#they send meals every week and my meals have kind of been stacking up because i dont feel like eating

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

My neighbors might hate me because I love singing while doing everything. Playing phone games? Music. Cleaning? Belting like I'm performing a concert. Walking? You can bet your buttons I have a karaoke track playing.

But I also have the horrible habit of playing one song on loop, and if I don't know then I learn it by picking up that way. But I only know certain lyrics for most of it.

So my neighbors have been hearing bits and pieces of Chronically Cautious all morning. Mostly "So if I'm honest, I think I'm beginning to question how much I want this," which I'm sure is not how they pictured their morning going. And I ended up playing a karaoke track, so that they got to hear the full thing about four times.

At least I'm a decent singer?

[ageofpiracyrp]

PLOT DROP 32: DIFFUSION

When The Prosperity enters the area around Kor'sel'Koo where communications transmissions are most accessible, Muffy and Hero find themselves met with a wave of messages to sift through and sort.

To Skylar and Ali from Karmel: Happy belated anniversary in Earth years. Enjoy a round of drinks at Yggld Drinks on me. [Enclosed is a gift certificate for a round of ten shots from the Water Bar and Alcohol Bar chain Yggld Bars, which is ubiquitous in every major settlement on Kor'Sel'Koo.]

To Beck from "K": If you've made it safely and find yourself with a spot of free time, I'd love if you visited.

To Ali from Zuytri: Hi, Friend! Here's the contact information for that person we were talking about that I think you might want to meet. Medri in room 806 Jallik in the Ulsgian Moon Retirement Community.

To Laurie from Viola Dessamer of Revvly Capsule Hotels: Thank you for signing up for the Revvly Capsule Hotels communications list. If you are in need of a safe space, we are always here for you. Read between the lines, and always feel free to reach out if you need a place to stay or cruelty-free, sustainably sourced, and practical meals.

To Theo from someone in the music business in Different City [the equivalent of about $200 in gixys are included]: Hello, Theo. Enclosed are some royalties from the sales of your music. It isn't that many gixys, but I'm pleased to let you know that some of your songs have been gaining a few fans. We anticipate being able to send you some more in six months.

To HJ from Junyi: Hey, bae!! It's really starting to be a long time since we've seen each other but I don't think I'll ever miss you any less. Work is going so good that I think I might be getting quasi-semi-kind of famous. I got some AH MAY ZING new tsum tsums and I stacked all of the ones I could find into a giant pyramid. Sometimes I think 'hey, Junyi, maybe you have a problem with collecting' but then I make a giant pyramid and everything is okay. I'm sending you a collection of my favorite memes that I've found over the last week and I hope that you cherish at least one of them because they made me smile and think of how nice it would be to look at memes with you. Did you know that "meme" rhymes with "steam"? I didn't know that until yesterday. Anyway anyway anyway I love you soooo much and you're sooooo pretty and sooooo good at communicating, HJ. I think about how happy I was to get to meet you all the time and how lucky I am to get to continue to talk to you.

To Robin from Jayvon: Robin, hello! Just wanted to let you know that I started a new job as a close combat officer on a brand new pirate crew, The Dreamhouse. I love it, and I'm glad that I have someone to tell the good news. If our crews are ever in the same area (I'm on Marloken right now), we should meet up and exchange stories.

To Marshall from her Dads: Marshall! We heard you would be going to Kor'Sel'Koo, so we are sending some of our favorite pictures of you and the family when you were younger and we lived there. Also, enclosed are up-to-date addresses and contact information for your cousins and other family. If you have the time, I'm sure they would love to meet up. All of us send our love!

To Daphne from Muzzain: Coast is clear still. Looking forward to meeting with you. "If you're out on the road Feelin' lonely and so cold All you have to do is call my name". These are poignant lyrics from the Gilmore Girls theme song. My name is Muzzain. Until we meet.

To Samira from Makhaira: How is your life going? We exchanged contact information a while back, but I never wrote. I don't know how much you want to hear this, but I've picked up a new hobby: pickleball. It's the one thing I'm a little better at than most of my family, but they haven't given up on playing. We installed our own court, which sounds completely rich erkuss girl of me, but I'm glad for it. What's been keeping you busy?

To Ian from Marlene: It was very nice to see you, Ian. I'm glad that you seem happy with your new crew, and I hope we can meet up again sometime. I don't like to mean ill will of others, but if I had to pick a different ship to crew on than my own, it would be Prosperity. Safe travels.

To Beck from Julia: Hey, Wanker. I know your birthday's not for a few weeks, but apparently the Three Stooges from the galx got their act together and won't leave us the hell alone. The twins wanted to make sure you got their birthday video messages. While they're starting to be rebellious little buggers (I know I'm getting old when I shake my head and sigh saying teenagers) they do love and miss you. They made me say something nice because I called you wanker but I think you're all right.

To Marshall from Oplo: You fixed our air conditioning, correct? Can you send tips?

To Daniel from Seetha: Hi, Daniel! I've missed talking with you so much, I've come to realize. I wanted to tell SOMEONE that isn't being a big meanie (Leo, he's being a big meanie) that I have a boyfriend now! :) His name is Frodo and he's so darling. I think you'd get along famously if you met. My captain is getting sentimental and sending messages to your ship, so I thought I'd send them too.

To Ryder from Seetha: I heard how Leo treated you from him and I am APPALLED. I know it was a while ago, but he's been so bratty and callous to you and also sweet Daniel and Ian. It sounds like he's cleared the air before, but it still doesn't sound right to me. Let me know if you need me to get a real apology out of that meanie on your terms. I know he'll actually mean it because he's apparently stopping his weird bedroom behavior and slowly but surely coming to terms with that. My goodness. You don't deserve that weird behavior.

To Skylar from Kenna: [It's just a picture of French fries with a digital smiley face drawn over]

--

By the time the crew touches down on Kor'Sel'Koo on 3/22/24, all of the messages have been sorted and provided and we pick up a new crew member: Mari, a quirky mate who is 4'6" of apparently pure enthusiasm.

The crew doesn't immediately settle down, as there are messages to read and Gilmore Gilrs to figure out.

--

Muzzain, the far'ly'dae one who ordered all of that Gilmore Girls merchandise, is staying temporarily in Wuunzek, a smallish city about an hour (by underground tunnel train) from Twarvu.

Wuunzek includes a variety of amenities, including Yggld Bars, the Inspired By Earth Waterpark (it's got a lazy river, a waterslide, and a wave pool), an enormous vitamin store aimed at Ly'Daesun called Yonrur, and more.

Wuunzek Population: 89% Far’Ly’Dae, 9% Erkuss, 1% Vanneer, 1% Carrek.

The process of getting the Gilmore Girls merchandise to the right place now will be... annoying because most of it actually needs to go to Twarvu. While it would normally take an hour and a half, the crew will probably take a full 24 hours to get their surreptiously.

[adhd-disaster-willie]

you're the one that brings the sun; chapter 1/6

Summary: Alex is prepared for every single variable except, apparently, the one in which his roommate is drop dead gorgeous and Alex is an absolute clusterfuck of a human being who falls for the first pretty boy on he sees on campus.

Willex roommate au! 

Warnings: Swearing

Notes: The title is from the song “I Dare You” by the Regrettes. I’ve actually planned this fic out so here’s to hoping I don’t get burned out halfway through. It might end up having 6 or 7 chapters, 5 is kind of just an estimate.

---

When Alex was 11, his mother proudly plastered his report card to the fridge and exclaimed that one day, her little boy would go to Harvard. His father gripped his shoulder with pride and Alex beamed up at his parents like they’d just told him he had superpowers. 3 years later, he was 14 and teetering on the edge of failure in the majority of his classes. He wasn’t stupid by any means, just preoccupied. He’d started a band with his best friends and that felt like the most important thing in the whole world, and high school was new and scary, so it was easier to not pour all his focus into school. His parents’ smiles faltered but they kept up hope, Alex could tell. 2 years later, he stood shaking and crying outside of the Molina’s garage and suddenly, the concept of going to college begun to feel distant and fake. But he’s 18 now, and somehow, miraculously, gazing at the piles of boxes in the back of Ray’s car and swallowing down a lump in his throat.

It sure isn’t Harvard, but a part of Alex feels giddy at the fact that he’s attending a public college that was relatively easy to get into; oh his parents would be rolling in their proverbial graves. What didn’t make him quite so happy though, was the looming fact that he’d be living with some random person, because for some godforsaken reason, the college wouldn’t allow freshmen to choose their roomates. Some bullshit about meeting new people and socializing.

“Hey, ‘Lex. Dude, you’ll be fine.” Luke shakes his shoulders, before swinging one arm around him and the other around Reggie.

“Says the one who isn’t even going to college,” Alex grumbles, slipping from Luke’s grip and into the front seat of the car.

“Yea cause I don’t need it. Not my fault you’re both nerds,” Luke retorts.

“I’m not a nerd, I just like to have insurance-”

“Yea, back-up plan, safety net, heard it a million times. Reggie’s a nerd though.”

“Old news, dude,” Alex says.

“I am not a nerd!” Reggie protests indignantly.

“Tell that to your 2 years of college credit in math.”

Luke nods in agreement. “Nerd.”

“Math is fun!”

“You’re horrible.” Alex makes a mock gagging noise.

Julie comes bounding out of the house, her arms decked with various baked goods. She tosses herself in the backseat beside Reggie and Luke, looking quite pleased with herself at being able to force Luke to sit in the middle. “Tía was apparently up all night baking,” she explains, passing the sweets up to Alex. “Don’t be surprised if she shows up at your dorm with food every day.”

Alex snorts. “I would not object to that.”

Julie sighs, leaning back in her seat. “You guys are so lucky, I’m tired of high school. Damn September birthday,” Julie grumbles. Her birthday is just after the cut off date, so she would be 18 for the majority of senior year, but is just barely too young to be in the same grade as the boys.

Reggie leans over and pats her arm sympathetically, earning an offended squeak from Luke, who’s only pushed further into the back of the seat.

“Don’t worry!” Alex chirps sarcastically. “You get to spend more time with Luke, since he’ll be squatting in your garage!”

“Oh, joy,” Julie deadpans.

“I am not a squatter!” Luke protests, kicking the back of Alex’s seat.

“No kicking! I’m holding food!”

“Y’know Alex, you’ve been staying in the studio for 2 years, you’re not one to talk!” Luke argues.

“I have a job.”

“A stupid job.”

“A stupid job that gets you free coffee.”

Reggie nodds to that, chewing on a cookie. “Can’t risk losing your coffee privileges.”

Julie groans loudly and stuck her head out the window. “DAAAAD! Let’s goooo!” She cries.

“Wow, I didn’t know you wanted to get rid of me so badly,” Alex says, clutching his chest dramatically.

“Oh shut up Lexi, I just wanna meet your’s and Reggie’s new best friends!” Julie says, laughing.

“I’m not gonna be best friends with my roommate.”

“Yea, Alex forgot how to do that!”

“Luke I will smother you in your sleep!”

At this, Ray approaches the car with a raised eyebrow. “No one’s planning a murder, I hope?” He asks, chuckling as he slides into the drivers seat.

“No sir!” Reggie replies, grinning.

“Not yet,” Alex mumbles under his breath.

“Alright boys, who’s ready for college!” Ray says, starting the car.

“I’m gonna be sick.”

---

“And that’s the last of it!” Ray claps a hand over Alex’s shoulder and smiles encouragingly.

Alex nods tensely, gripping the strap of his fannypack tighter.

The dorm’s probably as good as he’s gonna get. One reasonably sized bedroom complete with two horribly uncomfortable beds, a kitchen with a fridge that was in no way large enough to fit even a weeks worth of meals, a tiny living room that would probably fit a couch and a TV at the most, and a bathroom that smelled suspiciously of mustard. Really it isn’t terrible, but Alex has a habit of noticing every little detail, especially the ones that could be a problem at some point. His roommate hasn’t arrived yet, so he’s standing amongst his various boxes, anxiety pulsing in his chest.

Julie grips his hand tightly and smiles, tears pricking the edges of her eyes. “Hey, Alex, you’re gonna be okay.” She squeezes his hand briefly.

Alex nods, exhaling shakily. “Yea, yea I know. It’s just…”

“A change, I know. But this is a good change. And-” she hauls Reggie and Luke over to them. “-we’re all here if you need to call someone and talk. And dad, and Tía, and I bet your roommate will be super cool.”

“Or a serial killer.”

“Just pray he’s not a football player,” Reggie stage-whispers, shuddering.

“God, don’t even suggest that!” Alex whines.

Encouragements and teary hugs are passed along, as well as a promise to meet at the Olive Garden nearby for dinner in a few hours, and then Alex’s posse is off to get Reggie settled, and Alex is left alone in the dorm. Alright.

Alex takes a deep breath, steeling himself, before beginning to wander the dorm. He’s anxious to start unpacking without his roommate and risk doing something that they wouldn’t like. Even choosing a bed feels wrong, he really doesn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with this person. But leaving the dorm meant people everywhere so that was a definite no. He sighs, lowering himself to the wooden floor and pulling out his phone.

“Yea… uh huh. Yes Caleb, I got here fine. No the Uber driver did not try and kidnap me. The boxes- the boxes are not too heavy. Okay. Okay. Yea, bye. Mhm.”

Alex looks up hesitantly upon hearing the voice nearing his dorm. The person standing in the doorway is well… less of a person and more of a large stack of boxes threatening to fall over any second. “Hello?” Alex stands up and makes his way to the boy stood in the entrance.

Said boy pokes his head out from behind his boxes and grins crookedly. “Hi, uh, I’m Willie!” And well, Alex is a goner. He swallows thickly, breath catching in the back of his throat. Willie attempts to adjust the boxes but ultimately fails, sending them tumbling to the ground amongst several muttered curses. “Well… nothing fragile in there,” he falters slightly. “I think.”

“Um…”

“Right! Sorry, uh.” Willie holds his hand out and Alex shakes it tentatively.

“Alex.”

“Alex, cool.” Willie smiles again, his dark eyes twinkling as he does so, smile lines popping out. He brushes his hair -which looks so soft and pretty- behind his ear to reveal a small golden hoop on his right lobe. Alex is dead, actually 100% dead. Because he’d been prepared for every single variable except, apparently, the one in which his roommate is drop dead gorgeous and Alex is an absolute clusterfuck of a human being who falls for the first pretty boy on he sees on campus.

Alex forces out a smile, all too aware that he’s still standing stiff and awkward in front of Willie, his grip on his fannypack tight enough to make his knuckles glow white. Then Willie coughs as some sort of attempt to fill the silence. “Sorry!” Alex squeaks. “Do you need help with the… the uh, boxes?”

“Oh yea, that’d be great!” Willie replies, beaming. “I don’t think there’s anything fragile in there, but y’know, my memory is absolute shit so if I broke some fancy china dishes I didn’t even know I owned, don’t be too shocked.”

Alex laughs anxiously. “Yea uh… I didn’t start unpacking cause I um… I didn’t want to claim a bed and stuff with-without your input?” His voice cracks at the end and he winces because Jesus fucking christ Alex.

Willie chuckles and Alex notes that he has the kind of laugh that echoes through your whole body and settles right in your heart. “ ‘S cool, man, I don’t mind.”

“Right, cool. Do you uh… are you okay if I take the bed farthest from the window? I’m not- not much of a morning person, and the window is… it’s east facing” Alex mutters, his gaze focused on his feet which are rocking back and forth at a rapid pace.

“Yea, of course,” Willie replies. “I don’t think I’ve woken up later than 8 in 5 years.”

“That’s horrific!” Alex cries, momentarily forgetting his anxiety. He steps back and blushes an even deeper red upon realizing how stupid he’s being. “I mean- I just… sorry, I just meant that-”

“You’re good, dude. I don’t bite.”

Alex cracks a tentative smile. “So uh… I’ll just start unpacking then.”

Willie shoots him a thumbs up and smiles once again, which is a thing he apparently does a lot.

An hour later, Alex’s belongings are unpacked and organized and the room feels a bit more his. He feels slightly lighter, exhaling and closing his eyes briefly. This isn’t so bad. Fiddling with the hem of his hoodie, he shuffles out into the living room where Willie is presumably unpacking. Except that he’s not.

Willie is laying upside down on a couch that somehow appeared while Alex was gone and he’s flipping through a tattered magazine while his belongings remain mostly unpacked.

“This quiz says that I should try roller skating,” Willie sniffs. “Some personality test this is- oh hey Alex!” He scrambles up so that he can look Alex in the eyes properly, and points to the magazine in his hand. “Found this in a box, not sure how it got there since I’ve never even subscribed to one of these, but there’s a chocolate chip cookie recipe in here.” He stops for a moment, pondering. “Personally I prefer peanut butter cookies, ooh especially fresh out of the oven. There’s this bakery near my house that-”

“Did you get… any unpacking done?” Alex asks, raising an eyebrow.

Willie looks around at his boxes and laughs sheepishly. “Well I unpacked one and opened 3 so… some, yes.”

“Where’d the couch come from?” Alex pokes the cushion warily, as if afraid that it’s full of bugs.

“Room across the hall,” Willie says, pointing. “They both brought couches and didn’t have room for two we got the one with more stains.”

“Right.” Alex’s reply is forced and tense, and he winces upon realizing. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected his roommate to become so comfortable so fast and he felt like he was several steps behind. Damn extroverts. Drumming his hands against his thighs, Alex slowly sits down on the other side of the couch, pointedly looking ahead instead of at Willie.

“So.” Willie scoots closer, sitting cross legged with his elbows on his thighs and chin resting in his palms. “What’s your major?”

Small talk, god Alex hates small talk. “Um, music,” he answers.

“Ah, that’s cool dude.” Willie nods.

“Uh, what about you?” Alex asks.

“Art,” Willie replies, grinning. “Be prepared for paint stains, like, everywhere.” He chuckles and nudges Alex’s shoulder playfully. Alex is going to implode, he’s sure of it.

Alex laughs awkwardly. “So uh… what’s wrong with rollerskating?”

Willie shoves his shoulder again. “Everything, dude! Well-” he cuts himself off, thinking. “-I just kinda suck at it, definitely better at my skateboard.” He jerks his head in the direction of a skateboard leaned against the wall and Alex wonders how he didn’t notice that.

“Oh, that’s- that’s cool. I rollerblade but I uh, I can’t skateboard to save my life.”

Somehow, they slip into a comfortable rhythm, and Alex notes that his anxiety no longer has him in a chokehold. Willie seems to have that affect; he’s just so… open. Alex doesn’t realize it yet, but he’s subconsciously created a folder in the back of his mind labelled “Willie,” and he doesn’t think he’s capable of forgetting anything Willie will ever say to him.

“- that’s why airplane food is just, horrible. Cause you basically lose like 30% of your tastebuds because of the elevation.” Willie smiles at Alex, gaging his response.

Alex would rather die than admit that he’s still trying to figure out how the topic of airplane food came up, so he just nods enthusiastically, actively stopping his eyes from dancing across Willie’s face, which is practically glowing in the evening sun. Evening. Shit. Alex pulls out his phone frantically. “Shit.” He says it out loud this time.

Willie’s brow furrows in confusion. “You good, dude?”

“Uh yea I’m just, I’m supposed to be meeting my fam- uh my friends for dinner and I have to be there in like 5 minutes.” He ignores the way Willie’s expression falls, convinced he’s just seeing things.

“Yea um, of course. I won’t keep you.” Willie stands up, his posture the stiffest that Alex has seen it in the whole 3 hours they’ve been acquainted for. “I’ll just… order a pizza.”

Alex hesitates in the doorway, weighing his options, which has never been his strong suit. “Do you want to join me?” He blurts impulsively. Willie looks at him in surprise. “I mean only- only if you want of course, we’ve only really uh, known each other for a few hours and you- you probably don’t want to, it was stupid. I’ll just- I’ll just go-”

“No! I’d… I’d like to, eating pizza alone in the dark sounds a little pathetic,” Willie responds.

Alex smiles genuinely. “Ok, ok that’s uh. Cool. That’s cool.”

---

Alex is already regretting this. The restaurant isn’t too crowded, he notices with a relieved breath. But it’s loud. It’s loud and yet only one group of people is talking. Alex doesn’t even need to guess who.

“Ok but- no- no- the whole song would be better!”

“Say banjo one more time, I dare you!”

“Banjo.”

“Julie, what the hell?! This is betrayal!”

“You stole my breadstick, it’s only fair.”

Alex coughs, quieting the table to a dull roar.

“Alex!” Julie pulls him down to sit next to her. “Oh? Who’s this?” Reggie is grinning wickedly and Luke waggles his eyebrows in a way that makes Alex want to shave them off.

“This is uh, my roommate Willie,” Alex responds, his voice raising an octave. “He didn’t have plans so I uh… I invited him, I hope that’s ok.”

“Of course it’s ok!” Julie pats the space on the other side of Alex and Willie sits down, appearing… oddly nervous.

“Congrats! Your Alex’s first new friend since,” Luke taps his chin, pretending to think. “7th grade.”

