n studied his demeanor, he didn’t push her anymore, but he wouldn’t leave her side. Not that she would tell him but, she was happy he joined in. She didn’t want him to leave, she had missed being around him. Tearing herself away, Y/n focused herself back on the other twin.

“As I was saying, George…”

Fred drowned out the words but accepted the fact that Y/n didn’t reject him from sitting down. She also didn’t set the flowers down for the rest of their study session. The remained clutched in her hands, resting in her lap the whole time.

Monday night came in the blink of an eye. Classes had resumed and the castle was bustling in stress. When the end of the year neared, the time spent sitting through lectures was an eternity, while the weekends flew by. Fred had always hated summer break, actually, that’s not entirely true. His dismissive of break budded around the same time his relationship with Y/n became official.

Their first two years, she would spend the holiday back home in London with her family. She loved her family but once she experienced her first holiday at the Burrow, she never wanted to miss another. Her family was a bit distant, not the warm and welcoming pure-bloods like the Weasley’s, but not as cold as the Malfoy’s. Y/n’s family had no issues with her spending breaks at the Burrow, as long as she had Molly and Arthur Weasley’s approval. Molly insisted each time that there was no need for her to even ask to stay. They accepted her with open arms, ecstatic to see Fred had found such a lovely girl.

The end of the school term was coming up and Fred needed to fix things with Y/n before that happened. She planned to spend the break at his family’s home and he feared she’d take her agreement back if things weren’t improved between them. Spending almost two days stuck in the anger of his love was two days too many. Fred was going to fix this and he planned the best idea he could think of, good thing he had their friends happily available to help.

Unbeknownst to Y/n, while she was resting up from her illness Harry, Ron, Lee and George were helping Fred create his masterplan. Hermione helped in her own way by remaining near Y/n’s dorm, sitting in as the lookout. It gave her an excuse to get her school work done so she didn’t protest.

Alicia and Angelina stayed in the room. Once Y/n started to feel better, thanks to Madam Pomfrey, the girl’s altered Hermione who passed the news along to Harry as the chain continued until it reached Fred. At the confirmation, his plan was set into action. Ron was sent to retrieve the girl after Alicia and Angelina convinced her to get some food from the dining hall.

She walked through the common room then down the moving staircase, when her redheaded friend popped up. Ron scared the girl, making her stumble back, her hand placed over her chest.

“Y/n! I’m so glad I ran into you! No one has seen you all day- Angelina said you were feeling ill this morning.” Ron rambled at a fast pace. Y/n, still surprised by his sudden arrival, took a deep inhale, nodding to the boy,

“Yeah, I saw Madam Pomfrey this morning when classes started. I just had a stomach bug and she said I’d have to wait it out but the medicine she gave me seems to be doing the trick.” Y/n gave Ron a kind smile. Ron was two years younger than her but they had always been great friends. Y/n would travel to the Burrow as a guest of the twins during the holiday breaks, so Ron and her had spent a lot of time hanging out together. It was sweet of him to ask how she was doing, but he didn’t seem that her health was the reason for their conversation.

“That’s good to hear. You wouldn’t happen to be heading anywhere, are you?”

“Just to get some food. I’m starving-“ Ron nodded eagerly, cutting his friend off in the process.

“That’s great! I mean, not great, just… well… uh, follow me please!” Scrambling like a mess, Ron clasped his hand over Y/n’s wrist and abruptly dragged her down the stone corridor. She couldn’t find the words to question him and allowed Ron to lead the way. Her curiosity was far too big to ignore his odd request.

Ron carried on for another five minutes then took a sharp turn, heading for the courtyard. Two figures ran off around the side of the castle in the darkness. Y/n swore she recognized the pair as George and Lee. What were they up to? Snapping her head to the younger boy, Y/n waited for him to fill her in on why he had dragged her halfway across the castle to the freezing courtyard.

“Okay! We’re here- I’m just gonna… head out. See ya, Y/n!” Ron rushed his farewell then ran off towards the direction George and Lee had escaped to. What in the world is going on? Left by herself without any explanation, Y/n threw her hand up in annoyance.

“What?”

Alone in the cold, Y/n wrapped the opening of her fuzzy cardigan against her body, attempting to keep warm. Although warmth entered her vein as a pair of arms snaked around her waist, snatching her backwards into a firm surface. She gasped, thrown off by her attacker and tried to turn in retaliation, but their grasp was far too firm. The familiarity of the hold made her body ease up. As much time as the spent together, she could recognize his touch anywhere. Fred.

His touch released a swarm of butterflies through the girl. She could feel the anger washing away as she leaned her body into his chest, having pined for his arms for two too many days than she was accustomed to.

The tall Gryffindor held her tightly. Moving forward, Fred pressed his lips against the shell of Y/n’s ear. The heat of his breath causing her to shudder as he whispered,

“I’m so happy you came, darling.”

Y/n smirked, looking up at him. The concurrent willfulness of her nature could only carry on for so long until her headstrong demeanor crumbled. A pang of chagrin still grumbled in her stomach but the sight in front of her certainly was a runner in her change of heart.

Soaking in her surroundings, Y/n realized they were just a few hundred feet outside Hargid’s hut. This explained the garden full of massive orange pumpkins. In the middle of the path was a small gazebo decorated in fairy lights and sunflowers. A small table set for two was tucked inside. Small teacup white candles line the path, creating a runway of sorts. Another candle, larger and purple, sat flickering in the breeze in the center of the neat table.

Y/n stood motionless absorbing the creation her boyfriend made- all for her. Speechlessness was not common for Y/n so Fred undoubtably began to second guess if his efforts were good enough. His fears were stomped in a matter of moments when Y/n harshly yanked at the material of his collar and placed a brisk, short kiss to his lips. Fred was startled, losing the opportunity to kiss her back but Y/n didn’t want him to. It gave her a sense of control- they still had issues they needed to work out, but she loved him nonetheless. Besides, avoiding and staying mad at Fred forever? Impossible. In two days, Y/n had to stop herself a million different times from approaching Fred and sharing a laugh with him, or kissing him, or holding his hand and giving him a hug. She didn’t want to fight off the urge anymore- and Fred couldn’t handle the distance spaced between them. Thus, being the motivation for his grand, heartfelt, date.

“I’ll assume that means you like it. I won’t take all the credit- it was my idea, but our friends are the main reason I was able to pull this off. I feel really bad and… I need to do something special for you- I don’t do that enough lately. I forget sometimes to remind you how important you are in my life and how much I love you.” Fred sheepishly smiled, nervously awaiting her reaction.

The small table was set, a new bundle of crimson red roses placed on her seat. To the side of her plate was a small box with a beautifully wrapped ribbon tied to the top. Fred had a special way of showing his love and adoration for his girlfriend, but even this was new to her. Never before had he gone so over the top to prove his feelings to her.

Y/n lifted her hand and intertwined it with Fred’s, smiling up at him,

“It’s gorgeous, Freddie.” The bashful smile made Fred’s heart melt on sight. He had prepared himself for the repetitive rejection she had been sending, so when she whispered those sweet words, his chest tightened, and his pace stopped.

Fred almost fainted in shock at the sound of her voice. He squeezed her light hand and drew it back, forcing her body into his own. Y/n couldn’t help the laugh that fell from her lips. She missed his playful ways. With the foreheads pressed against each other, Fred grinned,

“I’ve missed your voice, love.”

Although his words made her heart take flight, the reality of her hurt was still roaming. Y/n detached herself from his grasp and rested her hand on the black metal table. Her fingertips fumbled with the white cloth, it served as a distraction only for a short period of time. Fred sent her a sorrowful look. Her shift in moods was confusing to him, he only wanted to make things better.

Y/n sighed and ran her hand through her h/c locks. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply then asked,

“Why don’t you have time for me anymore, Fred?” The question of the night- or rather month. His date was beautiful, absolutely stunning. As riveting as it was, it couldn’t erase the hurt she had been experiencing.

Fred shook his head frantically, dismissing the accusation. He knew why she would think that way, he understood. It wasn’t true, though. Actions speak louder than words and Fred despised the fact that recently, his feelings for Y/n weren’t lining up with his actions. His words could only do so much. But he also knew soon, things would be different. Missing the Hogsmeade date was his fault, and he paid for it. Two days might seem minute to most, but when you spend essentially everyday attached to someone’s hip, two days of them purposely ignoring you and speaking to every soul expect you, it can feel like a lifetime. He realized a few things in this time.

Fred remembered how fun it was to act as if he was still trying to win her over. Gifts, no matter their cost, always brought a gleam to her face which never failed to make Fred grin. However, it was much more entertaining when she wasn’t upset with him and would throw the flirtatious comments right back at him. He was also reminded of how lucky he was to be with Y/n. While she ignored him, Fred found himself envious of every living being Y/n spoke to, as they were not him. When he started engulfing himself in his plans for the joke shop, his effort in his relationship had decreased and this was something he vowed to never let happen again.

“I’ll always have time for you, darling. And if I don’t, I’ll make some. I truly am sorry about this weekend- you don’t deserve that.”

“It just seems like you’re distracted, like you don’t care anymore.” Y/n batted her reddening eyes, finally throwing her worries to the air.

“No, no, Y/n, not at all. I’m so sorry I made you feel that way, love. I’m a terrible excuse of a boyfriend, I never meant to create this mess. I love you so much.” Fred’s head bowed down. It tore him up to know the way his actions made her feel, the only girl he loved.

“I love you too, Freddie. I really do but I can’t feel alone in this relationship. I let our date Friday slide, even though I was annoyed, but Saturday night? I feel like it broke me. Just knowing you forgot about me-“ Y/n fought back the burning sensation in her eyes as the tears began to brim.

The anxiety blooming inside her was clear to Fred. Suppose that was the downside to dating your best friend, they can always tell when somethings wrong. Before a tear could hit the floor, he whisked her to the iron garden chair, then kneels before her, his hands holding her face as if it was a priceless, dainty piece of china.

“I didn’t forget about you, darling, that’s impossible to do. I’ve been… well I’ve been working on something with George for when we leave school next year. It’s real important to me and I wanted to share it with you but I was scared that it might not happen but… if I have your support and you with us, I know it’ll happen.”

“What’re you rambling on about, Fred?”

“Remember how I told you that George and I wanted to open a joke shop? Well, it’s happening… I think. We’re really close, we just gotta make it through next year then we’re free! We’ll have our own joke shop and get to sell our own products and start our future.”

A silence overtook the atmosphere. Y/n’s lips were stuck open in a small ‘o’ shape, eyes glued to the floor. Was he really going to leave her all alone next year? Would they have to break up? Surely, he wouldn’t want to be in a long-distance relationship.

She was snapped from her own mind when her skin registered the touch of Fred’s lips as they traced her knuckles, kissing each finger as he did. His eyes then peered up to meet her own. She could tell he was serious by the feeling of his stare. Then he continued, making Y/n perk up,

“But none of that can happen without you… Y/n I want you to come with me. Move in with George and I, start a future with me. We want you to be a part of the shop. I want you there. You’re the only girl I want, for the rest of my life.”

Her once open mouth clamped shut in a swift motion. Ever since she met the twins, Y/n wanted a future with Fred. Everyone saw it as a childhood crush, but she always knew it was more. She never stopped loving him- never could. Even when his pranks took a step too far over the line. They always found their way back to each other and would work through it. Fights such as the most recent were rare- but Fred’s admission filled in a lot of empty spaces that had left Y/n sleepless for days. Finally, the crushing weight was lifted from her chest as she choked out a shaky breath.

Leaping forward from the chair, Y/n threw her body into her boyfriend’s body and clamped him in a koloa like hold. Fred chuckled in amusement, falling onto the near ground at her jump.

“Why do you have to be so lovable? I hate it. I should be angry with you, but I just love you too much. Besides, I think you did enough suffering.” She giggled as she pinched his round cheeks in her hands. Fred poked his tongue out at her and grabbed at her sides. Y/n swatted his hands away, giving him a stern glare saying, ‘don’t push it’.

Slowly, she leaned down and brushed her lips against Fred’s, smirking down at him. It was a change in roles. In their more adult situations, Fred was typically the one on top with Y/n pinned below him, but that’s a story for another time.

A small, almost whimper, sound came from Fred. He hated being teased- that was his job. Dragging out the moment, Y/n tugged on the skin of his bottom lip with her teeth, earning a groan of approval from Fred. She grazed over his mouth one last time before dipping her head down to meet his and interlocking their lips, still straddling his waist. Fred’s hips pushed towards her core out of instinct. Not ready to give in quite yet, Y/n lifted her body and shifted forward, entrapping Fred even more so in the heated kiss.

They parted for seconds to sneak a bit of air, then continued their needed make out. It had been a while since they proved their love to each other in this way. For the last month, it had been small kisses here and there when the couple had a chance to see each other. Y/n needed his touch- she needed him. Fred longed to have under him, pleasuring her. He desperately wanted to sink his head between her legs and really show her just how much he loved her.

The coldness of his fingertips hit Y/n’s skin as his fingers dug into the sides of her waist. As much as she longed to keep the exchange going, the last thing either of them needed was a detention.

Y/n plucked herself away, a small pout lining Fred’s lips. His hands remained tied up in her own, lying them on his stomach. The weight of his question seeped in like molasses. Opportunities like this presented themselves once in a lifetime, there was no way Y/n was going to let it slip by.

Rolling off his lap, Y/n plopped down on the ground to the side of Fred. Their heads turned simultaneously towards each other, Fred winking to Y/n.

This is what she wanted. To see him care for her, show his love. His attention. It was the one thing she had been striving for but now that the cat, or rather joke shop, was out of the bag, Fred didn’t feel the need to hide anything from her anymore and keep his work to himself. He was over the moon with excitement to have her join George and himself. It was everything he could hope for.

Coyly averting her peer, Y/n asked,

“Do you really mean it, Fred? You really want me to come with you and George?”

Kindly, Fred swiped his thumb under her chin and raised her head up so their eyes were level.

“I wouldn’t want you anywhere else in the world then with me.” The serenity in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. Y/n propped herself up to her elbows and brought Fred in a bone crushing hug. Heavy chuckles croaked from Fred as she smothered him lovingly. He managed to sneak in a tiny peck to her check and she hugged him. Placing her head on his shoulder, Y/n poked the side of Fred’s cheek, commenting,

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever, Fred, I love it!”

Throwing his arm around the elated girl, Fred just smirked.

“Duh, that’s kind the whole point of you moving in with me.” He replied in a matter-of-fact tone. The night was growing darker and the steady wind was escalating. In an hour, two if they were lucky, Filch would be surveying the grounds in search of students, mainly Fred and George, out past curfew. It was a sport to him, catching students breaking rules and getting to turn them in. It was part of his job, yes, but Y/n hated that he never took it easy on anything for the Gryffindors like he did the Slytherins. Fred looked at the scenery around them and remarked,

“Y’know, angel, as much as I’d love to spend the rest of the night laying with you in my arms, we can do that in my dorm room tonight… in an actual bed instead of dirt. I mean, we didn’t set up this whole thing for nothing! If I knew laying in the dirt would win you back, you should’ve told me!” His sarcastic words were received with a light slap.

“Smart ass.” Y/n rolled her eyes teasingly and started to sit up. Before she could get to her feet, a pair of hands planted themselves at her waist and lifted her. Fred had his moments, but he was always a gentleman to her. His teasing ways were comforting to Y/n, reminding her that they were good now, in comparison to the recent downfalls.

Fred helped Y/n to her seat, then jogged over to his own. He presented the girl with a cake he made for her. Hermione brought him to the kitchens and taught him how to make one. It took about three hours, he burnt the first, put too many eggs in the second, then forgot to add eggs to the third. Finally, on the fourth attempt, Fred created a passable cake. Hermione had no desire to spend any more time in the kitchen, so she quickly frosted it for him, not wanting him to ruin it this far in, then covered it and locked it in the fridge. Much to Y/n’s surprise, it was one of the best homemade cakes she’d ever had. Her teeth were practically chattering from the intense amount of sugar, but she had to keep in mind it was Fred who baked it.

After eating, Fred and Y/n took their sweet time strolling around the castle. Fred swung his hand back and forth, causing the same effect to Y/n’s. They laughed feverishly as Fred chased Y/n up the moving stairs as they raced to the common room. When they entered the room, they sprinted straight for Fred’s, still in a chase. Hermione, Ron, Harry, George, Angelina, and Lee all watched in amusement as the couple seemed to be reunited.

“Wonder if they’re back together. You guys think the date worked?”

Everyone shared glances at the obliviousness of Ron. There were times when social cues and context clues just didn’t exist to Ron. George scoffed at his little brother and shook his head. The rest of the group roared with laughter as Ron’s face scrunched in irritation.

“Not sure, Ron. Why don’t you go out to our room and ask them?” George smirked mischievously causing Ron to turn white as a ghost in realization. A faint ‘oh’, tumbled out of his lips and his eyes went wide.

Despite their assumption, up in the top room in the Gryffindor boy’s dormitory, Fred Weasley laid snoring in his large mattress, still in his school robes. Squished against his chest by his arms, Y/n was sound asleep, similarly dressed. The two didn’t care what they looked like or who came in, as long as they were together, that’s all that mattered.

[struggling-with-time]

How to spiral out of control [Simpbur x reader]

Pairing: c!Wilbur Soot x fem!reader (Simpbur x reader)

Summary: How simpbur became simpbur. And how you grew up and lived with him.

Warnings: Obsession, unhealthy obsession, stalking, murder, drugging, unhealthy relationship, and Simpbur being a creep.

Words: 5K

Masterlist: Wilbur’s Masterlist - Full Masterlist

A/N: Listen I had brainrot. And I don't know how to defend this. (Also requests are still open! Click here!) And it's unedited for now it's 5:12 am here I will edit later today

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Wilbur was a pretty insignificant child. The death of his mother being one of the most interesting things about his childhood. While he claimed not to blame his youngest brother for the loss of his mother. He certainly had a funny way of showing his youngest brother affection.

Wilbur is the middle child of three. A charming but quiet and well accomplished older brother, who seems to never have to end to his dedication neither success. And his youngest brother, a loud ball of sunshine that just seems to make everyone in a good mood. Truly good with people, something Wilbur never seemed to grasp.

His whole childhood tainted by that fact. Always living in the shadow of his brothers, the clear favourites of everyone who came near the family of four.

So his grades was just average, never good enough to get acknowledged, never bad enough to need extra attention. Just average, like the rest of him. He grew up lanky, not athletic neither unable to run. Wilbur was grey in a family of golden people. His father raised them alone for most of Wilbur’s life. His father that despite never saying it out loud had clear favourites in his brothers. It was always, oh and Wilbur too!

Never him, never just him.

So, Wilbur spent most of his childhood lonely, disregarded and weird. A pitiful child. A pathetic child.

The thing is there was one thing, that made Wilbur worth anyone’s time. One person. You.

His childhood best friend.

Well, that’s what anyone who only knew Wilbur would say. Because you were the only friend he had. However, it was different for you, although the two of you were good friends, you wouldn’t call him your best friend for years. That didn’t happen till you became teenagers.

You had always tried your best to include the weird kid in playdates, birthday parties, and playground games. But nobody else seemed to find him worth their time, with his weird and morbid comments. But you persisted that he wasn’t that weird, besides his older brother was really cool.

So, you stick around, you stick around as playdates become hangouts, as dolls become makeup, and homework goes from learning to read to writing essays.

While you had many friends, both come and go and stay, Wilbur had been there for as long as you could remember. A playground proposal documented on home video. And a remake of it on the day of your school dance. You had played along, but it was known to everyone that your childhood friend wanted to be more than friends. But you stayed, smiled for the camera and laughed it off.

Then the school dance was over, and the last exam had been taken. That’s when you moved a country over, and slowly you lost contact with the people you used to call friends, but Wilbur stayed. Wilbur always stayed.

He finally got the spot as the best friend in your mind too. A definite win in his book.

Wilbur had always been odd, a bit to the left of normal. But now, with distance and screens in between you, he only started to act more concerning. This was around the time he started talking about feeling depressed and useless.

Of course, you always told him you didn’t believe that, what else were you supposed to say? Your friendship turning more and more into therapy sessions once a week for Wilbur on your end. While for him it was the highlight of his week.

Clicking the call button beside your profile picture, an anime girl from one he had recommended to you himself. One he had stayed up an entire night to shift through different animes to find the perfect one to send your way. One he was guaranteed you would watch.

“Wilbur, I should really get off.”

“C’mon stay on just a bit later, please.”

The silence deafening over the video call, he watches you intensely as you pull your legs into your chest, your shitty webcam standing beside you on your bed.

Wilbur reached out for the energy drink beside him, a new habit he has picked up. The more hours spent on the computer, the more he seemed to consume.

“Fine, just half an hour more. But then it’s the last half hour.”

Wilbur smiles at that, you choosing him over everything else in the world. He likes that, he likes that a lot. You valuing him. Spending time with him, and only him. Your attention is his.

“We could always fall asleep on call, then we could keep talking.”

“Another day Wilbur, another day.”

That. That sentence he on the other hand didn’t like. Not one bit. A promise never kept. A promise left unspoken and unpromised from your side, but a broken and abandoned promise on his side.

Then there was the wall incident.

Wilbur wouldn’t have told you if it weren’t for you noticing the hole in his wall. One that matched his fist quite neatly. His father had taken his PS4 in punishment for Wilbur using so much the WiFi plan to call you. At least that’s what he told you.

In reality, he had gotten into a fight with his older brother, his brother had asked about you, how you were doing, and if he could say hi during a call. There was something about the words that had irked Wilbur, something that set him off, something about him that made his brother seem dangerous to Wilbur. So, he had decked his older brother in the face. Causing a blackeye to occur.

In return, Wilbur now sported a big black and blue spot from where he hit the floor. His brother having immediately tackled him.

And to Wilbur that had confirmed his thoughts. Other guys are dangerous, he’s the only one you should rely on.

The wall had taken the brunt of his rage that night, a screaming match with his dad that ended with his little brother getting sent to his friends' house, and his PS4 getting confiscated until Wilbur had gotten a job and was able to pay back the damages.

And he did get a job, much to your surprise. But you had encouraged him throughout it all. A dead-end cashier job that only seemed to make his world staler and more bothersome than before.

A time where he searched for every distraction possible, gaming, music, you.

You were proud of him when he got the hole in his wall fixed, and even more when he kept his job. And Wilbur doesn’t remember you ever giving him more praise than the day he told you he was starting to investigate going to university.

Naturally, you helped him, and along the way, Wilbur picked up a guitar. A new asset to his den of depression that his room had become, decked in led lights, and overpriced RGB gaming stuff.

The university acceptance came rather quick, and suddenly Wilbur was packing up his life and heading to university. Boxes filled with stuff he barely remembered owning, and kitchen appliances that would never see the light of the day.

And he can feel you starting to drift, already busy with your own life. But he clings to you.

He stays, Wilbur always stays in your life. Even when you drift.

Wilbur knows it’s affecting him. It’s not hidden from anyone. The longer that goes between the two of you talking, the sourer his mood gets. The longer you don’t respond to him, the more messages he sends. The more information he craves to know.

Who are you talking to?

Who are you seeing?

Who is so much more important than him?

Hadn’t he always been there for you?

Hadn’t he always stayed?

You owe him.

Wilbur grows bitter and resentful. But not to you, never to you. But for everyone around you. His biggest joys in life now coming from the ungodly amount of caffeine he drinks, and whenever you reach out first.

This is why the day you call him asking for help is forever a day that will bring him joy.

“Hey Will, you’re really good with tech, and I was wondering if you wanted to help me start streaming.”

He chokes on the energy drink. He chokes on his words. He chokes on the air. He drowns.

His heart aching. His anger festering. His-

“Sure.”

He hears himself respond before he can even process the thought.

It takes him 2 days of absence from university, and what feels like 2 even longer nights, before he’s an expert on how to stream. He reads everything he can find, he watched everything that gets suggested.

You asked him for help, so he will help.

But Wilbur, spends these hours conflicted. You want his help, not someone else’s, someone lesser than him. Him.

But at the same time. His mind keeps wandering, isn’t he enough any longer? Isn’t he good enough for you? Why isn’t he good enough for you? Why? Why?

And thus, he learns you how to use the software, and beings alongside you. He finds comfort in knowing most of your streams whenever possible is spent with him on a call with you.

Although that happens after hours of pestering, that doesn’t matter. He gets to talk to you, while the rest is limited to a measly chat.

You seem to find yourself comfortably in the gaming category, slowly growing. Slowly rising.

Wilbur’s own streams, on the other hand, feels more like incoherent rants interrupted by his guitar plays. And once in a blue moon, you are on call with him.

It doesn’t take long before he gives up, watching you grow. Finding more comfort in watching you, instead of being the watched. Not that anyone really did watch him besides for you.

Wilbur stays out of a camera, as you only seem to grow more comfortable being in front of one.

The first time you have someone on a call with you on stream, who isn’t Wilbur. He just can’t help but break his bedside lamp. It’s a guy nonetheless. A guy from the internet. The type of guy Wilbur has never been shy to tell you horror stories about.

And this is where another bad habit of his started to emerge. He just can’t help himself. But you’re laughing with someone else. You’re smiling for someone else. You’re his. Not anyone else’s. His. His. His.

Wilbur is quick to find the donating button he had helped you set up himself. At that time it had only been used a couple of times. Nothing big. But Wilbur wants big. He wants attention. He wants you.

He fumbles with his credit card as he keys in the numbers, he’s a bit too familiarised with them. Because anything he can get from the internet will be delivered that way.

And then the notification pops up on your screen. A donation number you had never expected. And you start crying. Right there. Right on stream. And Wilbur sucks it up. He sucks it right up that you’re crying for him, whiling praising him, and only him.

The match you were playing ruined, and Wilburs smile only grows as he hears the familiar tone of discord receiving a call.

That night. You had ditched the fellow streamer to thank Wilbur and hang out with him.

Something you never thought you would regret.

But oh, how you did. How you did.

It takes Wilbur around 2 months to get used to a large sum of money means special attention to him, and only him. For everyone to see.

And he can feel you pulling away, so each time he donates, it’s bigger. Larger. Grander.

He’s never on your stream without a donation anymore. Never on call for free. But Wilbur doesn’t mind, because everyone gets to see you’re his.

And he keeps increasing the amount as you keep growing until he hits a stalemate. He’s using half of his paycheck on you, while he doesn’t mind going hungry a couple of days. His bills won’t wait for him. And he has been living away from home for far too long to ever think about calling up his father and ask for money.

Not to mention his oldest brother would never. Then neither will Wilbur. Because Wilbur is better. Better than all of them.

The larger your stream grows, the closer graduation arrives, and then Wilbur is sitting in another apartment. Another dead-end job. Another grey life.