Alex’s face promptly falls into his hands. He’s seriously considering the whole, shaving Luke’s eyebrows in his sleep thing.

Reggie leans forward conspiratorially. “What’s your opinion on banjos?” He asks, making a point to ignore Luke’s dramatic complaining.

Willie raises his eyebrows, clearly confused. “Um. No comment?”

“I’m… sorry about them,” Alex says apolegetically. “Uh, this is Luke, Reggie, and Julie-” he gestures to each of them; Reggie waves, beaming happily. “-and Julie’s dad should be…” He trails off, looking around.

“He had to take a phone call, something about Carlos refusing to eat dinner until he proves the house is haunted,” Julie explains, clearly biting back a laugh.

“I… okay.” Alex shakes his head. “Are we waiting for more food or did Reggie eat it all?”

“Ha ha,” Reggie punctuates his statement by sticking out his tongue. “We’re waiting for the actual meals-”

“Yea Luke already ate the entire bread basket.” Julie shoots a glare in Luke’s direction.

“Well… you suggested we get hotdogs,” Luke grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. “Payback.”

“Okay,” Julie laughs.

Willie leans over to whisper loudly to Alex, “What’s the story with the hotdogs?”

“Don’t tell him!” Luke cries, leaning across the table and slamming his palms down.

“We don’t talk of the hot-dogs,” Reggie mutters miserably.

“Food poisoning.” Alex shudders slightly. “Very bad food poisoning.”

“We almost died,” Reggie says, eyes widening. “Like, for real death. I’m pretty sure I was a ghost for a few seconds.”

“Reg, you were not a ghost,” Alex says, speaking like Reggie’s a 10 year old talking about monsters under his bed.

“I was!”

“You were not!”

“So,” Luke smiles mischievously, taking Reggie and Alex’s bickering as an opportunity to apparently torture the latter. Despite Alex’s warning glares, he turns to Willie with an innocent expression. “What kind of music do you like?”

“Luke,” Alex hisses, all too familiar with Luke’s antics.

“Hmmm.” Willie is painfully oblivious to Alex’s panicked expression as he mulls over his answer. “A lot of stuff really.” He shrugs. “Rock, pop, I like those lo-fi playlists when I’m trying to study.”

Luke nods, clearly pleased with the answer, but he isn’t done and Alex wants to hide under the table. He knows what’s coming next. “Thoughts on… drummers?”

“Luke.” Alex is seconds from lunging across the table.

“Drummers?” Willie asks, tilting his head confusedly.

“Yup,” Luke says, popping the p and still smiling like he’s some sort of innocent puppy-dog and not an absolute bastard.

“Hot,” Willie jokes. Alex can’t even hide the way he manages to choke on his own spit, and Luke and Reggie have never been great at subtlety, turning to Alex with matching shit-eating grins. Willie either doesn’t notice or is kind enough not to comment on it. “Yea, pretty sure young Roger Taylor was my gay awakening.”

Reggie is full on giggling now, and Alex’s entire face is gleaming a bright red. Willie glances around the table, puzzled.

“Mhm.” Luke nods before swiftly turning to Alex. “Hey Alex, by the way, you left your drumsticks in the car, do you need them back?” His voice is sickeningly sweet, coated in some sort of poisoned honey. It’s Willie’s turn to choke on nothing, failing to disguise it as a spontaneous coughing fit.

“Fine,” Alex squeaks as he sinks further down in his seat. If he pulls out his phone and messages Luke a flurry of threats, that’s no one’s business. He dares a glance at Willie, who has become quite fascinated with his hands, which are tapping out a mindless rhythm on the table, his cheeks and the tips of his ears dusted red.

Needless to say, Alex makes sure Luke doesn’t even get to look at the next bread basket.

---

I hope you liked it! Tell me if you want to be added to the taglist :)

I’m hoping to update at least once a week, but who knows. Ok thats all.

chapter 2

Chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

[aitarose]

THORNS | AZULA

PAIRING: Azula x Reader x Zuko [fem]

PLOT: Though Azula always said that she’s never believed in love, she failed to stop herself from falling head over heels for her brother’s betrothed. companion piece to roses; based on these requests by anons

WARNINGS: angst, fluff, unrequited love, mutual pining, somewhat friends to lovers

WORD COUNT: 5.3k

A/N: this connects to the events that occur in roses. this piece can be read as a standalone, but roses gives more detail to the reader’s feelings and relationship with zuko

ALT. END: Blossoms | ZUKO’S POV: Roses

WRITER’S ANALYSIS: Here

MY MASTERLIST

thorns : a symbol of sinful thoughts, extreme sorrow, and hardships. when paired with a rose, denotes both pain and pleasure in the sense of love.

Year one, day one.

Azula slammed her hands onto the skin of her face, repeatedly making contact with her dry cheeks. She let out a deafening scream of anger, punching the wall next to her, leaving a dark black mark in its wake.

She’d been in her room for less than three hours and she was already going mad with boredom. 

The princess huffed, plopping herself down onto the twin-sized bed that was nestled in the corner of her so-called suite. 

She knew that Zuzu had done his best to give her the best commodities the Fire Nation could offer, but her former people weren’t exactly jumping to meet her pretentious living standards. 

Which was actually something that Azula somewhat understood. She knew deep down that what she had done was wrong—trying to kill the Avatar, trying to kill her mom, kidnapping the nation’s children, the whole gist. 

She’d done bad things, some really bad things in her past, but that’s all that it was—her past. Azula wanted to get better, she wanted to be better for not only Zuko, but for herself.

So she and her brother had devised a plan. A plan that would, in its entirety, take five years to complete. 

Zuko was giving Azula half a decade to prove to him that she could be good, truly good. Which to most would seem like quite a bit of time, but for Azula, she didn’t know if it would be enough.

She wrapped her arms around herself, warming her ice cold shoulders. Azula hadn’t been alone with her thoughts for this long in a while—and if she was being honest, there was nothing that scared her more than her own mind. 

“Princess?” She jumped, startled by the frail voice calling from the opposite side of her door. Azula hastily marched to the entrance, yanking it open in annoyance at whomever was bothering her chosen isolation.

Standing before her was a girl about her age, she couldn’t have been older than eighteen. She was holding a tray with various Fire Nation delicacies stacked on top of one another, steaming with heat and the kitchen’s aroma.

Azula rolled her eyes at the sight she was seeing. Of course Zuko had ordered for her to have a late dinner, he’d most likely been preoccupied with all of his new and earned Fire Lord duties.

“Come inside, peasant.” Azula gestured to the small dining table in the center of her confinement. She pulled out a chair for herself and expectantly looked at her companion with the expectation that she’d serve her. 

The other girl hustled, quickly placing the princess’s meal on the placemat and taking the seat opposite to her. She laced her hands together, her fingers tapping the wood nervously.

Azula threw her palms flat on the table. “What are you doing?” She questioned, interrogating her helper, who was cowering in her seat. “Does my brother expect you to monitor my meals? What damage could I possibly do with this slob? Start a food fight in the palace?”

Her uninvited guest took a deep breath, seemingly focusing her stress and fear into the idea of feeling zen. She swallowed hard, her gaze on Azula evolving from anxiety to empathy.

“Actually,” she trailed off, her lips rising into a thin smile. She looked into Azula’s golden eyes, searching for any signs of discomfort or rising anger. “The Fire Lord didn’t send me here, his advisors did.”

“The council knows that your brother has a soft spot for you.” She explained, watching as Azula slightly nodded her head along to her words. “Spirits, everyone knows that when it comes to you, he has no reason.”

“I’m only here to monitor and report your progress.” Azula scoffed at the thought of her father’s old council dictating the direction of her own life, but at least they’d sent someone she could relate to. A girl that she could actually form a conversation with.

A scowl flashed across Azula’s face as the admissions her companion had stated ran through her mind. No matter, at least she had some entertainment now.

“Do you have a name?” Azula asked pointedly as she began to pick at her meal. “Or should I just call you ‘Servant’, like I do with all of the others?”

The girl lightly laughed at the unintentional joke, finding humor in the thought of being stuck with the princess as nothing but her worker. She shook her head, smiling slightly, before responding.

“You can call me Y/N.”

Year one, day ninety-four.

“You’re late.”

Azula crossed her arms over her chest, huffing loudly as she attempted to seem angered by her new friend’s timing. She’d become well accustomed to the daily routine they’d developed over the past months.

Seeing Y/N was honestly the highlight of Azula’s day.

She’d never verbally admit that she enjoyed the kind girl’s company. That she felt refreshed by her positive and warm nature, that she relished in the judgement free outlook that Y/N had on life.

And Azula would never mentally admit to herself, that she may have developed unwanted feelings for her friend. 

She always told herself that love wasn’t real. After witnessing the so-called love her mother and father had shared first hand, Azula wasn’t necessarily looking forward to potential love in her future.

No matter who she was involved with.

“Sorry about that Azula.” Y/N hustled through the doorway, her hair tangled and dusted with dirt particles. She had a large scratch on her right cheek, most likely self inflicted. Y/N was clumsy like that.

Azula let out a short laugh. Taking in the appearance of her crush. She even makes dirt look good.

“I was running on time, but then I saw this adorable booth in the market and I just had to make a stop.” Y/N rambled, waving her hands in the air in exaggeration. Her cheeks were flushed red from her sprint through town, resembling the color of a blooming rose.

“As if it matters to me.” Azula shrugged nonchalantly in her best attempt to seem as if she didn’t care about her friend’s dilemma.

As if she didn’t care about every second of her day. As if Y/N’s overall excitement wasn’t the only thing that truly kept Azula going nowadays.

Y/N brushed off Azula’s feigned disinterest as if it was nothing. It wasn’t uncommon for the princess to ignore her daily shenanigans. Most of the time, she felt as if Azula didn’t even listen to anything she said.

Which Y/N had quickly realized not even weeks into their meetings, really really hurt her. It hurt her heart that Azula didn’t care, that she didn’t matter in her eyes.

In their time together, Y/N had developed inklings of feelings for the firebender as well. Feelings that she had come to internalize and push aside.

After all, it wasn’t her job to fall in love with her client. Her job was to help Azula learn to love her own people, to help her gain the love of her people.

“Well, Azula.” Y/N stumbled towards her friend, accidentally tripping over her own feet in embarrassment. She proceeded to hold out a single flower not yet in bloom. 

“This is what the vendor was selling.” She smiled warmly, letting Azula take the flower into her own hands. “It caught my eye, because it reminded me of you.”

Azula studied her gift. It was a red rose, the shade being so vibrant it could be compared to her brother’s firebending. The stem was thin, yet covered in thorns of various sizes. They prickled Azula’s fingers, puncturing her callouses. 

As she gazed at the budding rose, Azula realized how fitting the gift was to her. She had never been the kind of girl who longed for bouquets and sweets, but when coming from the right person, perhaps she was. 

Whilst she struggled to come up with a reply to her friend’s kindness, Y/N mentally applauded herself. She’d finally found a way to make Azula speechless.

“It’s not terrible, I suppose.” Azula threw the flower to the ground, lightly kicking it away from her with her right foot. She turned away from Y/N, not bothering to see the heartbroken look on her crush’s face.

“I’m sure that garbage was all you could afford anyways.”

Azula cringed as she heard the door close lightly. Her eyes were rimmed with tears, realizing that even while upset, Y/N would never respond to her own awfulness with anger.

She felt herself collapse, her knees buckling beneath her. Soft sobs escaped her lips, silent cries filling the hollow room. 

The sorrow-filled girl looked up from her lap with tear-filled eyes. Azula could see the faint outline of the young rose beside her. As she lifted the thorn covered flower with careful hands, she saw what Y/N had meant with the gift.

That Azula was dreadful and hurtful to others on the outside, but when encouraged and supported, she could become something beautiful.

Someone that could one day be compared to the beauty that was of a blooming rose.

As she sat alone, staring at the budding rose in her palms, Azula realized that she would only be able to become that person with the help of Y/N. She was the only person that had even come close to seeing her for who she truly was.

The only person who would think of giving a gift such as this to the princess of the Fire Nation. The only person who Azula had ever come to feel true and honest love towards. 

Azula had to become better. Not only for herself and Zuko—but for Y/N.

Year two, day one-hundred and six.

“Can I ask you something serious?”

Y/N rolled over to face Azula on her side, resting her elbow beneath her chin. She tilted her head while scrunching her nose in thought.

Azula was laying beside her, staring up at the dark vaulted ceiling. She’d been allowed to move back into her old bedroom at the palace with Zuko and his advisor’s permission, after they’d been informed of all of her progress with Y/N.

It was a room where Azula had never truly been comfortable in when she was younger, she used to feel so alone in the spacious and empty bedroom—but with Y/N’s company, she hadn’t felt alone in years. 

“That depends,” Azula responded, crossing her arms over her chest. She frowned, taking a moment to consider what Y/N could possibly ask her. “What is this serious question that you’re deliberating?”

Y/N dropped the arm that was supporting her upper body, allowing herself to fall back onto the soft red carpet. She stretched her arms out, nearly hitting Azula in the process before mimicking her friend’s position.

She let out a deep sigh as she closed her eyes tight. Her heartbeat raced in her chest, preparing herself for whatever reaction Azula could possibly have to her curiosity.

“Have you ever been in love?”

Azula nearly choked on air at the sound of Y/N’s words. She had to physically stop herself from bolting upright and leaving the room, before whipping her head around to give her crush a look of confusion.

“Love?” Azula cringed, pushing the thought of the emotion to the very depths of her mind. “That’s what you really wanted to ask me? If I’ve known love?”

The firebender could faintly see Y/N’s head nod in the darkness surrounding them. She lit a single flame from the tip of her pointer finger to get a better glimpse of Y/N’s beautiful face.

She could see the stress in her eyes—spirits, Azula could feel the anxiety rippling off of Y/N’s body in waves. She didn’t know why a question like this could possibly affect her companion in the way it was now. 

She didn’t know why it was affecting her in the exact same way.

“My parents were my only example of love when I was a child.” Azula shared, trusting Y/N with the inner secrets that she’d never verbally spoken before. “My mother left before I knew she even cared for me, and my father..”

Azula trailed off, not wanting to finish her sentence. Y/N pursed her lips at the princess’ silence, taking her shaking hand into her own soft palm. She rubbed her fingers against Azula’s, doing her best to comfort her during her confrontation with her past trauma.

“My father was a monster.” Azula grimaced, basking in the feeling of Y/N’s touch. The feeling of being so close, yet so far from the girl she was painfully in love with. “Their love wasn’t real, and I fear I’m so similar to my father that it’ll never be real for me either.”

Y/N gasped in disbelief. “Love is for anyone, ‘Zula. You just need to believe that one day, it’ll find you when you least expect it.”

Azula shook her head, refusing to face the fact that she had her love right in front of her. Someone who would care for her and understand her throughout all of her outbreaks and dilemmas. Someone that would choose her everyday, as long as she’d let her. 

“That’s unfortunate then.” Azula pried her hand from Y/N’s, shivering at the overwhelming feeling of emptiness. “Because I don’t believe in love.”

With that, Y/N was speechless. She’d expected something from Azula. Anything to affirm her suspicions that her crush was in love with her as well—but all she’d gotten in return was an answer even worse than rejection.

Azula groaned, sitting up from the floor and tucking her knees into her chest. “What about you? Have you ever been in love?”

Y/N took a minute to contemplate what she had asked. Azula mentally counted down the seconds of silence that followed her out-of-character question. 

“I think that I have.” Y/N pondered, lacing her own fingers together over her stomach. “But lately I’ve realized that they’ll never feel the same.”

“It’s about time that I move on, isn’t it?”

Azula barely heard the last words Y/N whispered under her breath. Her voice was so faint, it sounded like nothing but an echo in the void. She could tell that Y/N was frowning, but Azula had no idea how to make her smile.

And words couldn’t describe how much Azula loved her smile. There was nothing that she loved more to see. That bright, beaming grin and the gorgeous girl behind it—that girl always being Y/N.

Year three, day eighty-seven.

Azula stretched her arms above her head, the bright sun radiating beams of light around her. She felt a genuine grin spread across her face, brightening her features with honest happiness.

She’d just recently been given the privilege to roam the palace ground freely, and had chosen to spend every single day of the past week in the garden courtyard.

Being surrounded by the tall cherry blossom trees, the whistling birds, and the frail little turtle ducks gave Azula a sense of nostalgia that she never knew she had missed.

She used to shun the memories and longings of her past friends and family members, refusing to accept the fact that she had been the true problem in their relationship troubles. That she had caused all of their strife. 

But now, with the new idea of freedom on Azula’s mind, she finally understood how terrible she’d been. How unfairly she’d treated her peers and the people who had offered her guidance. She vowed to herself to never become that person again, that monster.

“Enjoying the warm weather?” Y/N called from the entrance of the courtyard, a large picnic basket in hand. 

Azula spun to face her friend, laughing at the sight of the mess Y/N had brought with her. She ran over to the girl, instantly taking a hold of the supplies she’d been lugging around with her.

Y/N smiled at Azula, overwhelmed with joy at the sight of her unprovoked helpfulness. She walked with the firebender, taking a seat in their usual spot under the largest pink tree.

She and Azula had grown in indescribable ways in the past years of knowing each other. They’d gone from nothing but strangers, to somewhat friends, and now best friends. 

Azula knew in her heart that Y/N was the only person who was real in her life. The only one who knew her in a way where she didn’t automatically shy away from the boldness and arguably maniacal tendencies Azula had.

She knew that if she ever really had a chance at love, it was with Y/N.

Which was the reason why today was so special for Azula. It was the day that she was planning to finally confess and accept the undeniable love and adoration that she held for Y/N.

“I hope you brought actual food,” Azula ripped off the lid of the basket, peering inside to find all of her favorite desserts made by the kitchen staff. She stuck her hand inside, grabbing a small fruit tart covered in bright red frosting.

“This is so much better than that garbage you gave me the first day we met.”

Y/N bursted out laughing, clutching her chest as her teeth sparkled in the sunlight. She scoffed, stealing the tart out of Azula’s hand, before taking a bite of it herself.

“Sorry, your majesty.” She rolled her eyes in amusement, giggling at Azula’s reaction to her thievery. “I wasn’t exactly allowed to choose what the Princess of the Fire Nation could eat.”

Azula smirked, shooting a short line of fire towards the delicacy in Y/N’s palm, scorching the remainder of the tart and obliterating it to ashes. “Don’t steal my food.”

Y/N blew the dust off of her lap, shaking down her body before smacking Azula’s shoulder. “Well, don’t set my food on fire.”

The two girls glared at each other, refusing to break eye contact in an unspoken staring contest. Y/N struggled to match Azula’s stone cold gaze, blinking hard before being overcome with a fit of giggles. 

Azula felt her cheeks flush red as her crush’s head fell into her lap. She gazed down on the hysterical girl, holding her cheeks between her hands. Before she could speak, Azula saw someone standing in the corner of her eye.

She looked up to find her Fire Lord brother shyly waving at them, one hand raised in the air while the other disappeared in the pockets of his grand robes. 

Her relationship with Zuko had greatly improved since the beginning of their arrangement. While she used to loathe the sight of his scarred face, now she had grown to find comfort in it. They’d finally become the family they should’ve always been.

“Zuzu?” Azula called out, confused as to why her brother was interrupting her time with Y/N. In all the time she’d spent with Zuko, he’d never been around when Y/N was there. “What is it that you need, brother?”

Zuko shrugged, now stuffing both hands into his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels. He stuttered for a moment before pointing at Y/N, who’d just now noticed the prince standing at the distance.

“I need to speak with Y/N,” Zuko slightly chuckled, biting his lip as he tried to suppress a grin. “I have some business that we need to cover, it’ll only take a second.”

Azula had never seen Y/N move so quickly. Her friend was there for one minute and then the next thing she knew, her lap was empty—barren from the feeling of warmth and belonging she’d felt seconds before.

She watched in confusion as Y/N stood before Zuko. Her brother and her crush spoke at a comfortable distance, not too close, but also not far enough. Azula wrinkled her nose in disgust as she saw him ruffle Y/N’s hair, an act that she thought was only reserved for her.

They continued conversing, their voices too faint for Azula to hear. As the ‘deliberation’ concluded, she sighed seeing Y/N turn away from Zuko—only to see him take ahold of her forearm, pulling her close to his body.

Zuko took one of Y/N’s hands in his, before finally revealing what he’d been hiding beneath his robes the entire time. 

He offered Y/N a rose, a somewhat crumpled rose, but a rose nonetheless. It was a soft shade of orange, the petals oozing the same effect as Zuko’s flames. Even Azula could admit that it was beautiful, more beautiful than any flower she’d ever come across.

Azula frowned at the sight of her crush’s red cheeks. Why doesn’t Y/N have that reaction to her compliments anymore?

The princess internally gagged as Y/n reached up to wrap her arms around Zuko’s neck, pulling him into a tight hug before pressing a light kiss to his cheek. She waved a quick goodbye to him and skipped towards Azula, tripping over countless stones on her way back.