Another dull life passing him by. Your voice constantly on loop his apartment. Constantly filling his life. As it always has. But to you, Wilbur is barely a part of your everyday. Only really showing up when a donation comes in. As you once again tell him not to spend money on you.

But he seems to stay. Wilbur always stays.

He’s the first to like anything you post on social media. Always online never off. Always lurking. Never missing. Never absent. He’s always there.

Wilbur never misses a stream; he schedules his life around yours. Even if you’re a country away.

And then one day you’re not. You’re not a country away, you’re moving back. You’re moving closer. And suddenly you live an hour away by car. Instead of an airplane ride, and shitty trains.

Suddenly Wilbur can see himself get a foot in the door. No longer grasping onto his parasitic parasocial friendship with you. He can see himself being more than the childhood friend who has always been there. He can see himself as the partner that always is there.

Wilbur is giddy the entire car ride. He’s giddy as he feels his bag burn on his shoulder. And he’s giddy until the second you embrace him in a hug and welcome him into your new apartment.

It’s bigger than the one you’ve had since university.

And then his future crumbles. You start talking about a guy named Jared. Fucking Jared. Why did even his name have to leave a sour taste in his mouth? A guy you met over the internet. Not just any guy. No specifically the fucker from the first time Wilbur had donated.

Apparently, he wasn’t a streamer, but a friend you had made during your 2 years you lived at university but never told Wilbur about. Not a single mention of him, and suddenly he’s all you’re talking about.

How could Wilbur have known? You hadn’t even mentioned him on stream. Wilbur always listened so carefully, writing down everyone you mentioned. You had called him attentive once, and he would never want to disappoint you. Maybe if he was attentive enough you would look his way.

Instead, here you are talking about this Jared guy. And Wilbur knows what he has to do. A thought he has been toying with for around 3 years now. Ever since you went to Disneyland together. A trip he paid for, and a trip that was streamed, so everyone could see you were his. You were always his.

That was easily his favourite video.

In the week up to the vacation, Wilbur had done everything he could to learn about cameras so he could help you, and do the most for you. He had even helped you sort through some of the non-streamed videos he filmed too for a YouTube video for you.

Which is where he found the clip of you changing.

The camera had been resting on your hotel bed, the video having a clear Dutch angle, leaving the hotel room slandered. But there you were, right square and centre still. Changing. It takes you a minute to finish before you turn around and pick the camera up again. Mumbling something as you turn it to show off your hotel room, and then the clip cuts to black.

He never told you about it, instead just saving that specific clip on a USB stick. A piece of tech he valued more than his life. Not that his life had ever been worth much in comparison to his.

Wilbur rips his bag open, careful not to make a lot of noise. He removed his clothes, and then the fake bottom. And underneath it reveals small security cameras.

Wilbur has never been more thankful for you being a heavy sleeper and letting him sleep on a mattress on the floor of your bedroom. He quietly sets up two in your bedroom, before moving into the rest of your house. One in your office that has been converted to a streaming room. His own personal angle to your public life.

Two more in the living room, he skips the kitchen and hesitates at the door of your bathroom. For the first time, he hesitates. His hand hovers over the doorknob, the other holding the camera.

“Wilbur?”

You’re standing in the hallway, sleep evident on your face.

“Will why are you making so much noise?”

“No reason darling, go back to bed, just needed some water.”

His breath is stuck in his throat until he hears you close the bedroom door again.

That was the first time he hesitated. And his last. He couldn’t afford it. He couldn’t afford to lose you further.

The rest of the trip passes Wilbur by as you introduce him to Jared. The douchebag himself. The asshole. The guy who dares take away what is Wilbur’s. Even on the ride home. All Wilbur can see is Jared’s image etched into his mind. His god-awful fashion sense. The way everything, he wore around you, just seemed to be a size too small. Nobody wants to see that fuckers’ muscles. Wilbur’s knuckles turn white, as he grips the steering wheel.

Jared has to go.

He’s ruining everything. He’s not part of the dream you told Wilbur you had. Jared has never been part of that. Wilbur was supposed to be part of that. Even if the dream changed through the year. Even if the one you’re living now is the unimaginable future the two of you imagined up at seventeen. But one thing was sure. Jared wasn’t part of that. Wilbur was.

Wilbur easily finds himself a new normal at home. The trip giving him a refreshed sense of hope. A plan in the making. His daily routine now including watching you all hours of the day. Not just your streams any longer. Every single second he can wrench out of those cameras.

And suddenly his friendship seems to improve with you too. Because now he can see when you’re sad and in need of a friend. He reaches out at the perfect time. Abusing your vulnerable state. Because it’s the best to do. It’s for the betterment of your future.

The more Wilbur is there for you, the more he resents Jared. He deserved to be in your bed, not that asshole. He deserves to reap the rewards of his hard labour. He is the one that has always been there because Wilbur has always stayed.

A simple click is all it takes for Wilbur and the item has been placed in a cart. Mere keystrokes and it has been paid. A single click and Wilbur has truly gone insane, as a packet is shipped off. A packet containing a bottle of sleeping pills.

The next time you invite Wilbur down, you barely recognise him as you open the door. Eyebags so deep you’ve never seen before. His entire body slightly twitching, and that manic smile on his lips. Wilbur brushes your concerns off, claiming that’s just what happens in real workplaces. Not that you would know anything about that.

Wilbur hates the feeling of insulting you, but you had barely responded the entire week. You deserved to suffer for a moment. Before he caves and apologises for being rude. That’s the moment you can see the resembles of his normal being as he hangs his shoulders.

Jared comes over that night. Just as Wilbur had planned. And this time he won’t hesitate. He even bought a bigger car for this.

Wilbur offers to mix the drinks, claiming to have learnt a new recipe. Which isn’t a lie, he has learned how to perfect just the right cocktail thick enough that covers the chalky residue of the pills. And sweet enough to make the bitter taste disappear.

He serves them, keeping a watchful eye as the night drags on, and Jared never seems to shut up. But Wilbur can deal with it for one night. Just for one. And then he won’t ever have to worry about Jared again.

He serves another.

And then another drink.

And finally. Finally. You’re starting to get tired. Slowly leaning against Wilbur. And he takes pride in that. Great pride. You didn’t choose to lean against Jared, you’re leaning against Wilbur.

Wilbur sits still until Jared too is starting to fall asleep. Wilbur is ecstatic.

He gets up slowly, gently laying you down, a pillow underneath your face. A blanket over you. He kisses your forehead and smells your hair. Taking in the shampoo scent still lingering.

Then Wilbur gets moving, he has stuff to do. Plans to execute after all.

He does his best to get Jared’s left arm over his shoulders. But their awkward height difference makes it difficult, but he can make it work. It has to work. He only gets one shot.

Wilbur gets the front door open before he realises a fatal flaw in his plan. He has to drag Jared down 3 floors worth of stairs. He realises he can’t do it the way he is now. He has to drag him down by his armpits instead.

It takes him the first flight of stairs to realise Jared shoes are making too much noise. He has to abandon them, Wilbur awkwardly gets Jared leaned against the wall before he removes Jared’s polished black shoes. Wilbur leaves them there, making a mental note to remember them when he comes back.

The rest of the stairs, while difficult and definitely breathtaking for someone who has no muscle strength. He makes it work. Wilbur actually makes it work.

He made it work. It worked. Oh god. It’s working.

Wilbur repositions Jared once more, his arm once again over Wilbur’s shoulders. The night sky greeting him as he steps out of the apartment complex. With great difficulty, Wilbur gets the two of them over to his car, where he throws open the trunk. In the proceed shaking the car, setting off the car alarm. Wilbur is quick to drop Jared as he fumbles after his car keys. It takes him nearly a full minute to turn off the car alarm.

Wilbur curses under his breath.

Annoyed with the time loss. He finally gets the knocked-out Jared into his trunk, and he shuts it again. Just as a front door in the apartment complex opens. A man steps out. He raises a hand to Wilbur, before pulling out a smoke.

Wilbur shuffles on his feet before raising a hand. And then awkwardly gets into his car.

Okay. Okay. Okay.

He has a body in his trunk. Now he just has to get to the harbour. Wilbur starts the car and starts the ride to the harbour a town over.

Half an hour has gone past when Wilbur is pulling the handbrake, and taking the keys out. He’s quick to get out, and even quicker to get to Jared. Wilbur keeps thinking about you. Your smile. Your kindness. Your voice. Your beauty. Your grace. As his hands are securing zip ties around the wrists and ankles of an unconscious man.

He has to go.

Wilbur reminds himself.

A cloth is tied around Jared’s filthy mouth, and then Wilbur is back to dragging him. It’s both easier and harder. Easier before he’s just dragging him across the pebbles and over to the brink of the harbour. Both of his arms are under both of Jared’s.

But it’s harder because if someone sees him it’s going to get difficult to explain. But nobody does. As far as Wilbur is aware.

So a splash is made by a body, and Jared is unceremoniously sinking to the bottom of the ocean floor.

Wilbur takes one more breath of fresh air. Before turning around and getting back into his new car.

He’s quick to arrive at your apartment complex. The man was no longer there. Wilbur goes to grip the front door. It doesn’t bulge.

Oh yeah, it’s locked.

He fishes the copy he made of your house key from his keychain and lets himself into the building he doesn’t live in. An invited guest, that has turned out to be an uninvited one.

He can feel the tiredness setting in his bones, as he ascends the stairs. And the realisation that he just killed someone hasn’t dawned on him yet. Instead, all his muscles are aching, and his eyes barely staying open.

He stumbles into your apartment. Another kiss gets left on your forehead as he goes for your bed. The smell is so nice. It’s so obvious to him this is where you sleep. And he’s soaking in each moment until his eyes are giving out.

His night remaining dreamless, instead, he gets awoken rather rudely around noon. You’ve pulled the comforter off him and told him to get up, so the two of you can spend some timeacting together. and Wilbur happily does that.

Not at all acing like a man who purposely took another person’s life mere hours ago. You rush him to get into his clothes. As you have something planned for rest of the day out of the apartment. You’re talking his ears off as you descend the first flight stairs your personal puppy in tow.

When you stop dead in your tracks. Wilbur nearly stumbles into you.

“Will, is that Jared’s shoes?”

And right there is in fact Jared’s shoes. The pair Wilbur had forgotten all about. The pair he had left unintentionally.

“Are you sure about that? Thought he already left.” Wilbur lies, he may be awkward, but he has gotten pretty good at lying to you through the years.

“Yeah yeah, you’re right. Why would he leave his shoes?”

The question gets left unanswered, and the tension is thick until you get outside, and the sun is shining. It seems it knows too of how good this day is for Wilbur, a dawn of a new era. Where you will finally acknowledge him as the perfect one for you.

The man from the nightstand once again with a smoke and raises his hand to greet Wilbur, once again Wilbur shuffles on his feet before he raises a hand back. You look at him weirdly, and Wilbur shrugs it off.

The rest of the day happening without any mishaps or other incidents. But the shoes just can’t seem to leave your mind, despite how hard Wilbur is trying to distract you.

And then the afternoon passes, and the night, and the car ride, and Wilbur is once again home. And as soon as the door closes. He crumbles down on the floor.

Oh god.

He did it.

He actually fucking did it.

He isn’t useless.

He’s fucking Wilbur, and Wilbur stays in your life. Even when you make such stupid mistakes as falling for another person. There’s only one person for you and that’s him.

You’re actually the first one to call him this time, and the smile never leaves his lips. Even if the call is about Jared. And how worried you are about not having heard from him. Wilbur just tells you; you should have listened to him. Guys on the internet are just like that. And that you deserve better. Someone like him.

You laugh at this and thank him for calming you down.

Wilbur suddenly loves phone calls.

This bliss is perfect for Wilbur you’re talking to him more and more. And he watches, god he watches you. Every step you take in that apartment is filmed logged on his computer.

However, all good things must come to an end, and Wilbur has barely pulled off his tie after work when a group of loud knocks sounds at his door. He isn’t expecting guests.

A group of men in blue uniforms greets him.

“Wilbur Soot, you’re under the arrest for the Murder of Jared Yarrow.”

Wilbur barely registers what’s going on, before he’s in a holding cell. A psych evaluation under his belt. A phone call to his father asking him to help him out.

The days bleed together in the unchanging environment, and suddenly a defender is telling him to plead for insanity.

Then the defender comes back again days later with a court date, and all Wilbur can do is count the seconds.

Time for the first time since arriving slows down when the doors to the court open and Wilbur is lead into the courtroom. And there you are, looking beautiful as ever. Tears and despair clearly written on your face. You look away from him, and it makes him stumble for a moment. A quick look to the other side, confirms his fear. His father is here. Alongside his brothers.

The trial goes over what happened that night, the evidence, the sleeping medication, the car. Everything. Yet even when his sentence is received, even when he is told he won’t see the sun again for a long time. There is only one thing on his mind.

They never found the cameras.

And he just can’t help but smile at that as he’s getting lead away to rot.

Because Wilbur has always stayed by your side, Wilbur always stays. -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

[misscarolineshelby]

Roommates – Part Sixteen

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words:1,876

Warning: Fluff, Smut

Note: This plays in 2020. It’s all fiction and not based on Cillian’s real life and family.

A week had passed since you told Cillian that you loved him and, whilst you were strongly under the influence of pain medication, you remembered it.

You had, in fact, developed strong feelings for him and whilst the words left your lips accidentally when you were drowsy and half asleep, you were somewhat disappointed by the fact that he didn’t say anything.

Of course, he didn’t share the same feelings for you, you knew that much. You’ve been friends for so many years that you could hardly be surprised that he liked you as a friend and for sex, but nothing else. But, what you had expected was that he would say something, anything at all, even if it was simply confirming what you already knew.

***

You did tell your sister about it and, whilst you were surprised by the feelings you had so suddenly developed for your long-time friend, she wasn’t surprised at all.

She saw it coming as soon as she found out that you were sleeping with each other and she believed that you always had some sort of feelings for him.

In the same vein, she was sure that he felt the same about you and was probably reluctant to tell you and, with that in mind, you continued on as usual and acted as if nothing had happened.

You weren’t willing to give up your friendship and the amazing sex you have for maybes and thought that, if your sister was right, he would come around eventually, at least so you hoped.

***

Then, another week had passed and nothing had changed. At least so you thought.

Cillian asked you whether you wanted to travel to Cork with him to see his parents now that Ireland, once again, came out of lockdown and visits to family were permitted provided that you had a permit.

‘I don’t think I can Cillian. Only spouses’ you said, pointing to the pamphlet he had printed out from the Irish Covid Information website.

‘Well, we are living together, you can pretend to be my girlfriend if the police pulls us over’ he chuckled, before pleading with you.

‘You just want me to drive, don’t you’ you then said and he nodded. He hated driving long distances and it didn’t help that he had only gotten his drivers licence five years ago and failed his driving test three times when he moved back to Dublin.

‘I suppose it’s safer if I drive…so yes, I am coming’ you said somewhat amused.

‘Should I ask Ma to prepare two or one room for us?’ Cillian then asked and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

‘Your mother is strictly catholic and I suppose that the answer to your question depends on what you are willing to reveal to her about our little arrangement’ you joked and, of course, Cillian hadn’t even thought that far.

‘Two bedrooms’ he then confirmed before picking up the phone to let his mother know that you would be coming with him.

***

Three days later, you hit the road for the three-and-a-half-hour drive to Cork after you both had received a negative COVID test result which you took as a precaution.

As usual, Cillian’s mother was excited about the visit and you were excited too. You hadn’t seen her for about 18 months and the last time you saw her she had cooked you and your fiancé a lovely a meal.

Things were different then and you talked about your wedding and all the plans you were having in the future.

There was no pandemic to worry about and you weren’t aware of your fiancé’s indiscretions at the time while Cillian was still happily dating your somewhat crazy friend.

Now, your engagement had ended but your friendship with Cillian had evolved into something else entirely.

***

After a smooth three-and-a-half-hour drive, you pulled up in front of Cillian’s parents’ house.

They both greeted you with excitement and told you to come in quickly as it was raining.

Cillian’s father quickly carried your small suitcase to one of the guestrooms while Cillian placed his into the other. There wasn’t much space in the house and, whilst the house had four bedrooms, the corridors were rather narrow and the living area was small.

‘It’s so good to see you Y/N’ Cillian’s mum said before offering you a cup of tea which you gladly accepted.

‘The last time you visited Cork was under better circumstances, but I hope you will enjoy it nonetheless’ she then said and you thanked her for her hospitality.

You had always gotten along well with Cillian’s mother and Cillian was simply happy to see his parents again after such a long time, even if it meant that his siblings couldn’t visit them at the same time as him due to the visitation limits imposed.

As you were sitting on the sofa with Cillian’s mother you soon noticed that Cillian was gone and so did his mother.

‘He better not be stealing food’ she then huffed out sternly and, sure enough, Cillian had found the freshly baked scones in the kitchen and couldn’t resist.

‘But they are so good Ma’ you heard him argue as his mum told him to get out of the kitchen and leave the scones alone, which made you laugh.

‘He will never change’ you chuckled and his mother nodded in agreement.

‘No, he won’t’ she then said before informing you that she had made a roast for dinner.

***

After dinner and a few glasses of wine with Cillian’s parents, they headed to bed at around 8.30pm as usual, leaving you and Cillian to watch TV in the living room.

You were quick to spread your legs out over Cillian’s laps, getting yourself more comfortable but being vary that his parents might walk in on you.

But, Cillian seemed to think that, once they went to bed, they would pretty much go to sleep right away and proceeded to pull you onto his lap.

‘I missed this today’ he said before he caressed your face and kissed you gently.

‘Me too’ you then giggled before returning the kiss rather quickly.

‘Do you want to go to my bedroom or yours?’ he then winked and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

‘Your parents are in the house Cillian’ you then said and, just as you did, you heard some footsteps in the hallway behind you.

You quickly jumped off Cillian’s lap and sat on the lounge like a well-behaved schoolgirl as his mother walked by to get a glass of water while Cillian covered up his erection, poking against the denim of his jeans, with a cushion.

‘Night Ma’ he then said and she couldn’t help but laugh before saying ‘good night’ again.

‘I am not going to have sex at your parents house’ you then huffed out quietly when his mother had left.

‘Alright, let’s go for drive then’ he suggested.

‘A drive? And how will you explain this to your mother tomorrow?’ you laughed and Cillian suggested to tell her that you forgot some toiletries and he drove to the shop to get them.

‘Supermarket closes in 30 minutes, let’s go’ he said and you couldn’t really say no to him.

***

Ten minutes later you arrived at a secluded area near the beach and you could just tell that Cillian had been there before.

‘Is this where you used to take your girlfriends when you were at high school and snatched your parents’ combi even though you didn’t have a driver’s licence?’ you asked, having heard about these stories from his brother before.

‘Yeah, it’s a good spot, nice and quiet’ Cillian winked as he reclined his seat and you quickly stripped down to your bra and panties.

‘Oh my god Cillian I feel like an 18-year-old again, sneaking out of the house to make out’ you laughed and, just before you could protest, Cillian reached inside your panties and slowly stroked your mound.

‘Just that, this time, it will actually be worth your while’ Cillian smirked as he ran his forefinger between the crease of your pussy and noticed the moistness which had already built there.

‘Hmm yes, it will be Cillian’ you moaned as he was rubbing your clit with his left hand and with his right hand was caressing your breasts.

You were quick to release his hard cock from his jeans as well and began jerking him in time with his clitoral stimulation and the heat inside the car was palpable.

‘So naughty…what if we get caught?’ you huffed out, knowing that Cillian had a kink for semi-public sex.

‘It’s worth the risk’ he groaned and, before long, you were gazing up from the seat with that wanton look in your eyes, pulling Cillian closer and uttering cues while he fingered your pussy and mouthed your firm nipples with his welcoming mouth.

‘I need you inside me Cillian’ you moaned as you were welcoming two fingers into your waiting slit and could not be distracted, even by the crackling sounds outside and the sound of the radio.

‘Come on then’ Cillian groaned as you continued to stroke him and, just as he invited you to take what you needed so badly, you let go off his cock and climbed on top of him.

He pressed the head of his cock against your awaiting pussy and you slowly sank down on him.

‘Oh god yes fuck’ you moaned as his cock disappeared into your tight vagina, expanding your love tunnel while he met your lips with his. Your mouths parted and your tongues communicated the instant of union as Cillian’s cock drove slowly into your warm pussy. You were lost in their unity while your reality transformed around them.

‘You feel so fucking good’ Cillian groaned as you were moving in perfect motion with Cillian’s penetration and your thighs were even perforated with the moisture that was coming out of your pussy.

Your rocking continued and you were now joining orally with diatribes as Cillian’s cock bottomed out again and again inside you. ‘Fuck’ you uttered as his big balls pressed against your bottom.

Your warm tunnel was wide for his cock and your eyes were fixed on the mechanistic ramming of Cillian’s body in its hedonistic role.

‘I am cumming…fuck’ you moaned with the ever fastening in and out rhythms that Cillian was delivering to your womanhood. Cillian too was groaning and you put a hand underneath his balls while he pounded you and the car shook.

With your screams and loss of control inside erotic orgasm, Cillian too lost control and filled your cavity with his warm seed.

‘Fuck, Y/N, I love…’ Cillian began to say but, just as he did, there was a nock on the window of the car on the driver’s side next to Cillian, interrupting what he was about to say.

‘Please lower your window…’ a man said from outside and you could see some flashing lights behind where the car was parked.

 Tag List:

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-your-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985@peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15 @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r @tellingyouastory @captivatedbycillianmurphy​ @namelesslosers​ @littlewhiterose​ @ttzamara​ @ttzamara @cilleveryone ​

@peaky-cillian @queenyshelby ​

@severewobblerlightdragon​ @ysmmsy​ @midnightmystic

[brockadoodles]

morning flights to toronto - b. boeser

AN: I couldn’t give you too many Christmas fics without a splaaasshhhhhhhh of angst, that simply would not be true to my brand. Sorry fic Brock for how often I break you? But it’s okay because it’s just a character and not real hehe. Hope you enjoy this one, it’s a concept I really love.

Word Count: 2613

Warnings: Angst but a good ending I promise. 

A month and a half ago, if someone would have asked you what you were doing for Christmas, you would have smiled at them and told them you’d be in Minnesota, likely cuddled up by the fireplace with snow heavily falling outside, your boyfriend asleep next to you and your dogs at your feet. You would have told them how excited you were to go back to the place you had started to realize felt like your second home, a place where you pictured yourself raising a family, transitioning to a stage in life that you were starting to feel ready for. A month and a half ago, you would have been happily in love, instead of mending a freshly shattered heart during your favorite time of the year. 

You replayed the conversation in your head, circling over and over his words that echoed through your mind, wondering how you could have misinterpreted the signs for so long. You thought you and Brock were on the same page, you had moved in together, and had even adopted a second dog together, a husky mix named Milo. But it turns out, you weren’t on the same page at all you were two souls who had found yourself so consumed by the love story you thought you had that you ended up not realizing that Brock was still on book 1, while you had steadily moved to book 2. 

“I just don’t know that I see all of that right now,” he sighed. His head was resting in his hands and his eyes were blurry from his own tears that had started to fall as he spoke to you, a conversation that to him was the hardest thing he ever had to do. He loved you, that was never the problem. But sometimes, love isn’t enough to build a life with someone, sometimes you need something more than a connection that the two of you had. 

“Right now? Or ever?” You whispered, your own tears falling freely as you desperately wished for him to say anything but ever. You could give him space, you could give him time, but you couldn’t rationalize the idea that you had loved him in a way that he didn’t love you. You couldn’t accept that it had been one-sided, not when you were starting to build a life together. Brock ran a hand through his hair, his voice was scratchy from the dryness settling into his throat, the lump choking back his own tears as his voice pulled your heart out and tossed it on the ground. 

“I think we need to not be together right now.” 

That phrase struck you in a way that nothing else had before. It settled into your chest and pitched a tent there, a tenant that wasn’t paying rent who you couldn’t evict. You weren’t even sure it felt entirely real until you were sitting with him and having a serious conversation about moving out, and taking Milo with you.

You tried not to think about the reality of it all, losing a three year relationship seemingly in a matter of moments. It didn’t matter how long you and Brock spoke in circles that night, it didn’t matter what shape you tried to construct to fix everything and hang onto him, he was holding a box and you were holding broken pieces that didn’t fit. 

You were doing your best at what you hoped looked like starting over. You were trying to navigate finding yourself again after being so tied into one person, but it was nearing Christmas and as you sat in your friend’s sublet apartment with boxed of things around you that you and Brock had bought together and Milo at your feet, you wanted to be anywhere other than Vancouver for the holiday.  

It had taken you four days to call your parents. Four days of replaying everything in your mind and wondering if maybe he’d call and say it was all a mistake. Four days of cycling through the same routine of going from the bed to the couch on autopilot, tears springing to your eyes each time something reminded you of him. Four days of wondering if he even was hurting at all, a question that you weren’t sure you even wanted the answer to yet tortured yourself with anyways. But it only took five minutes for your mom to convince you to come home. 

That’s how you ended up back in Toronto, tucked away in your childhood bedroom that had been converted to be a guest room looking out at the blanket of snow that was dumping into the city. You settled into a new routine, waking up each morning and watching Milo out back playing in the fresh snow. You tried not to think about if he was missing Coolie as much as you were. You also tried not to notice each time Brock’s photo popped up as a viewer on your story, knowing that losing Milo was probably killing him. 

Brock spent the weeks following the breakup leading up to Christmas poorly attempting to convince himself that what he did was right. He agonized over it, constantly telling himself that you were two people who had been lost in each other for so long, that you needed to find yourselves again. He tried to convince himself that the codependency was the problem, that you weren’t growing together anymore, hell, he even tried to convince himself that he was the one holding you back from your dreams, feeling guilty for just how willing he knew you would have been to follow him if he were ever traded. But the thing about telling yourself something until it's true is that it doesn’t work, and that was a lesson that Brock was painstakingly learning the hard way. He couldn’t even pretend it was any easier when he was back home in Minnesota, because at each turn his dad asked him things about you and it broke his heart each time he had to remind him that you weren’t. 

Brock watched your story of Milo in the snow for what felt like at least the tenth time that morning. He heard your laugh in the background and you calling for Milo softly. He knew you were back home in Toronto, probably at your parents house running through the traditions your family had at Christmas. He remembers when he got to experience all of those with you, the year before. As he heard your laugh one last time from your story, he thought back to that Christmas, his own heart twisting when he thought about how he was always the one who could make you laugh, stealing wine drunken kisses in the kitchen in the dim light.

It took Brock one hour after you left to know that it was a mistake breaking up with you, but it took him three weeks and a Christmas Eve without you to come to the understanding that maybe, just maybe he could fix it. 

You groaned softly as you blindly reached for the source of the buzzing on your bedside table. You had half of a mind to turn over and curl up in your blanket and ignore it, the last month your phone had been filled with messages and calls, each person offering what felt like faux sympathy at your broken heart. It got to a point where you dreaded seeing a notification, just wishing that your friends would give you space to heal on your own. They could only express so much sympathy for a situation that they didn’t understand. But it was Christmas Eve, and as you adjusted your eyes to your phone screen, you thought about how whoever was calling this late must have been important. As soon as you picked up the screen and saw the photo on it, him with Coolie curled up against his chest, you felt your eyes water and your mind twist. You wondered if you were hallucinating, but your finger slid across the accept button anyway and you held your breath as you lifted the phone to your ear.

“Are you there?” His voice came through when you didn’t say anything. It was soft and strained, and you felt your heart clench at hearing it after trying to forget about how he sounded over the last month. You sniffled slightly, wiping your eyes and sitting up in bed as you nodded as if he could somehow see your movements through the phone. Milo shifted slightly at your movements, and your heart broke even more. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry it’s so late. Fuck, it��s like 2:30 there. I’m- god please don’t hang up.” He whispered. For a moment you felt like you could see him, probably pacing back and forth in his condo, hand running through his golden hair. You didn’t know why he was calling, and you didn’t know why you chose to answer, but you stayed on the line anyway, because what’s a broken heart at Christmas without the added pain of the one who shattered it waking you up at 2 am? 

“I’m here.” You said, your voice shaky. You leaned down to scratch Milo’s ear, your heart-tugging a big at knowing the breakup had not only affected you and Brock but the dogs as well. 

“Uhm, I..” Brock started, and you sighed softly into the phone.

“Brock, why are you calling?” There it was, the question he had expected. The question he had spent the last month preparing himself for, running through the lists and reasons in his mind constantly, and now that he was here, listening to you cry on the phone, he seemed to forget all of them. He felt like shit, not only for himself for ruining the best thing he ever had with you, but for calling you in the middle of the night on Christmas and making you cry all over again. 

“Come home. Or I’ll come there, I was wrong. I was so beyond wrong and to be honest, I’ve spent the entire last month knowing that. We were so happy, you know? I was thinking about rings and starting this whole life with you and I just lost myself, I started doubting us when it got serious because I was insecure, I was afraid you’d wake up one day and realize you don’t want me or this life. And I was wrong. I was wrong to hurt you, I was wrong to not talk to you about how I was feeling and I was wrong to break up with you when really all I want to do is marry you and have kids and, fuck, I just want all of that with you. So come home, let’s try again.” 

You curled into Milo, letting the tears fall down your cheeks as you took in the words he spoke. You knew Brock, and you knew he was telling the truth but was he worth risking everything for again. Could you realistically come back from this knowing that you could be sent packing up and back to Toronto at any time should he change his mind. It was a gamble, and you were never one to place bets when it came to your heart. 

“I’ll come to Toronto, I’ll book a flight right now, just to see you, just to try to show you that I want to make this up to you. I love you, let me show you that again.” Brock begged. 

“You’ll come to Toronto?” You squeaked, biting your lip in the darkness. 

“I already looked at flights, I can be there by 10.” He said. You let out a sob at his words, glancing at the clock and counting down how many hours that would be until you would face him. 

“I can’t lose you again. If we do this, I can’t.. Brock, I really can’t.” You whispered. 

You opened the door to him standing there, a bag on his shoulders, and his hands nervously tucked in his pockets. You passed over his hair that was covered in a dark beanie, his eyes tired and lacking the brightness you once always saw in him, his beard longer than he usually kept it. Brock looked like a reflection of you, a broken person who was wandering around trying to piece back together their own heart. You stepped out onto the porch, not caring that it was freezing cold and the snow was heavy. You didn’t care that you were just in leggings and an old sweatshirt of Brock’s you didn’t want to admit that you had taken from him. You reached out for him, burying yourself into his chest and letting the tears fall as you held each other for the first time in over a month. His hand ran through your hair as he pressed a light kiss to the top of your head. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He spoke, tilting your chin up so that his eyes could look into yours. 

“I missed you, and I love you, and please just-” Brock cut you off, pressing his lips against yours in a tender kiss. You felt yourself melt into him, the familiarity rushing back to you as he pulled you closer and deepened the kiss. You knew that the kiss couldn’t fix everything, that him coming to Toronto and back to you didn’t change what happened. But what you did know was that you had someone standing there who wanted you and had made a mistake, and maybe it was the holiday spirit talking, but you wanted to give him a second chance, and it was the only Christmas present that mattered.  

You held onto him tightly, tears stinging your cheeks from the cold. You didn’t even notice your mom had opened the front door behind you, instead you pulled apart from Brock when Milo came running up to your feet, jumping all over Brock and whining at him. 

“Milo, hi buddy, hi.” He cooed at the dog, squatting down and letting Milo jump all over him. It made you cry even more, realizing how hard the last few weeks without him had been. Brock looked up at you, a deep frown settling on his features because he knew all of your pain had been his fault. He stood up, letting Milo continue to jump on his legs as he grabbed your hands.

“There’s someone else who came with me.” He smiled softly. You furrowed your brow as he tangled his fingers with yours and led you down to where the car he must have rented was parked. You saw Coolie’s face in the window and you squeezed Brock’s hand tighter, your smile growing with each step closer to him you got. Brock opened the door, letting Coolie jump out and run all around you and him and Milo. His excitement coming out in loud whines. You watched as he and Milo started running around your yard together, standing close to Brock.

“It felt wrong without him.” You commented softly. Brock wrapped an arm around you and kissed your temple tenderly, a move that sent waves of calm through your body. You didn’t know what it would take to fix everything, but you had him here and he wanted to try. Maybe it would be rocky, maybe it would be hard, but losing each other even for just a few weeks only cemented in how sure you were about a life with him. So, even if it all crumpled later on, he still took an early morning flight to Toronto, and you weren’t going to send him away. 

[mcyt-amber-tftsmp]

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭... 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟... {𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐛 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫}

Request?: HeartsYeallow

Character: Ranbob

Side Character(s): Basically the rest of The Lost City of Mizu cast

Story-type: Starts out platonic but it's mainly Angst and a bit of fluff Romance but not too much

Story Length: 3455 words

AU or Not: AU of sorts but Ranbob being in his enderwalk when he went full-murder on the fishermen

Time Period: Future basically

Plot Summary: It the incident where Ranbob killed the fisher men but Y/n tagged along while the four were mostly exploring Y/n actually got to know Ranbob a bit then when Y/n saw he killed Cletus I believe she came to be uh scared but still knows hes not doing it and such, anyway time skip when its just Isaac, Charles and Y/n are the only one left alive and Ranbob trapped them but Y/n rushed her self to Ranbob and snapped him out of his murderous mind— and saving the others and she told the two to go ahead and leave Mizu and she'll catch up with and she talked to him and comforted him in a way

Small Info: Ranbob has the enderstate where he does things he doesn't know he does like the murders- and he didn't open up with anybody til Y/n come and her friends came to mizu also Y/N is like Isaac's little sister who's younger by two years with Isaac being 22 years old and everything else

Keywords:

Y/N = Your Name

Trigger Warning:

- Burning To Death Twice - Slight Blood - Small Panic Attack - Repeated Words - Mentions Of Death

Normal Warning: Cringey as heck-

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

Y/N's Point of View~

The only thing I could see outside while walking around the place was just water and the aquatic life going on with it's lives in water. Now people might be wondering, where the heck am I exactly? Well you see we are currently exploring an underwater city called the City of Mizu which happens to be the Underwater City of Beauty and they got the beauty part pretty much right!

Basically what happened is that my older brother, Isaac took me with his three friends to wherever they usually go until I found this book lying on the ground which talked about Mizu. So we basically decided to go over to explore the area and while doing so we met an enderman hybrid named Ranbob.

From what I know about him is that he's pretty socially awkward considering when he met us he was a bit nervous when he introduced himself and Cletus was practically making him uncomfortable by sniffing him or doing something which was annoying him. I would sometimes yell at Cletus to stop it saying that he's making him uncomfortable.

I mostly tagged along with Ranbob while Isaac, Cletus, Charles and Benji were exploring and walking around the place. I was able to get to know him a bit more which actually helped him talk to me freely without getting nervous or something.

He was actually a really nice guy even if he looked pretty intimidating and all. What I liked most was his heterochromatic eyes which on his right side was yellow and on the other it was purple. He was also pretty tall and handsome- okay moving on!

Yeah I may or may not have somehow fallen in love with him too. I don't know what it is but I guess I could say it was just us basically having a conversation together and getting to know each other so well and maybe it's his voice cause it's pretty calming and I like it. His voice is something I could fall asleep to if I wanted.

Right now we were just walking around in the library. My brother and his friends ran off somewhere looking through somethings while i was looking through names of books trying to see which one I could read and that was when a certain book caught my eye.

The cover of the book was black and it look slightly dusty like it hasn't ever been touched by anyone. I slowly took the book out of the shelf carefully so as to not accidentally make the other books drop from the shelf. I then dusted away the small dust particles as I looked at the book.

"The Enderstate?" I said in a small questioning and confused tone.

"I see you found this book." I heard a voice behind me which made me slightly jump as I looked to see it was Ranbob as I left out a huge sigh of relief.

"Oh it's just you and I did I guess? Do you know what's it about?" I asked as he stayed silent for a bit before he spoke.

"Well... How do I put this into words?" He said while looking pretty hesitant.

"The Enderstate or Enderwalk is similar to sleepwalking or dissociation, where endermen hybrids like me have little awareness of surroundings, and it may last for hours at a time. You could say that... we do things we don't intend on doing at times and we don't have control of ourselves in the process. You would have to knock or slap them back to reality... if it's possible." He said explaining as I listened though I did notice the slight nervousness in his voice which I shook off thinking it was nothing.

It was something pretty interesting to know considering I have never known about this. I eventually put the book back in its place as Ranbob continued with the tour. Later Isaac found small lever key which lead to a tree dome.

Isaac handed the key to Ranbob who led us down the hallway to a closed room. I saw Ranbob place the lever key in its place as he pulled it down as the door slowly opened to reveal a glass dome which consisted of a huge tree in the middle.

I stood awed as I looked at the tree. It was really beautiful. Isaac and his friends were just looking around the place as I stood in place but after a while I realized that Ranbob was nowhere near me. I didn't even know where and when he ran off.

I snapped back from my thoughts when I heard my brother yell as he pointed towards the tree saying that there is a chest on top of it. We were all trying to figure out on who would climb the tree to get the chest. We then decided that Cletus should go over to retrieve whatever was inside the chest.

As Cletus was about to go up, I heard Benji say something which made Cletus come back as they argued and Charles was trying to calm them down. I then heard Isaac say if I had seen Ranbob in which I shook my head since I had no clue where he was.

Then after a few minutes Cletus reached the semi-top of the tree saying he found the chest as he slowly opened it. Isaac asked what it said in their but then something caught my eye. I thought it was nothing but then I heard a voice which I recognized very well.

"People don't live after coming here. They die." I heard Ranbob said as he jumped down from God knows where as I noticed the fire on top of the tree.

"Is it on fire?!" I heard Isaac exclaim looking at the tree and looked at Cletus who was cornered at the edge of the tree.

Charles and Benji were telling Cletus to drop the book and to jump down but then I saw how Cletus was set on fire as Ranbob then pushed him back only for Cletus to fall to his death. I stood stunned and scared as I looked at Ranbob with fear but then I realized something.

What if he was in the enderstate? He wouldn't do this in general, right?! I had so many thoughts running through my mind but it was interrupted as Isaac grabbed my arm and ran out of the room. I was about to say something but he already pulled down the lever to trap Ranbob in the tree room.

Isaac read the book as he led us down to wherever we are supposed to go. After a few, we came to a room which had lava but there was something on top of the wall. Benji said that he would be the one to retrieve what was inside the chest as he jumped on the stone platforms as he slowly parkoured his way there.

I was too scared to look considering he was taking a huge risk parkouring over the platforms and if he accidentally missteps he will fall and burn in lava. I looked over at him to see he was doing fine and he was just two steps away from reaching the place.

But I may have spoken too soon cause I don't know what happened but Benji somehow tripped over the last step and fell towards the flowing hot lava. I saw Isaac running after him as he reached out a hand but it was too late. I choked back tears as I saw witnessed Benji burning to death. There was nothing we could do.

Then I saw Isaac give his books and other things he had to Charles saying that he was going to get to the top to retrieve the item in the chest. I widened my eyes. I couldn't lose him. He was the only family I had after our parents died.

"Isaac no! Please I can't lose you!" I said as Isaac gave me a hug.

"I will be okay just hold on for me okay. I promise." he said letting go as he took a deep breath and jumped onto the first platform.

I was shaking as he slowly parkoured over to the platforms. He looked pretty hesitant and scared knowing one wrong step and he will die. By the time I knew it he took the last step and reached the chest. I saw him take out something from the chest which looked like a lever key.

Isaac was saying that it was the final room key which could help us escape. Then he said that he was going to jump down from the slightly huge height as Charles said he would catch him. he took a deep breath as he jumped down and somewhat landed in Charles' arms as he fell backwards.

"Are you okay?" I asked as Isaac stood up only to slightly limp as I looked over at his foot to see that it was slightly bleeding.

"Not really but I will be fine. Are you alright Charles?" He asked looking over at the younger boy who nodded.

"Yeah just a little hurt in the head but overall okay." He said as he gave back Isaac's things as Isaac led us to the new room.

Isaac put the lever in it's place but stepped back a bit. I looked over to see he was looking really light headed as I helped him breathe as Charles helped. I could imagine that was very scary and the fact that we saw both our friends burn to death.

But I was still thinking if Ranbob was in his enderstate cause I don't think he would do something like this. Isaac told Charles to flip the switch but he then suddenly interrupted him form doing so as he said somethings.

"Okay I don't know what is in there but no matter what? We are gonna make it... For Cletus and Benji okay?" He said as Charles and I nodded.

Isaac then pulled down the lever as we entered the final room. The room was very unusual considering the amount of diamond armor was lined up on both sides of the walls along with diamond swords placed behind them.

The room was also decorated with green pillars and obsidian like walls. There were a few barrels and chests placed on the sides but they were all empty according to Isaac. Then he went over towards the white tiled steps which led to a glass window. I followed behind him to see what it was.

Behind the glass room was a marble statue of a man who wore armor and had a sword hung from the sides. The armor design was slightly hidden by the cape and he happened to wear a white mask. Charles then came up behind us to see what we were looking at.

"What the heck is that?!" He said as he looked at the statue.

"What is this...?" Isaac said looking at it.

"That is the weirdest thing I have ever seen..." Charles said.

"Looks like a cave." Isaac said as he looked over at a small opening from across the room which was definitely an exit.

I then heard small footsteps as I looked behind me to see Ranbob coming over with a netherite sword in his hands and he looked slightly dazed but I don't think anyone noticed that. I started to think this was something to do with the enderwalk state.

I looked over to see Isaac and Charles panicking like mad saying things about how he killed Cletus and all the other things that have happened recently. I seriously just stood and watched in shock.

"Everyone here had an idol that they worshipped. That's why the rooms were all themed like one of the idols from the past." He said stopping for a bit as Isaac spoke.

"Is yours Ranboo-" He was saying until he got interrupted.

"And mine was Dream!" He said I looked at him and then back at the window to look at the statue.

"Is that this man?" Isaac said coming towards the glass gesturing towards the statue as I noticed Ranbob coming towards us.

"Yes. Like I said nobody-" Ranbob responded in a monotone voice but was interrupted.

"Was Dream a good man?" Isaac asked slightly scared as he held onto my arm as Ranbob paused taking in his question.

"Yes yes he was a very good man..." He said as Isaac broke the glass as he stepped dragging me with him as he slowly let go but made sure I was near him.

"... Depending on what you think good is..." he said as Charles came in the room backing away from Ranbob who slowly came behind him.

"Nobody- nobody leaves here..." He said as I saw him coming slowly towards Charles.

"What do you mean nobody leaves here...?" he said as I saw Ranbob raising his sword and was about to strike Charles.

I couldn't let this happen so I broke into a sprint as I pushed Charles out of the way. I heard Isaac scream my name as I looked to see the sword about to hit me but I was quick enough to stop him as I grabbed him by the wrist with both my hands to stop him from hitting me but he was pushing back with a greater strength.

"Are you seriously asking for a death wish Y/N?! If so then that's what you will be getting." I heard Ranbob say as I felt my right arm burn in pain as I saw five claw marks as blood started to pool out from the freshly cut skin. I yelped in pain as tears welled up in my eyes but that didn't stop me.

"N-No... But I know the real Ranbob won't do this! Wake up! Just f***ing wake up Ranbob!" I yelled at him as tears streamed down my face as I made out the shocked expression on Ranbob's face.

I quickly kicked him on the knees with my foot as he lost his balance and that gave me the chance to punch him in the jaw as he fell to the ground slightly hitting his head first. I was at this point panting and breathing too hard. I thought I was going to die.

I looked over at Charles and Isaac who were shocked and confused. Then I looked at the sword as I kicked it out of sight. Then I heard a small groan as I looked over to see Ranbob slowly sitting up as he rubbed the side of his head with his right hand.

"W-what happened? Where-" He stopped himself as he had a look of realization as he noticed the netherite sword on the side and the fresh claw marks on front arm.

"D-did I-I... What did I do...?" He said looking pretty scared.

"What do you mean 'what did I do'?! You literally killed Cletus and nearly killed-" I heard Isaac yell as I stopped him.

"Isaac stop! He was enderwalking! He wasn't in control of himself and didn't know what he was doing!" I yelled back which made him stop as he in shock.

Then I heard heavy breathing beside me to see Ranbob looking down on his knees while his hands were over on the side of his head. He looked like he was having a panic attack and this made me worried.

"No no no no no no no. Not again not again not again. Please no I can't..." I heard him whisper repeatedly as he was in tears.

I looked over at Charles and Isaac who seemed to look at him in slight pity and worry. I knelt down to Ranbob's level as I put a gentle hand on his left hand hoping it would clam him down. I then looked at the two.

"Isaac? Take Charles with you and go ahead. I will catch up to you guys later." I said and I could tell Isaac was going to protest but Charles put a hand on Isaac's shoulder as he stopped and went over leaving both me and Ranbob alone in the room.

"Ranbob? Please look at me..." I said as he was still in tears as he slowly looked up but didn't make eye contact with me. He looked so broken that it made me want to cry.

"Ranbob calm down... it's alright." I said trying to reassure him but it seemed to make him upset.

"How is this okay Y/N?! I killed one of your brother's friend and the other died trying to help you guys get out and I nearly killed Isaac and Charles in here! I hurt you and nearly killed you!" He yelled out in frustration as he broke down in tears again.

I gave him a huge hug as he wasted no time to hug me back as he buried his head in my shoulder as i could feel it getting wet due to his tears. How long has this been happening? Was this the reason he was very nervous when he met us? He was scared that he would kill us.

"It's not your fault... You weren't in control of yourself..." I said as I could feel him lift his head as he looked at me.

"How can it not be my fault when I hurt and nearly killed the one girl I loved the most!?" He exclaimed as I looked at him shocked after hearing what he said.

He... loved me...? I didn't know what to say other than blush at his words. I looked at him to see his head down as he was scared to look at me thinking I was not going to return my feelings. I understood why he might be thinking this considering the things he has done. I hugged him back as he flinched at my sudden action.

"It's okay Ranbob... I love you too. It's okay." I said and I could tell he was in shock from my response not even expecting it.

He then slowly pushed me away form the hug as he made him face me and then he slowly leaned as he connected his lips with mine, kissing me. I slowly kissed back as I used my hands to slowly move away the tears from his face.

We gradually pulled away as he gently pressed his head against mine while I had my hand on the side of his head. I hated seeing anyone sad especially Ranbob. We sat in silence as we stayed in the same position.

"Please don't leave me..." I heard him choke out as I let out a small sigh.

"I promise i won't... I will always come back to you..." I said closing my eyes as we continued to stay the way we were.

"Things will get better for you Ranbob." I finished saying.

I prayed things would get better. I know they would!

I believe in him.

I love him so much for this.

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

[refinedbuffoonery]

Quarantine Moments (5.5)

By popular request, here’s QM #5 from Mac’s POV. This idiot is pining so hard and he doesn’t even realize it. 

*****

Mac watches the sun set behind them in his truck’s side mirror as Riley drives, the sky shifting from blue, to pink, then orange, then a dark burning gold, before fading to inky black. In front of them, the rising moon is barely more than a glowing sliver in the sky, and once they leave SoCal’s sprawling metropolis behind, the vast desert darkness swallows the beams of the truck’s headlights. 

Riley rolls her window down, letting the warm night air tug wisps of hair from her messy bun, and Mac can’t help but watch the way she smiles softly and breathes deeply, completely at peace. He rolls down his own window, and the wind ruffles his hair like a lover’s playful fingers. 

Mac is surprised when Riley parks in the empty campground. He assumed other people would have the same idea, but but as far as he can see, the area is devoid of human life. 

Mac turns his gaze to the glittering sea above. His eyes land on Vega and Arcturus—two of the brightest stars in the sky—before trailing the Milky Way to find Sagittarius along the southern horizon. 

Riley’s soft gasp draws his attention back to earth. Her lips part as she smiles, awestruck, and the stars are reflected in her big, dark eyes, almost as if she’s robbing them of their light. Thankfully Riley doesn’t notice his staring, because Mac can’t bring himself to look away. 

He should. He knows he should. But, for some reason, he can’t. 

Mac is still looking, minutes later, when Bozer yells at him to help make their bed. 

It’s not until he’s lying beside Bozer on the mass of pillows and blankets that Mac realizes how small his truck bed really is. In his mind, they all fit perfectly, but in reality, it’s only wide enough for two grown adults, not three. Mac and Bozer scoot to the sides to give Riley as much space as possible, but their shoulders will be overlapping no matter what. 

Riley’s arm brushes Mac’s as she squeezes her slim frame into the space in the middle, her warmth soaking into his skin. Mac likes her this close, likes her steady, reassuring presence at his side. They used to gravitate toward each other more, before he got back together with Desi, and Mac will never admit it aloud, but he misses the closeness he once had with Riley. 

Quarantining with her, there were moments that felt like their old selves—the people they were back when Jack was still around and their biggest problem was Mac and Riley’s respective daddy issues—but then there would be a long, awkward pause in conversation or Desi would come up, and then that weird gap between them would be right back, wide as ever. 

Mac isn’t sure how it even got there in the first place. 

He tries to forget about it, distracting himself by searching for constellations while he waits for the first meteor to appear. Finally, one does, zipping across the horizon in the blink of an eye. 

“Did you see that?” Bozer squeals.

Riley laughs softly. “Yeah, but I have no idea where it came from, or where I should be looking.” 

Mac opens his mouth to explain, but Bozer beats him to it. “For starters, don’t look straight up. Look near the horizon. As Perseus gets higher in the sky during the night, the meteors will appear to come from higher up too.”

“Thanks.” 

They watch the sky in peaceful silence. 

Eventually, Bozer gets up to pee, and while he’s gone, Riley nudges Mac with her knee. “You’ve been quiet,” she says. 

How is he supposed to say that even though their shoulders are literally touching right now, that even though they’ve been locked in his house together for months, he’s never felt farther away from her? That there’s this ever-widening chasm between them that he doesn’t know how to bridge? 

Mac doesn’t look at her as he speaks, his eyes finding Vega overhead. “Ancient Chinese astronomers believed Vega and Altair were lovers, forever kept apart by the Milky Way.” He points with two fingers, one toward each star. “Vega is one of the brightest stars in the sky. It’s in the constellation Lyra, which just looks like a parallelogram. And over there is Altair, which is part of Aquila, the eagle.”

Riley doesn’t say anything. Mac glances at her in his peripheral vision. She’s squinting slightly, the way she always does when she’s focusing on something. She must not be able to find the stars, he reasons. Mac doesn’t think before sliding an arm beneath Riley’s shoulders and pulling her closer so that her head rests on his shoulder. His arm brushes her cheek as he points again. 

It’s odd being this close to Riley without catching lingering traces of her perfume—a warm, dark scent he can’t pinpoint but likes anyway. She hasn’t worn it since quarantine started, and Mac is starting to miss it. 

“I see it,” she breathes. Mac lets his arm drape across Riley’s body. 

She tenses, but she doesn’t try to extricate herself from his side. Part of Mac knows he probably shouldn’t be holding her like this. A bigger part doesn’t care. Riley is his best friend goddammit, and he can cuddle her if he wants to. It doesn’t have to mean anything. 

“Show me something else,” Riley says softly. 

Mac takes a slightly unsteady breath before pointing in a different direction.  “Over there are Sagittarius, which looks like a teapot, and Scorpius, which looks like a hook or the letter ‘J.’ Between them is the supermassive black hole that exists in the middle of the galaxy. All of the matter in the Milky Way orbits around it.” 

Black holes are easy. Black holes make sense. But Riley...Riley doesn’t. 

Especially when the moment passes, and she turns her head away to holler at Bozer. “You good, man?” 

Bozer yells back from the other side of the truck. “Yeah! Got a little performance anxiety from this creepy bug staring at me.” 

Mac imagines Bozer having a staring contest with some random desert bug sitting on the hood of the truck and bursts out laughing. His arm inadvertently tightens around Riley, and the wicked gleam in her eye when she looks up at him makes the moment even funnier. 

He feels it again, that gravitational pull toward her. He’s tempted to let it drag him closer, but he’s afraid of what it might mean if he does. 

Riley squirms when Bozer climbs back into the truck, and Mac hesitates before letting her go. 

The three of them lay together for hours, just looking up at the stars, until Bozer initiates a chain reaction of yawns. “Mac,” Bozer says. “Did you set the alarm?”

Patting the pillow above Riley’s head, he answers, “Yeah. My phone is right here.”

Riley twists to look at him in horror. “Alarm?” 

Mac explains, “The meteor shower’s peak is between three and four am. So unless you’d rather stay up all night...” Riley groans, pulling up a blanket and rolling onto her side. Chuckling at her dramatics, Mac grabs a blanket for himself and watches the stars until he falls asleep. 

~ 

The volume of his alarm is set far too loud for the phone only being inches from his ear, and Mac winces as he’s forced into consciousness. Beside him, Riley growls, “Turn it off.” 

He’s lying on his side with an arm around Riley’s waist, holding her in the curve of his body, but it doesn’t feel weird or awkward. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the way Riley fit against him. Mac accidentally bumps her face as he silences the alarm, and he mumbles, “Sorry.” There’s no room to move away from her, so Mac just brushes Riley’s hair out of his face and puts his arm back around her. “I hit snooze. You have five minutes.” 