She plopped down onto the ground, delicately holding the large rose in her hands. Azula noticed the smooth stem of the flower, free of thorns and pain.

“I see you and my brother have quite a bit of explaining to do.” Azula deadpanned, dreading to hear what Y/N could possibly have to say about the kiss she shared with Zuko. 

Y/N huffed out a puff of air, pushing away the loose strands of hair that were blowing around her forehead. She sat back against the cherry blossom tree, a lovestruck grin stretched across her face. 

“I’d meant to tell you earlier, ‘Zula.” She explained, twiddling the rose between her fingers. “A lot earlier actually—months ago, even.”

“Zuko and I ran into each other on my way to your room one day, and we just really clicked.”

Y/N felt her heart pounding in her chest, not from nerves but from the love that she felt for the kind Fire Lord. “We’ve been seeing each other since then and I think it’s going really well.”

“I think I’m in love with him.”

Azula felt her heart drop in that moment. She’d been anticipating a confession for the entirety of the day, though that confession was not the one she’d had in mind. 

Heartbreak was an unfamiliar feeling for Azula. Sure, she’d felt loneliness and emptiness before, but never this. She’d never known the true and utter despair of losing the one that you love to someone else. Someone that is undeniably better in every way.

Azula knew she’d never shine in comparison to Zuko in this new world—but she had thought that she was the diamond to Zuko’s rock in Y/N’s eyes.

But perhaps she was nothing more than a friend in the eyes of Y/N.

Year four, day two-hundred and two.

“I have news!” Y/N sprinted down the beach, sand flying everywhere as she giddily ran towards Azula. “Big big news that you’ll love to know!”

Azula raised an eyebrow at Y/N’s natural chaos, she’d never seen her so utterly unruly and dismantled. What could possibly cause her to act this way?

By the time she reached the seashore, Y/N was out of breath. She collapsed onto the sand, shrieking as the tide came in and brushed against her bare feet.

“Calm down, crazy! Don’t get that debris all over my new swimsuit!” Azula shouted, confused by how jumpy she was acting.

The only other time Y/N had come close to acting this way was when she and Azula had gone to see the famous play rights in the Fire Nation colonies, and ended up laughing at all of the ridiculousness they displayed.

“Sorry, sorry!” Y/N laughed, shaking the sand out of her clothes and hair. The state of being she was in reminded her of their early days together. Specifically the day Y/N had given Azula her favorite gift ever.

The budding rose covered in thorns.

“I’m just so excited.” Y/N went on and on describing her joy, her hands were waving in the air dramatically gesturing here and there to absolutely nothing. Azula wasn’t even listening to whatever she was saying, just admiring how pretty she looked in the sun.

“Take a breath, it’s not like we don’t have all day.” Azula chimed in, stopping Y/N from completely combusting with energy. She patted the seat next to her, nodding in approval as the girl she loved gladly took the spot.

Y/N wrapped her arms around Azula’s waist, laying on the towel beside her. She hummed in content at the platonic gesture she was showing her friend. Azula however was racing at Y/N’s touch, confused by the intimacy of it all.

Azula shrugged off her feelings, instead choosing to trace circles over Y/N’s back. Easing the girl out of her excitement and into a state of quietness and relaxation. 

Silence overtook the two girls, the only sound being the splashing waves upon the nation’s coast. Azula stared blankly at the soft currents, seeing them rise and fall over the shoreline. She wished she could come and go like them.

That way she wouldn’t have to witness first hand the love between Y/N and Zuko. The love between the girl she saw as her soulmate and her own brother.

“Zuko proposed.” Y/N whispered, an unintentional smile gracing her lips. The unconditional love she felt for him was so visible, the perfect stranger would be able to pick up on it. “And I said yes.”

Azula swallowed hard, feeling tears prickling the corners of her eyes. She let the waterworks drip down her cheeks, feeling like a run down battery with no energy left to hide her sadness. 

Y/N sat up, startled by the sparse water droplets hitting the back of her neck. She gasped, concerned by Azula’s obviously helpless emotional state. She reached up, taking Azula’s face in her hands while wiping her tears away.

“What’s wrong?” She asked in concern, doing her best to comfort the crying girl. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against Azula’s in an attempt to hold her close. “It’s alright, ‘Zula. You can tell me anything.”

“You know that I’m always here for you.”

In the storm of confusion and sadness that was raging in Azula’s mind, she did the one thing that she had promised herself she’d never do. She followed through with her own selfish wish of jeopardizing Zuko and Y/N’s relationship.

Y/N’s eyes opened wide in shock as Azula’s lips touched her own. 

The firebender poured all of her emotions into the one-sided kiss, not realizing that Y/N was unresponsive. The latter girl was frozen in place, trying her best to process what was exactly happening in the moment.

She’d dreamt of this moment, the time where Azula would finally admit that she had feelings for her too—but she hadn’t had those dreams in years. Those dreams had ended once Azula had said that love wasn’t real.

As Azula pulled away, tears still dripping down her chin, Y/N had a look of bitterness on her face. Her normally beautiful and positive features were overcome with anger and distrust.

“Why would you do that?” She cried, her eyes turning bloodshot red. Y/N stood hastily, backing away from her friend, holding her hands in front of her to show that she didn’t want Azula following her. “You know you shouldn’t have done that.”

Azula screamed in frustration as she watched Y/N storm away back in the direction of the palace. She grabbed fist-fulls of sand, flinging them at the sea and shooting blasts of blue fire in the air. 

She had perhaps ruined the best friendship she’d had in her entire life. All because she couldn’t keep her love to herself. Her true and overwhelming love for Y/N.

Year five, the last day.

“Are you prepared, Princess Azula?”

Azula stared into the mirror in front of her, seeing nothing but a coward in her reflection. She nodded absentmindedly to the servant that was serving her, doing her hair, dressing her, whatever it was that servants do.

She ordered her to leave the room, wishing to be alone for the remainder of the time she had to herself. There was a big event today, the biggest in the entire Fire Nation.

It was the wedding of the Fire Lord and his bride-to-be.

Azula would be lying to herself if she said that she hadn’t been dreading this day ever since Y/N had told her about the engagement that day on the beach—for that was the last day she’d even spoken to Y/N.

The former best friends hadn’t seen each other in months. Not because they were too busy or forgetful, but because Azula was too embarrassed to contact the girl. She was ashamed of her actions and regretted them wholeheartedly.

After all that time in the dark, Azula was shocked that she’d gotten an invitation to their ceremony. She didn’t think they’d want her present after what she’d done.

But here she was, all dolled up to watch the woman she loved marry the man she’d always been jealous of. Zuko had their mother’s love, the honor she’d always wanted, and the person she was supposed to spend her life with.

Sure his life had been nothing but hard since the minute he was born, but in the end Zuko was the better one out of the two of them. He was the one who was truly deserving of all of the power and glory that was their birthright. 

Azula glared at herself in the mirror’s glass, remembering the last time she’d looked at her reflection in such a distraught mood. She shook her head at the memory, choosing instead to pull open the small drawer of her vanity.

Inside was a long and thin wooden box, locked with a golden pad. She took the necklace tucked into her dress and fit the key charm into the socket, twisting it open.

Her hands reached into the keepsake, carefully gripping the decaying rose from its hiding place.

For four years she’d had the gift, and in those four years Azula had managed to find help from the plantbenders of the swamp to discover a way to keep the rose alive. 

However she’d become careless after her falling out with Y/N, forgetting completely about the flower, only remembering its existence in that very moment.

She spun the flower in her palms, wincing at the prickling feeling of the small thorns on the side. The rose still hadn’t bloomed, she’d told the plantbenders that she preferred it that way no matter their interjections.

Azula wanted to have the gift exactly how Y/N had meant it for her, it was more meaningful that way.

Fire raced up the stem of the rose, encasing the wilting petals in flames. Azula watched intensely as the flower turned to nothing more than ash and dust, all that was left was the four thorns she’d chosen to spare.

She poured the little dust she had back into the box, locking it with her necklace before taking the thorns with her and out the door. She was running on a tight schedule and wouldn’t for the life of her, miss the wedding.

The ceremony had begun beautifully. Romantic music surrounded the guests, filling their ears with the selection of tunes that Zuko and Y/N had hand picked. Orange roses erupted from the vases and archways in the courtyard, reminding Azula of her fateful picnic with Y/N.

She clutched the thorns in her palm at the thought of her, telling herself that this was always meant to happen.

Y/N deserved someone like Zuko. Someone good and loving, someone who would never turn their back on her. She was deserving of the entire world, and Azula never would’ve been able to give that to her.

She wasn’t meant to have Y/N’s love. She’d always known that, and now it was just time for her to accept it, move on, and cut her ties. Her future was nearing, and her new sister-in-law was not a part of it. 

Perhaps this was a positive, a truly good thing to come from the constant struggle that she’d faced since childhood.

After all, she could finally leave her prison. Abandon her memories in replace of new ones where she wasn’t the fire princess, where she was simply Azula—just Azula.

TAGS: @practicallylivesonline @cherryskyies @shell-bells-ringding @xapham @mochminnie @lammello​ @bombardia​

[hxlyhead-harpies]

Begin Again (N.L.)

Requested: Yes

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Reader

Summary: Reader goes through a breakup and Neville helps them through it.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2k

Title From: Begin Again by Taylor Swift

You sat on the floor of the greenhouse clutching your knees, silent tears running down your cheeks. Dirt was staining your jeans but at that moment you were too upset to care. You sniffled, letting the earthy scent of the greenhouse consume you. 

You sat up with a start when the door banged open. You hastily wiped your cheeks, accidentally brushing dirt across your face in the process. A mop of messy hair came into view and quickly you were face to face with Neville Longbottom. His eyes widened at the sight of you and you felt your cheeks flush at the realization that he was seeing you in such a disheveled state. With an old raggedy sweatshirt, messy hair, and a tear-stained face, you were sure that you were quite the sight to see. 

“I’m sorry, I’ll get out of your way,” you mumbled, ducking your head. You hastily made a move to the door.

“Wait!” Neville cried. You stopped and turned to him.

“Hm?” was all you could muster. 

“Are you alright?” he asked with concern evident in his brow. You sighed deeply. You weren’t exactly close with the boy, being from different houses and all, but something about his demeanor made you feel as if you could tell him anything. The way his nose was scrunched in confusion and he ran one hand through his hair while the other clutched a potted plant was inviting, practically begging you to tell him all of your secrets. 

“I’m not great,” you finally replied. Neville frowned and placed his plant down onto a work table. 

“What’s wrong then,” he asked, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to!” he rushed to add, his cheeks flushed dark red. You giggled at him despite your mood. 

“I just broke up with my boyfriend,” you revealed quietly, playing with the sleeve of your sweater. Neville nodded solemnly. 

“I’m sorry,” he answered. The two of you stood in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say. You began to gesture back towards the castle. 

“I’m sorry for bothering you. I can leave now,” you attempted to say. Neville shook his head. 

“You’re not bothering me I promise. Would you like to help me with this?” he asked, gesturing towards his plant. You looked down to see a plant with large, purple colored leaves that seemed to be withering in the air. You usually were not a fan of herbology and you were quite terrible with plants, but the thought of going back to your dorm alone to cry made the plant seem like a godsend. You nodded before sidling up beside him.

The work was difficult but it helped you forget about your sadness for a while. And Neville was sweet and tried his best to make you laugh. His presence lightened your mood considerably.

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

The next time you saw Neville was in the library. You were sat at one of the most secluded tables, a pile of your things in front of you. A few hairbands and pictures, the photographs mocking you with once happy memories, and a small stack of books. You stared at the items with a deep-set frown and misty eyes. Someone cleared their throat from your right.

“Are you okay, (Y/n)?” Neville asked quietly. You shook your head slightly. He slid into the chair across from you. 

“What happened,” he inquired softly. You folded your arms across your chest and nodded to the pile in front of you.

“We gave each other our stuff back today,” you explained. Neville hummed sympathetically. He reached for a photo before looking up at you for permission. You nodded. The one he chose was from a trip to Hogsmeade. You were on your ex’s shoulders and were smiling widely at him. Neither of you spared a glance at the camera, only looking at each other. It had been a good day. 

After studying it for a minute, Neville laid the picture down. 

“I’m sorry that you guys broke up,” he said comfortingly. You shook your head and scoffed. 

“I don’t know why I’m even sad, I’m the one who broke up with him,” you said, “I don’t get to be the one who’s sad.” Neville frowned at you.

“That’s not true, you’re allowed to feel whatever you want,” he said. You smiled softly at him. “Why’d you guys break up anyway? If you don’t mind me asking,” he said, pushing the photo away from him. You ran a quick hand through your hair. 

“We first started going out in third year so we had been together for a really long time. I’m just not the same person I was then. We didn’t mesh well anymore and it just wasn’t working,” you explained sadly. 

Neville reached for your hand across the table and gave it a light squeeze. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. 

“And it sucks, you know? Because I still care about him and I feel so guilty but I just couldn’t do it anymore,” you said, fighting tears. “Hey,” Neville said quietly, “If it was right for you that’s all that matters.” You nodded softly, wiping your cheek. You squeezed his hand back.

“Thank you, Nev,” you said softly. His cheeks turned pink at the nickname and he stuttered out an awkward response, causing you to giggle. Something about him always managed to make you feel better.

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

You saw Neville more often after that; you waved to him when you saw him in the hallways and at meals, and you even partnered up during herbology. He was quickly becoming one of your closest friends and confidants. His sweet and shy demeanor calmed you and made you feel elated. 

You were seated next to Neville in the courtyard, facing each other on a bench. You were trying to teach him how to play a muggle card game and he was sorely losing. 

“What do you mean I have to pick up four cards?” he whined, throwing his head back. You laughed at him, reaching over to push his shoulder. 

“Come on Nev, just follow the rules,” you giggled. Neville glared at you. 

“How do I know you’re not just making up the rules to purposely make me lose?” he asked with a pout that made your insides melt. Lately, you had found Neville absolutely adorable and you weren’t sure why. 

“Why would I ever do that?” you asked sweetly, dramatically batting your eyelashes for effect. Neville just shook his head, though a smile appeared on his face due to your antics.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered. You just grinned at him. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw someone watching you. You turned only to make eye contact with your ex-boyfriend. You stopped laughing, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of you. He stared back at you with his mouth pressed into a thin line. Your insides churned at the sight of him. But it wasn’t due to any residual feelings for him, it was due to the look of sadness etched into his face. There was no part of you that liked him in a romantic sense anymore, but you still cared for him and you didn’t like seeing him hurt. 

“Are you alright (Y/n)?” Neville asked, making you tear your eyes away from the boy across the courtyard. He was looking at you with an expression of unease, scared that you were feeling sad again. Neville hated seeing you sad. There was nothing he liked more than your sweet smile. 

You shot him a quick, genuine smile. “I’m okay,” you replied, before turning to give your ex-boyfriend a tightlipped smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. You turned back to Neville and placed another card down.

“What does that mean?” he asked? You looked at him with a devilish smirk.

“Draw three.”

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

You laid with your head on Neville’s shoulder as you sat in the hallway outside of the Gryffindor common room. A post quidditch match party raged on inside. Neville had invited you, but the second you saw the crowd, the two of you opted to sit outside. Neville was explaining something to you, something about the healing properties of a plant you’d never heard of, while you snuggled into his side. You had gotten much more comfortable with him in the past weeks, it becoming second nature to squeeze his hand or find some way to touch him. His chest rumbled as he continued to ramble on. You didn’t care much for the topic but you liked hearing him speak.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, “you probably don’t care about this.” He messed with the hem of his sweater. You nudged your forehead against his shoulder. 

“Don’t stop,” you said, “I care. I promise.” You looked up at his face and he was flushed a deep red with a large grin stretching across his face. He rubbed the back of his head with his hand.

“Uh, alight then… So as I was saying,” he said, resuming his spiel. You smiled softly, watching the way his hands moved rapidly as he spoke, something he always did when he was passionate. His eyes shone and every so often he’d send you a small smile as if he was checking that you were still paying attention. Something bubbled in your chest, something you hadn’t felt for anyone in a long time. And it felt nice. 

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

With every passing moment, you became more and more entranced by Neville. The way that he could read you like a book and the way that he softly talked to first years. He was unbelievably kind and every smile he sent you made your heart go haywire. You were absolutely enamored. 

Time flew by quickly with Neville by your side and it was almost spring. Flowers were blooming across the grounds and they made the air smell sweet. You strolled the grounds with Neville, watching the sky turn from blue to pink. Your hand kept bumping against his and you mentally begged him to take your hand. He kept pointing to the various wildflowers and telling you what he could about them. You had a small bundle of flowers in your hand, stopping every once in a while to pick some. Neville and you stopped in front of the black lake, watching the setting sun sparkle across the water. 

“It’s beautiful isn’t it,” you asked with a soft smile. 

“Yeah,” Neville replied, but when you turned he was already looking at you. Your face heated as you looked at the ground shyly. You giggled to yourself as an idea popped into your head and Neville looked at you curiously. You picked a purple flower from your small bouquet and placed it behind Neville’s ear. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, fiddling with the flower but not removing it. 

“I’m making you beautiful,” you said, waggling your eyebrows. Neville grinned.

“What? You don’t think I’m already beautiful?” he teased. You laughed. 

“Of course you’re already beautiful Neville,” you replied. Neville froze at your words, his eyes gazing at you intensely. 

“Do you really mean that?” he questioned. You shrugged awkwardly, looking away from him. 

“Uh, yeah…” you admitted softly. Neville grinned widely and reached out to touch your cheek.

“That’s good,” he whispered, “Because I think you’re quite beautiful as well.” And with that Neville leaned in, pressing his soft lips against yours. The kiss was sweet and slow, and when you pulled away you both were smiling widely. It felt as if fireworks had exploded in your chest and roses had bloomed across your cheeks. You grabbed his hand and squeezed, glad that he had given you the chance to find something new, and given you the chance to begin again.

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

Taglist: @durmstrange​ @theweasleysredhair​ @spn-marvel-nerd​ @gloryekaterina​ @bellaacunaa​ @mytreec​ @levylovegood​ @inglourious-imagines​ @whatwoulddracodo​ @pattinsons-films​ @birdie-writes​ @gcdric​ @kashishwrites​ @wonderful-writer​ @pastanest​

add yourself here

[barnesafterglow]

if you have any random fluffy headcanons about … anyone really, send them my way bc today i've been very stressed and i need them

baby!! here is one special just for you <3 i hope your day has gotten better

let's talk about publisher!bucky shall we

this man is....everything to me. if you haven't noticed

let me tell y'all what an absolute sweetheart he is once he's in a relationship

breakfast in bed. constantly. no reason, he just loves you and also owns his own business and steve can fuck off he wants his girl to wake up to heart shaped pancakes and orange juice

so many trips to old book stores you've never heard of. sitting in the stacks for hours reading side by side and every once in a while he'll steal a quick kiss and go back to reading like it never happened.

this man can cook. i mean, come on, winnie owns a restaurant. so like. home cooked meals almost every night. sometimes it's extravagant, sometimes it's new recipes he found on pinterest (hehe), sometimes you come home from a long day and he maybe sorta called your mom to ask what your favorite meal is because he knows you've had a hard week

physical touch!!! so important

constantly just being close to each other whether its your thighs pressed together on the couch at one of your friends' houses or waking up absolutely tangled together in your bed

he is the embodiment of a perfect man and (once issues are resolved) so open and communicates so well bc he wants the kind of relationship his parents have <3

i hope this made you feel better but also i've been looking for an excuse to talk about publisher!bucky without actually having to write my chapter

join my first sleepover!!

[desertofsnowflakes]

Incorrect Order Chapter 4 (Nessian AU)

A/N: I know I haven't been able to update as fast as you'd want me to but I'll try to fix that. Your comments and feedbacks are very much appreciated. Do inform me if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist! If you happen to find my storyline similar to another fic or one of yours, I'm extremely sorry, I might've just not known. All characters belong to the author Sarah J. Mass. Enjoy!

Summary: Don't first impressions always affect the way you see someone? Well, what more with the Nesta Archeron? Nesta meets Cassian at few unexpected places and to say it didn't go well was a major understatement. Certain circumstances make them become enemies to tolerable company to friends to lovers.

Trigger Warnings: None really

1652words | Incorrect Order Masterlist | Read on AO3

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

The best way to keep whatever problems one has out of their mind was to do something they liked. That was the only way Cassian kept from spiraling. Since sending the woman to her own house, Cassian had more than a few moments when he wanted to repeatedly slam his head against a wall. That’s why he spent most of his time sparring with Azriel. He won’t admit he was simping for that woman in his free time too. Or maybe that was always.

Now, sprawled on a couch in front of the TV, with nothing to do but stare at a blank screen, Cassian led his thoughts to the box he kept all unwanted thoughts locked in. He thought about Tomas, her ex-boyfriend. Funny, he thought. I know her ex's name but not hers.

It took him a little too long the other day to realise they didn't exchange names. Again. He once thought that maybe she was purposely not giving him her name. That maybe, for her, he was just a random stranger who happened to save her life. He snorted. Surely anyone would know the name of the person they saved or was saved by— stranger or not. He supposed he'll have to make do with pronouns for now.

After she left his home, it took every scrap of self-restraint not to beat this Tomas dude to pulp and let him rot in the same alley he had the misfortune of meeting him in. He may or may not have been the cause for some extra injuries. Cassian appreciated the woman’s attempt at mercy. He, however, didn’t trust Tomas at all. He was dubious about just handing him over to the police. Who’s to know he won’t frame him and the woman for absurd things? Anyway, he left a note in Tomas’s house saying something like “Step out of line, lose your favourite part of anatomy. Name it and have it for your meal.” He made sure he printed so that no one would recognise his writing. Yet, all this didn’t calm his nerves one bit. He presumed he’ll have to stay on guard for some time now.

Now, back to the girl. He sighed. He didn’t dare change the sheets in his guest bedroom. He didn’t even let Mor use the room when she came over last weekend— which he could bet created suspicion. No, that room was only open when he craved her scent. He even realised one of his shirts was missing. He shrugged it off thinking he would've left it somewhere and just couldn't find it. Once she came to his house, he was constantly thinking about her. So much that now he started pinching himself often. It was the only way he could stop thinking about her— by creating physical pain.

Cassian glanced at the clock on the wall. 2.30 in the afternoon. He walked to the refrigerator and checked his freezer compartment. Huh. No ice-cream. He sighed, grabbed his jacket and keys and headed to the mall to get an ice-cream with a pout. He’ll have to leave for Rhys and Feyre’s first anniversary only around 5.30 to prepare everything. He has enough time to get an ice-cream and probably hang out for some time. Good enough to stop thinking about her. Or so he thought.

***

Nesta wasn’t sore anymore. Her headache was gone almost a week after the incident. Her nose didn’t hurt anymore. Okay, maybe a little bit. It didn’t hurt unless she bumped her nose against something. Today, her nose was dully throbbing because she hit her nose against a pillow yesterday. A very, very soft pillow and yet it hurt this much.

The man’s first-aid and medicines were really helpful.

It really wasn’t fair that he excelled at basic first aid too. It wasn’t fair that he looked so good. With black tattoos swirling over generously muscled arms and shoulder-length dark hair curling at the edges and gloriously tanned skin and hazel eyes with minute flecks of green and brown when taken a closer look at and dimples and—

A quiet “Who is it?” snapped Nesta out of her moping. She looked up to see Gwyn walking to her.

“Who is what?” she asked, feigning nonchalance. Gwyn's pursed lips and glare conveyed that her act wasn't enough.

“Who are you thinking about?” Gwyn clarified.

“What makes you think I'm thinking about someone?” Nesta retorted.

Gwyn sat on the chair next to her and started assisting with classifying the unceremonious heap of books on the table to be kept back in its correct positions on its own rack.

“Nesta,” Gwyn sighed, “Clotho assigned you this stack almost an hour ago. And you've barely finished a third of the stack. Normally, you'd finish stacks bigger than this in an hour. So there's clearly something.”

“It wasn't anyone,” Nesta mumbled.

As usual, Gwyn saw through her lie. “You were twirling your hair,” she said flatly.

Heat inched up her neck. “I was not!”

Gwyn murmured a “uh-huh” and they lapsed into an easy silence till they were almost over.

Gwyn's eyes lit up as it normally did whenever she got an idea. “Is it him? The guy you came with that day?”

Nesta scowled, “How do you know…” she broke off when she realised which 'that day' Gwyn was talking about. Nesta fought back a blush. “No, no, this isn't about him. We don't know each other. Much. Like, we've seen each other a number of times? That's it. Nothing else.” Cauldron, the first part was a complete lie. But at least the rest are true. Will Gwyn happen to know his name? Maybe I ought to ask her. Or maybe I shouldn't.

She should, she decided. She cleared her throat. “Uh, Gwyn? Do you happen to know his name?”

Gwyn frowned and asked, “He hasn't told you yet?”

Nesta shook her head and answered, “No, we, uh, forgot. I guess. We haven't really exchanged names.”

Gwyn nodded and smiled. “Well, he is—”

“Gwyn!” a voice called. “You can't expect me to come over to you and beg for you to help me. Help me only if you want to or don't work under me.”

Gwyn’s eyes widened. She abruptly stood up and mouthed, “Merrill. I gotta go. I’m so sorry.” She all but ran to Merrill, the very strict librarian Gwyn was working under.

Nesta sighed and continued her work. There wasn’t much left so she was able to finish fast. She picked her things and left the library with a word to Clotho, heading to the mall.

***

The best way to keep whatever problems one has out of their mind was to also eat something they liked. So, ice-cream it was. After having his ice-cream, Cassian was aimlessly walking around the mall. Here, not more than a month ago, he met her for the first time. Almost a month ago. He huffed out a breath. The fact that he was pining for her this long blew his mind off. He—

“This is your fault— not mine. I’m not taking the blame for this,” he told her. They bumped into each other. Again.

Her lips quirked up. “It is kind of my fault. But blame this—,” she poked his chest, “— for making my nose hurt again.”

Just like that, his mood sobered. “How are you?” he asked.

She pointed at the cafe to her left. “Coffee?”

He nodded. Who was he to say no to her?

So they ordered coffee and talked about everything and nothing. He grinned and she laughed. He laughed and she smirked. He wouldn’t say he knew her well but he’d never seen her so carefree. Her laugh was like nectar for a starving man. Her eyes bright and welling up with tears from laughing.

“I don’t think I’ve laughed this much,” she said.

Cassian put a hand on his heart dramatically and said, “I know, I know. I’m very funny.”

Her lips kicked up a notch. She straightened as if she just realised something. He was about to ask when she drawled, “So I just realised that we still haven’t exchanged names.”

Oh. Right. Of course. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Usually, when people meet, they start with introductions but in our case we’ve literally bumped into each other three times and still we don’t know each other.” He shook his head and extended his hand. “Well, hello there. I’m—”

His phone rang in his pocket. Fuck. He was going to kill whoever was calling him now. He was so close to knowing her name. He pulled out his phone to see an incoming call from Azriel. He apologetically looked up at her and said, “I’m sorry. I wish I could choose not to take this call and instead kill this idiot but I can’t. Just give me a moment, okay?”

She nodded and he picked up his call.

“What do you want?” he hissed.

“It’s 5.30 already, you idiot. We’ve got to get the things ready for the party. Mor already went to get the cake and you’re not even at home. Where on all earth and hell are you?” came Az’s faint voice.

“15 minutes only? Mother above, I’m coming.” he said.

Az’s “make it fast” was the last thing he heard before hanging up. “I wish we could stay here and talk forever,” he said to her, “but I have something up in a short while and I totally didn’t realise time was passing this fast. I’m so sorry. It was nice talking to you. Really. And I wish we could meet again. Though without the bumping part.”

He grinned when she smiled and said, “Bye. Have a nice day.”

“You too,” he called back. He didn’t want to think he imagined the subtle look of disappointment on her face because hell, he was a walking epitome of disappointment right now.

taglist:

@shadowsinger07 @im-someone-i-guess @saltyfortunes @cressjacquine @julian-blackthorn-supremacy @champanheandluxxury @zemiraa @ladygabrielli1997 @nehemikkele @heartless--aromantic @sv0430 @ddsworldofbooks @irenethaleia @sjm-things @dontgetsalmonella

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 3

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 2,587

Warnings: none

A/N: I wanted to give Reader a family and this is the easiest way to do it. Btw Peggy’s husband isn’t Steve, I have other plans for him ;) Enjoy!

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

The rest of the week went by, and you kept hoping Bucky would come back. You hadn’t seen him since he’d left 300 dollars under his napkin after visiting you at work. You had tucked the bills into your bra, knowing they would be safe there, and walked home at the end of your shift.

Now it was Thursday afternoon and you were craving a day off.

Natasha’s apartment was spacious and the oversized glass window bathed the living room in natural sunlight. The apartment was a gift from Sam. Obviously.

You dropped your purse on the sofa –your bed- and laid out the bills on the coffee table. It was made of marble and brass, another gift from Sam.

You didn’t know what to do with the money, so you took it wherever you went, to keep it safe. You wanted to return it to Bucky. It was too much and you weren’t used to random acts of kindness.

You sunk into the cushion and blew out a sigh as you stared at the money. The persistent vibration of your phone against your thigh pulled you out of your thoughts. Half expecting it to be Natasha, you answered without looking at the caller ID.

The operator told you that Scott Lang was calling from Saint Quentin State Prison, and asked if you would accept the charges. You agreed. You always agreed.

“Splotchy, I need your help.”

Closing your eyes, you let your head fall back against the cushion. “I told you to stop calling me that, Scott.”

It was a silly nickname.

As a child, your mother dubbed you splotchy because of the colourful doodles you painted on the living room walls, and your siblings, who were roughly a few years older than you, had loved using that nickname. Especially since they knew you disliked it.

Their support and endless enthusiasm played a big part in your artistic journey, nurturing that spark into a flame. What started out as a childlike fascination with colours and shapes became your whole life. No one was surprised when you decided to pursue a degree in fine arts.

After the death of her husband, Peggy Carter adopted five children; a little boy from San Francisco, a little girl from Wakanda, twins from Sokovia and a little girl whose birth parents were still in high school. You were the last one, the only one she adopted as a baby.

“Is it offensive to call an artist splotchy?”

“It’s irrelevant. I haven’t painted in months,” you replied. “And we’re not kids anymore, you can use my name.”

“I’ve been calling you Splotchy for so long, I forgot your actual name.”

“You’re so funny,” you deadpanned. “What do you need, Scott?”

Scott’s tone changed suddenly, his voice grew agitated. “I need you to call Maggie. She isn’t picking up when I call her.”

“Scott,” you sighed.

“I haven’t talked to Cassie since her birthday,” he cut you off, pleading. “Please, I just want to talk to my little girl.”

Maggie was Scott’s ex-wife. Six months after his incarceration, she had filed for divorce. Natasha thought it was a real dick move but you didn’t blame Maggie. She was alone, her husband was in jail –for basically being a dumbass although the official charge was embezzlement and destruction of property- and she had a kid to raise.

Maggie wasn’t a saint but she was a good mother, and Cassie was a smart and healthy kid. Now you knew what to do with Bucky’s money.

“I’ll call her,” you said. “Listen, I’m going to put 50 bucks on your book. Buy yourself a bar of soap, I can smell you from here.” Scott interrupted you with a monotone ‘har har’. You chuckled. “I’ll buy Cassie a Christmas gift on your behalf, all right? I think she wanted a bike.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” he chanted over the phone, his voice muffled as if he was holding the receiver too close to his mouth. “Are you sure you can afford it? I know it isn’t easy for you. Between living in New York and paying for mom’s nursing home, you don’t have to-”

“It’s fine,” you said, cutting off the conversation. “I’m not alone, Okoye helps.”

“And Wanda?”

“She sends postcards from time to time.”

The line went quiet for a moment. “I want to get out of here so bad,” Scott groaned. “Everything’s gone to shit since I went to jail.”

“Everything’s gone to shit since Pietro died, Scott.” You both remained silent, remembering your late brother. Just thinking about him made your eyes start to prickle with tears, so you cleared your throat and ended the call. “I’ll talk to Maggie. You’ll be out soon, just... stay out of trouble. Love you.”

You left your phone on the table and kicked off your shoes before you lay down on the sofa for a well-deserved nap. In your dreams your brothers weren’t either dead or in prison, your mother hadn’t been diagnosed with Alzheimer, and you weren’t a burden to your friend.

If you were lucky enough, you wouldn’t even dream at all.

The next day, Bucky arrived at the hotel at six thirty and you playfully glared at him from across the lounge. He wasn’t stupid, he knew why you were glaring at him. At least he had the decency to look a little sheepish.

“Just so you know, you bought yourself about 30 breakfasts,” you told him, referring to the far-too-generous tip he had left the other day.

“A man’s gotta eat,” he replied with a boyish cockiness that made him look stupidly attractive. You were too flustered to find a good comeback.

You brought him his cup of coffee and let him enjoy his breakfast while you attended to your other clients. It was an unusually busy day, the room was packed with families who were getting ready to explore Manhattan. You didn’t have time to chat with Bucky and he didn’t stay long. You saw him flinch a couple of times; the muscles in his shoulders pulled tight and his eyes darting left and right.

He left another ridiculously generous tip, along with a handwritten note. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day x.

Bucky came back the following week, and even though it was a quiet morning, you made sure to find him a table in a secluded spot. He didn’t notice when you slipped the 300 dollars into the pocket of his coat. You could be pretty sneaky, too.

“Mmmh,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “I looked at your Instagram.”

“Oh,” you glanced at your shoes, embarrassed. “Wait, you’re on Instagram? I have a hard time imagining you scrolling through your feed.”

He laughed a little. “I’ll admit I’m not as tech savvy as you youngsters, but I’m not a fossil. I use it to look at the pictures my sister post of my niblings.”

“Cute,” you grinned.

“Anyway,” he said, pushing a hand through his hair. “I love your work. It’s very unique; a cross between Impressionism and Post-impressionism. It’s realistic, and yet there’s something different...” his face scrunched up as he tried to look for the right word. “There’s something in your paintings, something that isn’t here in real life but perhaps should be. It’s hard to explain. It’s a feeling, a color, a pattern; it’s indiscernible but it’s there.” He looked up at you, his cheeks red with embarrassment. “I’m not making much sense, am I?”

You blinked, suddenly stunned that someone had such strong opinions about your work. There was nothing but sincerity in his ocean-blue eyes, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words.

“I, um-” you cleared your throat, “Thank you, I didn’t know that. I look up to Monet, obviously. His work is phenomenal, and I also have a soft spot for Van Gogh.” You ran a hand across your face. “Sorry, I’m a little emotional. The people who compliment my art are usually my siblings, and Nat.”

“And now me,” he said with a warm smile. “And soon a lot more people.”

Flustered, you bit your bottom lip. “That would be nice.”

Bucky nodded. He gathered his silverware and set them on his plate, trying to buy time. You watched him hesitate before he turned to you. “I noticed that your last post was from almost a year ago.”

“Yeah,” you said with a casual shrug. “I don’t really paint anymore. I’m too tired when I get home and supplies are expensive.”

“Of course,” he pursed his lips in thought. “Are you free this afternoon? I was wondering if we could meet for coffee.”

You tried not to show your surprise but his words made the sleeping butterflies in your stomach crack an eye open, their interest piqued.

Was he asking you out? He’d come to your workplace every week since your brief ‘date’. He always gave you more-than-generous tips, and he listened to you with a combination of close attention and warmth that made you weak at the knees.

He’d made it clear he wasn’t looking for anyone but maybe he had changed his mind. Agh, down girl! He just wanted a friend.

You looked into his beautiful eyes, seeing a myriad of expressions cross his face before he smiled at you.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you, angel.”

It was an honest lie, just hearing him call you angel felt like a punch to the stomach. The butterflies were dancing around, reborn, and chanting the word ‘date’.

“If you don’t like coffee, we can have tea, or ice cream,” he said, “anything as long as you can sit down with me.”

You snorted. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, smiling. “This is my number. Pick a place and I’ll meet you there.”

After breakfast, you closed the restaurant and started cleaning the Lounge. You brought everything back to the kitchen, stacked the dishes in the dishwasher and turned it on. Then you put away the unopened miniature jams, butter and whatnot, and gathered the remaining patisseries and fresh fruits in a basket that you would later bring to the reception.

You worked mechanically. It wasn’t exactly the most exciting job you’d ever had.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky. It was easy to let your mind wander into the cosy and dangerous territory of this being a real date.

You decided to go to the Australian coffee shop near Natasha’s apartment. It was popular but not as crowded as Starbucks, which suited you fine.

After your shift, you removed your uniform and changed into the spare set of clothes you kept in your locker for emergencies. Emergencies being an impromptu date or a night out with Nat. You dug around in your purse for your lipstick; the nice one, the Carter Red as your mother called it.

You dabbed the lipstick on your lips, staining them. You only wore it on special occasions, and you weren’t sure Bucky deserved your full red pout.

You walked to the café with a little pep in your step and a confident smile on your face. The freezing temperature didn’t matter, you were too giddy to care. It was a date, it had to be, why else would he ask you to meet for coffee?  

You smiled when you saw him through the coffee shop window. He was chatting with the waiter as the latter set two mugs on the table.

“Hi again!” You shrugged out of your jacket and took a seat.

“I hope you like hot chocolate. Carl, here, says it’s their best seller,” Bucky said, smiling kindly at the waiter.

“Enjoy, and if you need anything else don’t hesitate to call me.”

You carefully wrapped your cold hands around your mug while you watched Carl walk away. A moment of silence rose between you. Bucky watched you with an unreadable expression, making you fidget in your seat.

“I’m glad you came,” he finally said.

“Me too. I’m a little surprised you asked.”

He looked down at his mug and smiled; it didn’t reach his eyes. “I have something to ask you.” He paused. “The night we met, you said you agreed to see me because being in a... financial relationship felt like the only solution to your problems.”

 Your smile faltered but he didn’t seem to notice. Oh. The butterflies in your stomach fell so suddenly that it felt like carrying a ball of lead. They went back into hibernation.  

“If I had been a decent person and, I don’t know, bought you a drink, talked to you,” he paused, meeting your eyes. “Would you have been interested in this type of relationship? With me, I mean.”

You swallowed hard. “You want to be my sugar daddy.”

It wasn’t a question but a statement. You were slowly realizing that you had been wrong about his intentions. This wasn’t a date, it was a business afternoon tea.

He winced. “Do we really have to call it that? I was thinking mentorship. I can provide financial help, and in exchange you could be my friend.”

“I can be your friend for free,” you said, your throat tightening.

He shrugged, a small smile on his lips. “This way we’ll both get something out of it.”

You looked down at your hands, still wrapped around the mug, and pursed your lips in thought. You felt a sharp tingling sensation in your nose, a sign that you were about to cry. You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, fighting against the flood that was coming.

You pushed all the emotion down and forced a smile to your face. “Do you mind if I use the restroom? I just took the subway, I’d like to wash my hands.”

Bucky watched you, momentarily stunned by your request. “Of course, take your time,” he quickly recovered.

“Thanks,” you croaked, pushing your chair back.

You picked up your bag and walked to the restroom, your legs feeling like cotton wool. You didn’t need to use the restroom, you had walked to the café, but you needed a moment alone to collect yourself.

A woman came out of the restroom, holding the door open for you. You picked up the pace and thanked her before closing the door behind you. You looked pretty sickly under the artificial light of the restroom. Your eyes were glassy with tears and your red lips were taunting you.

“Got your hopes up, uh?” You watched your lips move. A little humourless chuckle escaped you and you shook your head at your own idiocy.

You aggressively wiped the lipstick off your mouth with the back of your hand and sighed deeply as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Now you felt like an idiot.

It wasn’t Bucky’s fault. He had been nothing but nice and kind, and perhaps you had mistaken his kindness for flirting. A naïve mistake. You had always been a little clueless when it came to men.

You ran your index fingers under your eyes to get rid of the makeup that had gathered there. It wasn’t the end of the world, you barely knew him anyway. It didn’t hurt any less, though.

Maybe it was time for you to do something out of character, to experience life no matter how crazy it seemed. You were dreading this conversation with Bucky, but you couldn’t hide in the restroom forever. With another sigh, you pushed yourself away from the sink and walked out of the restroom.

Part 4

[soldrawss]

Um, hi! Every time you post a drawing or a short vignette, it inspires me. Thank you for sharing your beautiful work with the world and being so awesome! If you don’t mind me asking (sorry if this has been asked already) in your BBM au, what do birthdays look like in their household? I’d imagine money’s a bit tight, so would they have to rely on charities like Cake4Kids to receive cakes/desserts? Do they usually have themes? Do the younger sibs throw Mikey a surprise party? The people must know.

First of all, before I go off on BBM content, thank you so much! I’m so happy you like the stuff I put out!

Second,,,

Have you all ever heard of water cake? It’s basically cake made with no butter, milk, or eggs, and made right, can actually be pretty good. (I grew up fairly poor, and let me tell you, this cake was a lifesaver to my mom with 3 kids) So I’d never think that Mikey was so poor and strung thin budget-wise that he couldn’t afford the essentials like milk or eggs. But life happens. And sometimes you run out of groceries in the middle of a busy week and can’t get more till Friday when your check comes in, and you have a 6-year-old birthday boy who absolutely needs to have a birthday cake, because then he can have a birthday candle, and then make a birthday wish, and what kind of big brother would you be to deprive your sweet little baby bro of a birthday wish. 