She sighs, absentmindedly brushing her thumb over his hand, and warmth spreads through Mac’s body that has nothing to do with the fact that it’s still nearly eighty degrees outside, even in the middle of the night. He lets himself snuggle closer. If he could live in the calm safety of this moment forever, Mac would. 

But he doesn’t hold Riley for long before feeling like he’s about to explode. Mac rubs her shoulder. “Riles, move. I have to pee.”

Riley groans again, but then her hips press into his as she pushes Bozer away, and Mac scrambles to get up before anything awkward happens. 

“I’m awake,” Bozer slurs.

“Sure you are.”

He’s back by the time the alarm goes off again, and Mac can hear the soft popping of Riley’s joints as she sits up and stretches. The meteors are more frequent now, nearly two a minute. Most are quick, bright flashes, but a few are slower, gracefully crossing the sky before burning up.

“Riley stop blocking the view,” Bozer says, kicking her in the back. Riley flops back down. 

A massive, glowing meteor arcs across the sky in slow motion, lingering for a few seconds before winking out of existence. “Wow,” Riley whispers, smiling. 

Wow is an understatement. Mac would’ve driven all the way out here for that meteor alone. 

Mac keeps his eyes trained on the heavens until the sky lightens and the first rays of sunlight stretch across the desert. The air seems to hum, the way it always does in announcement of the scorching summer sun. 

When they pile into the truck, Mac blasts the air conditioner. He’s already sweating, even though it’s barely six am. As he drives out of the campground and toward the highway, Bozer rattles off suggestions for where to stop for breakfast burritos on the way home. 

Apparently content to let Bozer decide, Riley demands, “Wake me up when you have my burrito. Goodnight.” Mac glances at her in the rearview mirror and smiles; she’s sprawled across the pillows and blankets, already fast asleep. 

[jaminjims]

lazy sundays {imagine}

anon request: Hiiiiiii can I request a A poly ot7 Bts where they have to talk and keep reminding with jimin or Jungkook about them doing so much skin shipping and spending so much time in bed together with u. Jungkook and jimin are so needy and just wanna be near you 🥺but the other boys want time with you.

a/n: omg yes i live for this concept! this prompt is so cute and i’m already smiling just thinking about it. jim and kook being clingy? sign me UP please. ahem neways, thank you so much for the request anon! i really do love writing for you guys

pairing: poly bts x gender neutral!reader

genre: just pure on fluff 

warnings: i feel like putting any angst in this fic would be illegal so there are no warnings

words: 1.4k

~**~

you and the other boys always had time off on sundays and that usually led to a lot of lazying around and doing nothing productive

oh, and clingy-ness of course

actually, now that you really think about it, they were really clingy all the time but especially on sundays because it would be the time where they had you all to themselves and management wouldn’t be able to take you 

but there were two members that came to mind when you thought about it, and that was your boys, jimin and jungkook 

the two had always been touchy but recently they didn’t seem to want to let you go (not that you were complaining or anything) and it led to many... problems(?) among the fandom 

whenever you would go out somewhere in public, it would either be jim or kook (or both) accompanying you and the public and media would just have a field day with all the fanservice 

like when jimin intertwines your fingers and just casually kisses the back of your hand and sometimes your forehead 

or when jungkook puts his arm around your waist and holds you to his side to make sure that you would be protected 

and you were older than both of them and you were supposed to be the one taking care of them but they obviously did not see it that way and continued to be in contact with you anyway they could 

and you swore it happened every single time you guys went out somewhere when articles and pictures would pop up all over the internet about how “y/n and jimin doing this or kook and y/n doing that” and sometimes they would be clingy with each other and there would be articles like “kook and jimin”

and it was all a mess, really 

but it was a happy mess and you thought it was funny to see the reactions of army because oh my god they could be hilarious 

and you guys would be trending on twitter and instagram for the next day at least and would just overall break the fandom 

it had gotten to a point where the others had to talk with the two of them because it was getting out of hand (they liked to say it was because of their status and how influential they were but in reality you knew the others were just jealous because they also wanted to spend time with you too goddamnit) 

namjoon would always start the conversation with “so you have anything to say?” and he would show the two a picture of you guys on twitter as you struggled not to burst out laughing 

to that jungkook would reply casually with “i just want to spend time with y/n, why? are you jealous?” like the cheeky brat he was and then you really would burst out laughing and jin would have to pull you to sit on his lap before you fell over because you were laughing so hard

namjoon would frown at you and yoongi would cross his arms and pout (he would never admit that that but you find it cute)

then taehyung would come into the conversation and point at jimin and ask him, “what about you?” and jimin would get this blush on his face that was just so cute and he would squeak out, “i just love y/n a lot.” 

and then you would have to look away and place a hand over your heart because you didn’t think you could handle the cuteness 

and it seemed like your other band mates would also be weak to jims charms and forgive him because they all just couldn’t help it 

hoseok would even get up and pull him into his lap and cuddle because ugh they were all weak 

(but in all seriousness we secretly know jimin would be laughing evilly on the inside because he has all of you wrapped around his little pinky finger and he could get away with anything)

but that would be the end of that and the others would end it with a calm “please try to refrain from to much skin ship in public because one day it really would break the internet”

the two would pout but you would go a give them a tiny kiss on the forehead to make them feel better but then the others would feel left out and you would end up just kissing all of them

and you thought that would be the end of their extra level clingyness but oh how you were wrong

lets just say that sundays are now just labeled ‘cling days’ in your head 

you would usually wake up on sunday morning with the two culprits in question and would groan because it was hot and you needed to pee but they wouldn’t let you go 

and if you thought taehyung was bad then the two of them combined were next level 

you could barely even move and would have to resort to pushing your hand into jungkooks face while you pushed at jimins torso to try to pry them off of you but there was really only a 50/50 chance of it working

well more like 30/70. and the odds were not in your favor 

then you would call for taehyung to help you but he would get jealous that the other two maknaes got to sleep with you all the time and flop down right on top of you and then he would go to sleep and you still needed to pee 

and you would resign to your fate of having to stay in bed till they woke up because the three of them together? their cuddle power was otherworldly

and you would cry because your bladder was going to give up on you one of these days 

jin would usually be the next one in the room because he would notice the lack of trouble making going on and then he would smile and take a picture of the four of you but then get them to wake up with threats of no breakfast if they didn’t and you would spring out of bed and kiss him and thank the gods for giving him to you because yes, you could use the bathroom now 

but jin would also get a little sad because so much of your time was spent with them and you would notice his slightly down attitude and would help him make breakfast and sit with him although out the morning to make him feel better

and then it would be namjoon who would come and eat, and he wouldn’t say anything but you knew he also wanted to spend time with you so after you were done eating you would usually go back in his room and read a book together 

then it would be a couple of hours past noon when hoseok would come wondering in and look at you with those puppy eyes that he knew you had a weak spot for and ask you to play a game with him 

the two of you would play just dance while the maknae line joined in and namjoon and jin would watch from the couch and laugh at all of the ridiculous dance moves because somehow you were all surprisingly bad at the game for being professional dancers 

and the commotion would rouse yoongi to come out of his room and he would snicker at you each time you made a mistake and you would stick your tongue out at him but quickly resume your game because you were going to beat hoseok if you had anything to say about it 

and then afterward you would get tired and probably fall asleep on the couch with yoongi while the others took pictures because the scene made them feel soft

and then all of you would have a family dinner™️ together because you all just really loved each other a whole lot 

but it’s when jungkook and jimin go to your bed to sleep with you again that the others race to intercept them because they wanted y/n time too

and it would either led to scoldings from the oldest ones about how they can’t hog your time all the time or if they were feeling particularly generous the oldest ones would play rock paper scissors to see who gets to cuddle with you and the youngest ones would do the same 

then the two winners would cheer and high-five and you would just roll your eyes playfully and laugh a little because you really did live with a bunch of dorks 

needless to say, you loved lazy sundays, but you loved them even more

[end]

end note: this was so kfbskjgs you know? i just really loved writing this and it was so cute. the guys just want y/n time and i am here to give it to them. again, thank you so much anon! i hope it was what you were looking for and i hope you liked reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! 

~**~

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request something! 

taglist: @boba-tea1206​

[flyboytracy]

It’s easter! It’s the final day of Earth and Sky week! It’s Scott Tracy’s birthday! and this lil fic is about none of the above because Scott wouldn’t shut up 👌 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

It’s three in the morning when Thunderbird One begins her final approach to Tracy Island. She always lands a lot more quietly than when she launches but her pilot takes extra care to settle her back onto her launchpad beneath the pool with as little noise as possible when the world outside is dark and most of the bedroom lights are out.

Of course he knows which bedroom light belongs to whom. One room in particular is almost always dark because its occupant lives in space and Scott has to tilt his head back to say goodnight to a tiny little pinprick of light as it blinks in the skies above instead...

Another room is glowing brightly but Scott’s not too concerned because the middle of the night for them is the afternoon for a certain agent of International Rescue and he’s got no desire to walk into another conversation between the lovebirds. He’d stuck his head ‘round the door the last time he’d landed to find Gordon awake at two am and really, really wished he hadn’t. Tonight he’ll brush his fingers over that door on his way past and wonder again what happened to the little kid he used to take to the pool every weekend when dad wasn’t home. When did that tiny brown-eyed boy turn into a man ready to be a family with the woman he loves?

It was probably around the time that their dad went missing, only Scott was too occupied with trying to fill in that bottomless hole that dad left behind to notice all the tiny little cracks and crevasses that opened up too.

Thankfully Virg had always been Scott’s man on the ground since the moment Scott’s feet first left it, and he’d been there to stabilise and fill in those little fractures when Scott was too deep in his own hole to notice that others had opened up. Then he’d toss down a rope and haul Scott out before the sides could cave in and bury him forever like their m…

It’s been a long, long day. Scott’s glad to see that dad’s bedroom light is out, as is grandma’s. It hasn’t been easy for dad to readjust to life on a full sized planet but he’s making excellent progress because he wishes to be the one to walk a Lady down an aisle – if they have an aisle and either of them actually ask the other because the whole marriage and babies thing isn’t something everyone wants these days. Either way, Scott had accidentally overheard a snatch of conversation by the pool last month that’d made his eyes weirdly hot and he’d had to retreat to Thunderbird Two’s hangar to get a grip on himself.

Virg had been there but he hadn’t said a word because he hadn’t needed to. He’d drawn his big brother into a one-armed hug before pushing him in the direction of the giant vats of grease and they’d had a very calming afternoon oiling anything that squeaked on Thunderbird Two.

Scott’s surprised to see his brother’s still awake because Thunderbird Two had her own mission today which Scott wasn’t involved in but kept an eye on nonetheless. Virg was in the exo-suit for hours thus Scott’s surprised to see his room’s still aglow despite the late hour. He’ll check on his best friend after making one other stop first. Alan’s lights are on and if he’s old enough to pilot a rocket then he’s too old for a bedtime, but Scott worries anyway. Troubles weigh more in the dark and his youngest brother carries more than most teenagers his age. Dad coming back into their lives has rocked Alan’s world more than most because the rest of them are old enough to remember Kansas and the man their dad used to be before International Rescue took him from them twice.

Scott can remember when dad was just dad; that giant fella who gave him a ride to Rescue Scouts every weekend and took him to GDF airbases even when it wasn’t a bring your kids to work day. He knew the person dad was before they lost mom, whereas Alan’s far too young to remember their dad as anyone other than the Commander of International Rescue and it shows. Alan never got to lay on the roof of the jet with him as stars wheeled overhead and they talked about anything his boy had on his chest.

Instead Alan spent his formative years hearing about the legend of Jeff Tracy and Scott knows he’s kinda to blame for some of that. He built their dad up to be this unstoppable, undefeatable force inside his own mind and Alan picked up on it, as kids do. Scott didn’t even realise how tall he’d built that statue of their dad until the day after they brought him home and the reality of the situation kicked in. Scott wasn’t even sure what he’d expected; part of him had expected to be too late because who the hell could survive eight years in deep space on a ship vastly understocked for such a voyage?

Of course Jeff Tracy had survived, but the reality of that was a father who’d left his children behind and returned to find they’d grown up with Scott instead of him. It made things awkward sometimes, like when Al’ went to his oldest brother instead of their dad for advice. Whatever advice Scott gave him wouldn’t be the same advice dad gave him because Scott’s advice was based on the young man he’d raised but dad’s advice was for the little blue-eyed boy he’d left asleep in his bed on the fateful day he disappeared. Then there was the issue that his advice was based on his experiences with his four oldest boys, but out of the five of them, Alan had the most freedom to follow his own dreams and didn’t need to be told what to do with his future. He just needed to know that he’d got the support of his family behind him no matter what.

Scott might not be a fan of all of his little brother’s decisions. His friendship with a certain Mr Berrenger gives him hives, not to mention the way Alan’s newest desire to race cars across unfriendly terrain littered with hazards makes his eye twitch. However he’ll defend Alan’s right to make those decisions, and then go bother Virgil until the big guy installs VTOLs or something in Alan’s car that’ll keep him out of danger.

In the mean time, Scott treads heavily down the corridor, smiling to himself when Gordon’s light briefly flickers out. Alan’s light remains on, which surprises big brother until he looks round the door to find a couple of bodies on the floor. Virgil’s sprawled on a throne of blankets with a little brother asleep on top of him just like the old days when Al’ refused to go to sleep in case one of them went away again and never came back. For a moment he thought they’d both fallen asleep in front of the TV, but then Virgil yawned like a bear and a little figure dressed in green armour went sideways off a cliff and died in Alan’s game. Big brother couldn’t help chuckling at the bewildered “Ah,” and the slightly later “….oh.” when the game over screen appeared.

“Hey, short stuff.” Scott kept his voice down low to avoid disturbing their youngest brother as he crouched, sliding an arm beneath Alan’s bony knees and the other went around his ribs before scooping him up effortlessly. Virgil could’ve done the same anytime he wanted but he’d chosen to remain on the floor. It reminded Scott of someone perching on the very edge of their bed to avoid disturbing a kitten fast asleep in the middle of it. “I think it’s bedtime for both of you. Need a hand?”

“No. Maybe.” Virg conceded when he tried to get off the floor only to find his tired muscles wouldn’t bend far enough, “Just leave me here, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

Scott just smiled and dealt with his youngest brother first, pulling off his socks and t-shirt so he wouldn’t overheat before tucking him into his actual bed. He pressed a quick kiss to that golden hair just because Alan was asleep enough for him to get away with it, and then turned his attention to the rather bigger little brother on the floor.

“C’mon, HeavyLifter2, I gotcha. Up you get.” Scott reached down for those big hands and hauled him up, not quite as easily as he could move Alan out of the way, but he’d had a lot of practise at shifting brothers over the years. Giving Gordon piggy-backs home from school when it’d been a long day and they weren’t gonna make it back before dad got in. Lifting Al’ up onto his shoulders so he could get a good view of the air displays they used to go to before International Rescue made regular things feel mundane. He’d even carried Virg home one time after he’d taken a tumble climbing down from their tree house and it’d damn near killed him to carry his not-so-little brother all the way back to the farmhouse, but there was no way he’d have ever left Virg behind, even if it was just to get help.

He’ll never leave a brother behind. Dad left them behind and it wasn’t exactly intentional but they’ll be dealing with the repercussions of that for the rest of their lives. He might be home now but it’s not easy to let go of the past eight years. It’s not easy to step back from his brothers to let their dad back in. It’s not easy to just stop worrying when it’s all Scott’s ever known.

“Hey.” Virg rumbles sleepily, all slow and soft like thunder in the distance as they trudge to his bedroom, “Stand down, Scotty. Everything’s okay.”

And Scott believes him.

[wesokkasimp]

impulsive (part one)

TW!! mild swearing, mentions of death, bad makeout scene

word count: 8766

You woke up to a splitting headache. For a few minutes you couldn’t concentrate on, much less remember, anything. All you could do was focus on the pounding in your head while you pitied yourself.

Then, it all started to come back, bit by bit. Azula had split off from you, Mai, and Ty Lee to find the Avatar, tasking the three of you with finding his friends. You had found and fought them pretty easily, but things took a turn for the worse when the sky bison flung your comrades into the water. You  were spared from the lake, but had been knocked unconscious by the male Water Tribe peasants toy. That was probably where your headache had come from. But that didn’t answer the question of where you were. Suddenly, your thoughts were cut off by a shout.

“Guys, something’s moving in the tent. I think she’s awake!”

Okay, that was definitely not Mai, Ty Lee, or Azula. Something wasn’t right.

You tried to sit up and stretch, but found that your hands had been bound. You realized that your ankles were bound, too. An uneasy feeling began to settle in your stomach. It couldn’t be…

The tent flaps began to shuffle. As an unfamiliar figure entered the vicinity, you caught bits and pieces of conversation. Spirits of the islands, now was not the time for a migraine. 

“Are you sure she’s awake?”

“She doesn’t look conscious…”

“Is she falling back asleep?”

“Hey! Whoever you are! Don't…”

****************************

You woke up again, this time with a milder headache and a clearer mind. Unlike the last time you woke up, you were not alone in the tent. The waterbender you had fought with Mai and Ty Lee was sitting by your feet. As if on cue, she noticed that you were no longer passed out.

“Hey, you’re awake again! How are you feeling?” the girl spoke, genuine concern lacing her voice.

“Who are you? Where did Mai and Ty Lee go?” you mumbled.

“My name’s Katara. You and your... group fought me and my brother yesterday. Sok- er, my brother hit you with his boomerang and you were knocked unconscious. Appa knocked your friends into the lake, and they were taking a while to get out of the water. We didn’t just want to leave you there, but we had to get going to see if Aang was alright. So we, um… Took you with us.” the evidently uncomfortable girl explained.

“What’s an Appa? Who’s Aang? And most importantly, who gave you the right to kidnap me!?” you barked at the now annoyed peasant.

“H-hey! We may have just saved your life, so I would be a little more grateful if I were you. My brother hit you pretty hard, I had to heal some of your head injuries after we set up camp. Appa’s our sky bison, and Aang is the Avatar. Y’know, the person you’re trying to kidnap?” the Water Tribe girl snarked.

Suddenly, a boy entered the tent. You recognized him from your fight at the lake the other day, and he looked similar to Katara. He must be her brother.

“Did she finally wake up? I heard shouting.” the boy asked his sister.

“Yeah, she did. Now, if you could kindly untie my hands I can leave and we can pretend this never happened,” you huffed, not wanting to waste another second with these low-life peasants.

“We can’t just let you go! You’ll probably try to kidnap Aang, and even if you don’t, you’ll definitely tell your little girl gang where we are! We need to stay here for a while so that Aang can learn earthbending, Toph said that he’d pick it up quicker if he learned all the basics in the same spot,” the boy sneered.

“Who are you? And who’s Toph?” you asked, seemingly innocent. In reality, you were gathering possibly useful information to give to Azula when you were finally released. 

They would release you, right?

“I’m Sokka, the guy that hit you in the head with a boomerang,” he stated smugly, pride washing over him as he watched you scowl. “Toph is… Well, I’ll just get her in here.”

After a few uncomfortable beats of silence with the waterbender, the boy entered the tent again, this time with a small girl following him.

“This is Toph. She’s teaching Aang earthbending,” Sokka sighed. He was clearly already exasperated.

You took in the girl standing above you. She was quite small and delicate looking. As your eyes traveled to her face, you noticed her eyes were glazed over. Realizing she was blind, you let out a hearty cackle.

“What’s so funny?” the girl demanded. It seemed she also had a bad temper.

“Oh, nothing,” you sighed. “I just think it’s a little funny that the best earthbending teacher the Avatar could find is a tiny blind girl.”

A chunk of earth shot up from the ground and smacked you square in the forehead the second you finished that sentence.

“Hey! H-how can you see where I am?” you squeaked. Perhaps you had underestimated this girl.

“I see everything with my feet, dunderhead. Ever heard of seismic sense? You’re lucky that’s all I did, because trust me, Princess, I’m capable of a lot more,” Toph chuckled.

Okay, this girl was definitely a force to be reckoned with. Your gut was telling you, and your gut never lied. You made a mental note to report all of this to Azula.

“Well, it’s been fun, but I really need to get going. I know you guys don’t trust me, you’d be fools if you did, but what are you going to do with me? I’m a world class combat expert, I’ve been in worse situations, so unless you're planning to keep an eye on me 24/7 and  putting better restraints on me I’ll probably escape by dawn,” you drawled. 

“She has a point, y’know. Azula is the princess of the Fire Nation- it would only make sense for her to have the best team of warriors money can buy,” Toph stated.

“Azula isn’t paying me,” you scoffed. “I’d never accept pay. Serving beside someone in the royal family so closely is the one of the highest honors someone could get- that’s payment enough.”

“You think hunting down and kidnapping the world's last hope for peace is honorable?” Katara said, shooting you the deadliest glare you’d ever received.

“The Avatar isn’t the world's last hope for peace. If the other nations would just cooperate with the Fire Nation-”

“How could you expect us to cooperate with conquest?” Katara screeched, cutting you off in the process.

“Look, now is not the time to get into this argument. Right now, we need to figure out what we’re gonna do with…?” Sokka sent you a questioning look as he realized you hadn’t shared your name yet.

“Y/N.” you sighed.

This may be harder than you initially thought.

****************************

The group had come up with a temporary plan. They replaced your rope restraints with earth ones Toph made. They already had a night watch system in place, so they decided that whoever was doing night watch would simultaneously watch you.

You didn’t get a wink of sleep that night, so lucky you got to stay up through all four shifts. Katara had the first shift. Her shift was uneventful, it seemed she didn’t have the best social skills. She reminded you of Azula in that way. A lot of ways, actually. They were both 14, powerful benders, and overshadowed their older brothers. You couldn’t be positive about anything, but you were pretty good at reading people, and from the small amount of time you’d spent with these four misfits you had picked up a bit of jealousy on Sokka's end. Probably because his sister was a bender and he wasn’t. It was understandable- you’d probably be jealous of your own older brother if he possessed bending and you didn’t, even if it was a weak element like water. Lucky for you, you had firebending, the most superior element. Although you supposed it would be nice to be an earthbender right now. You had been thinking for hours about a way to escape with your firebending, but so far it had been in vain.

The next person on the night watch was Sokka. Unlike Katara, he attempted to make small talk with you.

“So, how long have you known Azula?” the watertribe peasant questioned. You thought about the question, and after deciding there wasn’t a way your answer could be used against you later, you answered,

“About two months. She knew Ty Lee and Mai from The Royal Fire Nation Academy for Girls. I went there too, but we didn’t know each other. When her father asked her to hunt down her brother, she saw my name on the top of a list of elite soldiers. She asked me to join her team, and I accepted.”

“You were in the military?” Sokka asked. His eyes widened, probably wondering why someone as young as you was in the military. After all, you were only 16.

“Yup. My family was pretty poor, until some soldiers came to our house one day and saw my brother and I were firebending prodigies. We got moved to a fancy housing unit near the Fire Nation Royal Academies. After I graduated three years ago, I was enrolled into the military,” you answered. You didn’t know why you were telling him all this, but Sokka was surprisingly easy to talk to.

“Wow. I can’t imagine joining the military that young. In the Southern Water Tribe the minimum age for joining is 17,”  Sokka replied. “I actually tried to join when I was 13, but my father made me stay.”

“That was a mistake on your tribe's part. You’re a strong, able, young man. You could’ve been trained in a few months and then your tribe would’ve had another set of hands,” you stated cooly. 

The boy only hummed in response. He knew it was pointless to try and get you to understand why sending a child into battle was wrong. He knew how the Fire Nation carefully bred its children to be cold-hearted, logical, and violent. Yet he couldn’t help but feel that there was something different about you. On the surface, you seemed like every other Fire Nation noble he’d come across: arrogant, cocky, and ruthless. But underneath, he saw more. Remorse? Guilt? Like you knew in your gut that what you were doing was wrong, but the Fire Nation had trained you to trust them and only them? He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he had seen something similar in Zuko. It was more apparent in you, though.

The rest of Sokka's shift went without a word. The third shift belonged to the Avatar himself. This was the first time you really got a good look at the boy. He was shorter than you expected, but besides his height everything about him radiated maturity. You thought about what he had gone through to get that maturity- learning about the genocide of his people a century after it happened, the Northern Water Tribe fiasco, and being hunted down by two of the worlds most powerful firebenders. All in a few months, on top of the normal stresses of being the Avatar. You felt a pang of sympathy for the boy. Even if your loyalties belonged to the Fire Nation, you had never thought the genocide of the Air Nomads was anything less than barbaric, even if you would never dare say that out loud. But the Fire Nation had evolved for the better. Things were different now.

Right?

“You must hate me,” you chuckled darkly. Your voice was humorless.

Aang looked confused as he asked “Why would I hate you?”

“I’ve been hired by someone to kidnap you, and wholeheartedly agree with what they're doing. Don’t worry. I’d hate me too,” you replied.

“I don’t hate anybody. I could only hate someone that truly had no good in them, but there’s good in everyone. Even you,” the monk said. He smiled up at you.

You were surprised at his words. You shouldn’t have been. He was a pacifist monk, after all. Not many people had ever tried to see good in you. Why would they? You were a soldier that served your nation loyally. Nothing more, nothing less. There didn’t need to be good in you. In fact, it was better if there wasn’t any good or bad in you. As long as you stayed loyal and obeyed the Fire Nation, everyone seemed perfectly content with leaving you be. 

The rest of Aang's shift went by without another word between the two of you until the very end. Aang started to stand, eager to get back to sleep, when you started to speak,

“Hey! I just wanted to, um, apologize.”

Aang's eyes widened in surprise. Was it possible? Has his ~inspirational~ words touched your heart this quickly? Reversed the years of brainwashing and abuse the Fire Nation had exposed you to? Maybe you would even willingly join their team! Maybe-

He was cut off by your explanation, “What happened to your people, I mean. Not, uh, trying to kidnap you.”

“Oh,” the young Avatar replied. “It’s alright. It’s not like it was your fault.”

Okay, not exactly what he was looking for. But hey, at least there was some good in you. Not wanting a race of people to be brutally murdered or wishing an entire culture to be wiped out was… a start.

Finally, the fourth shift started. Toph. You didn’t have much respect for any of these kids, but Toph was definitely the one who had garnered most of your respect. Despite her lack of sight, Toph was the most powerful earthbender you had ever seen. In a way, her blindness enhanced her abilities by heightening her other senses. She didn’t take shit from anyone, which was something you were insecure about. Being in the Fire Nation militia, you had to take shit from your superiors, unless you wanted to be discharged. Or worse.

It seemed that Toph was not a morning person, so about 25 minutes after her shift started, Toph dozed off.