Mikey’s a patisserie in training. It’s part of his civic duty to make all desserts from scratch or die trying. And BOY does he try hard. He usually tries to plan ahead for special events like birthdays, especially with the twins, because Mikey is nothing but not always ready to celebrate something. Dollar store decorations and water cake is where it’s at, and Leo and Donnie and Raph don’t mind a bit, because the cheap decorations are nothing compared to the company, and Mikey can make anything taste good, so really, it’s a good time. (Mikey has a secret money jar stashed away, it’s not a lot, but whenever he gets a few extra tips or had a couple extra coins in his pocket, he puts it in the jar. He has a savings account for emergencies, but this jar is for fun gifts. Gifts he can splurge on for his brothers, and get them at least 1 nice gift. They deserve whole mountains' worth of gifts and items, but Mikey can’t afford more than a small bump in the road. One day, he resolves, he’ll make enough money to get them everything they could ever want. But for right now, at least, this will have to do.)

Mikey loves surprises, and he gets one almost every year, because he’s really bad about remembering his own birthday. (He’s too busy with everything else going on, that he rarely spends any time thinking about himself) But it’s ok, because it works out great for Leo and Donnie and Raph! Leo is the only one who can somewhat cook a decent meal, so he’s on food duty, while Raph gets to decorate with crayon drawings attached to strings he tapes to the walls (as far as he can reach without standing on anything too high at least, because Donnie remembers the time he stacked at least two stools and a few books on top of the coffee table to reach something on the top of the bookshelf and broke his wrist coming down, and since then there has been a strict ‘feet on the ground Raphie’ rule implemented) and Donnie is in charge of the gift. And because Mikey gets a weird sort of nervous if they spend any money on his, most his gifts are usually hand made. Which is no problem, because Donnie thrives in the world of ‘making things himself’. So when Mikey comes home, tired and sluggish and leaning from side to side because he’s been on his feet all day and he just wants to sit, Raph comes in with a flying hug to Mikey’s middle that knocks the air out of him, but because of years of conditioning, doesn’t send him staggering, as Leo and Donnie shout “Happy birthday!” and lead Mikey to the couch, where he’s got some homemade cards, a lumpy gift wrapped in newspaper and some hotdog/mac and cheese casserole waiting for him. And Mikey’s tired, but he’s all smiles and laughter and love that burns through him and warms the entire room. And he kisses Raph on the crown of his head for all the beautiful decorations and colorful birthday cards, and hugs Leo for the absolutely delicious meal, and ruffles Donnie’s hair because “Oh wow, are these self-heating gloves? You made these??? Dee, these are perfect! My fingers are blue every time I go into work and I think my coworker LH is getting tired of me sticking them down his shirt for warmth when I clock in. Thank you so much! This is the best birthday ever!”

[allyreactions]

Dating NCT | Mark

- masterlist  requests : OPEN 

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║ pairings ; mark lee x fem! reader 

║ genre ; fluffy fluff, smut, angst 

║ word count ; 2.4k

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~ A/N : I’ve been so soft for Mark, I just had to let it out. also I think I went a little bit overboard ... I wrote so much. so please pretty please send me your feedback on it because I literally poured my heart into this post. thanks 🥺

                 ~ Admin Ally 

* gif credits to the owner *

♡ how you meet : 

you first met Mark at the local bookstore 

you were browsing through the fiction section, searching for your next read 

as you pursued the shelves, you slid your finger across the spine of the books 

until landing on the mystery novel you had been searching for 

you removed the book from the shelf and added it to the stack of books you were carrying in your other arm 

feeling satisfied with your collection, you proceeded to walk over to the lounge area to review the books 

you sat down in a large, green armchair and placed the stack of books next to you on the side table 

you picked up the first book, the mystery novel you had been dying to get your hands on, and started reading through the authors note on the inside cover 

as you were flipping through the pages, glancing at the chapters, someone tripped over your foot 

“oh, my bad” 

the boy shyly bowed and apologized 

“it’s okay,” you replied nodding back 

the boy continued on his way and walked over to the magazine section 

there he joined two other boys, you assumed they were friends 

you shrugged off the interaction and diverted your attention back to your book 

about 10 minutes pass by and you’ve glanced over each book you’ve found

you decided to buy the mystery novel and a YA romance novel 

you gathered your things before putting the other books back on the shelf 

you were back in the fiction section, your eyes scanning the shelves to find the correct place to put away a sci-fi novel when you heard some muffled giggling behind you 

you decided not to turn around and focused on finding the section of books that matched the one you were trying to put away 

“Johnny, I’m not gonna talk to her” a boy said in a whispered tone 

“you’ve been staring at her this whole time, go talk to her!” encouraged another boy, you assumed it was the boy names Johnny

you tried again to ignore the whispers behind you 

that is until you felt a tap on your shoulder 

you turned around and were faced with a black-haired blushing boy 

you glanced at the two boys behind him who were pretending to be inconspicuous, but failing at it 

one boy was tall with auburn hair and held a starbucks cup in his hand 

the other was slightly shorter with long blonde hair, is that a mullet? 

“I um, ..” the boy in front of you spoke 

you returned your gaze back to the shy boy 

“I uh, my name’s Mark” 

you were still very much confused as to what was going on 

you didn’t mean to, but the puzzled look on your face must have given the boy a bad feeling because he said 

“I don’t mean to bother you, but I um .. I think you’re really cute” 

his ears were bright red and he had trouble looking you in the eye 

he was so nervous

it’s charming 

“I promise I’m not a bad guy, but um, would you lie to go on um ... a date with me?” 

♡ first date : 

you guys had been talking for a few days leading up to your date 

Mark wanted to make sure you didn’t think he was some sort of weirdo for asking you out in Barnes and Noble 

and he wanted you to at least get to know him before going out 

and the two of you discussed your schedules and were able to set up a date and time for the two of you to go out 

and Mark, being the gentleman that he is, decided to take you to a restaurant for your first date 

he wanted to keep things sort of traditional and classy and make you feel special 

he’s a softie like that 

he really wanted to impress you by dressing nice in a blazer and dress shoes 

he wanted to prove that he’s more than just the nervous, giggly guy you found in a bookstore 

ugh im so soft

anyway, Mark picks you up and you two head to the restaurant together 

once you’re seated at your table, the waiter takes your orders for drinks and appetizers 

once she leaves, there’s nothing but silent tension 

Mark’s hand flies to the back of his neck, nervously fildeling with the hair behind his head.  

“you look really nice” he said, his voice was low

you could sense the anxiousness by his tone 

“thanks, you look really nice too” you said, returning the compliment 

there was another long pause 

“how are your books? I.. I mean the ones you bought last week” Mark asked, he was making an effort to start a conversation 

the two of you had no problem talking over text, but the both of you are clearly nervous around each other 

was it because both nervous and socially awkward? or was it the sexual tension? 

who knows 

eventually the awkwardness subsided sort of 

Mark was still visibly nervous 

he kept rubbing the back of his neck and would stutter every so often 

it was cute that he was nervous

but it’s all part of his charm 

I mean, that’s the reason you agreed to go out with him in the first place

alright, back to your dinner 

you were able to have a decent conversation with him 

the two of you discussed your family and friends, your hobbies and interests 

nothing too wild 

but the whole time, Mark listened to you intently 

he would ask questions, furthering your conversation 

he seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you and learning about your interests 

it was refreshing and sweet 

every so often, he would crack a joke

and they were always so cheesy and dorky 

but it was cute, so you laughed along 

after your meal, Mark had offered to walk you home before it got too late

he wanted to make sure you got home safely 

when you arrived at your doorstep, the two of you exchanged goodbye’s 

“I had a good time tonight” you said 

“I’m glad, so did I” Mark smiled back shyly 

you placed a soft peck on his cheek 

his cheeks flushed pink and the tip of his ears turned bright red

“Good night beautiful” Mark said, taking ahold of your hand 

he leaned in and gently kissed your forehead

♡ living together / couple stuff : 

everyday with Mark is an adventure 

and I mean that in the best way 

Mark is always full of surprises 

sometimes he’ll be sitting in the living room and just start strumming his guitar and sing soft ballads and his voice would echo through the house

or you’ll be fixing dinner for the two of you in the kitchen and you’ll hear his infectious laughter from the living room 

you and Mark have tons of inside jokes

he’s always making cheesy jokes 

like even if his jokes aren’t funny 

you’ll still laugh along because he’s just that cute and clueless 

sometimes he’ll come home and share stories about his day 

like he’ll talk about the producers he met with and the songs he’s been working on with them 

and he’ll get super excited too 

“babe, I can’t wait for you to hear the finished product” 

not that that he wants validation from you, but hearing you praise him for his work and his music really gives him an ego boost

who doesn’t want to hear the love of their life compliment them on their passions? 

also, you’re a huge inspiration and muse to him

now not every song he write its written about you, but when it comes to love songs on nct albums or a superm album, you’re always at the forefront of his mind when contributing to love lyrics 

he loves adding little nods to your relationship in his music 

it’s his way of showing his love for you 

but it’s not always in just lyrics, he can also be romantic in his actions 

although he can be a little awkward sometimes

he’s just a sweet puppy okay? be gentle with him 

Mark is a big cuddle bug 

he’s kind of clingy when he returns home from tour and promotions 

and he wants to spend as much time with you as possible when his schedule is clear 

mornings with Mark are an experience 

he absolutely loves to treat you to breakfast in bed 

but Mark isn’t the best chef 

so he’ll either try his best at making you eggs and toast 

or he’ll stop by your favorite cafe and purchase a to-go order 

Mark loves making you feel special in any little way he can

but let’s talk about the night time 

after dinner, the two of you like to cuddle up and watch the newest kdrama episode on tvN or just watch a random bad movie on Netflix to make fun of 

you’ll of course have a big bowl of popcorn and finish it within the first 10 minutes of the movie 

and when the movie is over, you’ll walk to your shared bedroom 

and cuddle up under the blankets and snuggle into Marks chest 

because of course he’s the big spoon 

and you’ll interlock fingers 

sometimes when neither of you can sleep, Mark encourages you to talk about whatever is on your mind 

because sometimes you have too much going on and you mind is just so full that you can’t sleep 

Mark is super understanding and just offers his ear to you 

he’ll comfort you if there’s anything serious going on 

Mark is just super supportive and loves having deep conversations with you 

he loves how these deep conversations bring the two of you closer together because it strengthens your trust in one another

♡ arguments : 

Mark doesn’t seem like the confrontational type 

and the two of you don’t fight often 

like I had mentioned before up above, you and Mark tend to tell each other everything 

there’s not much that you hide from each other 

and you guys have such a strong bond that jealousy doesn’t really affect you both 

but that doesn’t mean that life stresses can’t affect you 

now we all know that we tend to take out our frustrations on the people we love 

so I feel like most of the bumps in your relationship could be related to the stresses from work and everyday life 

like sometimes you just have a bad day at work

you boss is in a mood and takes it out on you, so you bring home that frustration and eventually take it out on Mark 

even though you don’t mean to 

another example may be the stress about your public relationship with him as an idol 

obviously if you received hate, it might have an effect on your actions towards your boyfriend

you become distant and closed off a bit

the comments say that you don’t deserve someone like Mark, and even though you know they’re wrong that doesn’t mean their words don’t hurt 

and when Mark realizes how closed off you’ve been, he’ll try to talk with you about it 

of course he won’t force you to talk about things until you’re ready 

but Mark can be a little fragile, and the fact that you’ve been distant would hurt him 

and when he hears that you’ve been doubting that you’re worthy of his love really hurts him 

he’ll comfort you and rub the tears from your face

seeing you cry just breaks his heart 

♡ sexy time :

okay, now I’ve said this before, but Mark is a soft dom, possibly a switch

listen, don’t cancel me 

I feel like Mark puts on a show that he’s super kinky 

and his lyrics from ‘whiplash” and ‘drippin’ are proof of that 

but when it comes down to the wire, I think he’s actually kind of nervous at first 

sex with Mark for the first time is a sweet experience 

of course, y’all aren’t going to jump straight into choking on the first night 

Mark is a gentleman

a good christian boy 

Mark is a soft dom for your first time 

he’s very gentle and he takes his time, making sure that you’re comfortable and satisfied every step of the way 

he places kisses all over your body, making sure he pays attention to every inch of your body 

Mark pays attention to every moan and whimper that falls from your precious lips

he’ll leave love bites and markings in all your sensitive spots 

his thrusts are slow and deep, making it easier for you to feel every inch of him completely fill you

I can’t see Mark finishing inside you for the first time, but creampies are definitely something he’s into 

*cough* drippin by nct dream and drop by superm *cough* 

he really likes creampies 

but once the two of you get comfortable with each other and settle into your relationship, that’s when the kinks come out 

I would say that Mark is open to experimenting in bed 

and even though the both of you are comfortable with each other, Mark is still slightly awkward when talking about sex with you 

it’s just who he is 

when it comes to trying out things that you’re interested in, that’s when I feel like Mark would take the backseat 

he’d sub on those nights 

it’s just easier for you to take control when doing things that you’re interested in

but when it comes to you wanting Mark to choke you or spank you, I feel like he would be a little hesitant at first 

he just doesn’t want to hurt you 

he’s not sure how strong his grip should be around your throat 

he’s not sure how hard he should spank you 

what level of pain did you want to receive? 

but once he saw your response and heard your begging, he’ll start to get into it 

he’ll thrust into you hard and fast, his grip around your throat will tighten

he watches as your eyes roll back in pure pleasure, until you finally climax and cry out his name in ecstasy 

he loves watching you cum all over him

I can see him wanting to try out cockwarming, but he’s somewhat nervous when brining it up to you 

cockwarming is something the two of you do when you’re cuddling after sex

of something that you do in the morning when it’s cold outside and you just want to cozy up and share each other’s warmth 

it’s an intimate thing that Mark’s been interested in trying out, and sharing moments like that with you would be pretty meaningful for him 

[greenninjagal-blog]

15 for Anxceitmus pls - Anon 👽

I’ll be honest I’ve had a plan for this one for days but never enough time to sit down and write it. Now lets see how this goes :D

Summary: Virgil steals a taste of a cake that’s not his and ends up poisoned.

Words: 4360

Quick Taglist: @chelsvans @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @lunasfriendgabby @never-end1ng-suffering @silverflame-wc @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @thenaiads @treasureofpriam 

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist || Prompt page

Piece of Cake

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts, but you have to trust me okay?” the voice says.

At least Virgil, thinks the voice says it. He can’t really tell over the noise in his head and burning fire in his lungs and screaming in the background of everything that was going on. He can’t even see really, based on the rush of white and black dots all over his vision like pin needles getting jabbed directly into his eyes as his throat shreds itself apart again and again and again.

He’s not sure what is happening, not sure when he hit the floor or how the world around him compressed into just him or why his entire body seems to be trying to rip itself apart with varying levels of success. 

He sure that it hurts. 

And that he hasn’t cried like this since he was kid and he fell and hit his head on the cobblestone fountain in the market and there was just...so much blood everywhere and he thought he was going to die back then.

It had just been a bit of icing.

And Virgil can still taste it on his lips between the blood and the salty tears and the vomit. The avocado taste that he hadn’t had since his mother had passed from the plague a decade prior.

The burning in his lungs is agony, like he jumped into the castle furnace and breathed in the cinders for fun. He strains his arms to tear at his chest where the boiling feeling seems to bleed from, but something is holding him down, and he screams, pleads, begs-- anything, just to make it stop. He’s sorry, he’s sorry, he won’t do it again, he swears--

It’s like a white-hot poker being driven between his ribs and twisting, like a dragon’s breath right before those sharpened foot long teeth snap him right in half, like his head had been tilted back and he’d swallowed lava.

He writhes against it, but something has his left arm and his right wrist and there’s a weight on his legs that keep him from moving despite the desperation in his motions. Every inhale moves the flames--and he can’t quite tell if they’re imaginary anymore, surely something imaginary wouldn’t couldn’t doesn’t hurt like this hurts so much so badly he’s sorry sosorrypleasejustmakeitstopplease---

Then, all at once, it’s over.

The fire reels back, flooded by a cold so icy it steals the rest of the breath he had. His limbs feel like lead and they drop to the floor of the kitchen. It’s also mercifully silent, which seems eerily impossible because the Castle is never silent ever. His vision swims like dunking in and out of the river back home when he went swimming with the older kids in the river. Far over head the gaping arches of the room fade in and out of clarity. The hollowness rings faintly in him, followed by an all-consuming exhaustion that peels away the rest of his thoughts.

“Virgil?” Someone says his name.

He almost recognizes them. He should probably recognize them.

There are faces over him, people he knows, but they’re too blurry to make out. All he wants is sleep suddenly. A deep dark long sleep.

“Let him sleep, your highness,” someone else says softer. “He’s okay now.”

 And then Virgil’s eyes close and he loses consciousness.

The unfortunate truth of the matter was that Virgil had no reason to be in the kitchen in the first place. He should have been mending that tapestry that the twin Princes had mangled in spontaneous duel last week, or adding the few last details to the new tunic Prince Remus had been instructed him to prepare, or fixing the tear in Prince Roman’s riding cloak, or simply catching up on sleep that he had missed while pressing himself to finish the new Birthday outfits for the Twins Ball at the end of the week.

But as it stood he had slipped from his crafting room to the kitchen in hopes that the Head of the Kitchen would take pity on him like he had done so many times before and offer him some scraps from the feast that was going on. 

Some noble had arrived in the early morning and the castle had been abuzz with energy as the King welcomed him. Virgil had already heard several rumors about it, just from lurking on the corner counter out of the way of the scurrying kitchen maids and the servant runners. 

“Something about him strikes me as odd,” Patton had admitted to him between cutting up strawberries, helping a maid balance a honey bun tray, and directing a newer servant boy on the proper way to refill a spare goblet. “I didn’t like the look he gave Prince Roman at all.”

And Virgil had snorted at that, swiping a glob of honey from the empty pan before it when to the stack of dirty dishes. “You don’t like any way anyone looks at Prince Roman.” He had pointed out sucking on his index finger.

Patton gave him a disapproving look but waved off his blatant theft. “I don’t know what you mean, kiddo-- Lower Terrance! If you keep trying to pour from that height there’s a chance you’ll miss and stain the table cloth-- I know that he’s an important noble, but the way he was looking at Roman was the way a butcher eyes a piece of meat before he cuts it.”

Virgil swallowed and eyed the cook carefully. “Well, how was he looking at Prince Remus?”

“He wasn’t.”

Virgil frowned, “Wasn’t? He ignored the second Prince?” Which seemed ridiculous on all fronts. First of all, Prince Remus was royalty, and no one ignores royalty, ever. Not even if its 3 A.M. and they send for you to discuss a different pattern for the tunic you were making for them and you barely have time to put on presentable clothes much less brush your hair. Secondly, Prince Remus was impossible to ignore even if you were trying to: between his gaudy outfits and the morning star he kept looped on his belt like a sword and his voice which echoed off the cement at all hours of the day, he stood out wherever he went. His auburn hair and green eyes made him quite the talk of the castle.

Patton wrung his dish cloth between his fingers before going back to slicing strawberries. “Well not at first. He bowed and present Remus a cake. After that Remus was too distracted to really notice anything else.”

Virgil had snuck a strawberry from the pile yet to be cut and pops it in his mouth, chews, swallows and then asks politely, “What about his consort?” 

“You mean Dee?” Patton slid a sliced strawberry to the side of the wooden board. Virgil had thought was entertaining that Patton had even asked. Roman didn’t take consorts, and Remus only had one: a man by the name of Dee who had the eyes like butter and a smile too soft. His hair flowed like a golden hay field, and his voice was like a fable siren’s. Virgil hadn’t heard him sing, but he couldn’t imagine that there had ever been an instance where he hadn’t been able to get what he wanted from someone.

Dee was pretty, but in a sense that it was too pretty to be real. Like a snake oil merchant come to sell wares to the naive populace. 

But Virgil was biased on all fronts: Dee had always been present when Virgil had need to take measurements of Prince Remus for his new tunic, and every time he’d been summoned after that, watching Virgil’s every move like a predator waiting for the perfect time to strike. Virgil’s hands had shaken so badly he had barely been able to read his own notes later, and even if he tried to tell himself it was the stress, he knew it was because of how delightfully attracted he was to two things that weren’t open for him to even dream about. So, he buried thoughts of Prince Remus’s muscles and of Dee’s breathy laughter and pretended that they didn’t keep him awake at night.

“Dee was impassive, you know,” Patton had said, drawing Virgil from his thoughts, “I’m never able to read him.”

“Not like I can read Prince Roman,” went unsaid, but Virgil could hear it under his words. 

“What kind of cake was it?” Virgil had asked instead, because he was a merciful friend and wasn’t about to bother a man about unrequited crushes while he was kick dirt over his own emotions.

Patton had wrinkled his nose. “Avocado! Can you believe it? I’ve never heard of an avocado cake before!”

Virgil blinked. He had glanced towards the end of the counter where the cake had been placed so elegantly. He had been eying it all night, letting his mouth water how good he imagined it might be, but knowing it was avocado? “My mom...she used to make those. They were my favorite.”

“Oh, I know that look,” Patton said, pointing his knife at him, “You know that cake is for the Prince. He already declared that no one but him is allowed to have it, Virge. Even if I wanted to slip you some, that would put both of our necks at risk.”