For a second, you couldn’t believe your eyes. What luck after such a pitiful few hours! But there was still the problem of your restraints. You hadn’t really taken in the campsite, as you had thought you wouldn’t have the chance to escape. While you were looking around, a sharp rock caught your eye. Perfect.

After scooting over to the rock, which took more time than you would like to admit, you raised your arms and brought them down hard upon the rock. The restraints broke instantly. After doing the same with your ankles, you surveyed the land. You figured you only had about an hour until somebody woke up, so you had to get moving quickly. You had a pretty good sense of direction, and that sense was telling you to go west of the campsite. You began spriniting in that direction. You knew you wouldn’t be able to sprint like this for long, but you had to get a head start. Once “Team Avatar” realized you had left, they might go looking for you on their giant flying bison.

 ****************************

You had been traveling for two days now. You weren’t anxious about a Team Avatar member hunting you down anymore. That was a worry of the past. Now you were more concerned with getting something to eat. You had  found some hope when you came across a town, only to be disappointed after finding it was abandoned. Even though you were hungry and thirsty, you were also absolutely exhausted, and this town could provide shelter. You walked into the first building you saw, ready to pass out as soon as you hit the floor. In fact, you were so completely out of it that you didn’t notice the building was already occupied. You simply entered, found a nice corner, and hit the deck.

While you may not have noticed the other occupants of the decrepit building, they noticed you. Well, one of them. A certain banished prince, to be exact. 

He watched as you slept, not even sparing him a glance before you fell asleep. It was a bit shocking, to say the least. Any normal traveler would walk in, realize the building was occupied, apologize, and find another place to rest. This behaviour was suspicious. Too suspicious to not give you a quick once over.

Zuko walked over to you as quietly as possible, even though he didn’t need to worry about his volume. You were an impressively heavy sleeper, especially when you were exhausted like this. He crouched over you, taking in your features. His face softened for a moment as he saw the pure exhaustion gracing your eyes, hardening again soon after. What did he care if you were well rested or not? You were just some random traveler. He looked around in your corner and saw that there was no weapon. You didn’t even have a small travel bag.

Assured you were no threat, Zuko walked back over to his sleeping uncle and decided to turn in after a long day of training.

 ****************************

You woke up feeling more refreshed than you had in days. That was the best sleep you’d had in, what, seven weeks? You began stretching your limbs, feeling ready to continue your search for Azula. Then the hunger pains hit.

You doubled over, letting out a small moan of pain. That small moan, however, was all it took to awake the Dragon of the West.

As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he looked around to make sure his nephew was okay. The prince was sleeping peacefully beside him. As you let out another hiss of pain, Iroh whipped his head around to see you, a young girl, clutching your obnoxiously loud stomach. He had conquered enough small Earth Kingdom villages to know what starving looked like, and that’s exactly what he was seeing. 

“Excuse me, miss,” he all but whispered. You whipped your head around, suddenly on high alert.

“I apologize, I did not mean to startle you. But I noticed that you seem quite hungry,” your stomach growled in response as Iroh spoke. “My nephew and I have a little extra food to spare, as well as some exquisite tea. Would you like to join us for breakfast?”

Under normal circumstances, you would have been way more skeptic of an old man you’d just met offering you food. But you hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since the night before you got kidnapped, and this weirdo was your only option. 

“I suppose,” you sighed.

“Wonderful! I will get started on breakfast. Would you like ginseng, green, or jasmine tea?”

“Jasmine,” you responded.

“Good choice. Jasmine is my nephews favorite,” the old man replied, a fond look painting his face.

As Iroh started breakfast, you couldn’t help but feel as if he looked familiar. Perhaps he had been on the news? Or possibly one of your textbooks? You shook off the feeling immediately; no. It wasn’t possible some filthy traveler had made it into a textbook. You laughed internally at the thought.

About 45 minutes had passed since Iroh began preparing breakfast, and he had finally finished cooking the meal. You walked over to the corner of the room the old man and his nephew had been staying in as Iroh beckoned you over. When you got close enough to the younger man to get a good look at him, you got that same familiarity ebbing at your insides. It wasn’t an unsettling familiarity, just… strange. But you supposed everything about this situation was strange. 

Just as you began to sit, you were interrupted.

“I’m sorry, young lady. But could you wake up my nephew? As you can see by the bandages, I got hurt quite badly recently and cannot move around very well,” the old man said sheepishly.

“Sure,” you replied. This old man seemed nice enough, and he was making you, a complete stranger to him, breakfast. So you didn’t mind waking up his nephew. It was an easy task.

Or so you thought.

As you walked over to the sleeping boy and crouched over him, your breath hitched in your throat. Oh wow. This boy was quite the looker. His scar made him look all the more badass. You shook off these thoughts as quickly as he came. No. You didn’t have the time to pursue relationships with boys you didn’t even know.

You put your hand to the sleeping boy's arm gently, shaking him just enough to wake up. Waking him up wasn’t the hard part. The hard part came after he woke up.

You know, the part where he proceeded to attack you.

You let out a squeak of surprise as he leapt onto you, pinning you to the floor in the process. All your normal reflexes and strength had gone with your full stomach. On top of that, you didn’t want to hurt this guy, spirits forbid his uncle reclaim your breakfast invite. His arms were by the sides of your head to keep from crushing you. He leaned down to your face.

“Who are you, and what are you doing?” the boy growled into your ear, his voice extra raspy considering he had just woken up. He sent you a glare that rivaled the one Katara had sent you the other day.

“Lee! This is not how we treat our guests. I invited this young lady to sit with us for breakfast and asked her to wake you up,” Iroh scolded.

“Uncle, you can’t just go around inviting random people to sit with us at meals!” Zuko protested. “It isn’t safe.”

“Hush, nephew. She’s joining us and that’s final,” Iroh retorted. 

Zuko sent you a final glare before getting off of you.

The meal was pretty silent at first, not that you minded. You were pretty focused on stuffing your face. After a few minutes of comfortable silence passed, Iroh started some small talk.

“So, young lady. I don’t believe you told me your name. What is it, if you don’t mind me asking?” Iroh inquired.

“Y/N,” you responded. “I don’t think I caught your name either.”

“Mushi,” the man responded. “And this is my nephew, Lee.” he gestured to the boy sitting next  to him. Said boy sent you another glare. You sent him your snarkiest stare back.

“So,” you began, “Mushi. Where are you from?”

“I come from a small village in the Earth Kingdom, you’ve most likely never heard of it. My nephew and I left a few years ago in search of a better life,” Iroh answered as his gaze traveled to the small travel kettle. “Oh! The tea is ready.”

Mushi took the kettle off of the fire. Huh. Fire. That wasn’t there when the old man had first invited you to breakfast, and you hadn’t heard him trying to make a fire. Unless he was a firebender, which was impossible considering he was from the Earth Kingdom, how did he start a fire so easily?

You brushed it off. He probably just had a lot of experience or something, right? Yeah, yeah. Sure. Instead, you turned your attention back to  ‘Mushi’ (you suspected that wasn’t his real name), who was pouring some jasmine tea for his nephew. The smallest fond smile graced the boy's face as his uncle poured his tea. His smile was a nice change of pace from his usual scowl. You wished you could see him smile more.

Wait, no. What were these thoughts? You couldn’t go around ogling at boys like a school-girl! It was simply out of the question. You had one purpose in life: Serve. The. Fire Nation. Maybe someday your parents would arrange a marriage for you or something of the like, but you had no intention of falling in love.Wishing someone happiness and a crush were two very different things. Besides, you could never fall in love with someone just because of their looks. You weren’t that shallow. 

Once you had finished breakfast, you walked back over to the corner you claimed to pack up. After noting that there was nothing to pack up, anxiety started to settle in. Realizing you didn’t even have a weapon to defend yourself with, you started to feel full on panic. You had been so preoccupied with escaping Team Avatar and staying alive that your lack  of, well, anything had slipped your conscious. 

This was not good. You were in the middle of nowhere with nothing  but the clothes on your back. 

Mushi must have taken in your state of dismay, because he walked over to you and placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. 

“You seem a little lost, Y/N. Is there any way I could help you?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. But I think I’m going to have to stay in this town another night until I can figure something out,” you sighed. Every moment you became more and more anxious about how Azula would react if- no, when you returned. Would she be angry about it? Or did she view you as a disposable tool? You hoped for the latter. If that was how she saw you, maybe she would be pleasantly surprised when you returned. While “disposable tool” might not have been the exact way you described yourself, it certainly was close to that. Serving your country was a noble thing, and if you died doing it, it would be an honorable death.

“I think you are making a wise choice. It would be foolish to go out traveling with no resources. However, because you are staying, I do have to tell you something. I have not been completely honest,” the man muttered, looking at you sheepishly.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, incredulousness gracing your features. How could he have lied? He’d barely spoken to you, for spirits sake!

“My name’s not Mushi, and my nephew is not Lee. We’re not from the Earth Kingdom. Our names are Iroh and Zuko, and we hail from the Fire Nation,” Iroh explained.

“Oh,” you said, relieved it hadn’t been something worse. “That’s fine. I’m from the Fire Nation too. But why didn’t you just tell me in the first place?”

“I was not sure if you were from the Earth Kingdom or the Fire Nation. Most people are not comfortable revealing that information to strangers. People from the Earth Kingdom do not always react kindly to Fire Nation citizens,” the old man replied.

“Damn right,” you scoffed. “Personally, I think they need a little lesson in respect.”

Iroh hummed in response, not showing any other sign of agreement or disagreement. He didn’t want to scare you off or fight you, but he also didn’t want to show any agreement with what you’d just said.

“Are you a firebender? I’ve been teaching my nephew, so if you’d like to train with us, you’re more than welcome,” Iroh inquired.

You thought about the offer. You hadn’t trained in a week. You had decided not to bend at all while you were traveling to conserve energy, so your bending was probably a little rusty.

“Sure, I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” you responded.

“Great! My nephew and I are currently working on a special technique that we started yesterday. We’re redirecting lightning. I actually made it myself,” Iroh replied eagerly.

“Wait, you can redirect lightning? Does that mean you’re a lightning bender?” you asked, dumbfounded. Lightning bending was one of, if not the most, powerful forms of bending. Because it was so powerful, the only people who got to learn it were members of the Fire Nation royal family.

“Yes, I can conjure lightning. But I don’t do it often,” Iroh chuckled.

 Then it all began clicking into place for you- of course! Prince Zuko and former heir to the throne General Iroh! It hadn’t clicked sooner because of Prince Zuko’s banishment. You hadn’t heard his name in a few years, and he had just kind of left your consciousness. 

“So you’re General Iroh? The Dragon of the West? The only man to ever conquer Ba Sing Se?” you squealed. General Iroh was a hero of yours. He was a strong asset to the Fire Nation and an even stronger bender. His loss of Ba Sing Se had been disappointing, and you personally thought he should have stayed. Still, losing a son must be hard. The loss of Lu Ten, whom you had thought was going to be the Fire Lord one day, was devastating for the entire Fire Nation. On top of all that, he was stripped of his heir status. The details on that had always been shady, as Fire Lord Azulon never mentioned anything about his wishes for Ozai to become the Fire Lord while he was still alive. Not to mention Fire Princess Ursa disappearing right before Ozai’s coronation. Still, reading into it too much was a waste of time. Fire Lord Ozai was a strong leader, and that was what the Fire Nation needed.

“Uh, yes. I did conquer Ba Sing Se for some time,” Iroh replied, trying his hardest to hide the discomfort that had now taken over his face. “But let's not focus on that. We should get to training.” he urged.

You walked outside with Iroh towards a cliff, where Zuko was waiting. As he spotted you, his eyebrows shot up in surprise. Surprise quickly turned to annoyance as he said,

“Uncle! Was inviting her to breakfast not enough? Why is she out here?”

Iroh looked impatient while saying, “Zuko! Where are your manners today? Y/N here is a bit stranded, so for the time being, she will train with us.”

Realizing his uncle had called him by his real name, Zuko sent Iroh a glare, but he didn’t say anything about it. Zuko didn’t want to give himself away completely.

“I just remembered- you need to be in a calm state of mind for today's exercise. I need to go make some ginseng tea!” Iroh said, hurrying back to the decaying building to start the drink.

You groaned internally. You had grown quite fond of the old man already, but you couldn’t say the same for his nephew. 

An uncomfortable silence took over as he just stood there awkwardly.

“So, how long does it take for your uncle to make tea?” you asked, hoping to quell the silence and get an estimate of when you could begin training.

“Half an hour for ginseng. He likes to get it just right,” Zuko answered. He was clearly annoyed by your presence, as he has hoped to work on the lightning technique his uncle created. But alas, he couldn’t give away that he was from the Fire Nation. I mean, really? Why had his uncle agreed to letting you train them? A free meal was courteous enough, no? Now a whole day of training would be wasted on teaching some random girl the basics of hand to hand combat.

“Is he coming back while the tea steeps to get us started?” you sighed.

“No, he usually stays by the tea. He doesn’t want anything to happen to it,” Zuko explained.

“Well, in that case, do you want to get started without him? Just to warm up?” you asked.

“Sure, why not?” Zuko mumbled sarcastically. Was a moment alone with his uncle too much to ask for?

As Zuko got into a standard position for hand to hand combat, you crossed your arms and shot him a confused look.

“Spirits, don’t tell me you don’t even know basic fighting stances,” Zuko groaned.

“Of course I know basic fighting stances!” you countered. “But why are you in a hand to hand combat stance? I thought this was a firebending session.”

Zuko froze. “You know I’m a firebender?” “Uh, yeah! I also know who you are, princey, in case you haven’t picked up on that either. Now are we starting or not?” you cried.

Zuko stayed frozen. “How do you know who I am?” he demanded.

“Your uncle told me, idiot. You were also the heir to the throne of the country I live in for a hot minute. It took me a while, but you’re not unrecognizable,” you replied. 

“Oh.”

“Yep.”

After another few minutes of awkward silence, you spoke again.

“So hottie, are we sparring or not?” you asked, now impatient.

Zuko started to nod before he realized the nickname you had just given him.

“What did you just call me?” He tried his best to sound intimidating, but it was challenging considering his voice had gone up an octave.

You smirked. “Hottie. Y’know, short for hothead?”

“Oh,” Zuko sighed. He didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed.

“You’re also, like, totally hot,” you said nonchalantly. You knew you shouldn’t have been flirting. That’s what you had been telling yourself all day. But he was just too easy! His cheeks flared up immediately after you called him hot. And you never got to flirt! You were always too busy training, or on a mission. Besides, it’s not like this will go anywhere. You’ll have your fun for an hour or two, and by the end of the day you will have figured something out and leave. 

While you were trying to justify your flirting, Zuko was busy having an existential crisis. He was, for lack of a better word, bamboozled. Just… what? How could anyone, much less a pretty girl like you, find him attractive when he had a giant fucking scar covering a third of his face? He had barely even spoken to you, and his words had been cold at best. Why did you still find him attractive? Though he supposed he was thinking the same about you. Sure, he found you annoying and maybe even a little arrogant, but he recognized your attractiveness. 

“O-okay. We can get started now,” Zuko stammered, his blush quickly spreading.

“Alright,” you giggled. “But be warned, I’m a little rusty.”

You and Zuko got into position swiftly. After stretching, Zuko got into an intermediate bending stance. 

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

As the first plumes of fire left your hands, you felt feelings you only ever felt while firebending. Grace. Comfort. Complete and total warmth. Firebending had always been a form of escapism for you, and it had killed you to temporarily stop. But now, as you focused on the flames erupting from your hands, you felt a sense of peace.

Zuko was surprised by your skill. He outmatched you, but not by nearly as much as he thought he would. It was clear you were naturally gifted at firebending; your elegant movements said that much. Zuko had the best private teachers money could buy at his disposal growing up, so he being better than you was a given. He assumed you went to one of the many Fire Nation public schools growing up, but after seeing your bending, he realized you must have gone to a pretty good private school.

After the quick warmup, Iroh came out with the tea.

“Sorry I took so long. Ginseng is always fussy,” the retired general sighed.

“Nephew, since I already told you all this yesterday, how about you take your tea and meditate for a few minutes while I catch Y/N up to speed?” Iroh asked.

“That works,” Zuko said. Oddly, after the brief spar with you, Zuko found all his annoyance at you disappearing.

 ****************************

It had been a grueling day of training. You were a fast learner, but it appeared that you were not going to master this technique any time soon Zuko tried to help you, but so far it had been to no avail. Iroh left to rest about half an hour ago, after raising his eyebrows suggestively at Zuko, who rolled his eyes at the gesture.

“You’re not getting you chi low enough,” Zuko groaned. This was the fourth time he was explaining this to you. “You need to let it travel through your stomach.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” you cried, growing frustrated.

“Just- I’ll help you,” Zuko mumbled, trudging over to where you were standing. He positioned himself behind you, putting his hands on your arms.

“It’s like this,” he explained. He guided your right arm a bit higher, and put your left arm at a much lower angle. His arms dropped from your arms to your waist.

“You have to guide the chi lower,” he repeated.

You did the motion again, making sure your arms were in the position Zuko had put them in. The places he had touched were still tingling from his warm, rough hands.

“Good job,” Zuko muttered. His hands were still placed firmly on your waist.

“Well, you’re a pretty good teacher,” you giggled. Y/N, you thought. You were trying to have as much fun with this boy as you possibly could.

“Is that so?” Zuko murmured, suddenly feeling confident. He didn’t get to have much fun either. And his uncle was always teasing him about not being good with girls. Maybe with you, he could kill two birds with one stone. Have some fun and get some practice around girls. He’d need it someday, to court his future Fire Lady. “Maybe I could teach you other things. Like firebending.”

“I know how to firebend, Zuko,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“You don’t know anything too advanced, though,” Zuko retorted.

“True, true. I guess I could take you up on that offer. But with all the things you’re teaching me, I’m going to have to teach you a few things in return.” “Like what?”

 You smirked, tilting your head back until it was under Zuko's chin. “Oh, you’ll see. But for now, teach me some firebending.”  

Zuko's heart inexplicably started racing at your mysteriousness. Was he simply nervous that he didn’t know what you were going to be teaching him? Or was it the way your voice went a little lower? The new close proximity of your faces? The knowing smirk on your face?

Still nervous, Zuko took his hands from your waist. “Okay, in that case, I’ll teach you something I invented. I call it fire daggers.”

 ****************************

“You’re doing pretty well. You just need to push a little more chi to your wrists,” Zuko explained. He had been teaching you how to create fire daggers for about 45 minutes, and you had almost mastered it.

“Okay,” you replied. You took a deep breath, and tried your hardest to focus all your chi to your hands. You felt the warmth become more concentrated around your palms, and finally, you let out two, very concentrated fire daggers.

“Finally!” you exclaimed. “Wow, you invented this?”

“Yeah, but it took a while to perfect,” Zuko admitted. “So, what are you planning to teach me?”

“Oh, can we do it after we eat? I’m starving,” you said, careful not to tell him what you had in mind.

“I’m actually not very hungry. But you go eat with my uncle. I’ll train until you can come back.” “Sounds good.” You headed to the shabby building, leaving Zuko to train. As you were walking, you began thinking of what you would teach Zuko. You hadn’t planned that far ahead. Spirits, what about this boy made you so impulsive? Oh well, you’d think of something.

“Hello, Miss Y/N!” Iroh greeted.

“Hey, Iroh,” you responded. “What’s cooking? It smells good.” 

“Some jook,” Iroh replied. “Where is my nephew?” “He’s still outside. He’s not hungry so he’s training some more.”

“Classic Zuko,” Iroh sighed.

He served you a bowl of jook, which you happily began to eat. As you were eating, your mind wandered to other places. Team Avatar, to be exact. You thought about how they treated you. Sure, they put cuffs on you, but that was expected. They weren’t complete fools. You thought more about the way they had tried to make you comfortable. They offered you water, like, every fifteen minutes. And food, which you had refused. That wasn’t a good idea in hindsight. Sokka had even tried to make you more comfortable by making small talk, and Aang had been polite when you initiated conversation. If it had been the Fire Nation who captured them, there would be no such hospitality. Why had the enemy been so kind to you? Maybe- no. How could you think such a traitorous thought? Still, now that it was on your mind, you had to let it out.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” you asked, fidgeting with your spoon.

“Of course. What is on your mind?” Iroh questioned.

“Do you think this war is… right?” you sighed, not meeting Iroh’s eyes.

“What do you mean?” “Just… I was captured a few days ago, by the Avatar and his group. And some of the things they did and said got me thinking. Is it possible that the Fire Nation is in the wrong? We refuse to see good in anything but ourselves. I was taught from a young age to never show mercy; that mercy is weakness. But the Avatar and his friends were nothing but hospitable to me. I mean, what is the reason for this war? Conquest? Why are we trying to conquer the world? My school books say the Air Nomads were planning to invade us, but the more I think about that, the more absurd it sounds. They were pacifists, for spirits sake!” You hadn’t planned on saying all that, but once you started talking, you couldn’t stop. You felt confused, and now angry. Had the Fire Nation really been lying to you this whole time? Was everything you knew a lie? You felt like you were suffocating, shocked by the things that had come out of your own mouth. If you weren’t a faithful servant to the Fire Nation, who were you?

Iroh stared at his bowl of jook for a few seconds, contemplating what you had just said. Then, he spoke.

“Morals are something you must develop for yourself. Take a look at the facts and your own life experiences, and form a code of ethics to follow. I know how difficult it can be to question what you were taught, but we must always be bettering ourselves. Don’t take the easy way out, and always remember to trust your gut.”

You understood what Iroh meant. It’s easy to just follow someone blindly, especially if they’re manipulating you. Developing your own moral code, while harder, would be more fulfilling and worthwhile in the end. 

“Thanks, Iroh. I have a lot to think about,” you breathed at a barely audible voice.

“Of course, take your time.”

You slinked off to your corner, figuring you had about twenty minutes until you had to go to Zuko. You hadn’t eaten much jook. You thought about your brother, who had always been the perfect Fire Nation citizen. He never questioned the Fire Nations wishes, not for one minute. You had always looked up to him, and longed for his praise so badly, so you didn’t question the Fire Nation either. And look where that got the both of you. You were here, stranded in an abandoned Earth Kingdom village, and he was, well, dead. Killed in battle at the ripe age of 17, just as you were about to graduate from the Fire Nation Royal Academy for Girls. 

It was in that moment that you finally understood what Katara had meant. Why would the remaining two nations comply with the Fire Nation when the Fire Nation was trying to overthrow them? Complying wouldn’t result in peace. It would result in chaos.

Well, fuck. Now what were you going to do? You couldn’t go back to Azula, and your gut was telling you not to stay with Iroh and Zuko. You had to get going by tomorrow morning. 

“Iroh, I have a favor to ask,” you said.

“Anything, my dear,” he answered.

You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly. “Do you have, like, an extra canteen of water I could take? Or a little bit of extra food? I really need to get going tomorrow morning, and-”

Iroh cut you off. “Of course, Y/N. I’ll get a few things packed up for you, but in the meantime, I think my nephew is waiting for you.” “Thanks, Iroh,” you said, smiling. Iroh nodded in your direction as you jogged out the door.

Feeling much more optimistic and more sure of yourself than you had ever been, you sauntered over to Zuko, who was doing a few cooldown stretches.

“Oh, hi Y/N. I was just finishing up. Are you ready to repay me yet?” he chuckled. 

“Not quite yet. Follow me,” you said in a teasing tone. Zuko got up and followed you despite the confused look on his face. Oh, how naive, you thought.

You led Zuko to a crumbling wall you had spotted earlier during training. When you stopped, Zuko began speaking.

“What are we doing over here? What are you even teaching me?”

You could tell he was getting impatient with you. Oh well, just give the boy what he wants.

“Never knew you were the eager type,” you giggled.

Zuko’s witty comeback died in his throat as you yanked him by the arm towards you and effectively pinned him against the wall.

“Wh- what are you-”

“Quiet, hottie,” you murmured. “Class is in session. Would you consider yourself a hands on learner?” “I guess so,” he whispered. The almighty Fire Prince was melting into a puddle right before your eyes, at your hand nonetheless. He really was too cute for his own good at this moment. His eyes wide instead of the default glare they were set in, his entire face red. 

“Good,” you responded. You took his hands, which were hanging limply at his sides, and stationed them on your waist. You then placed your hands firmly onto his shoulders. Zuko shuddered under your touch.

“Ready for the demonstration?” you asked, serious tone not at all fitting for what you were about to do to this boy.

“U-um, well, I… ah-” Zuko sputtered. Was it only this morning he was glaring at you for joining his meal?

You rolled your eyes. “Lesson one: Talk. Less.” you stated.

You leaned in until your lips were just barely brushing Zuko’s. You could hear his breath hitch in his throat. But you weren’t done having fun with him yet.

At the last minute, you turned away from his lips, instead opting to place a feather light kiss on Zuko’s cheek teasingly. 

You pulled away from Zuko slightly with a sly smile, just enough so you could see his face. His expression was shocked, confused, and longing.

Perfect.

“You don’t have to be so stiff, you know,” you giggled. “Move a little. It-”

Zuko cut you off with his lips, grasping at your waist like his life depended on it. You gasped into his mouth before hurriedly kissing back. Sure, you’d kissed a guy or two in your life, but none of them felt like Zuko. He tasted like jasmine and woodsmoke. His lips moved against yours with passion and vigor as he let out little sighs into your mouth. Your hands left Zuko’s shoulders, going to his chest instead as you grabbed fistfuls of his shirt. 

You pulled away from the kiss, smiling as he chased after your lips.

“Why… did you do that?” he whispered.

“I had to teach you something, didn’t I? Did you learn anything?” you asked.

“Talk less,” Zuko said, his eyes hazy.

You chuckled. “Yeah. Remember that one.”

You walked off, leaving Zuko to contemplate what  just happened.

 ****************************

You left that same night. Iroh had gone to the nearby forest to forage for some plants, and Zuko was still standing at the wall, dumbfounded. That left the building you had stayed in empty. There was a small bag sitting in the corner you had slept in, packed by Iroh. You found a compass in Iroh’s bag, found which way west was, and started off in the direction, taking the compass with you. It didn’t matter; Zuko had one in his bag. You checked.

You weren’t quite sure where you were going. Going back to Azula was obviously not an option, but the Fire Nation wasn’t a good choice either. There would be too many things to explain to your family, and you could be sent to jail for abandoning Azula. Or worse. It would be better for the time being if you were presumed dead, not that anyone besides your parents and perhaps a few of your friends would care.

That left a few options. You could become a nomad of sorts, jumping around from town to town, never staying long. You weren’t built for that sort of life, though. The few weeks traveling with Azula had been enough to last you a lifetime. Omashu, now New Ozai, had become occupied by the Fire Nation. The Northern Water Tribe was secluded and virtually untouched by the war, as the recent invasion attempt had failed. Unfortunately for you, it was nearly impossible to get to, even by high-tech warship.  That left settling down at one of the abandoned Air Temples or Ba Sing Se. The latter seemed less lonely and more attainable, so off to Ba Sing Se it was.