And Virgil knew that, he did. But it was a large cake. Surely, the Prince couldn’t eat it all by himself.

And frankly he knew enough about the royal family by now to know that absolutely no one else would eat a monstrosity like that. Prince Roman didn’t even like avocados to begin with and had loudly complained the last time Patton had tried sneaking it into a meal.

Was the man really going to miss if Virgil snags just swatch of the icing?

Patton lightly hit his hand. “Don’t,” He warned with that stern voice of his which revealed his years over Virgil. 

“I wasn’t!” Virgil lied.

“I’ll toss you out of my kitchen, Virgil.” Patton had told him. “Because I’d rather lose your company for the next few nights than have to watch you be run through for stealing from the crown.”

“It’s a cake.” Virgil whined.

Patton gave him another warning gaze and moved another strawberry around. He had been about to say something else, but at that moment Logan, the resident mage who always chose to stay scarce when there were visiting nobles about the halls, had chosen to flourish down the servant staircase which had appropriately distracted them both. Not that Virgil had been hoping for a distraction. 

But who was he to stare a gift horse in a mouth?

Logan had zeroed in on Patton, per usual, causing the cook to blush the same way he did around Prince Roman and Logan had mentioned something about a plant they were attempting to magically grow. Virgil hadn’t really been focusing on the words as much as the fact that Patton’s eyes stayed trained on Logan while he talked. 

Virgil had inched down the counter, placing a finger to his lips when Terrance noticed what he was doing. He reached out with on hand and flicked just enough of the icing that he’d get a taste, but not enough to disturb the overall look of the cake. In fact, Virgil was certain no one would even know he took some if they hadn’t seen anything. 

“Virgil!” Patton yelled just as he popped his finger in his mouth. 

Virgil had stiffened at the sound of his name and whirled back to face a very mad Patton and a surprised Logan. The taste of avocado had hit the back of his throat, which almost made him feel great: it tasted just as earthy as he remembered it being when his mother made it, with just the right bitter aftertaste  that made Virgil want more, although he didn’t remember it being quite so prominent--

“That was the Prince’s Cake!” Patton had shouted, “As in Prince Remus! I don’t care if you are in good graces with his highness! That was a stupid- stupid -stupid-- what on earth were you thinking? Virgil--!!”

And that was when Virgil had first felt the burning, like an itch in his throat that had suddenly swept him up. Patton’s voice had faded as he grabbed for his own throat, for his chest, for anything to remove the sudden agony ravaging his body. He had toppled straight off the counter in the middle of whatever else Patton had shouted, taking the cake right down with him.

Because that was just Virgil’s luck that he’d steal a lick of the second Prince’s cake and end up poisoned within an inch of his life.

And to be honest, the price for stealing from the crown in most cases is death, and since Virgil had been pretty sure he was going to die anyway he figures when he closes his eyes that was going to be the end. 

He wakes up, with someone carting their fingers through his hair the way his mother used to do, before she had gotten sick and died from that plague that had taken over half their village. His head feels like someone had stuffed cotton between his ears, his throat like someone had forced him to swallow swords. He’s warm, which was a strange concept: usually the servants’ quarters are cool, even in the summer and Virgil’s blankets are never quite been enough to stave off the tendrils of chill that seep into his cot. But here and now? Oh, he’s so warm and comfortable he never wants to move again.

“--want him killed!”

“I know you do, your highness.” Another voice says, a voice that’s closer and more comfortable, “But there’s much more to gain from keeping him alive.”

“That cake was intended for Me!” There is the sound of something shattering, something ceramic, and fancy, and expensive.

Virgil tries to shift, tries to open his eyes, but it’s just so...exhausting. The hand in his hair drags slightly, before restarting softly, more gently than before.

“It’s okay, Love,” the voice over him says softly. “I’ve got you. Go back to sleep.”

Something else crashes. And another. And another. 

There are more after that, but Virgil doesn’t remember them.

The next time he wakes, he’s more aware of where he is: he can feel the luxurious goose feather blanket draped over his chest, and how several of the loose feathers tickle his chin with each inhale, can feel the soft pads of fingers dancing through his hair in a way that make him want to relax and drift off again, can feel the coolness of a wet cloth on his forehead that wards off an overheating.

Its comfortable, its perfect.

But there’s never been a perfect thing in Virgil’s entire life.

He shifts, moaning with the effort to get his body to move after so long (?) of stiffness. He hadn’t realized that there had been people talking around him, until the conversation comes to a soft stop and the hand in his hair retracts slightly.

Virgil’s eyes open and he almost believes he’s still dreaming.

He knows where he is, even though he can’t believe it: he’d know the opulent bedframe and those darkened green curtains anywhere; he’d know those grey and silver blankets, and that room shape even if he should have fallen blind with everything else that had happened. He had been in that room far too many times for him to not have known.

He’s in the Second Prince’s room, lying in the second Prince’s bed, under the second Prince’s covers, and the Second Prince’s consort was sitting beside him with his hand in Virgil’s hair and another hold a book he seems to have been in the middle of reading.

“Oh,” Dee, the consort who was far too pretty to be anything other than trouble, says softly. “You’re awake.”

“He’s awake?” The sound of the Prince Remus startles Virgil, although it shouldn’t have. It only made sense that the owner of the room would also be in his own room.

What does not make sense is why that Virgil is there.

“Softly,” Dee says to the Prince without removing his eyes from where he’s staring down at Virgil with an expression that he doesn’t dare put an actual name to. The very idea of it makes the back of Virgil’s mouth sting.

Prince Remus had been across the room, perhaps staring out that large window which he did often while waiting for Virgil to respond to his summons, but he comes to the bed almost before Virgil can form another thought. Virgil tries to sit up, tries to move because this was the Prince and Virgil had already been caught stealing a taste from his cake and he was lucky they did just let him die--

Prince Remus puts a hand on Virgil’s shoulder and lightly shoves him back to the pillows, back to Dee’s side, back down. Whatever strength Virgil thinks he has disappears right out of his limbs.

There’s something strange about the Prince, Virgil notes squinting up at him. Not that there isn’t usually something strange about him; it seemed that every time Virgil was requested to his presence there was something just off about him. Virgil had thought it had been like a tease: something that would stick in his mind while he threaded his needles and cause him to shake his head with fondness. It had seemed that Remus had made a game out of it too, on the rare occasions where Virgil almost asked if he was cultivating some sort of joke, and the Prince had smirked at him and dared him to say something (which of course he never did, because Virgil quite likes his head where it’s attached to his neck, and the feel of Dee’s eyes on made him dangerously aware of his own standing).

But this sort of strangeness was not like the other times. It’s a calmness that encompasses the Prince, much like a still pond moments before a stone plunges into the depths. There’s no extra energy, no mischievous glints, smug crude joke. There’s just Prince Remus, and a seriousness that make Virgil fear for his life.

This is the Prince who could beat most of the military with nothing but his fist and his morning star. This is the Prince who could stare down an invading army and send them running home with just a single threat. This is the Prince who would challenge Death to a duel and make it out with his soul.

There’s a fresh cut across his cheek that hadn’t been there the last time Virgil had seen him, as if he had dodged a blade by mere inches and dismissed the attack as not nearly as worthy of his attention as Virgil somehow was.

“Why did you eat that cake?” Prince Remus asks.

“Re—” Dee says sharply.

The Prince holds up a hand at him, and Dee holds his tongue. “I want to know.”

Virgil suddenly feels like the blankets are constricting, tightening around his torso and his chest like a vice. His body shakes at the very idea of the cake. The mere thought of avocado makes his mouth violently taste like blood and his throat smolders with the threat of pain.

His hands go to his neck, to relive the pressure that’s not really there, but Dee is quicker. The consort catches both his wrists and pins them softly to Virgil’s abdomen with one hand and uses the other to rub tenderly rub Virgil’s cheek.

“It’s okay,” the consort says, in a soothing tone, that makes Virgil want to cry, “Shh, you’re okay now, Virgil.”

“I’m s-sorry,” Virgil chokes out, “S-sorry.”

Whatever the Prince is looking for, he doesn’t seem satisfied. He stands up again, fiercely shoving the bedframe. He takes three steps from the bed and then spins back around with a murderous expression.

“Sorry?” He shouts. “He’s sorry!” He slips his morning star from its hook on his belt and spins to swing it against the wall.

“Remus!” Dee interrupts.

“Shut up!” Prince Remus snarls right back. The sound of metal against the stone walls explodes throughout the room, causing Dee to tense up. Its violent and cold and Virgil hates it, hates that he caused it, hates that he doesn’t know why and he’s too afraid to ask.

Dee shifts like he wants to get up, wants to go to his prince and cup his face to ground him back to a reality before he does something he will regret, but in the end he stays right with Virgil. And Virgil is selfish enough that he’s thankful more than he’s guilty. The sunlight from the windows make the consort’s hair glitter gold and the black jewels around his neck that claim him as Prince Remus’s property glint harshly. His touch is far softer than Virgil would have expected, softer than the blankets, softer than a breeze on a warm summer’s day.

The prince swings four more times at the wall, deepening darkening cracks without the slightest care in the world. Then he takes his weapon and throws it across the room where it collides something else beyond Virgil’s line of vision before falling mercifully silent.

“Are you finished, your majesty?” Dee says in a tone that’s dangerous close to being chiding.

“I will be finished when I have that skamelar’s head at my feet!” Prince Remus says nastily. “That cake was intended for me!”

“I’m sorry,” Virgil whimpers again.

“And just what do you have to be sorry for?” Prince Remus turns on him, “Tell me, Virgil! If not for you, I would be dead from having boiled from the inside! Or maybe from having clawed my way right into my ribcage. Or maybe from having ripped my own throat apart? I’m sure that would have been a lovely sight for everyone to watch!”

Virgil’s heart clenches, and he doesn’t know what to say, what he should do. The back of his throat tastes like the inside of his stomach, like blood, and poison, and avocado. And the Second Prince is saying his name like it’s the most normal thing in the world, talking like Virgil had done it on purpose, sounding like Virgil had saved his life and that meant something more than fate intervening at the right moment.

Dee says, “We came so close to losing you, Virgil. It was a matter of luck that you survived. Logan said that if he had been any further away, if you had taken any bigger of a taste... you would not have stayed alive long enough for him to figure out the cure.”

They talk like it means something. Like Virgil’s life is worth something more than the tailoring services he supplies, like he can’t just be replaced with just a single royal announcement, like they think Virgil is….

“W-why?” Virgil trembles. “Why are you—"

Prince Remus kneels next to the bed, and his head dips slightly so that his black crown bows for Virgil.

“Did you really think that all these times I just wanted new clothes?” The Prince says so quietly Virgil’s breathe catches. “That I’m not capable of fixing my own holes in my trousers, or my cloaks, or that I truly cared if what I was wearing had rips in them at all? Before you came along Father had been threatening to take all of my weapons and lock me in a tower so I would stop going through fabrics so quickly.”

Dee’s fingers ghost over Virgil’s chin lightly. “And a three A.M. summons is surely the most normal thing for the royal tailor.” There’s a teasing smile on his lips, lips that Virgil thinks might be very nice against his. “Our prince was quite inconsolable when you appeared looking just as presentable as normal, Love.”

There’s something about the way he says words--“our prince”, “Love”--like they’re the most normal and natural things in the entire Kingdom.

“Don’t pretend like you haven’t spent night waxing poetry to me about what you want to do with him, Dee!” The prince commands.

“I have no clue what you are referring to, your highness,” Dee says with a red blush across his ears.

Prince Remus looks up at both of them, before leaning forward on the bed. Like a magnet, Dee moves towards him as well and meets him for a smiling kiss in right over Virgil.

He’s seen them kiss dozens of times: soft kisses, warm kisses, kisses so openly filled with love that Virgil feels like he’s intruding when he looks at them. They’ve kissed while Virgil had taken measurements, when he had been taking notes for the specific requests the Prince had for him, when Virgil had been leaving to go about his duties.

Virgil has never left apart of a kiss like this. His lips are on anyone’s and the only touch he has is where Dee was still holding his hands, which had turned into him lacing their fingers together in a mangled knot. Prince Remus reaches out and takes his other hand, and who is he to deny his prince?

He feels faint, float, not really. Surely, he was still dreaming; the last wisps of the poison having their fun with him. Surely, he was about to wake up and find himself not nearly this lucky.

“Don’t scare us like that again, Virgil,” Prince Remus says, breathlessly as he presses his forehead to Dee’s and squeezes Virgil’s hand, “Not before I have a chance to properly court you. I’ll bring you a barbarians head on a stake or something!”

Dee merely smiles down at him and says “Love.”

Virgil thinks that if he died, perhaps this wasn’t such a bad place to spend the rest of eternity.

[talyas-train-blog]

Can you please make some dating headcanons for the Star Tugs, please? (You can do the Z-Stacks later if you want to)

*screaming* IM BACK

I've been working on this for like 2 months, it sat in my drafts box for about a month and a half with just TenCents' and then Big mac was added like a month ago LMAO

Why not make it an even longer post?👀

Star Tugs, Z-Stacks character relationship headcanons

Sorry about the massive post ya'll hope you enjoy

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Star Tugs

Tencents

General

Very loving throughout the whe relationship but can be very hardheaded/stubborn.

Will bring you flowers when ever he can or leaves notes on your door/office.

Loves to cuddle and watch movies at night.

Favorite dates are sitting at the end of the doc and talking with you.

Beginning of relationship

Thought that you would never like him or want to date him so be kind of acted cruel when feelings arose.

And then something happened

You were pushed off one of the tugs once and without thinking TenCents dove into the frigid water after you and pulled you out.

He held you in his arms until medical personnel could show up and he broke down when you left in an ambulance.

He showed up to the hospital the next day with flowers and when he saw the tubes and wires he cried

Throughout your stay he cringed a little as tubes and such were taken out.

He stayed by your side and held your hand until you woke up and kissed you the minute he could.

He told you how much he loved you and how he felt so bad for being such an ass and he ended up spending the night curled up in your hospital bed with you.

Oj and Hercules still have the photos

Big Mac

General

Veey sweet man

Loves to tease you though so be prepared.

Will give you kisses on the cheek as a way to show love or as a goodbye if he's in a rush.

Kind of protective, specifically when it comes to the Z stacks.

Beginning of relationship

You never expected him to have feelings for you. Not because he does what TenCents does, but because he shows his love in ways that you really have to look for.

You work with him? He'll help you and work with you whenever he can.

You live with the fleet? Will try and help you with meals or cleaning or just keep you company.

He vents to you a lot and thats another way you can tell you've learned his trust.

When he asks you out it's more or less a "would you like to see a movie together?" Or something along the lines of that.

Your first "date" was very sweet and he did did his best to spoil you and make you feel comfortable.

The first time he said i love you, you bith looked at eachother stunned and then smiled

10/10 amazing man.

Otis Jones (O.J)

General

Very sweet and traditional lover.

Will compliment everything, your eyes, your smile, your laugh, you hands, anything he can compliment he will atleast twice.

Is traditional in the sense that you aren't officially dating until he takes you out a few times

Holds your hands and give you kisses on your knuckles whenever

He also does this little thing that if your hands are scuffed or dried he'll put lotion on them for you.

Beginning of relationship

Very upfront with his feelings as he knows that keeping them hidden can only hurt your relationship with eachother.

Very politely asks you while making dinner or cleaning the dishes with you.

Doesn't want to tell anyone until your officially together and comfortable with it.

As i said before he wants to take you out and test the waters a few times to see how you feel about dating.

Brings you daisies and always holds your hand when showing you something.

Top Hat

General

Shows his love through buying gifts and surprisingly, dancing!

Is like Otis in the sense that he wants to take you out a few times before being official.

Little side note, your first kiss was on the stern of his boat as the sun went down to the song You Send Me by Sam Cooke during a party.

Beginning of Relationship

Grampus and Billy were the first to find out and Tophat was slightly pissed.

His love language is very much physical touch and buying gifts so things like slow dancing, soft touches, and new jewelry.

Kind of rubs that whole thing in Hercules' face

Doesn't want kids but very much loves yours if you have them or your nieces and nephews.

If you have siblings he will definitely have a drink with them and have long conversations with them so long as they are smart and can be sarcastic.

You have a promise ring with it, it's a thing for if he ever has to go out to sea you know he's with you.

Plans on marrying you as you are the only person he's been very attached to.

Warrior

General

Very much a himbo but he loves you so much.

Fell very hard very very quick and Big Mac kimd of teased him for it but definitely cheered him on.

Very very in love with you and was the first to say I love you.

Beginning of relationship

Isn't good at dancing or with his words so he told you he loved you by writing it out in a letter.

Walks down the docks while you take about your day and how you're feeling are his favorite "dates".

Loves to hear you laugh so very much, it never fails to make him smile.

Will give you kisses randomly and that's how the rest of the fleet found out.

He had a job with SunShine and as a way to say good bye he ran up to you, grabbed you, and kissed you and ran.

50/10 very loving and genuine man.

Hercules (my most developed character LMAO)

General

O h t h i s m a n i s a f l i r t .

Lives to make you flush.

Gave you a necklace with a photo of him and TenCents in it (TC is basically his son).

Gave you little hints that he was smitten with you right off the bat.

Wasn't afraid to ask you to dinner but you weren't official as he wanted to test the water bc past relationships went to hell.

Everyone knew he had actual feelings for you, he was sweeter on you and seemed to trust you more, and smile at you more than the others and is always more goofy around you.

Beginning of relationship

Took you to a bar to go dancing and the song Sh-Boom - Life Could Be A Dream came on and when he dipped you at the end of the song he kissed you and held you close as the next song came on, foreheads pressed together.

Definitely sleeps with you in his arms every night and his two cats sleep with you. (TenCents and Sunshine have konked out with guys a few times.

Dates where you lay out a blanket in a field and read or look at the stars are very common (he does this thing when if you're on your stomach reading he'll lay his head on your thighs or ass)

Again, lives to make you blush and he'll do basically anything to make you turn as red as TenCents' Scarf.

Loves to dance and sing.

Dusk is sometimes spent dancing on his boat.

Loves to dance to hound dog with you

Sunshine

General

Relatively mature lover.

Very gentle and sweet on you and loves to make you laugh and smile.

Could be covered in grease or dust after work and would still bring you flowers or a sea shell he found if he got the chance.

"Oh boy, here comes lover boy Sunshine!" -tophat

Big mac definitely soothed him into telling you about his feelings.

Beginning of relationship

Very nervous to tell you and stuttered a little when talking to you.

Grabbed your hand by accident one day and thats when you turned to him and told him you had feelings for him.

Poor man almost passed put and fell into the water out of pire relief.

Nights spent watching movies or sitting on the beach talking about dumb things together are his favorite ways to spend time with you.

Z-stacks

Zorran

General

Oh god you never thought he had feelings for you.

He was a complete asshole and seemed to live pissing you off.

So when he asked you out you were stunned and almost turned him down, but decided you would give it a shot.

Very difficult man, but he was a lot softer on you after a little while.

Beginning of relationship

This relationship definitely started by you snapping at him over something hime dod and him leaning down to your face and saying something like "well aren't you a cutie"

You just about smacked him and then it settled in that he was basically flirting with you.

First date consisted of a walk down the streets of San Francisco (yes this au is in SF CA bite me.)

He took you into a shop and pointed out a cat stuffie that you said looked like one you had when you were little and he bought it for you with a red bow on it a few days later.

His love language is definitely gifts.

Zebedee (my love)

General

Absolutely lover man

Basically the Hercules of the Z-stacks just a little harder to read.

Has a son. His name is Zip. You are a parent now.

Zebedee was brought up in a weird house hold so he works very hard to make sure you are comfortable and he doesnt make the relationship miserable.

Beginning of relationship

Was quite open about the whole thing and surprisingly practically cussed out Zorran when he started with his shit.

Very much a sweetheart and would do anything with you if he could.

Zak

General

Dickwad. Doesn't know how to show his love for you, but it's there.

Shows his love by being protective and always being aroune basically.

Very rarely actually smiles but when he does cherish the fucking moment.

Beginning of relationship

"Sir wtf everyone thinks you hate them" kind of vibe.

Thought he just wanted to get to know you but now you're a week into the relationship and holy fuck i want to get married.

Wants to hold your hand most of the time and just hear your voice.

Zug

General

Little bit of an asshole but tries his best

Buys you little things like journals if you like to write or seeds if you have a garden.

Wears ties and always has you pick them out and if you aren't around he wears the one with your favorite flowers or colors on it.

Beginning of relationship

Teases you and acts like a big man when you first get together but then he realizes how much he loves you and becomes a big softy.

Loves to cuddle randomly and Zorran is a little piss baby about it

Loves everything about you, especially your eyes and he always makes it known.

Zip

General

Kind of a ditz but you have to love him for it.

He was a stuttering mess when he told you he had caught feelings and held out a single sunflower for you to take.

Loves to lay his hedon your lap as you play with his hair and talk or watch a movie.