 ****************************

“Fine, but you’re closing tomorrow!”

“Okay okay. Thanks, Xia!”

You washed the flour caked on your hands from hours of work, left the keys in the small tray by the back door, and began your walk back to the small apartment you lived in, apron in hand.

You had been living in Ba Sing Se for two months now. After forging some papers and departing the ferry that took you to the city, you landed a job at a small, but lively bakery that locals of the outer ring loved. Your weekly salary was enough to pay for rent, food, and a few recreational activities too. Overall, you lived a comfortable life, and you would have been happy to spend the rest of your days in the life you’d built for yourself, even if you had to pretend there was no war. 

You had been hearing about a tea shop from some of your neighbors. It wasn’t new, but there was a new employee that really knew his way around the drink. You hadn’t had a cup of tea since the ginseng shared with Zuko and Iroh, and you certainly had the money for it. Deciding to treat yourself, you walked into the store and ordered a cup of jasmine tea. After paying, you sat down at a table by the window and waited for your tea to be served. Drumming your fingers on the table, you thought about how much your life had changed in just a few short months. You had gone from a loyal servant to the Fire Nation, ready to sacrifice anything and everything for a facist tyrant, to a normal young adult working in a bakery. You couldn’t help but feel grateful you had fallen into this timeline. What if Sokka’s aim had just been a bit off and you hadn’t been knocked out? You’d probably still be out there with Azula, hunting down the world's last hope for balance. Crazy how one little action can have such a huge impact. 

As you thought about Azula, your mind wandered to her older brother. You smiled at the thought of Zuko. Your time together had been brief, but you looked back on it fondly. Sure, he could be very aggressive and intimidating, but he could also be quite shy and bashful, if you got him in the right situation. 

Looking back on the kiss the two of you had shared, you blushed. You felt giddy and slightly embarrassed at the same time. You had been so impulsive in that moment, but you couldn’t help it. He was just so cute, stuttering under your soft gaze!

“Order up,” a raspy voice stated behind you.

Ah, your tea. You turned around to accept the steaming cup, tip in hand, but something stopped you from  reaching out to take the drink from the rusted tray.

That something was the wide-eyed stare of a certain Fire Nation royal family member. 

“Oh,” you choked. “Hi again.”

a/n okay i know i said literally yesterday that this would be out in december but you never know when motivation will hit ig. this isn’t the full thing but i think that’s understandable since this bitch is loooong. the second part will probably be shorter. the other zuko h/cs will still be out before thanksgiving! requests are still open as well, but i want to finish this so it may take a little for me to get to them. thank you to @ladyamaya (sorry it’s not letting me tag you :() for requesting this. sorry it took so long. also, sorry if this sucks :)

[kurodachimagic]

Chocolate and Cherries - Chapter 1

Summary: When Adachi falls into the arms of a kind stranger his life changes for the better.

Rating: Pg 13

Tags/warnings: Fluff, getting together, au, Writer Adachi, Chef Kurosawa.

Word count: 6.2k

A/n: This story was written for the cherry magic mini bang! Thank you @hiwatari-art for inviting me to join! Had a lovely time working with you as always. Thank you to my other artist over on twitter guacagabs. The entire story is being posted right now. Thank you to @schnaf for being a great friend and beta!

Read on ao3

Adachi dragged his feet on the pavement as he made his way home from work. He was already too exhausted to start his writing day with the best mindset but it would have to do. He’d already skipped four days this week and if he didn’t actually sit down to work on his book, it would never be published. He let out a deep sigh and shook his head slightly.

The situation was not ideal by any means, he was not great at cooking and it was already too late to start dinner, but he definitely needed to eat something or his mind would absolutely quit on him, he knew that much.

Adachi knew he should probably get something healthier but he refused to waste even more time walking to the store, so he decided to stop by the food cart near his flat for his usual emergency menu: two tuna onigiris with mayo - along with a can of soda in the hopes that the caffeine would boost his creativity. He was not too happy about it, but he didn’t have much time to contemplate his choice because as soon as he had paid, the first few droplets of water hit his shoulders. Looking up, he felt the next few drops hit his nose and his forehead. He cursed inwardly and simply took off awkwardly running the last few blocks home, trying his best not to slip and fall, his dress shoes nothing but a hazard in this particular situation.

The building door was so close, he could see it through the pouring rain; just a few meters and he would be home. Adachi rushed, his hand extended already to grab at the door handle when his body collided with something - someone - and fell backwards. It was as if time had slowed down; he could see the face of the person he ran into frozen in shock, his eyes widening as he saw Adachi falling, while Adachi could only think about the pain this would cause him, physical, yes, but mostly emotional. He always managed to get himself in embarrassing situations and now -

His neighbour extended his hand just in time to catch Adachi’s and pulled him upright effortlessly, his expression switching from shock to a relieved smile. “Are you ok? I’m so sorry, I hadn’t seen you.”

“Thank you! I’m so sorry,” Adachi said, feeling the heat rise to his face, partly because of his clumsiness and partly because his neighbour had not let go of him yet. In fact, Adachi could have sworn that the guy was rubbing his thumb on the back of his hand. He didn’t know what to do, so he tried again. “Uh, sorry. I should’ve been more careful.”

“It’s ok, I’m glad that you didn’t get hurt.” The man seemed to suddenly remember they were standing in the pouring rain and pulled Adachi to the door. “Come, you’ll catch a cold in this weather.”

No matter how hard he thought, Adachi couldn't remember ever catching his name but he had seen this man before in the elevator and in some of the common areas. He seemed to be a bit of a recluse, much like himself.

The man opened the door and finally let go of his hand before ushering him in. “After you, Adachi.”

Adachi’s eyes widened; he didn't know how the man knew his name, but he didn’t mention it. He walked inside and called the elevator, followed closely by his saviour. Once the doors opened, he stepped in and turned around, pressing the button for the fifth floor and finally facing the man. "Thank you, again…" he trailed off.

"Kurosawa. My name is Kurosawa." He pressed the fourth-floor button.

Adachi smiled and bowed to him. "It was nice seeing you, Kurosawa. Have a good night."

The elevator dinged and Kurosawa bowed with a smile before exiting. “Good night, Adachi,” he waved.

Adachi hesitantly waved back as the elevator doors closed. Before he knew it he was one floor up, opening the door to his flat, throwing his work bag on the sofa and taking his wet clothes off with a groan before going to the bathroom.

What a day. Not only had he stayed late to finish on that project Urabe had handed to him but he also made himself look like a fool in front of his very cool neighbour, and to add insult to injury now he needed a hot shower to hopefully avoid catching a cold. He shook his head and hopped under the stream, washing himself thoroughly and letting the hot stream relax his muscles.

Feeling in a bit of a better mood, Adachi got out of the shower, wrapped himself in a towel and went about getting into a comfy set of pyjamas. He finally sat at his desk and opened the white doc of doom, checking the time and cursing as he realized it was 9 pm already. He slouched in his chair, throwing his head back with a groan. This book was going to take a million years at this rate, he really needed to prioritize his schedule, put on some good hours into it each day, especially during the weekend, he needed to -

Adachi’s stomach growled loudly, reminding him that his emergency dinner laid abandoned in its bag. He got up and stomped over to the sofa, unwrapping the onigiris and eating them without so much as a thought before returning to his spot. He promptly sat down to continue with the daily task of staring at the document while he begged his brain to type something - anything - out. But his mind had other plans though, Kurosawa’s face and gentle smile kept popping in his mind. Maybe it was because of the way he moved, how he had kept him from falling with his sharp reflexes, or maybe it was how elegant he looked even when he was soaking wet, how well his suit fitted him. Kurosawa was like some sort of superhero, or… no, he was more like a Prince Charming from an epic battle world. That was a start - it was not the murder mystery he had thought about, but it was definitely a start.

The sound of Adachi’s footsteps worked like a metronome, helping his mind settle into a rhythm. He was starting to see things in more detail: The brave prince paced in his castle, his sword close by his side, the problems his kingdom was facing were almost too much to bear and with his father on the brink of death, it was all on him. A shadow appeared above the citadel - the… the… ‘kingdom x’ was being attacked by a three-headed dragon. How would he fix this and save his people? Had someone sent the dragon or did it act with free will? Did the soon-to-be king have secret magic powers? Maybe they were a secret even to himself!

With renewed energy and excitement, Adachi sat down to work. This new world just wanted to be written, to become a reality, and he was not going to stop it. Aided by the occasional sip of soda and a few “stretching breaks” that were more like actual pacing, he managed to draft four thousand words by 5 am, effectively breaking his 3 thousand word record from just a few months ago. If he could keep up the pace he could finish the book within the next month and send it to Tsuge for editing and review. He sent a quick text to his friend to tell him the good news and got into bed; he would probably regret staying up so late tomorrow, but now he didn’t have it in him to care. Writing was definitely his call - even if he was very close to missing his goal of being a published author by 30.

---

The commute to work was nothing short of hell. The morning started with Adachi missing his usual train and having to take the next one during rush hour - not that he ever managed to avoid rush hour, but he usually took the first train during it so it wasn’t as crazy as later in the morning. This resulted in him having a very unpleasant ride, squeezed half to death between the sea of people, feeling like a canned sardine with a bad case of insomnia. That was the other issue, the previous writing night ended up being a success but even though he’d been exhausted by the time he was done, it had been impossible to fall asleep. Now he was on his way to a long workday with a pounding headache and a sour mood. If given the opportunity, Adachi would’ve chosen to take the day off to sleep and feel refreshed enough by sundown to continue writing.

His job was definitely a necessary evil, but sometimes he couldn’t help but resent it. On the verge of thirty, Adachi spent most of his day at the office, writing his reports, Urabe’s reports, and occasionally picking up the slack of some of his colleagues. There was barely any time for hobbies or relaxing and least of all to be an aspiring writer. To be completely honest, Adachi had started viewing his day job as his second career in the past year. His heart and soul were focused on his new goal, what he really wanted. In the end, if writing didn’t become his main income, it wouldn’t matter, he was passionate enough about it to continue no matter what. After all, living in the fantasy worlds he created was more than enough for him.

Adachi made it to his desk just on time, but running those last few blocks only served to make his mood even sourer. He pulled at the collar of his shirt with a small huff, still thinking about his writing and leaned back in his chair until it touched Urabe’s shoulder, startling him.

He turned around swiftly, blush already rising to his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Senpai.”

Urabe nodded and waved him off. Then, he cocked his head and looked at Adachi in more detail. “What is going on with you, Adachi? You look tired.”

“I just had trouble sleeping last night, that’s all,” Adachi said with a heavy sigh. He could picture so many things he would rather do than give explanations about his personal life, but he would feel too guilty if he was rude to Urabe when he was only worried about him.

“Hmm, are you sure that’s all?”

“Yes. I’m ok.” He attempted his best smile. “Thank you for asking.”

“Adachi,” Urabe pouted, his brows burrowed into a childish frown, just like every time he would ask Adachi to take on more work, any semblance of concern already gone out the window. “Can you finish this report for tomorrow? The boss is really piling stuff on my shoulders and I already had other plans for today.”

Sometimes Adachi wished he was a bad person, or a bad colleague even, but he couldn’t help taking on the extra work when it was needed, after all, he didn’t have much of a life. He rolled his eyes but nodded. “Yes, of course.”

“Oh, wait. Is your birthday today or tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

“And you’re turning 30, right?”

Adachi nodded once again, hoping to end the conversation as soon as possible; he didn’t want to be reminded of the passage of time or how much he hadn’t achieved by now.

Urabe rolled his chair closer and elbowed him. “Aaah, you sly weasel. Do you have a date?”

“Of course not. I’m just looking forward to getting home and sleeping.” That was literally his birthday plan.

Urabe frowned and gave him a quizzical look. “But you have... ‘dated’ before, right?” He winked.

Adachi shook his head slightly and saw the same look many people gave him, a mix of pity and judgement.

“You should ask one of the girls out. I’ve heard Yui is single and she’s very pretty!”

Adachi slowly turned his chair towards the copy machine and saw Yui across the room. She was, in fact, very pretty, but… she didn’t spark anything in him. She looked like a work of art, pleasant to look at, but not for him. “No, I don’t think that would work.”

“Adachi, if you don’t date someone by the time you turn 30, you will turn into a wizard!” He whispered.

“What? That’s ridiculous!”

“It’s true, you’ll see!”

Adachi rolled his eyes and turned back to his desk, finally starting on the reports needed. The sooner he was done with that, the sooner he could return to his writing.

--

The elevator opened its doors for Adachi and the ding that followed made his muscles relax instantly. Only a few more minutes and he would be up in his flat, taking his shoes off and cooking something quick before sitting down to write. He felt inspired by the beginning of this new story and he wasn’t about to let a bad day at work ruin that for him.

Just as the doors started to close, someone put a bag between them to keep them open. The first thing Adachi saw was a girl with a cute and gentle look, a black wispy fringe framing her face and a sweet smile. She nodded at Adachi and he smiled and nodded back. He wondered if he would ever date a girl like her, if sharing his life with a partner and doing things together would be so different than what he did now. The answer was probably not, since he assumed nobody would be supportive of him working all day and writing all night; if he was honest with himself, he didn’t really have time for a relationship, even if he sometimes yearned for a bit of company - theoretically. Adachi blinked repeatedly, suddenly crashing back into reality when he saw the looming presence of Kurosawa behind her, giving him a weird look he couldn’t quite place as he ushered the girl into the elevator.

Out of sheer awkwardness, Adachi nodded and mumbled a quiet hello at him, looking away as a blush crept onto his cheeks. Was that Kurosawa’s girlfriend? He groaned and let his head fall back against the elevator wall. He’d been caught staring at his neighbour’s girlfriend like a creep. He ventured a sideways glance and realized Kurosawa was still looking at him with a weird expression.

Thankfully, the ride was short and only a minute later, Adachi was home, barely paying any attention to his basic needs as per usual. He made some instant ramen and added a bit of egg to it before eating it mindlessly, daydreaming of his new story and the magic system involved.

Perhaps it was quickly becoming a much more ambitious project than he had anticipated but as long as the writing flowed, everything would be ok. What was supposed to be a long writing session soon turned into an early night after Adachi’s brain decided to shut down mid-sentence, putting him to sleep sitting at his desk, his head hanging down and his spine hunched over.

[thatotherfooltheycallweaver]

Putting this out

This is the first "chapter" type thing of a fic I'm working on, hoping to get a little feedback--kind of an "outside view"

anything is appreciated

In the dim lights of early morning Queens, New York City, a teenage girl who had only gotten a maximum of three hours’ sleep had been startled awake by her alarm once again. She had already pressed ‘snooze’ twice, and would likely remain asleep if it were chosen a third time. The girl managed to pull herself from the half-awake state that tried so hard to coax her back to sleep. Untangling herself from several blankets, she stumbled out of bed; the cold already welcoming her to reality. The girl realized that she needed to hurry up if she was going to grab anything to drink before she got on the train. Deciding that she would need a bit of a personal motivator for that day, she grabbed her favorite pair of black jeans. They were a well worn pair, with a few rips from how frequently they were used. She grabbed a shirt that had been hanging from the handle of her door, a bit unsure how long it had been there, and put it on over the tank top she slept in. Her mother was waiting in the kitchen for her, lighting a stick of lavender and sandalwood incense, a staple in their household. There was music playing softly in the background, which she quickly recognized as ABBA, one of her mother’s favorite bands.

“Hey, Sierra. Good morning.” Her mother smiled. “I made you some coffee to take with you. Iced, just the way you like it.” Sierra smiled back, hugging her.

“Morning, mom.” She let go. “Are you feeling any better today?” She asked.

“Yes, I am.” Her mother pulled the hair out of Sierra’s face. “You can’t stay long...you might miss the train.”

“I had an alarm…?”

“It actually went off four times before you came out, hon. I was about to come wake you up.” Her mother grabbed something wrapped in a paper towel, handing it to her. “I hope you have a good day at school. I love you.”

“Sorry. I really appreciate this. Love you, too. Have a good day.” Sierra grabbed her bag and headed out the door. It turned out that the thing in the paper towel was a donut with strawberry jam in it. She loved strawberries, and felt a smile form on her lips. She got on the train just in time and put her earbuds in, hoping to keep the good energy going for as long as possible.

The day seemed to pass by so slowly, and the caffeine did not linger for more than a few classes. She was just beginning to crash when she got to chemistry. She had to fight the urge to fall asleep the moment she sat down. It was that class, followed by history, and she’d be able to go home. She had gotten in a tad later than usual, and chose the second to last seat available. She checked her phone and swiped away a few YouTube notifications, hoping she’d remember to watch them later on the way home. A boy she had seen around but never actually talked to had come in last, fumbling with the books in his hands and the papers stacked between. He put them down on the desk, but they fell off, scattering a bit. He scrambled, trying to grab them before they fell. Feeling sympathetic, Sierra got up and helped him. She stacked the papers she grabbed semi-neatly. He put the books he wouldn’t need in his bag, apologizing and thanking her as the last paper was grabbed and handed back to him.

“Hey, anytime.” She replied, glancing up at him. He was a bit taller than her; and from her view, the first thing she saw were his eyes: a vibrant, warm brown. She blinked, trying to cover the hesitation. He slowly sat down beside her desk, followed by her doing the same. “I’ve had days like that, too.” She reassured him, sensing his embarrassment. She leaned back in her chair somewhat, tucking the pen in her hand behind her ear. At first glance, it almost blended in with her dark hair.

“For me, it’s almost like every day.” He joked lightly with an embarrassed laugh, a faint blush forming. “Sorry.” He added under his breath.

“Don’t worry about it, really.” Trying to make him feel more comfortable, she changed the subject. “You’re in a few of my other classes, aren’t you?” She asked, to which he nodded. “History and gym, right?”

“Yeah...uh, I think so.” He looked more directly at her, scratching at his neck. “I’m Peter...Parker.”

“Sierra Collins. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” He smiled slightly. The class about to begin, Sierra grabbed the pen from behind her ear and softly tapped it against the desk a few times. Peter leaned forward on his desk slightly. “Didn’t get much sleep last night?” He asked, trying to keep the conversation up and not act awkward. She gave a confused look. “The dark circles. I just...sorry.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry about it. I just didn’t realize. No, I didn’t. Studying and shit.” She shrugged, noticing faint bruises that looked almost fully healed on his forearms, right where the sleeves ended. He scratched at one of them. “You okay?” She asked, a little worried for a moment.

“No, yeah, I’m fine.” He looked at her. “I’m just very clumsy.” It almost sounded as if he made it up on the spot, but it also seemed plausible.

“Ohh...gotcha. I totally get that.” Sierra noticed that the teacher was writing something on the whiteboard, trying to get ready for the class to begin--notes or something similar. She copied the things that she thought were important in rushed handwriting. She mumbled in irritation, erasing some of it.

“My aunt says it’s because I grew so fast.” He said before immediately regretting it. He mentally cursed himself for his awkwardness. He tried to focus back on his notes, hoping he didn’t completely embarrass himself; trying to pretend that she didn’t even hear him.

“Well, I wouldn’t worry about that. Pretty sure they’ll patch it in the next update.” She looked away, unsure if she made the situation worse. Peter laughed quietly, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Balanced mechanics would be nice, for once.” She chuckled, grateful he didn’t hate the joke. They sat in semi-comfortable silence the rest of the class, helping each other with notes when it was needed. When the bell rang, it turned out that they were both heading in the same direction to their next class, gym. At that point, likely from fatigue or exhaustion, Sierra wasn’t feeling well enough to participate in class. She headed over to the bleachers, sitting with her closest friend, Liz. They’d been friends since middle school.

“Hey, Sierra.” She said with a smile as the girl sat beside her.

“Hi. Mind if I stick around?”

“No, not at all. Betty’s coming over to sit with us. Her and Audrey.” She leaned back somewhat. “How are you? Your mom feeling better?”

“I’m okay. Mom’s much better today.” Liz smiled at her response.

“Good.” Betty and Audrey walked over, the latter opting to sit near MJ, away from the immediate group. The others had been talking for a bit, asking ‘fuck, marry, kill’.

“This again?” Sierra asked, slightly irritated. They always gave weird answers, illogical in her opinion.

“They’re bored.” Liz shrugged. Seymour, a boy with dark complexion and short hair, laughed at something before turning to Sierra.

“Collins: fuck, marry, kill. Seidr, Thor, Captain America.” He asked. She sighed.

“Fuck Thor, kill Cap, marry Seidr.” The last one was Cassandra Falk, a Norwegian woman who had disappeared in February of 2010, a couple months before the Battle of Puente Antiguo, only to reappear shortly before the Attack on New York. In between the Chitauri invasion and Sokovia, she joined the Avengers.

“Damn, you didn’t even think about it.” Betty laughed. “Dor me, it’d be fuck Seidr, marry Thor, kill Cap.”

“Seidr deserves the world.” Sierra shrugged, defending her decision.

“What about the Spider-Man?” Liz asked.

“It’s just Spider-Man.” Betty shook her head, pulling the hair out of her eyes.

“Did you guys see the bank security cam on YouTube? He fought off four guys!” She defended him.

“Oh my god, she’s crushing on Spider-Man.”

“No way…” Sierra muttered. She didn’t exactly have the highest opinion of him, despite respecting him.

“I mean…” Liz shrugged. “Sort of…? I don't know, what's with you being against him. You like him, right?” She asked Sierra.

“No, Betty's got a point. You're like my best friend but I'll never understand your obsession. He's literally so awkward and a complete dork.”

“Dorkiness can be cute." She stated with a shrug.

“How do you know he's like that? Have you met him?" Seymour teased.

“No, no, nothing like that. Just the vibe from those videos on YouTube.” Sierra explained with an uncomfortable chuckle.

"He could literally be thirty years old." Betty told Liz with a disgusted expression.

“Yeah, and what if he's, like, seriously burned?" Seymour asked.

“I don't care, I'll love him for who he is on the inside.” Liz said, pointing to her chest for emphasis.

“Yeah but have you ever actually met Spider-Man? You don't know who he is on the inside, either. You just know him from what he does. He could be a completely different person off the job.” Sierra pointed out, tilting her head slightly.

“From what I know, he's a great person who helps people.” Liz said.

“What about Echo, they're pretty badass." Seymour pointed out. Echo was a reclusive--the term used loosely, they were everywhere but were good at evading any documenting of their work--vigilante, a being that could manipulate shadows.

“I didn't think many people knew about Echo. There isn't much info on them from what I could find online.” She glanced at him, interested.

“I've only seen one video of them, but they seem a lot cooler than Spider-Man. The whole mystery thing.” He explained.

“They are kinda cool I guess.” Liz added. “I just think Spider-man is more of an icon, you know?” She said, ignoring the offended look Sierra was giving her.

“I didn't know they had videos.” She tried to ignore it. “Could you send them to me when you get a chance?”

“Yeah, of course.” He nodded.

“Ooooh, someone has a crush on Echo.” Betty playfully teased.

“I don't, I just like knowing about heroes.” She shrugged. “I mean you guys mocked me for saying that Seidr was cool. And I was proven right.” Audrey slowly took out her earbuds.

“What are they talking about?” She asked MJ, tired. She looked up from her book and glanced at the group.

“Um, I think I heard something about Spider-man being thirty.” She shrugged, looking back at the book.

“Oh. Sounds kinda dumb.” She shifted slightly, as if to turn more towards her, to be polite. “That any good?”

“Yeah, that's true. Seidr is definitely a girlboss." Seymour nodded, leaning back against the seats behind him. “You can have Echo if that means I can take Spider-man.” Liz joked, looking at Sierra.

“It's very depressing...so yeah, it's great. I could lend it to you once I'm done, if you'd like.” MJ said, glancing at Audrey, who nodded. “I only have like twenty chapters left so I'll probably be finished by Friday.” She nodded, trying not to smile.

“Thanks.”

“You literally don't listen. You and Spider-Man are perfect for each other.” Sierra muttered, irritated.

“Thank you, I'm honored you think that.” Liz laughed softly, putting her hand on her heart dramatically.

“Peter knows Spider-Man!” One of the guys, Ned--if Sierra remembered the name correctly--suddenly shouted from where people were actually participating in class.

"No, n-no!" Peter quickly sat up, panicked. “No, I mean--”

“They’re friends.” He continued, oblivious to the looks everyone was giving them.

“Yeah, like Coach Wilson and Captain America are friends.” Flash, objectively a complete jackass, sneered as he jumped down from the rope he was climbing. Sierra didn’t get along with him and he frequently bullied Peter.

“I-I’ve met him.” He stuttered. “Yeah. A couple times. But it’s, um...through the Stark internship. Mm-hmm.” He turned to Ned, glaring daggers and gritting his teeth. “And I'm not really supposed to talk about it.”

“Well, that’s awesome. Hey, you know what? Maybe you should invite him to Liz’s party. Right?” Flash looked over, as if to be sure the party was still going on.

“He said he just met him once, leave him alone.”

“Actually, I might not be able to make it to the party. I have a date with Black Widow.” He looked at Sierra with a glare.

“Yeah, I’m having people over tonight.” Liz confirmed, trying to keep them from talking over each other and arguing. “You’re more than welcome to come.”

“Having a party?” Peter asked, still try

“Yeah, it’s gonna be dope. You should totally invite your personal friend Spider-Man.”

“Flash, you absolute dumbass, Widow's already got a boyfriend who she's happy with. She wouldn't waste her time.”

“Correction, no one would waste their time with you.” Betty added.

“I don’t care.” He threw his hands up in defeat. “Sorry, I forgot I was talking to the super-nerd.”

“You'd think in a world of gods and heroes that could've been straight out of the movies, you'd pay more attention to the world around you. But no, you're still the same shitty self-centered asshole as usual.” Sierra snapped.

“Collins!” Coach Wilson interrupted, trying to calm the situation down. “Alright! We can stop that there! Can everyone go back to what they were doing? Thank you.” Sierra stepped back.

“Why are you booing me? I'm right.” She mumbled, looking at Peter with an apologetic expression before going back over to the others. She didn't usually start shit with a crowd around, but she was just so fed up with Flash's bullshit at that moment specifically.

“Okay, Sierra, go off.” Liz smiled at her, proud of her otherwise introverted friend speaking her mind for once.

“That's a once in a lifetime thing. Promise.” She backtracked, all of a sudden getting shy, as realizing what happened.

“No, that was the best thing ever. I can’t speak for anyone else, but you kinda said what I was thinking.” She smiled. Everyone had left to go get changed back into normal clothes. Sierra got done a few minutes before the bell had rung. She waited for her friend, in the hall

“Think there's room for me at that party?”

“Of course, you're always invited.” Liz smiled again, standing up as well. She smiled back, walking with her but hesitating for a moment, looking at Peter, who was heading into the corridor. “Give me a sec.” She said to Liz.

“Don’t take too long.” She replied before following the group out. Sierra walked over to him. He looked up.

“Hey…” He pulled at his sleeve, a bit timid.

“You doing okay? I know that was probably uncomfortable and I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Oh, yeah, I'm fine. That was pretty standard.” He said quietly and nodded with hesitancy. “I...thank you--for telling him off. I know it probably wasn't for me, but still.” She looked up, as if caught off-guard. She realized that he was right, and it didn’t sit right with her.

“No, you're right. I kinda made it about myself when I was supposed to be defending you. I'm sorry.”

“No, no, you definitely shouldn't be apologizing for that. I would really like the least amount of things to be about me as possible.” He said with an awkward chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. “Thanks again for defending me, though. No one's ever done that for me before.”

“Anytime, really.” She smiled softly, glancing back. “Hey, I gotta go. But I’ll see you at Liz’s party?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” He smiled slightly.

[oooooocheshirecuntoooooo]

In the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere ..... Oh the adventures we had with a hooker. All. Night. Long. 😂

It involves me, my husband, our 18 & 3 year old daughters, a cop and the hooker ... oh and a store clerk and her son. And for real. All night from like 12:30am to 7 am. And now I am home, but without the van and three of the kids didn’t make it home with us.

The following story is absolutely, 100% true. Although it’s not the kind of exciting you’re used to hearing from me, it’s still pretty bizarre. 😂

Just to give a little back story to help paint a clear picture .... So, we always go to my in laws for Christmas but we usually only stay maybe 3-6 days or so depending on how things fall together. This year we decided to stay through New Years because of some drama back at our home. My mother lives on our property and is mentally ill, and we’re pretty sure dementia is setting in. She’s never been an easy person to be around and we have always fought constantly but I have tried to take care of her anyway because she’s the only mom I’ve got, ya know? The last couple years though she’s gotten a lot more aggressive. In July she assaulted her doctor over the mask requirement and even had to go to court over it. Then in august she assaulted me, tried to choke me to death in my own home and in front of my kids. Of course I over powered her and forcefully pushed her out of my house, so yes she sustained bruises and such from that but that’s the extent of it. (She told all of Facebook in a public post that I beat her up every day and that kind of thing. She posts almost every day that she’s being abused, etc. Shes called the police at least 4times in three months. She tried to accuse me of elder abuse and even said I neglect and abuse my kids. Four times they have come out and investigated and not only said they see no signs of child or elder abuse, or anything to backup her claims. They talked to the kids and quickly agreed they were all fine too.

So fast forward to Christmas Eve. We were trying to load up the van to leave for our trip. We couldn’t hardly get it done because she was hounding us so much. When we were done I sent the kids to the car while hubby and I grabbed the last few bags. I blinked and she was charging toward the kids and yelling things at them like “you’re going to be a whore like your mom when you grow up. You wanna suck dick for a living?” And “I hope you die slowly and are alone and afraid for hours before you die.” The oldest child there that day was 12. And no, I’ve never worked in prostitution before. She began to charge toward me when I yelled at her to get away from the kids. Hubby told her to go back in her house and she wouldn’t. Kept coming toward us. So he pulled out his pistol, didn’t cock it or anything, and said again to go back in her house. So she called the police again .... 🙄

So we stayed longer trying to talk to the family lawyer and get a game plan. We’re following through with pressing assault charges so I can get a restraining order, and we’re filing for eviction. So we got all packed and ready to go and noticed liquid under the van. The power steering pump went out and the line busted all over everything. So that set us back another couple of days but we got the line and the pump replaced and tested everything and it looked good. It was late but we decided to set out anyway. We knew we’d get in late but the advantage to that was my crazy mother would be asleep and we could at least get in and unload the van in peace.

About 12:30 the battery light came on and we weren’t near ANYTHING. Somehow we made it another 20 miles or so until we got to a small town we’ve never stopped in before. We stopped at a gas station and barely got in the lot when it died. Hubby tinkered with some things and it looks like the alternator. Apparently some power steering fluid got in it when it busted but we couldn’t see that at the time, including the mechanic neighbor friend helping with it.

So we’re an hour and a half from home and totally stranded in the middle of the night with, thankfully, only two of our kids - the 18 & 3 year old. We make the calls for roadside assistance and I begin calling everyone I know that might can come help us. It’s freezing and none of us packed coats because it’s not usually this cold down here this early in winter. Hubby was wearing shorts even. So we take turns going in the store and sitting in the van with our things - there’s a large fully loaded cargo bag on the roof and a bike rack with two bikes on the back. Figured if we left it alone for a long time those things at least would disappear, essentially given the atmosphere of the place.

In all the moving around and the cashier asking questions and getting to know us and the situation we were in, this big eyed, buck toothed, scraggly little older, black lady who looked like she hasn’t bathed in years starts talking to hubby about what’s wrong with the van. He goes back to tinker with it often hoping he’s wrong about the alternator or that he missed a loose connection - anything that might help us get out of here l, if not home. I am watching cars like a hawk because you wouldn’t believe how many would pull in, loop the parking lot while staring at us and leave again. It started feeling like sharks circling and a feeding frenzy building up. So I’m on edge and I make sure the pistol is within reach at all times. So this little trashy lady keeps talking to him about the mechanics and trying to troubleshoot it. Lemme pain a more accurate picture: this spun out little crack whore was chasing the dragon, looking for it inside the oil reserve, the transmission fluid ..... she keeps pulling out the dipsticks, shaking them like a Polaroid picture and slinging fluids everywhere and then says “I think it’s your starter.”

No doubt she’s trying to hustle some cash and once even asked for some gas money when’s we see the car she rode in pull away and leave her there. She said it was her brother. After awhile, hubby has had enough. He’s usually pretty patient with people who are too fucked up to reach reality but this isn’t the time for all that. Not only is she a hindrance, she keeps snatching his tools and once even his phone out of his hands. I was in the car and I heard him yell “carry your ass already!” If he’s talking to even an annoying stranger like that, I know shit is hitting the fan. Me? I’m Irish. I would’ve done popped off at her which is why I was avoiding her completely. So I got out and joined him and started yelling at her to fuck off. She will take a few steps away and come back but she does finally go all the way back in the store, both of us cussing her the whole way. I blink and she back in his face again. She keeps saying random shit like “anything you can do I can do better” and “I helped you and you just turn me away. That’s not what the Bible says” and “God got me. I don’t need you. I pray for you”

I’m beyond pissed. I’m cold —- and I loath being cold — and I’m tired, it’s now like 2:30 or 3, I’m feeling vulnerable just by being broke down and especially with the toddler who can’t do anything to protect herself or understand what’s going on and who is extremely sensitive to any type of anger or tension (she cries hysterically when her siblings tickle fight or pillow fight and are laughing) and with all I’ve been dealing with with my mom lately I just have no give a shit left in me. So I jump out and say loudly “should I get the gun for you?” He said “it’s starting to look like it.” And I handed it to him and he put it in his pocket - more just wanting to communicate and it wanting to draw on her because that could invite charges for him potentially and we already have enough legal drama waiting at home. She slowly starts walking backward and keeps running her mouth. I forget what she said but she flipped my bitch switch again and I found myself screaming “Don’t make me cut a bitch!”

She said “what did you say?” And I pulled out my pretty pink and Pearl, large and extremely sharp pocket knife and extended the blade, “I said if you don’t carry your ass I WILL cut a bitch!” She nodded that smug kind of nod and kept going, “aaaiiignt”

The car that brought her there and left came back. She got in it and it left, stopped about 20 feet from the parking lot and she appeared to be forcefully shoved out from the way she rolled in the grass. But she goes walking the other direction so we figured she was gone. Meanwhile though in that amount of time I already dialed 911. The operator connected me to the local station and I spoke to dispatch. I kid you not, less than 60 seconds later an officer was there. We later learned he parks in a dark spot across the street of this divided highway. He even saw some of the commotion but couldn’t tell from the angle that it was heated. He tells us all about her, how she’s the local “hooker” / crack whore, along with her sister and mother. When I said we could tell she was drunk or inebriated or something he said, “more like high as a kite in with a jet pack!” I have seen a lot of people high in my years but I’ve never seen anyone act like she was so I asked, “On what?” He just shrugged “likely a combination of things. She’s a non discernment, equal opportunity junkie.”

Would you believe she showed up again while he’s talking to us? She tried to act like they were friends “hey! I know you. You’re married to my kin ...” He kinda yells at her and smirks “you a damn lie and you know it. I’m not even married.” Tim and I both glanced at his hands, his wedding band plainly visible. I got back in the van because my teeth are chattering so bad I can’t speak anyway. He puts her in the back of his car and talks to my husband again. He tells him he’s use to her and is going to take her to a relatives house where she goes when she needs to sleep it off for a day or two. He leaves and about 20 minutes later he’s back. Apparently he almost ran out of gas and he wanted to check in on us again. The jokes flew about how awkward that would look if he ran out of gas and was on the side of the road with the town hooker and all. He was a really nice guy and stayed with us most of the rest of the night. He said he got off at 7 and if we still didn’t have any help to give him a call, giving us his cell number.

So, at the same time I’m trying to get something done about the tow truck that needs to come get the van and find someone to come get us. The first wrecker — BROKE DOWN ON THE WAY TO PICK US UP! I was starting to feel cursed! The second wasn’t informed this would be a “long haul” tow and he only does local. Third times the charm right? Apparently so this time. He was a nice guy as well and took extra steps to keep the bikes and things secure on the trip.

We even had talked to hubby’s parents when we very first broke down. They were asleep but I was able to text my kids that stayed behind to spend another day or two with them, and they were coming up anyway to do some work on the property up here and file the eviction. So the boy, who will be 11 tomorrow, and the 12yo girl woke them up and told them we broke down. Apparently the 8 year old had already gone to sleep. His parents got up and talked to us and they were like, we’ll work on it and let me know what you find out. What the insurance company will do. So when the tow truck showed up, at 4:30, we asked if one of them could come get us because all the insurance company said was “MAYBE a supervisor could make an allowance for a Lyft or something like that but it didn’t seem a highly probable option. I realize we were 3 hours from his parents but they got up and stayed up from the first time we called and father in law could’ve gotten us and most of our stuff in the van and gotten us home, and him back to his house, before lunch and then slept or done whatever work he felt was more important than our safety. I’m kinda ticked about that. So we get what things we can’t live without immediately and head into the store to wait for a solution to arise, or friends to wake up! I was the last one going in and I was shivering so bad I dropped the things in my hands. I bent down to pick them up when two large shoes stepped in to my view, directly in front of me.

I stand up and then continue looking up to find the eyes looking back at me - a huge ‘cornfed’ red neck man who almost is convincing at appearing to be tough as nails, but I see the gentle kindness in him immediately. However, when he named the itty bitty, no red light havin’ isolated little farm town we live in I was flabbergasted. I actually stuttered and just made noise instead of words when I tried to respond. He even chuckled and playfully’ mocked’ me but was even kind about it. It was more like he got a kick out of how taken off guard I was. He said “Do y’all need a ride to (hometown)?” in that extremely slow, drawn out way the redneck Southerns do. In a minute I nodded and said “How do you know that?” I continued walking in the store as I spoke and of course he followed and opened the door for me. Hubby had run back and flagged down the tow truck before it left, remembering the car seat was left in it and that would be essential to getting us home. He had already talked to the man but j didn’t know that. In fact, in all the in and out that night hubby and my older daughter had told the cashier bits and pieces of the situation and it hit a point where she realized help wasn’t coming very fast and didn’t want to see any more trouble fall on us like with the oh so classy hooker we had already met. So she called her son, knowing this was the kind of thing he was always looking to do. He kept telling us that he just really liked to drive and it was no big deal and that he had time to get us there and back home before work even. After debating over it for what felt like hours but was probably only 5 minutes hubby and I decided it was probably the smartest option. He usually has a pretty keen sense of a persons character pretty quickly and so does my 18 year old - although it still needs to be fine tuned a bit but that will come with time, maturity, and unfortunately, heartbreak. We felt like we had a read on the kind, older lady cashier too and she even said “It’s ok. He’s my son. He’s not gonna hurt you or anybody that doesn’t try to hurt him first.”, laughing the last few words out and the glances between them revealing some inside joke / event. So we went ahead and got in his little car - which was more like a jumbo Geo Tracker and I honestly wondered how he ever fit inside. It wasn’t the best looking thing, kinda shabby and needing a lot of TLC, but for us it may as well have been luxury. It was a diamond in the rough, symbolic of the man who offered to drive us an hour and a half to get us home, and then back, before he went to work that day. By the time we got him we knew his life story - 33 and already a survivor of the heart attack they call ‘the widow maker’. We instantly fell in and we’re good friends. By the time we got home - at 7am - we hated to see him go. Of course we had a little Christmas gift cash on us and gave him a little something for his trouble, especially since he wouldn’t come in and let me make him something for breakfast. As I hugged him bye I told him “I will forever call you ‘My Angel Michael’. He said, “Well thank you ma’am. It was my pleasure.” and with that, he drove away.

[lynnsfics]

The One Where There’s Only One Bed

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Prompt List #12 “You take the bed, you need it more than me.” Gender-neutral reader)

Word Count: Approx. 1600

Warnings: Mild Language

Requests Open! See Prompt List for more details!

~~~

The door slammed behind you, rain dripping from your hair, “Well,” you stated, “that was a disaster.” It was true. The mission had taken a turn for the worse, and you had barely escaped with your lives, but unfortunately not with the intel you needed. To be fair, maybe Fury’s plan of having the literal Winter Soldier infiltrate a HYDRA base wasn’t the best. 

“Hey,” Bucky said, “at least we made it out of there. It could have been worse.” You had to agree with that, HYDRA wasn’t exactly the most hospitable when it came to taking prisoners. 

Only nodding in response, you sat down next to the fireplace. Thanks to Tony Stark, the AVENGERS had secret safe houses all over the place. Unfortunately, this one happened to be one of the less upgraded hideouts. Grabbing the fire stoker, you tried to get the coals to catch flame. Finally a bit of heat and smoke emerged, and you sighed in relief. You wouldn’t be dying of hypothermia tonight. 

“There’s some food in the kitchen,” Bucky called out, “it’s nothing fancy, but it’ll do. Want some tomato soup?” 

Nodding your head ‘yes’, you abandoned your warm spot by the fire to grab a bowl. “How long do you think we’ll have to wait for backup?”

He shrugged as he tied his hair back. “Ideally? They received our message and will be here in a couple hours. But in reality,” he paused to open the soup can, “probably not until the morning.”

You froze at his words, “Not until the morning?” 

“Let’s be honest, it’s close to one in the morning and it’s raining frogs out there.”

“Hold up, raining frogs? That’s not how the saying goes.” “Well that’s how the saying goes in Bucharest,” he said with a slight smile.

You held up your hands in mock surrender, “Alright fine, you win. But if they aren’t here until morning what are we going to do about the, uh,” you felt your face flush a little, “sleeping arrangements.”

“Stark funded this place, I’m sure there’s two beds, it’ll be fine. We can go check it out in a minute, the soup’s almost ready.” 

Thunder boomed overhead and you felt yourself shiver. You weren’t scared of storms, exactly, but you weren’t overly fond of them either. Being stranded in what was essentially a slightly fancy log cabin didn’t improve your current opinion of them, although some may find it cozy. 

Bucky pushed a bowl of hot soup in front of you and you felt better immediately. The familiar taste of tomato filled your senses, and your stress seemed to melt away. 

“Feel better,” Bucky questioned from across the counter.

“I do, but how could you tell I was upset?” “You always twist your hands when something stresses you out.” He smiled, “Don’t look so surprised, I’ve known you for almost three years now, I can tell when you’re stressed out.” 

Looking down, you sighed. Of course he would be able to tell, he was always so good at reading your emotions. Well, most of them, anyway. He still didn’t know you had harbored feelings for him for the past year at least. Or at least you hoped he didn’t. 

As the last of the soup swirled around your dish, you felt your eyes growing heavy. You knew you’d pass out at the counter if you didn’t head to bed soon. Leaning back, you yawned and stretched your arms over your head. 

“Time to get some rest?” Bucky asked, and you nodded. Standing up, you took a look down the darkened hall. A light switch was positioned near you on the wall, and you flipped it on experimentally. 

A warm glow emanated from the hall, shining a light onto a singular door at the end. Nervousness filled you as you gently made your way down the corridor. Your footsteps grew increasingly loud, seeming to reverberate off of the wood floor. Entering the room, your breath hitched. A singular king size bed sat along the middle of the wall. 

Oh God, there was only one bed. 

“So,”  Bucky said, entering the room behind you, “remember what I said earlier? I might have been wrong.”

“Yeah, I think so,” you responded, feeling nervous. “You take the bed, you need it more than me.”

“And where will you sleep?” 

After a moment of thought, you replied, “On the couch in the living room, obviously.”

“That thing is rock hard. There’s no way you’d get a good rest of that thing.” He was right, of course, but you didn’t need him to know that.

“I’ll be fine. Besides, you shouldn’t have to take the couch, you could barely fit.” 

“I’m sure I could,” he answered with a scoff.

“You’re like six feet tall. I’m barely even five foot four. There’s no debate.”

Then, he said the words you’d be dreading, “Why don’t we just share the bed?” You replied quickly, heart racing, “It’d be a bit cramped I’m sure, and I-”

“The bed is king sized, no need to worry about that,” he interjected.

“Well, I,” you didn’t have any other arguments, so instead you resigned, “I guess you’re right.” 

“Of course I am,” he replied with a smirk, “aren’t I always?” 

“Oh haha, very funny, Barnes,” was your sarcastic retort. A second door caught your eye, and you realized there was a nice bathroom connected to the room. After running for your life and getting caught in a rainstorm, a hot shower sounded wonderful. 

As soon as the door was closed behind you, you took a deep breath and sighed, How on Earth would you get through this? It wasn’t as if you hadn’t faced worse, you could name ten things more terrifying off the top of your head. But for some reason, having to spend the night next to Bucky seemed to petrify you. 

“It isn’t as if he can read my thoughts,” you reassured yourself as the hot water poured from the faucet. But that wasn’t the most reassuring, because a million and one things could go wrong, and he could figure out how you felt. Not only would your friendship be ruined, but the whole team’s dynamic would be off. “Shit,” you cussed softly, “let’s hope this ends well.”

Exiting the bathroom, you saw Bucky had already pulled back the deep red quilt that had been covering the bed, and was settled in, reading a book that had been on the bedside table. He looked up, “I can turn off the light if you’re planning to head to sleep.”

“Oh, no it’s fine, I don’t mind the light being on,” you replied before crawling in the bed. Being careful to stay near the edge, your heart was hammering as you lay down. “Alright then, try to get some rest, we’ll be up early tomorrow.” You cleared your throat, hoping your voice wouldn’t sound as shaky as you felt, “Okay, sounds good.” Apparently, your strategy hadn’t worked. “Is everything alright?” “Yeah, I’m just peachy. Just tired is all.” 

“Okay then,” he didn’t sound convinced, but thankfully he let the matter drop.

Closing your eyes, you surprisingly found yourself drift off quickly, and soon you were out like a light. 

The light on the bedside clock shone 5:09 AM when you found yourself suddenly awake. You could have sworn you heard something in the hall, although it may have just been in your dream. But no, there it was again. A subtle scritch-scratch that made you bolt up. A shadow moved and you let out a small shriek. 

Next to you, Bucky sat up quickly, “What is it? What’s wrong?” Taking a deep breath you answered, “A mouse, look.” He chuckled, and you felt yourself blush. “Doll, you work as an assassin, and yet a mouse scares you?” “Mice aren’t as predictable as people, alright?” 

“Do you want me to take it outside?”

You looked over at him, “Could you?” He nodded, “No problem, I’ll be right back.” 

Laying back down, you felt a bit more at ease, but did a quick scan of the room, just to be sure there weren’t any more rodent intruders. Once satisfied that you were safe, you closed your eyes, but didn’t quite drift off. You were still laying like that, eyes closed but still awake, when Bucky re-entered the room. 

“The mouse is back outsi-,” he stopped talking, thinking you were back asleep. He smiled softly as he got back into the bed. “Goodnight doll,” he whispered. “I love you. If only I could find a way to tell you that while you were awake.” 

Your heart felt like it stopped completely. You had to have misheard, right? Or maybe it was all a dream? Nonetheless, you couldn’t stop yourself from whispering back a gentle “I love you too.” 

This time, it was Bucky who bolted up in bed, “Wait, what?”

Shit. Well, you had to face it now. Sitting up in bed, you sighed. “I said, I love you, and I have for a while,” you paused not sure how to continue, “I didn’t know how to tell you, but with all this,” you motioned to the shared bed, “it just, slipped out.”

He glanced down, and then met your eyes, “I’ve felt the same way, and when I thought you were asleep I,” he stopped talking, “Is it alright if I kiss you?” You nodded, closing the distance between you, heart pounding. As your hand found its way into his hair, a knock sounded at the bedroom door. 

“Hey guys,” Sam said, entering the room, “I heard you needed backup,” the last word was barely out of his mouth before he began to back out of the room, “You know what? I’ll just come back later.”

~~~

General Taglist:

@sydneyisnotawriter

@dark-night-sky-99

Requested by: @sourpatchspinster

I wrote this instead of sleeping, so I’d like to formally apologize for any grammatical errors.  Also, requests are still open (Details above)! As always, likes and reblogs are appreciated, and let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! Love you all <3

[cleverwordsandotherstuffilike]

Britain's child slaves: They started at 4am, lived off acorns and had nails put through their ears for shoddy work. Yet, says a new book, their misery helped forge Britain.

The tunnel was narrow, and a mere 16in high in places. The workers could barely kneel in it, let alone stand. Thick, choking coal dust filled their lungs as they crawled through the darkness, their knees scraping on the rough surface and their muscles contracting with pain. A single 'hurrier' pulled the heavy cart of coal, weighing as much as 500lb, attached by a chain to a belt worn around the waist, while one or more 'thrusters' pushed from behind. Acrid water dripped from the tunnel ceiling, soaking their ragged clothes. Many would die from lung cancer and other diseases before they reached 25. For, shockingly, these human beasts of burden were children, some only five years old. Robert North, who worked in a coal mine in Yorkshire, told an inspector: 'I went into the pit at seven years of age. When I drew by the girdle and chain, my skin was broken and the blood ran down … If we said anything, they would beat us.' Another young hurrier, Patience Kershaw, had a bald patch on her head from years of pushing carts - often with her scalp pressed against them - for 11 miles a day underground. 'Sometimes they [the miners] beat me if I am not quick enough,' she said. The inspector described her as a 'filthy, ragged, and deplorable-looking object'. Others, like Sarah Gooder, aged eight, were used as 'trappers'. Crouching in the darkness of the tunnel wall, they waited to open trap doors which allowed the carts to travel through. 'I have to trap without a light and I'm scared,' she told the inspector. 'I go at four and sometimes half-past three in the morning, and come out at five-and-half-past … Sometimes I sing when I've light, but not in the dark. I don't like being in the pit.' His master threatened to 'knock out his brains' if he did not get up to work, and pushed him to the ground, breaking his thigh. Eventually, bent double and crippled, he returned to the workhouse, no longer any use to the brute. Most were exhausted by their working hours - they were often woken at 4am and carried, half-asleep, to the pits by their parents. Many young trappers were killed when they dozed off and fell into the path of the carts. Ten-year-old Joseph Arkley forgot to shut a trap door, allowing poisonous gas to seep into the tunnel. He died along with ten others in the resulting explosion. But coal mining was just one industry in which children worked during the 18th and 19th centuries. The Industrial Revolution brought immense prosperity to the British Empire. Not only did Britannia rule the waves, she ruled the global marketplace, too, dominating trade in cotton, wool and other commodities, while her inventors devised ingenious machinery to push productivity ever higher. But, as a new book by Jane Humphries, a professor of economic history, shows, a terrible price was paid for this success by the labourers who serviced the machines, pushed the coal carts and turned the wheels that drove the Industrial Revolution. Many of these labourers were children. With the mechanisation of Britain, traditional cottage industries, which had employed many poor families, went out of business. Consequently, more and more poverty-stricken workers were driven into the major cities and factories. The competition for jobs meant that wages were low, and the only way a poor family could fend off starvation was for the children to work as well. These were the real David Copperfields and Oliver Twists. Beaten, exploited and abused, they never knew what it was to have a full belly or a good night's sleep. Their childhood was over before it had begun. Using the heartbreaking first-person testimony of these child labourers, Humphries demonstrates that the brutality and deprivation depicted by authors such as Charles Dickens and Thomas Hardy was commonplace during the Industrial Revolution, and not just fictional exaggeration. She also reveals that more children were working

than previously thought - and at younger ages. As British productivity soared, more machines and factories were built, and so more children were recruited to work in them. During the 1830s, the average age of a child labourer officially was ten, but in reality some were as young as four. Many child scavengers lost limbs or hands, crushed in the machinery; some were even decapitated. Those who were maimed lost their jobs. In one mill near Cork there were six deaths and 60 mutilations in four years. While the upper classes professed horror at the iniquities of the slave trade, British children were regularly shackled and starved in their own country. The silks and cottons the upper classes wore, the glass jugs and steel knives on their tables, the coal in their fireplaces, the food on their plates - almost all of it was produced by children working in pitiful conditions on their doorsteps. But to many of the monied classes, the poor were invisible: an inhuman sub-species who did not have the same feelings as their own and whose sufferings were unimportant. If they spared a thought for them at all, it was nothing more than a shudder of revulsion at the filth and disease they carried. Living conditions were appalling. Families occupied rat and sewage-filled cellars, with 30 people crammed into a single room. Most children were malnourished and susceptible to disease, and life expectancy in such places fell to just 29 years in the 1830s. In these wretched circumstances, an extra few pennies brought home by a child would pay for a small loaf of bread or fuel for the fire: the difference between life and death. A third of poor households were without a male breadwinner, either as a result of death or desertion. In the broken Britain of the 19th century, children paid the price. One young boy, Thomas Sanderson, went out to work when his family was reduced to eating acorns they had foraged after his soldier father had been demobilised without a pension. Children were the ideal labourers: they were cheap (paid just 10-20 per cent of a man's wage) and could fit into small spaces such as under machinery and through narrow tunnels. But while parents sent their children to work with heavy hearts, the workhouses - where orphaned and abandoned children were deposited - had no such scruples. A child sent out to work was one mouth fewer to feed, so they were regularly sold to masters as 'pauper apprentices'. In exchange for board and lodging, they would work without wages until adulthood. If they ran away, they would be caught, whipped and returned to their master. Some were shackled to prevent them escaping, with 'irons riveted on their ankles, and reaching by long links and rings up to the hips, and in these they were compelled to walk to and fro from the mill to work and to sleep'. Orphaned Jonathan Saville was sold as a pauper apprentice to a master in a textile industry. His master threatened to 'knock out his brains' if he did not get up to work, and pushed him to the ground, breaking his thigh. Eventually, bent double and crippled, he was returned to the workhouse, no longer any use to the brute. Robert Blincoe - on whom Dickens' Oliver Twist is thought to be based - was sold, aged six, as a 'climbing boy' to a chimney sweep in London. Forced to scale the narrow chimneys, only 18in wide, he would scrape his elbows and knees on the brickwork and choke on coal dust. It was common for the master sweep to light a fire under them to make them climb faster. Many climbing boys and girls fell to their deaths. After several months, Blincoe was returned to the workhouse. Then, aged just seven, he was sent along with 80 other children to a cotton mill near Nottingham to work as a 'scavenger' - crawling under the machines to pick up bits of cotton, 14 hours a day, six days a week. In return, he was given porridge slops and black bread. Weak with hunger, at night he crept out to steal food from the mill owner's pigs. Many child scavengers lost limbs or hands, crushed in the machinery; some were even decapitated. Those who