Likes to write stories, a lot of them involve you, and he reads them to you! He's a very good writer and so many of his characters are really well developed and beautifully designed.

He has a little brother named Zacary (Xacary?) and his brother often helps Zip set dates and such up

Beginning of relationship

I have a little headcanon that Zip might have partial autism but he has ADHD and he was abused as a kid so the relationship is a little rough for him at first.

Adjusting to the whole thing of hey they love me, i love them, i can trust them.

But as he warms up he helps more, and dances with you more, and begins to really thrive in the relationship.

Is definitely in love with you even if he forgets to tell you some days.

He's trying his hardest, give him a little time

Zorran definitely had feelings for you qnd was pissy when you fell for Zip and Zip fell for you

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Gonna add Boomer, Lillie, Billy, Grampus, and Cappy on later in a reblog.

[wellthatjusthappend]

hey do you think you can write something where Dick is touch starved bc the members of the batfamily are not that into giving or receiving comforting touch like hugs so he's feeling awful and acting kind of distant with the other bats bc he doesn't really want to bug them by asking for a hug and it's Jason that notices something is wrong and ends up giving it to him

Dick being touch starved is my jam. Especially when I get to give him what he needs. 

Man, this prompt got away from me a little, I meant to do a small fill but, well, now you can read it here or on Ao3.

--

“What the hell is going on with Dickhead?” Jason grumbled. He’d totally cashed Jason’s case recently, and nearly bit off Jason’s head when he made a sarcastic quip. 

Usually, that meant that something had happened, but Jason had dug around after hadn’t found anything other than a slow and steady escalation of violence the last several weeks. Seemingly from no cause. 

There had to be something Jason was missing. Not that he cared or anything, but if Golden Boy was falling off the edge he needed to get ready. Or maybe he was just being nosy. Both were Bruce approved approaches. 

Jason frowned as on screen Dick let several punches land that he could have avoided and choose to punch back rather than use his sticks. 

“Ah, Dick is fasting again?” hummed Kori, coming to curl up next to Jason like a cat, her hair winding and winding itself around them in a way that still a little uncanny as it was soothing. 

“Fasting?” Jason asked with a frown, “Like, skipping meals and stuff?” 

“From love,” Kori corrected him, “and from touch. He needs it like food, but sometimes he chooses to deprive himself of both for long periods of time. He would get like this from time to time as a Titian. Quick to pick a fight and extra physical when he did… violence is the only touch he allows himself during this time, so he seeks it out constantly.”

That… tracked. 

“Yeah… Bruce would have us believe that none of us needed things like that,” Jason murmured, watching Dick wrestle another small time crook to the ground and punching him repeatedly. 

“But you know better now, don’t you?”

Sometimes. But other times… Jason could sympathize with Dick’s plight a little too easily, and physical touch wasn’t even his love language.

“How’d you used to get him to snap out of it?” Jason asked. 

“Make love to him all night long,” Kori replied, her eyes going distant. 

“Ah.” Jason knew he was flushing a bit. 

“Or, sometimes Wally or the others would insist on a movie night and coax him into a spot close between everyone’s bodies,” Kori said, a faint, sad smile on her face. 

That was probably no little feat when Dick was hellbent on acting like a mini Bruce. 

“Sounds nice,” he said, rather than unload all the mean and bitter commentary in his head. It wasn’t like he had someone to do that for him back then. 

“This is nice too,” Kori rested her head on his shoulder, “with you and Roy.”

“...Yeah. It is.”

*****

Jason couldn’t stop thinking about it as the week went on. How he ever ended up with nonviolent touch in his life and Dick didn’t, Jason didn’t know. 

Maybe that was why he was outside Dick’s doorstep now. 

“What?” Dick answered his door. He looked terrible; dark shadows under his eyes, his skin a little pasty. 

“No hello? I’m hurt Dickiebird.”

“Hello. What are you doing here?” Dick said, already looking annoyed. 

Jason wished he knew.

“Brought over some extra food. You look like you haven’t had anything but takeout in a while, so…. You want it?” Jason held up the bag to show him.

“You brought food,” Dick stated, looking suspicious, “Why?”

“I just said I made extra, keep up Dickhead,” Jason shot back.

He was no good at this. He should have just bothered Wally into visiting. Someone who could get away with a casual hug.

Jason was not much of a hugger, casual or otherwise. He wasn’t too touchy-feely in general and he didn’t know why he was there… but since he was there he wasn’t going to be driven away so easily. 

“Did Bruce send you here?” Dick demanded. 

“Bold of you to think Bruce can make me do anything,” Jason retorted.

Dick seemed to accept that. As he should. 

“Fine, whatever, just… you didn’t drug it, right?” Dick asked as he moved out of the way and let Jason inside.

“Who the fuck do you think I am, Alfred? If I was gonna drug you, I would slip it into your delivery, not some home cooked meal,” Jason scoffed.

It was really messy. It made Jason’s fingers itch for some cleaning supplies, but that wasn’t why he was there.

“Home cooked?” Dick’s eyebrows raised curiously.

“Curry,” Jason said, pulling out the containers from the bag in the little spot on the table not covered in case files, “I always thought it tasted better the day after anyway.”

“Did you make this?” Dick hesitantly came over, curiosity seeming to win out over defensive aggression.  

“Who else would have?” Jason rolled his eyes, “here, heat this up will you?”

He passed over a container of rice. Their fingers brushed and Dick’s hand spasmed for a moment. 

Jason didn’t comment. He knew what that was like. Going so long without any kind of touch that the slightest brush of skin felt like getting electrocuted. 

“Why me?” Dick asked, hurriedly turning his back to him and fiddling with the microwave.

Because you need it. 

“Oh, you know, if your ass gets any skinnier, the community will collapse on itself. Can’t have that,” Jason said breezily instead. 

“What a saint.” 

“Right? They should put me up in the little chapel on 5th St. I’ve already died and everything, I’m totally qualified,” Jason said, then changed the subject, “You have a toaster oven?”

“Why would I have a toaster oven?” Dick grumbled. 

“Because they’re damn useful? Never mind, I’ll just use the oven,” Jason said, nudging Dick out of the way so he could reach the nobs. It wouldn’t need too much, it was just to lightly heat the naan. 

“Are you eating here too?” Dick asked hesitantly. 

“Might as well, it’s dinner time,” Jason shrugged. 

Dick didn’t say anything to that. This time when Jason passed him the next container to heat, he didn’t flinch when their hands met, but he pulled away much more hesitantly. 

This part felt a little unnatural for Jason, because he… didn’t really let people touch him who weren’t super close to him. And he and Dick- they just weren’t. It wasn’t bad, per-say, just decidedly uncomfortable. 

He wasn’t planning to let that show though. 

Jason bullied Dick into bantering with him as they prepped the rest of the food, all the while finding reasons to brush up against him. Let their hips touch when he checked the heat on the food, a hand on Dick’s arm to move him out of the way to open the oven, steading his hands as he stacked plates and utensils into his arms. 

Dick was mostly past the shockieness and onto the needy phase by the time they got to actually eating the food. It felt a little manipulative to sit down right next to him on the couch while they ate so their legs and arms could casually brush every now and then. 

The nice thing was that Jason didn’t have to initiate anymore. Now that Dick had figured out that he wasn’t going to be pushed away and that Jason was pretending not to notice, he was pressing close with every possible excuse. As he did, he chattered away about this and that, a slight nervous jiggle of his leg. 

It was strange, like watching someone slowly come alive again. Like a dry plant perking up at the first taste of water. Jason wanted to somehow give him even more, but he didn’t know how. So he just stayed close.

Dick didn’t ask him to leave when they finished their food, so he didn’t. 

Jason turned on the TV.

It was funny, Dick’s commentary slowly started to die down as his eyes started to drupe. 

“Maybe I really should have drugged you food, when’s the last time you got a full night’s sleep?” Jason noted, reaching over to touch his forehead. He was a little warm, but not too bad. 

“When’s the last time you did?” Dick shot back, but his eyes dropped closed under his hand and he didn’t push him away. 

It felt a little too intimate for Jason though, so he pulled away. Dick swayed forward a little when he moved, like a part of him want to chase his touch. 

He probably did. 

Jason looked away and shrugged, trying to remember what they had been talking about. Sleep. Right. 

“I actually do these days, Roy or Kori kick my butt if I don’t,” he said. 

“They take good care of you,” Dick said softly. 

“They do,” Jason agreed, his chest feeling a little warm at the thought. 

“Good,” Dick said, his expression distant as he turned back to the TV. 

Jason wondered if he missed them, but didn’t ask. Dick couldn’t have burned those bridges any better if he’d tried. 

They watched TV silently for a while, Dick’s finger tracing patterns on his own leg, back and forth and back and forth. 

Jason felt an impulse to grab his hand, but pushed it down. That wasn’t them. Roy and Kori must have been rubbing off on him. 

When Dick’s motions stopped, Jason glanced over and snickered when he found that he had dozed off. When he started to tip, Jason raised his arm so he would settle against his side instead of tipping forward and jerking awake. 

He didn’t know why he did it- since it effectively trapped him for however long Dick was asleep- and he told himself that it was because Dick needed the sleep, which he did, but-

Dick made a soft little sound as he positively melted against him, even in sleep. It was such a fragile thing, so relieved, just on the edge of broken… it made Jason’s chest ache. 

He let him sleep. 

Jason might not be able to bury him in a pile of close friends or make love to him all night or whatever, but… he could do this.

He hesitantly carded his fingers through Dick’s hair and watched him lean into the touch desperately, lips parting in a content sigh.  

Maybe for this, Jason could be enough.

[femchef]

Life Update

So I’ve been at the new place a month this week.

I love it here - but honestly five years of working with a nice boss did not prepare me for working with a stack of nice bosses.

Hmm.

If that makes sense? That said - I would absolutely not have been able to handle this level of care and concern if I’d jumped into this position five years ago. Like - I needed to work with one genuinely kind supervisor as like. Kindness coping lessons?

It’s built into my resume - over the last eight years I’ve made it a point to include a statement in my cover letter about how important it is to continuously build safe spaces in kitchens, and making a place where other people can grow and develop their skills in a place that isn’t full of anger and mismanaged stress.

At the point when I started drafting that, I made a very conscious decision that I didn’t want to be angry at work. That was after a lot of self evaluation, and it was (always is) a work in progress. Angry chef and bitchy/catty chef are stereotypes for a lot of reasons.

Anyway - the point is, I knew what I wanted to make possible, but I’d never seen it before, in real life. I just had the notion that it was something that should be doable.

And then I got painfully lucky, and got to work for someone for five years who had had the same conscious realization, and wanted to make the same thing? Who manages with compassion and kindness. It was a little frustrating having to watch her bend over backwards to ensure that everyone else stuck to that, and it didn’t always work out. There are plenty of things that weren’t great about it, but.

It was doable. Not only was it doable but it was being put into practice. I can’t. I can’t express how wonderful and eye opening and just goddamn relieving it was, to know that we could make a place like that. And that people didn’t have to go home miserable everyday.

Kitchen work is hard. It’s hard, it can be more than a bit thankless, and a lot of kitchen culture is toxic in a way that feels insurmountable - like. Burn it to the ground and start over insurmountable. But it really, truly doesn’t have to be that way.

And I talked about it over the years with friends and it was kind of but not really a joke between us that moving to Nashville and leaving Savannah was like getting out of an abusive relationship - just. Ya know. We broke up with the Sav Service Industry. Like. Honestly- we can’t lose steam with demanding better mental health support for service instrusty employees because it’s hella overdue.

Now though. I’m here in Florida. And it’s not just one boss who is a decent person. Maybe it’s telling that one of our company managers talks about his 5 years of hell at the last place he worked (I just about died when he said it was in Hilton Head the poor man is NOT WRONG) and how he doesn’t want that for anyone else. Honestly, every manager I’ve talked to here so far has a horror story like that, that made them stop and go “Fuck, I don’t want this for other people or for me anymore how do I fix this”.

Somehow I’ve found myself in a place that’s five steps further along. No one is having to bend over backwards to constantly enforce kindness. No one is shouting. No one is throwing temper tantrums. I have several bosses and co-managers who are all kind and like to touch base and make sure I’m not overworking or overextended. It’s still summer, so the kitchen is on a skeleton crew until the seasonal hires start to arrive in October, but it’s with the expectation of teaching. There is a lot of kindness and patience to go around. Instead of discouraging employees to report injuries and accidents, the staff is begging people to do it “Please, it’s ok, we aren’t mad, look this is why we have chemical flush stations oh god please just let us take you to the hospital” conversations have happened.

It’s safe here. It really is.

Now I just have to keep pushing through all the residual anxiety.

I have a weekly scheduled meeting with my direct supervisor just to touch base, check in, see how things are going. Every single meeting has been delightful and every single time the night before and up to it I’ve been getting “called to the principals office” unnecessary anxiety vibes. Literally my last meeting when I walked in the door started with him saying “Ah! I’m so happy you are here! I’m so glad to have you on staff” like excuse 404ERROR my brain does not know how to handle this yet.

I spent a month worrying about my drafts for new menus and they were due yesterday. I was a little dissatisfied with them, I felt like I hadn’t done enough, and I pointed out in the email that these weren’t comprehensive, but that I felt like they were a good start - look, I had seven banquet and catering menus to write, including planning all the holiday pick up meal menus for the next year. Imagine if someone asked you to write every single variation of your skill but also pare it down to a manageable list that isn’t overwhelmed with too many choices. It’s HARD.

And the email I got back after sending those off last night: “Wow! You’ve really outdone yourself! This is more than I could have ever asked for or expected, I can’t wait to go over it” etc etc.

Current Me is a WiP and is cautiously pleased, but yeah. I can see how 5 Years Past Me would have imploded on the spot and been completely unprepared for this level of decency.

So anyway. We will see how it goes, but overall, I’m happy.

Also I forgot how desperately I need water and sunshine and I’m pretty sure I’m actually just a damn tropical flower because I am absolutely thriving in 90F Florida humidity and full sun.

[prongsies]

Lights Up • Sirius Black

PAIRING: Sirius Black x Reader SUMMARY: Sirius finally gets the freedom he deserves as he reunites with an old “friend” WARNINGS: Mild language, a bit sexually suggestive but not that much, shitty writing A/N: I found it a bit hard to write for this song idk why :( Fine Line Master list

"Do you want to stay?” Your voice echoed in the silence of your living room, eyes watching Sirius, trying to memorize every detail about him before you’re all forced into hiding a week later. As friends of Lily and James Potter, whose first and only son is being haunted down by a power-crazed wizard otherwise known as Voldemort, you’re part of the few he considers a hindrance from him “unleashing his full potential” - meaning, he’s got his eyes on killing you too.

Because of this, Dumbledore had asked all of you to go into hiding, and for Lily and James to assign their Secret Keeper. Which led to the dinner you had all shared just moments ago, prepared solely by you, in the small cottage you shared with Remus, skillfully concealed with Charms you had learned and relearned for the sole purpose of this meal.

It started off smoothly, all of you sharing your memories at Hogwarts and teasing James for how love-struck he was over Lily, until you got to the primary matter at hand: deciding who their Secret Keeper was. They were a hundred percent sure they wanted it to be Sirius, and no one questioned it knowing how much he meant to James and vice versa.

But it seemed Sirius didn’t like the idea, pointing his finger towards you or anyone for that matter, just not him. Knowing that as James’ best friend, they will come for him first. But everyone else insisted, Remus backing up the Potters’ statements which resulted in a verbal argument between him and Sirius, Remus eventually leaving to “go get some air”.

The rest of the meal continued in silence though, tensed after that little spat that ensued between your two friends. When it (finally) concluded, you walked your friends out your flat, James and Lily lingering longer to exchange sentiments and expressions of love before you cut off communication indefinitely. Then, with a kiss on Harry’s forehead - and a knowing look from James who gestured towards Sirius - they left, disappearing into the night.

“Sirius,” You tried once again, eyes studying the boy who wouldn’t so much as spare you a glance, “Do you want to stay?”

“I could,” He seemed to consider it for a moment, before his face morphed into a sour expression, “but I wouldn’t”

“What do you mean?” You approached him, taking careful steps towards him trying to avoid any kind of negative reaction, “Is it Remus? You know he won’t mind. He- he just needs some time to think, you know? But he’ll understand when you talk it out-”

“It’s not that, (y/n)!” Sirius exclaimed in obvious frustration, running his fingers through his hair, “It’s just.. I don’t think we should keep doing this anymore”

“What, being friends?” You asked humorlessly, bitterness seeping down your throat.

“Friends don’t fuck around while ignoring their feelings for each other, (y/n)! you know that!” He practically growled at you, eyes softening at your scared expression, yet the rest of his face remained cold, “and I can’t face Remus, especially after practically shoving his illness to his face”

“You just need to talk it out” You reasoned with him, trying to hide the hurt you felt when he backed away from you, “We’re all each other has, Sirius, especially now with James, Lily, and Harry in danger! We can’t- we can’t turn against each other now”

“I’m sorry, (y/n)” 

With that, he rushed out the door, leaving you behind with words paragraphs left unsaid. 

A month later, you and Remus find out about James and Lily’s deaths, then a day after that, the murder of Peter and 12 other muggles at the hands of the person you used to call you friend.

A shiver ran down Sirius’ spine at the sudden cold breeze that brushed his shoulders. Shutting his book and placing it atop the coffee table, he stood to get the fireplace ready, igniting his with his wand, before settling back on the armchair he had occupied.

Sighing at the warmth, he allowed his eyes to trail over the interior of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, where he had been residing in hiding after his escape from Azkaban five years ago. The war had finished, concluding in the so-called Battle of Hogwarts where he fought alongside his best friend, Remus, and godson, Harry. It ended victoriously, Voldemort finally descending into the pits of hell where he belongs.

With his contribution to the war and the countless proof pointing towards his innocence, the Ministry decided to open his case after almost two decades, allowing him the opportunity to walk the earth as a free man once and for all. The thought brought a smile onto Sirius’ lips, which didn’t go unnoticed by his godson who was descending the stairs from his room in the second floor.

“You nervous?” Harry asked as he neared, propping himself onto the armchair across Sirius with an envelope in hand.

“Very” Sirius nodded with a grin, “Although, I’m more excited than nervous”

“That’s alright” Harry shrugged as he pulled out the documents, spreading the papers onto the coffee table so he could sort through them, “Besides, the woman who had taken over your case is supposedly the best one out there. In fact, she was the one who insisted to handle it, apparently she’s been sending appeals to the Wizengamot the moment you’ve been locked up”

“I didn’t know it’d be a woman, do I know her?” 

"Too well, I believe” Harry replied simply, looking up at Sirius with a smirk playing in the corner of his lips as he busied himself. As if on cue a knock sounded from the front door, followed by Remus’ footsteps as he rushed from the kitchen to the entrance hall.

“Remus!” A woman’s voice echoed through the quiet home, followed by the sound of shuffling and the gentle shut of the door. “Is Teddy with you?”

“‘fraid not. He’s with his mum and grandma for a few days, with the full moon last night”

Sirius’ eyes furrowed as he eavesdropped on the conversation. Who could this woman be for Remus to mention his lycanthropy so nonchalantly? 

His question was answered as she stepped into the room, body going rigid at the sight of Sirius on the sofa. The latter was unaware he had rose to his feet as he saw her as well, his breath caught in his throat as he took the sight of her in. (y/n), the same girl he had loved for years, whose thoughts plagued his mind with regret the day he left her standing in her own living room after she reached out to him. 

(y/n), whose skin he used to caress almost every night as they lay in bed after  hours of intimacy and passion, whose lips he swears he could still taste up until this day. (y/n), the name he’d moan in her ear or against her neck, as pleasure overtook his body, he knows he could never be silent around her. (y/n) whose years of stress had aged her features significantly yet, much to Sirius’ jealously, remained youthful and beautiful after all this years.

“(y/n)” He found himself breathing out, his cheeks heating up at the small crack in his voice - a failed attempt of keeping his emotions at bay.

“Sirius” She seemed breath-taken as well. But she was quick to compose himself, hiding the admiration from her features and replacing it with something Sirius assumed to be her professional face. She cleared her throat, shaking her head slightly, before reaching a hand out towards him, “It’s great to see you again. I hope you don’t mind me coming at such a short notice, I just really need to prep you for your trial tomorrow”

“Drop the formalities, (y/n)! We all know your heart still beats for Sirius!” Remus commented from behind her, watching the scene in amusement. He reached over to share a high-five with Harry, who immediately settled after a playful glare sent towards him by Sirius

“Shut it, Moony” (y/n) rolled her eyes.

Hesitantly, Sirius took her hand in his, biting back his smile as his cheeks managed to heat up even more. It all ended far too quickly though, since just after she pulled her hand away, she ushered everyone into the dining room, ordering Remus to shut the door behind him as she charmed the small area to mimic a courtroom - which looked far too realistic that the sight of it brought chills to Harry as he recalled the way he felt in his own trial years ago.