were maimed lost their jobs. In one mill near Cork there were six deaths and 60 mutilations in four years. Blincoe was lucky: he only lost half a finger. A German visitor to Manchester in 1842 remarked that there were so many limbless people it was like 'living in the midst of an army just returned from campaign'. A doctor who observed mill workers noted that '… their complexion is sallow and pallid, with a peculiar flatness of feature, caused by the want of a proper quantity of adipose substance [fatty tissue], their stature low, a very general bowing of the legs … nearly all have flat feet'. The average height of the population fell in the 1830s as an overworked generation reached adulthood with knock-knees, humpbacks from carrying heavy loads and damaged pelvises from standing 14 hours a day. Girls who worked in match factories suffered from a particularly horrible disease known as phossy jaw. Children in glassworks were regularly burned and blinded by the intense heat, while the poisonous clay dust in potteries caused them to vomit and faint. Supervisors used terror and punishment to drive the children to greater productivity. A boy in a nail-making factory was punished for producing inferior nails by having his head down on an iron counter while someone 'hammered a nail through his ear, and the boy has made good nails ever since'. But despite the growth of cities, agriculture remained the biggest employer of children during the Industrial Revolution. While they might have escaped the deadly fumes and machinery of the factories, the life of a child farm labourer was every bit as brutal. Children as young as five worked in gangs, digging turnips from frozen soil or spreading manure. Many were so hungry that they resorted to eating rats. Children in glassworks were regularly burned and blinded by the intense heat, while the poisonous clay dust in potteries caused them to vomit and faint. The gangmaster walked behind them with a double rope bound with wax, and 'woe betide any boy who made what was called a "straight back" - in other words, standing up straight - before he reached the end of the field. The rope would descend sharply upon him'. Another favourite gangmaster's punishment was gibbeting: lifting a child off the ground by his neck, until his face turned black. And yet, many of these children showed extraordinary resilience and lack of resentment. Children who worked six days a week spent the seventh at Sunday school, determined to better themselves. But whenever anyone sought to improve children's working conditions, they encountered fierce opposition from the proprietors whose profits depended on exploiting them. They argued that any interference in the marketplace could cost Britain her manufacturing supremacy. Even when regulations were eventually passed to improve working conditions, with only four inspectors to police the thousands of factories across the country they were seldom enforced. In 1840 Lord Ashley, later Lord Shaftesbury, set up the Children's Employment Commission, interviewing hundreds of children in coalmines, works and factories. Its findings, reported in 1842, were deeply shocking. Many people had no idea that coal was excavated by young children. But it was the immorality rather than the cruelty of the mines that shocked them most. An inspector described how, 'The chain [used to pull the carts] passing high up between the legs of two girls, had worn large holes in their trousers. Any sight more disgustingly indecent or revolting can scarcely be imagined … No brothel can beat it.' An Act was passed, prohibiting women and children under ten from working underground. Two years later, another Act was passed prohibiting the textile industry from employing children younger than nine. But it was not until the mid-19th century that children were limited to a 12-hour day. In 1880, the Compulsory Education Act helped reduced the numbers of child labourers, and subsequent laws raised their age and made working conditions safer. But it had come too late for the little white slaves

on whose blood, sweat and toil our great railways, bridges and buildings of the Industrial Revolution were built. https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1312764/Britains-child-slaves-New-book-says-misery-helped-forge-Britain.html#ixzz2ZKkYXGMW

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Sinners & Saints

A special thanks to @statell​ for all your help

Previous Chapters at AO3

Chapter Four

“Hmm, I’m sorry sir, this is a fake. I know that’s hard to hear. I will speak to the police if you want to make a report.”

“You bloody well look again. That vase is Ming so that means you are an idiot.”

Jamie walked to the appraisal room at Christie’s where Claire was working today. His fists balled up listening to the man yell at the Sassenach.

“I assure you it’s a fake sir and I’ve decided not to help you with a report, you can go.”

“If you move one step, I will stop you until you prove why it’s a fake.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake, fine.”

Claire picked up the vase and threw it against the wall making the man gasp, red-faced, while Claire pushed past him and picked up a shard. Jamie’s eyebrows went up and he tried not to laugh, completely spellbound by her.

“The only true test of a Ming is the blue color of the clay after it’s fired. See, this is white. Oh all right you big baby, I’ll pay for it, I’m sure I have a dollar bill in my purse.”

The man screamed like a banshee and lunged for her, feeling his feet leave the ground, his face changed to shock as he reached behind him trying to open the hand that held him. Jamie shook his head when the man started yelling for help. He dragged the man to the door and whispered in his ear.

“Get near the lady again and I’ll rip your throat out, okay?”

The man bolted out the door and spun around to look at Jamie who smiled and thanked him for coming before closing the door. There were only two more people waiting for Claire to appraise their art and both looked nervous, clutching their prized paintings and looking at the shattered mess on the floor. One lady left, and the other was thrilled she had an authenticated treasure. Claire was a popular appraiser and seemed to know exactly where to find proof of her valuation. She would spin her laptop and there it was, selling price and picture of a comparable piece from the same artist.

Christie’s was very good at locking the doors at six o’clock, even when people pounded to get in. The room was suddenly empty except for Jamie and Claire. He helped her pack up and though she seemed normal in every way he could feel a disturbance in her energy.

“Sassenach, we have been up late every night this week. If you’re as tired as I am, maybe you should rest tonight and not be pestered by me.”

“Did you just suggest room service and a movie before early shut-eye? If so, then I accept!”

Jamie smiled and exhaled gratefully. It would have been a supreme sacrifice to lose a night with the Sassenach and he loved her suggestion.

“It’s our last night together, so we can celebrate the holiday a day early in our pajamas okay?”

Jamie’s palm itched as he thought about running his hand up the satin nightgown. He would miss her when they both went home and he wondered what promises they would make, if any.

“Javier has invited you to dinner tomorrow night. He throws a lavish party on Christmas eve at his restaurant and wants to meet you. What do you say?” She wrapped her arms around his middle for a hug.

“Of course, it would be my honor.”

Claire laughed seeing Jamie load his arms up with all her belongings, “you are super hot and so darn useful Jamie.”

That made him laugh but truth be told, like it or not, he was living for her next statement of endearment, whatever that might be. He just wanted to matter to her because that was the first step in building something that would change their lives. As long as there was a chance he might catch Casper, there was a chance at a life with the Sassenach.

“Jamie, I want to hire you to show me some exercises to build up my upper body strength, what do you say? There’s a gym at the hotel and I am worried because I can barely do three pull-ups anymore.”

“It would be a pleasure to assist you Sassenach,” he smiled realizing they would have the entire day tomorrow. No work for either of them, but such a strange request from one so fair.

When Jamie knocked later that evening, Claire felt the now familiar butterflies take flight in her stomach. She was convinced he had no idea she was Casper so she could just be herself, a professor with a crush on a cop. She asked several questions over the last few days about which agency he worked for but he was vague with the answers, saying the task force he led was a multi-agency effort. She didn’t want to pry and assumed his partial answers were a testament to an underlying boredom or unhappiness with the job. She might overthink her way right out of these hot nights with him, so she stopped analyzing him and just looked forward to the next time his hungry eyes devoured her.

Jamie had shamelessly taken possession of her body and mind every night this week and tried to calm himself down as he walked to her door. Even if he needed handcuffs it was the Sassenach’s turn at seduction and he just had to wait. He groaned inwardly trying to think of anything except her long legs, tiny waist, long hair, perky breasts, and her sweet kisses. He felt defeated already.

After a delicious meal brought by room service, Claire curled up in Jamie’s arms for a new movie they both enjoyed. Halfway through Claire turned toward him and unbuttoned his shirt pushing it off his shoulders. She moved her hand down the arm that was wrapped around her waist and tried to concentrate on the movie. She twisted to face him ten minutes later and kissed his neck and chest, pulling his face to hers she kissed him deeply and touched him everywhere.

The movie ended and Claire got up to lite the candles and hand Jamie another beer. She pulled him to the side of the bed and straddled his lap, kissing him slowly and then sinking to the floor. Jamie was fascinated with her moves, feeling like she was trying them for the first time, but that was ridiculous.

Getting his jeans off seemed to take an eternity while Jamie studied her. Keeping his hands to himself allowed him to experience Claire’s world and it was so different he was astounded. When she put him in her mouth, he could see this act pushed her arousal and she lost herself until Jamie pulled her away. Her mouth was open and eyes half-closed when he pulled her face to him for a deep kiss. I promise to try again to let you lead Sassenach, but I’m taking over, he thought.

Later, in the dark, Jamie ran his fingers through her hair and marveled at the mystery of Claire Beauchamp.

“Sassenach, how does one so tender throw a vase against the wall in front of the owner?”

“It really got his attention,” she giggled in her sleepiness. “He’s an opportunist that got hustled is what he is. I have no respect for people like that. He knew nothing of its providence or even which dynasty and had the audacity to challenge my authority on the subject. He deserved it.”

Jamie cataloged her answer in his brain and smiled to himself when she asked him to come closer. He wrapped her up in his arms and listened to the human equivalent of purring. A low soft moan that came from a happy place deep within her. He slept and dreamed of Lallybroch feeling her shift position through the night and reach for him. His sweet Sassenach.

Jamie was up and dressed early to conclude some new hire business. He gently pushed the hair out of Claire’s face, and she smiled trying to pull him in for a hug. He kissed her cheeks and whispered he would meet her in the hotel gym at noon and then left her to her dreams.

The morning blew past as Claire wrote reports, made phone calls, and returned email. She was feeling happy like sparklers were going off inside of her. It was Christmas eve, a holy holiday, and Jamie would be with her to celebrate tonight. She bounced into the hotel gym and saw Jamie sitting on a bench, red-faced and sweating. A long bar was racked behind him with three large weights at both ends. Impressive, she thought, as she walked to him. He carefully kissed her cheek trying to avoid sweating all over her.

“Ah, my Sassenach, what is your goal with this workout?”

“I want to do at least five pull-ups, underhanded and over-handed, without effort please.”

Jamie walked around her and listed the muscle groups she needed to work, touching each while he circled her.

“You need specific strength building for biceps, triceps, pectorals, deltoids, trapezius, Rhomboideus major, and teres major. Are you joining the circus Sassenach?”

“Certainly not, but I carry heavy canvases that are getting more difficult to manage and it’s required to be a decent cat burglar.” She gave her best ‘I am a professor smile’ and giggled.

“Uncle” was muttered after an hour and she clung to Jamie. He walked her back to her room and gently massaged her tired muscles. He could feel them shaking under the skin and hoped he hadn’t pushed her too hard.

“You need to soak in a tub of hot water mo chridhe. I will watch the game and guard you. Okay?”

Jamie was asleep when she got out of the tub. He looked like a handsome angel, so serene in his rest. He was relaxed, unguarded, and he looked ten years younger. Something about Jamie made her feel hopeful and happy for some reason. She tried to imagine going back to Chicago, getting Frank out of her life, starting another semester, and the big decision about stealing art. That was the reality of her life, and this week was a sweet tryst with an incredible man, and that was all.

“Sassenach, come lass.”

He held his hand out to her and pulled her to him so he could make her forget whatever made her look so sad.

In late afternoon, Claire straightened her hair and lined her eyes putting two coats of mascara on her lashes, powder on her cheeks that shimmered, and red lipstick. She wore a silver sparkling wrap-around dress and thigh-high boots that stopped an inch from the hem. When she opened the door for Jamie, she was shocked. He wore a dark blue suit, white shirt and a paisley blue tie. He looked scrubbed with his hair slicked back. His eyes looked like blue diamonds.

“Wow, you clean up nicely,” she said wrapping her arms around him.

He had a gorgeous bottle of Italian Merlot in a gift box for Javier and Claire was very impressed. Rubbing her lipstick on a tissue she reached for him and kissed until his toes curled. He looked closely at her face and hair and she knew he loved the way she looked. What a fine way to start the evening, she thought.

Javier opened the door to greet them and was quite happy about the snow falling outside. He shook Jamie’s hand with a warm smile and kissed Claire’s cheeks. They were brought into the dining room of the restaurant where a huge table was set with finery. Javier made the introductions and Jamie sat down next to the host while Claire made her way around the table, hugging and kissing the people in Javier’s inner circle. When she came back to Jamie he was in a lively conversation with Javier and another man about the European football leagues. The men were laughing and Javier told the other man in French, “this kid knows his football.” Jamie thanked him in French making them all laugh.

Course after course was placed in front of Claire. Soup, salad, a sumptuous duck and roasted vegetables, followed by coffee, and a delightful chocolate mousse with fresh whipped cream. Claire would take two or three bites of each in order to finish the meal. Jamie ate every bite with a smile on his face and Javier almost cried. She watched Jamie engage any conversation that was offered, with the appropriate grace, humor, or sympathy. She was so grateful he came. When he was bantering with another guest, Claire watched is face until he turned his head and smiled at her. She could feel the blush spread across her cheeks as she quickly looked away. Two old women snickered to each other and talked behind their napkins.

Jamie shook hands with Javier who handed him a business card and asked him to call when he was in town. The blush on Jamie’s cheeks showed how much he appreciated the gesture. They piled into the back of the Rolls Royce and Joseph took them back to the hotel. He watched them kissing and was happy they were going to separate ends of the earth tomorrow. He could see no good coming from this relationship.

Joseph hugged Claire and when she turned around his smile disappeared and the look he gave Jamie made his blood run cold. The older man got behind the wheel and drove away without a backward glance. Jamie wasn’t sure what to make of that but he looked up and saw his pretty girl beckoning him out of the snow.

“Merry Christmas Jamie.”

“Merry Christmas Sassenach. Come here.”

At three in the morning, Claire’s cell phone started ringing and didn’t stop. Jamie whispered that her phone was ringing and it could be an emergency of some kind. Claire sat up and grabbed her phone, suddenly afraid that something bad had happened.

“Hello!”

“Claire darling you come home tomorrow right? Yes, well I am making sure because it’s Christmas and you have been gone.”

“Frank why are you calling me in the middle of the night you scared the shit out of me!”

“If I wasn’t so drunk I would think you were yelling at me. That’s ridiculous because I’m a fuckin Senator and you are a measly teacher. Now listen Claire, this is your last trip to wherever, from now on you are here or at the school. Got that?”

Frank was so drunk she could hardly understand him, and she was getting mad. “Now tell me how to unlock your computer.”

“Why are you in my house, Frank?”

“Why not.”

She heard a loud bang, the sound of glass breaking, and Frank in the background yelling profanities.

“You fucking computer!”

Claire clicked off and ran to her laptop to look up the police precinct closest to her. She gave a report that her ex-boyfriend broke into her apartment and was destroying everything. She explained she was in Paris and told them his name.

“His name is Frank Randall.”

“Is it spelled like the Senator Frank Randall?”

“It is Senator Frank Randall.”

The cop who was taking the report smiled to himself. Senator Randall had voted to defund the Chicago police and they hated him for being a ball-less politician parrot. He wouldn’t enjoy his time with them tonight.

Claire was fuming and slipped her nightgown over her head, filling a glass with bottled water.

“What can I do to help Claire?”

“Nothing Jamie, I’m fine, I’m just going to wait for the police to call. Go back to sleep.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, honestly, it’s taken care of. A rather unpleasant episode with my soon to be ex.”

Jamie could not believe she was shutting him out of this incident with Frank like he didn’t matter and had no business in her real world. He was being respectful when he didn’t ask her about after they leave Paris or maybe he just didn’t want to know.

“Claire, were you going to call me when you go back to Chicago?”

“What?”

He could see it in her eyes, confusion about a question that seemed so simple to him. She never planned to see him again, or even call. He was nothing to her. He dressed quickly and left her room. He couldn’t think of anything to say to her so he said nothing. He went to his room and changed into jeans for a long walk through the city while he worked this out in his head.

Claire couldn’t stop crying as she watched him out her window. He walked away hunched into his coat against the cold. She sobbed, realizing she had lost herself in the arms and charm of Jamie Fraser. She never told him she would call, she never said she had feelings for him. She would never forget his face as he figured out what this week was to her. She laid on his pillow with his wonderful smell and cried herself to sleep.

In the morning, Claire called Jamie’s room, and looked for him in the dining room and gym. She asked at the front desk and was told he checked out. It felt like an emotional bomb going off inside her and she struggled to get to her room before falling apart. She looked at his name in her contacts and wrote him a text about how sorry she was, then deleted it. She was dreadfully sorry she hurt him but knew all along they would go separate ways. She didn’t think it would feel so bad.

Claire boarded her plane with puffy red eyes and a pounding headache. About every ten minutes she felt the tears start again and finally ordered whisky so she could sleep. Her life stretched out before her and never seemed so bleak. Jamie Fraser showed her a fresh new day where anything was possible, and he held her like a precious treasure. Now she was going back to her life in a dirty, crime-ridden city, with a drunk Frank telling her what to do, and she could not find a ray of light in all that. She raised her hand for another whisky.

Claire walked toward the baggage claim and could hardly put one foot in front of the other. Geillis hugged her gushing questions about Paris and going on about her new man. The doorman at her building helped carry her suitcases to the elevator asking if she needed help to her apartment. She tipped him and said she would be fine. Her key slid into her door lock and she bent to take the first case inside. A large fist came out of nowhere and cold-cocked her. The assailant left her on the floor with her door open and suitcases in the hall. She was unconscious.

Jamie walked through Paris for hours, but the decorations and lights were not noticed this time. His brain crunched the facts that were heartily ignored for the last four days realizing he believed what he wanted. She was an enigma with an enchanting personality that drew him to her, she was mysterious because she shared little about who she was inside. He didn’t believe she wanted to hurt him, but it hurt nonetheless.

Jamie flew back to Scotland pounding whisky and sleeping to avoid thinking about the Sassenach. He retrieved his car and drove the country roads to Lallybroch, feeling better with each passing minute. He would hurt and miss her, but he truly hoped to forget her in time.

Claire’s face was swelling badly when the paramedics arrived, she was asking for Jamie, completely disoriented. When she saw only strangers around her, she started to cry like her soul was dying. The EMT’s brought her suitcases into the apartment and tested her for a concussion, asking her to come to the hospital but she refused. When they left, she turned in a circle and saw destruction everywhere. The glass-top computer desk was shattered on the floor, cables yanked out, monitor smashed, furniture was in pieces, and the kitchen floor was inches deep with shattered glass, crystal, and dishes.

Two officers were lifting prints in the bedroom and walked out to see a young woman looking as shattered as the apartment. They knew this was done by someone she knew, this was personal and laced with violent hatred. Both were afraid for her and asked where they could take her for the night.

Claire looked up at the officers taking a moment to understand the question. She shook her head and opened the door for them. Other than have a cruiser drive by her building during the night, there was little they could do without her cooperation. They left reluctantly, both fearing he would come again, this time for her life.

Claire recognized she was in shock. All she could see was Jamie’s face, at dinner when he smiled at her, sleepy and hugging her, laughing at her banter, and crumbling from the truth. If there was whisky and a remaining chair she would have stayed right there, but there wasn’t. She took her suitcase and left to stay in a hotel where she sat in the darkness staring at nothing until Paris woke up.

Javier listened to his goddaughter cry and explain being knocked out and the destruction of everything she owned, even her clothes had a knife taken to them. Javier took the call in his office and accepted a glass of water and a baby aspirin from Joseph who recognized a dangerous tone of voice in his employer, and lifelong friend. Joseph closed his door so Javier would not be disturbed and took a position nearby to stop anyone from knocking. Javier called his name, and Joseph, not liking where the dominoes were falling, prepared for the worst.

“The bear is in trouble, he’s going to kill her!” Javier ranted the story out as Joseph felt the magma rising in his soul. They knew she might go to jail someday until they could get her out, but being struck and terrorized by that perverted piece of shit had Joseph on the edge of reason. Javier was packing up his briefcase and told Joseph to get packed, they were going to Chicago.

Claire clicked off her phone and sat still. She had not stood up since coming to this room in the middle of the night. She dialed Frank.

“Hello darling, Merry Christmas! What time will you be ready for dinner?”

“Come anytime, Frank.” She disconnected.

She had not intended to confront him, but he would have to start pretending, shock, concern, anger, protectiveness, all the emotions a real fiancé would have when he stumbles into her wrecked apartment. She expected her phone to start ringing in about twenty minutes.

“Hello Frank, did you get a good look at the mess you made last night. Shut your mouth or I will..” He kept sputtering a string of words and talking louder. She clicked off and waited. This happened three more times before he remained quiet on the phone so she could talk.

“If you want to stay alive to pursue whatever it is you’re pursuing you only have one rule, never speak to me or see me again for as long as you live. Even if you see me by accident…bye-bye baby. I’m not the meek teacher you think I am, and you have fucked with the wrong person. Don’t believe me? Try it Frank, and I’ll be more than happy to order your life extinguished.”

Claire felt some weird kind of closure with that and stumbled to the bed where she passed out from exhaustion. She dreamed of Jamie whispering in her ear and felt the happiness bubble up inside her. The ringing of her cell phone pulled her out of sleep. She didn’t know where she was or how long she slept and Javier’s worried voice on the phone was asking where she was. Her face hurt so badly she couldn’t remember the name of the hotel until she looked at the branding all around her.

Javier almost fainted when he saw Claire’s face. He was no stranger to violence, but the Bear’s face was beyond recognition, black and swollen with one eye puffy and closed. He hugged her gingerly and walked her to the bed. Claire was telling him she was fine, but she was very much not fine. Joseph had turned away from her to hide his tears and get control of himself. Javier handed her a pill and a glass of water. Once she was asleep, Joseph stayed in the room and Javier went looking for a new residence for her. He was gone all day and she slept peacefully.

Joseph looked down at her, deep in sleep. He saw the fifteen-year-old, fresh from the jungle, quiet and self-protective, completely vulnerable. He remembered her locked in the bathroom for hours, showering, flushing the toilet, showering again. Her fingers were puckered for the first several weeks from so much washing. Joseph and Javier bent over backwards to make her welcome and finally, after two weeks, she smiled, and then laughed at something said and Joseph thought his heart would explode with happiness. They were devoted to her happiness, and when she grew up, she returned their kindness by becoming the most extraordinary woman. Now here she was, beaten and broken. He took a deep breath and went back to his seat to pull himself together.

Javier arranged for a medical doctor to examine Claire at the hotel because she refused to leave the room. He gave her antibiotics and pain medication and ordered rest for a week as the swelling came down in her face. He was happy to say her eye was not damaged, and her sight would clear up in time. Claire took the medicine as directed and slept like the dead. Javier would go out each day making arrangements for her apartment and filling it with furniture, dishes, crystal, flat wear, pots and pans, linens, towels, shower gels, shampoo, even some makeup. He had impeccable taste, but he was not a thirty-year-old female in Chicago, so he hired a decorator to make the selections. All of it was the best quality money could buy and Javier was in heaven to be spoiling his Bear.

Claire had put the brakes on Javier’s extravagance at age eighteen. She allowed him to finance school and a simple wardrobe and saved her money for anything else she wanted. Joseph would drive her to her job each afternoon at a nearby printer. She sat on plastic for the ride home because she was covered in ink smears and dirt from crawling into the machines. Javier would wince seeing her filthy and exhausted but could never convince her to quit.

Everything changed for Claire when she was hired by Christie’s auction house to be a runner during auctions. Every other day she assisted the appraiser, the decorator, or anyone else that needed help. She was exposed to the great artists of the Renaissance, Baroque, Rococo , Neoclassicism, and Romanticism periods and she was hooked. During dinner one evening, she laid out her plan; what schools she would attend, what graduate school she would choose for her PHD, and her choice of career, teaching fine art at a respected University. She apologized for not knowing which University yet and Joseph shot a few peas across the table before he could raise the napkin to his mouth. The original plan never wavered, she did exactly what she said she would do.

After two weeks of rest, Javier checked them all out of the hotel and brought Claire to her new home, a high security, luxury apartment overlooking Lake Michigan. It was extravagant and huge, filled with high-end furniture and decorations. Claire found beautiful crystal stemware, glasses, mugs, plates and everything in between. Her closet was filled with basic clothing, drawers filled with undergarments, sweaters, belts and socks. She pressed her fingers against her mouth and couldn’t stop the tears that were rolling down her cheeks. She hugged her godfather, and then Joseph, shaking with emotion, so grateful for all their help.

Claire utilized the gourmet kitchen to cook an American favorite for Javier and Joseph, filet mignon, lobster tail with butter for dipping, baked potato and herb-roasted carrots. Javier hovered in case she needed help and Joseph laughed and told him to sit down and enjoy the sun setting on the Chicago skyline. Javier planned to rave over this simple, no sauce meal until the beef melted in his mouth and the lobster exploded with flavor. He lost himself in the unusual and primitive meal and Claire mentally high-fived herself. The meal was symbolic. She was a grownup who could manage life on her own, thanks to their help.

Claire hugged them goodbye at the elevator and promised to visit at Christmas next year. When the elevator doors closed, she took her first steps in independence, free of Frank, free to pursue her career, free to choose her every next step. The only thing still missing was color. The apartment building was opulent and surely full of beautiful colors, but she only saw shades of gray in the objects she passed.

Geillis made arrangements for Claire’s senior graduate student to start her classes when the new semester started. The administration was told her face was heeling after a car accident and they were too happy to help. The first day she walked into her lecture hall there was only sympathy on the faces watching her. She was grateful and soon her love of teaching took over and life returned to normal, albeit colorless.