(y/n) motioned towards a chair in the middle of the now-circular room, waiting for Sirius to take his seat. “Now, I managed to collect some of the many questions to be directed your way. Don’t worry though, we’ve also collected some memories to put into the pensieve to back up your statement”

“The pensieve?” Harry asked. He didn’t know they were allowed to do that.

“It’s a special privilege” (y/n) answered his unvoiced question, not tearing her eyes away from the mountains of paperwork she was pulling out from her bag, scanning each one as she placed them gently onto the table, “Help me with this, Moony, will you?”

Remus was quick to her side, helping her look through the documents. It was funny seeing them now, as Sirius had always thought they’d end up together eventually, which had been one of the reasons why Sirius refused to stay when she asked him to - he thought they had feelings for each other, (y/n) just taking it out on Sirius, but he was very wrong.

“Here we go!” She exclaimed triumphantly, grabbing a stack of paper from the pile, circling the table to stand in front of him, “Are you ready, Sirius?”

“Let’s have at it”

___

“This is undeniably one of the worst days of my life” Sirius grunted as he collapsed onto the dining room chair in exhaustion, dropping his forehead rather harshly onto the table in front of him. 

The room had been reverted to its original state when they had concluded the prepping session, something Sirius didn’t enjoy even just one bit.

“Remus, I was overcame by my emotions back then” Sirius deadpanned, earning a grin from Remus. It’s nice they could talk about the past so lightly now, no matter how dark it had been, “My vision literally went dark when I went after Peter. As soon as I calmed, I was already sitting in my cell in Azkaban”

“It wasn’t that bad” Remus tried to make light of the situation, yet upon recalling how it actually went, a cringe made its way onto his face. He could still hear Sirius' loud voice echoing the room just hours ago, trying to defend himself from the accusations thrown by (y/n).

He had thrown harsh words towards her, settling down whenever she would correct his wordings or point out the slight raise in his tone which the council wouldn't like. Sirius tried to keep up with all her suggestions, but doing so would mean he would need to keep his frustrations to himself - which was rather difficult since he had done just that when he was locked up.

He settled mugs of coffee in front of Sirius and (y/n). They had only taken a short few minutes for dinner before continuing their session again, and Sirius didn’t think it’d be that difficult to recall what happened in an event that occurred long ago. By the time they finished, it was near midnight.

“We can request to submit a memory to the council though” (y/n)’s voice was rough as she spoke, an effect of her consistent interrogation towards Sirius, teaching him how to respond in a way that would work in his favor. “Besides, we need you as calm as we can. Merlin knows you can be dramatic sometimes”

“Dramatic!” Sirius exclaimed in mock offense, “Love, you of all people should now how false your accusation is”

“Pads, you literally first appeared to me as a large black dog in the middle of the night” Harry reminded from beside (y/n). Sirius could see the familiarity in (y/n)’s eyes upon hearing Harry call Sirius by his Marauder name, knowing deep down she heard James’ voice as well. 

“Imagine being a thirteen year old finding out your godfather was “on the way to kill you” while seeing a literal death omen all the time. I was literally so afraid I thought I might shit my pants” Harry continued, earning a laugh from Remus.

“And what is it you told me when I transformed that night?” Remus quipped humorously, “You know the man you truly are, Remus!”

“Sod off, Lupin! Bloody hell” but Sirius couldn’t help the smile forming on his face as his eyes found (y/n), watching the way her eyes crinkled at the sides in laughter. Remus noticed this, sharing a look with Harry before nodding him out the room, disappearing up the stairs in hushed whispers.

When (y/n) calmed, she was left alone with Sirius, nursing her mug of coffee in her palms, the way she used to do when her hands started feeling cold. Sirius didn’t want the awkward silence to take over, so he initiated a conversation, “So... how’ve you been over the years?”

(y/n) gave him a look, and Sirius could just hear her teenage self utter a sarcastic ‘really?’, but she answered anyway, “It was rather peachy. I mean, losing James, Lily, and you in two days? It was really hard”

“I’m surprised you and Remus didn’t end up together. I was assuming that after living together for all those years, you’d develop something” Sirius jumped right into it, regretting the years he had spent not even trying to ask.

“Really?” And there it was, the face. She sighed, standing up from her seat to claim the chair beside Sirius, smiling up at him, “We were only friends then, Siri. We both couldn’t afford a place of our own so we figured we could live together. I mean, if you weren’t staying with Lily and James then, I would’ve offered you to live with me”

“Did you see someone else while I was gone?” 

“You’re actually being so blunt right now” (y/n) laughed. “If you had been this straight-forward then we would’ve been together by now. But yes, I had been in many relationships. Remus and I even tried going out once - too awkward so we reverted back to being friends. There was also this one guy who actually proposed to me 6 months into the relationship, but I declined”

“Why? You could’ve had a family by now”

“Let’s just say I was waiting for the Ministry to finally accept my petition to reopen your case. It’s the main reason why I joined the Wizengamot council really, so I can set you free” She said softly, “I’ve always known you wouldn’t betray your friends like that, especially James”

“Yeah” Sirius couldn’t keep his eyes off (y/n)’s lips as she spoke, swallowing audibly at the thought of how easy it is to connect their lips in the small distance between them. “Can I kiss you?”

“I could say yes, but I wouldn’t” She replied cheekily, reminisce of one of the few words Sirius had told her before he left.

“I’m sorry, by the way... I was young then - scared of the war, of being given that much responsibility which I ended up chickening out of. I- I didn’t know who I was then”

“Do you know who you are now?”

“No, but I’m certain I am hopelessly in love with you - have been all these years” His face neared hers, lips mere centimetres away, “And I know I’ll go mad if I don’t get to feel your lips again”

“I can’t” She pulled back, surprising Sirius. She was staring at his lips though, while biting her own, an indication of how much she wanted to do it, “I want to but I can’t. As of now, you’re still a client”

“Oh”

“But if you do a good job tomorrow, maybe I can reward you with one? and maybe something more?”

The grin on both their faces confirmed an agreement, and although Sirius’ nerves had settled once again in his stomach, at least he had something to look forward to.

___

“Are you ready, darling?” (y/n) asked as she stood beside Sirius near the front door of 12 Grimmauld place, her hand on the knob ready to turn it at any second. Harry and Remus had gone ahead of them, bringing Sirius’ belongings to (y/n)’s home somewhere in London, and mainly to give the two some privacy.

“Ready as ever, love” Sirius grinned. 

With a grin, she swung open the front door, allowing the sunlight to enter the house while the cold afternoon breeze nipped at their skin. 

Finally, after twelve years in Azkaban, and five years hiding in the Hellhole House of Black, he was finally able to take his first steps outside as a free man. Pulling (y/n) towards him in a tight embrace as they stood on the porch, he couldn’t help but let a few tears escaped. 

He had thought this moment would remain a dream, something so impossible to happen that he hated himself for even considering it. But here he was, not needing to transform into a dog just so he could roam the streets. 

He’s a free man now.

With a grin he turned back towards his old home, glaring at it as he raised both his hands, flashing the front door with his middle fingers, before shouting, “Fuck you, Number 12 Grimmauld Place! Fuck you, Azkaban! I’M NOT EVER GOING BACK!”

Fine Line Tag List:

@cedricisnotonfire​ @rexorangecouny​ @susceptible-but-siriusexual​ @annasofiaearlobe​

[rosemaidenvixen]

A Secret’s Worth

Chapter 17: Jim

Ao3

Content warning: Things get pretty intense in this chapter in a lot of ways. I can't be detailed without spoiling the events of the chapter, so I'll put more the general warnings in the tags. If you want more specific warnings you can click the link above and go to the Ao3 page where I’ve posted the spoiler filled warnings in the bottom notes. And if anyone feels like I didn’t tag/warn about something that I should have please let me know. This is your warning, here be dragons, proceed with caution.

There was a stain in the carpet, from coffee if he had to guess. A dark brown spot glaringly obvious against the beige. It looked just big enough for his hand to cover.

“Jim, are you listening?”

He jerked his eyes up from the floor towards the desk in front of him.

“Sorry what was that?”

Her lips turned downwards into a tiny frown “We were discussing your goals Jim,”

“Oh, right….” he drummed his fingers against his knees. 

A goal. Jim had still been trying to think of one when he zoned out looking at the carpet.

Couldn’t do any kind of job or college, those weren’t happening for him. She’d said their goals could be as long term or short term as they wanted, so maybe--

“My goal is to buy my own Vespa,” Jim said, giving himself a mental pat on the back as he did.

Owning his own Vespa. Nice, realistic, normal. A good, solid goal that no one should look twice at.

The frown melted away into a wide smile “That’s great, do you have anywhere you want to go in your Vespa?”

His face blanked, stomach dropping no less than two inches.

Stupid. 

People wanted cars and Vespas and stuff because they wanted to go places in them. Unlike Jim who was never going to leave his hometown.

“Ummm…..not sure, all the places I normally go I guess,” he forced his voice to stay even despite the squirming in his belly.

Her porcelain smile remained fixed in place “I think that sounds like an excellent goal, but how about you try to think of a more long term goal before the end of the school year?”

Jim nodded along, digging his fingers into his jeans to distract himself from the hot, fluttery feeling sweeping over his entire body.

Was she suspicious? Did she pick up on how he wasn’t actually planning on going anywhere? Was she going to call Dorrie the second he left her office?

“Ok, long term goal next time, I can do that,”

Beaming at him, she pulled a packet of papers off the top of the pile sitting on her desk “You don’t have to use the guide to pick a goal, but if you have trouble thinking of one these should give you some ideas, now do you mind sending in the next student on your way out?”

Jim forced himself to stand up slowly and not just bolt out the door “Ok, no problem,”

“Thanks, have a good spring break,”

He managed to smile and give a half hearted ‘You to’ as he accepted the papers and stepped out of the office. Heading down the hallway back to the main waiting room, the jittery feeling crawling through his muscles diminishing but not completely going away. 

It never did.

Glancing around the waiting room, he spotted the next person in line.

“Eli, you’re up,”

Eli fumbled with the magazine in his hands before popping up out of his seat “Oh, thanks Jim,” he grabbed the magazine along with a stack of others from the floor before rushing down the hall. Jim craned his head to try and read the cover before Eli vanished around the corner.

Keep So-Cal Weird.

Jim rolled his eyes as he exited the main office. At least his goals wouldn’t be as weird as Eli’s. Although quite frankly he’d rather live in a world where they didn’t make freshmen discuss their goals with the guidance counselors.

It wasn’t like Jim didn’t have enough on his plate already.

He had no idea if guidance counselors and social workers talked to each other on a regular basis, but he had to play it safe and act like they did.

Especially since he was like 99% sure that all the teachers knew. He knew that Strickler knew, and he was pretty sure that Strickler had told all the other teachers. So it was more like he was 99.999% sure they all knew, and the 0.001% was just him kidding himself.

So now he couldn’t even come up with some kind of goals to give the guidance counselor without his anxiety going through the roof.

Jim all but threw his bag into the locker and slammed it closed with much more force than was needed, unable to stop himself from getting worked up. 

This past month had been the absolute worst of his entire life. 

It had started when he’d walked in on Dorrie and Charles going through their house and it hadn’t really improved since. 

When he and his mom had gone over their game plan that night after the initial panic it hadn’t seemed all that bad. Be extra vigilant about making sure that no one saw anything weird and otherwise pretend that everything was normal. If they kept on top of it the investigation should fizzle out to nothing. 

Simple enough.

And the first week hadn’t been all that bad, tense but not bad. Week two had been nerve wracking but doable. Week three was when he really started having trouble sleeping, and it wasn’t like he got tons of sleep to begin with. That snowballed to him starting to forget late night meals and nod off during the day, having to work even harder at keeping up the act during school. 

Although if Jim was honest with himself he forgot most of those night time meals on purpose.

On top of that, week four was when he developed a stomach ache that wouldn’t go away, not to mention learned that his hair was falling out. Now it was the end of week five and Jim couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t stressed out, dead tired, and constantly felt like rats were chewing on his insides.

Grimacing, Jim pressed a hand to his stomach as he turned and headed to the cafeteria. Feeling sick and exhausted all the time sucked, but that was nothing compared to the everpresent, unrelenting, blood curdling dread.

The fear that he’d somehow let something slip. That right at this moment someone was coming to arrest his mom and take him away. All because of something Jim said or did.

Forget walking on eggshells, this was more like crawling through a minefield.

Every second that Jim was outside his house he had to be on guard; keeping himself under complete control at all times. Making sure that anyone watching, teachers, nurses, other classmates, wouldn’t see anything worth reporting. No outbursts no meltdowns no nothing.

As far as anyone else knew the Lakes were a normal, happy family. And Jim had to act like it.

But after five weeks he knew that was a hell of a lot easier said than done.

Jim couldn’t be sad or scared or angry any more, even about regular things. With so many people watching he couldn’t afford to let them get the wrong idea. So regardless of what he was actually feeling at any given time, he forced himself to stay calm, plastered on a happy face, and continued along like everything was fine.

But he wasn’t fine. Underneath his plastic smile Jim was coming apart at the seams.

He felt like a nerve with all the skin and muscle ripped away. Exposed to the cold air and completely vulnerable, ready to go off at the slightest touch.

Constantly keeping himself under control in front of all the teachers and every other adult in school was was bad enough, even without--

Jim stopped short as he stepped into the cafeteria, instantly spotting them sitting at a corner table. Five weeks ago the sight would have been somewhat soothing, now it was enough to make his heartbeat triple and intestines knot up.

Pulling in a shaky breath, Jim forced down the sudden bout of nerves. 

He was in the middle of school in the middle of the cafeteria surrounded by other people. Now was not the time to lose it. 

Five in. Hold for five. Five out.

Repeat

After a minute of deep breathing the full body shivers finally diminished to a much more manageable fluttering in his chest. Confident that he’d successfully gotten his emotions under control, Jim raised a foot and slowly resumed his approach.

Jim had been going back and forth about doing this for weeks, but this morning cinched it. 

He was doing this. Today. Right here right now. Even if the idea of doing it felt like standing on the edge of a cliff. 

Because the worst part of the past month hadn’t been constantly being on guard or always being tired and nauseous. It was not knowing who’d he had to be on guard from.

A month ago, when he’d walked in on CPS in his house, Jim instantly knew one of his friends had blabbed.

While his immediate response had been to call Toby and demand answers, it didn’t take very long for Jim to shift gears to shoving the thought into the back of his mind and keeping it there. Couldn’t do anything to change it so there was no point to shoving his foot into that hornets nest. A with the way things had blown up when their problems with his mom first came out, forcing the issue might put him on the odds with all of them, and cost Jim the one part of his life that didn’t actively suck right now. The only thing to do was let it go.

So Jim let it go.

But as the weeks went by, despite how much he actively tried not to think about it, small doubts kept sprouting up in the back of his mind like weeds.

Did Mary really mean it when she asked how he was doing or was she fishing?

Was Toby trying to be helpful by offering to help carry groceries in or was he looking for a chance to spy inside the house?

His heart shot up into his throat, pounding as he closed in on the table.

And while Jim knew it had to be one of the four of them that called, he still had no idea who it was. That meant he didn’t know who it wasn’t either.

So as much as he tried, as much as he wanted to, Jim could never completely relax around any of his friends.

It was bad enough being on edge with every single adult in his life, but not knowing which one of his friends had stabbed him in the back, and worse not knowing if they were waiting to do it again…..

Jim stopped in his tracks, table just inches away. The four of them chatting away, his presence still unnoticed. Heartbeat hammering in his ears.

This was going to be ugly but Jim just couldn’t take not knowing any more. One way or another the truth was coming out today.

“I know one of you called the cops on my mom, so who was it?”

The four of them practically jumped in their seats before whirling around to face him. Claire was the first to find her tongue.

“What?” 

Her eyebrows were knitted together in confusion. An expression shared by all the others sitting around her.

Somehow that made the lump of coal sitting in his ribcage smolder hotter even as his heart was threatening to beat out of it.

One of them knew exactly what he was talking about. One of them was only pretending to be confused.  

“A month ago someone called CPS on my mom and I know it was one of you,” he made a show of narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms “So don’t try to deny it,”

They all turned and looked at each other, shifting uncomfortably in their seats. 

Jim stood his ground, mouth set into a firm line and prickling doubts shoved down into the bottoms of his feet. There it was, the accusation out in the open. Whoever it was might try to deny it, but Jim knew it had to be one of the four of them, and he wasn’t going to let them weasel their way out of--

“Jim….” Toby spoke slowly, briefly meeting his eyes before looking away “We….all did,”

His heart stopped.

For a moment Jim wasn’t sure how to respond, wondering if he’d actually heard Toby correctly, then the world slowly started to turn again and the words sank in.

“.....you what?”

“It’s true,” he snapped his gaze over to Darci, she flinched but didn’t look away “After we tried...talking to you, the three of us went to my dad and showed him the photos,” she glanced over to Toby at her side “It was only after that we learned Toby also talked to someone about--”

Jim whirled on Mary “I thought you said you deleted those?!”

“I-- uh-- umm…” she squirmed in her seat “I....made…...copies,”

Jim’s jaw fell open, unable to form words.

Out of all the possibilities, all the theories and ideas he’d had on who might have called, he’d never even dreamed that they’d all been in on it together.

His head was spinning, insides frozen and a roaring sound in his ears. Both hands rising up and fisiting through his hair, in a distant part of his mind he knew he shouldn’t be doing that since it was still falling out.

Just when he’d thought there couldn’t be anything else. That life couldn’t possibly throw anything worse at him--

Things became worse than he ever could have imagined.

He was faintly aware that the four of them were glancing around at each other from across the cafeteria table “Ok,” Claire laid both hands flat in front of her palms down “You have every right to be mad at us, but…”

Jim tuned her out, he couldn’t bring himself to pay attention to whatever Claire was saying when his world was going to pieces right now. 

He thought that when he figured out who had been the one to call CPS he could call them out for lying and get the rest of the group to back him up. That he’d figure out who he could actually feel safe with and finally be able to fix at least one part of his completely messed up life.

But it hadn’t been one of them, it had been all of them. They’d torn his life apart and kept it a secret. They lied to him. Every day. For over a month.

Heat shot through him, flooding through his whole body until it felt like every ounce of blood in his veins was boiling. 

It was his friends all along. All of them. They threw him and his mom under the bus and then they lied about it.

All the fear, all the worry. His inability to sleep or keep food down, the fact that his hair was falling out.

It was all because of them.

For the first time in weeks Jim wasn’t scared, he was pissed as hell.

“I can’t believe you guys!”

They all jerked back, eyes wide, shocked at the volume of his outburst.

“All of you knew about this,” Jim felt nails stabbing into his palms from the force he was clenching his hands “And you lied to me about it for over a month!? How could you!?”

He was spitefully glad to see them all flinch and look deeply ashamed at that.

“Look Jim,” Toby started to speak “I know you must be angry, but--”

He shriveled into silence under the glare Jim gave him.

How dare he. How dare he try and pretend like any of this was ok. The girls he could sort of see, but Toby was practically family. His mom had done more for Toby than anyone else would have in the same situation.

And Toby had still sold them out, with Claire, Darci, and Mary giving a helping hand.

Jim slowly turned to glare at each of them, the heat rushing over him blazing even hotter as he saw their pained faces and slumped shoulders.

Had they had secret meetings talking about this without him, had they laughed, snickering about being able to keep him fooled for so long.

Somehow a cold dribble of guilt managed to seep in past the white hot fire in his belly. 

Even as blindingly furious as he was, for both himself and his mom, deep down Jim knew that wasn’t true. The reason they made the call was because they felt they had no choice. 

They hadn’t done this as a joke, they were worried, they’d done this because they were scared for him. They’d done this because they wanted to help.

But despite knowing that, despite knowing that he was taking this too far and was going to regret everything he was saying as soon as he cooled off, Jim was too angry to care.

“I told you guys. My mom. Doesn’t. Hurt me.” he got louder and louder with every word, until he was practically shouting, the raging inferno inside him demanding to be set free “Don’t you get it? She could get arrested because of this, I could get taken away. Did you even think about that at all!?”

Toby shot up out of his seat with a bang, cutting off Jim’s tirade. Glancing up at him out of sheer reflex, he saw that Toby had the edge of the table in a whiteknuclekd grip, every muscle in his body taut and trembling, eyes sharp as knives.

“No Jim. You don’t get to do that.” his voice was cold and harder than steel, harder than anything he’d ever heard coming out of Toby’s mouth “You don’t get to drop bombs like your mom locking you in the basement and expect us to pretend like everything’s ok. And you don’t get to act like we’re the bad guys for trying to help you,”

Jim found himself taking an involuntary step back. He’d never heard Toby this angry. Ever.

Prying his hands free, Toby stomped around the table towards him, Jim pinned in place under his molten gaze “You don’t get to talk about lying when you were the one who’s been lying all along. When you’ve been lying to me for years!”

“Tobes I--”

One look from Toby shut him up.

“But now you want to play honesty hour? Fine, we’ll play honesty hour. How did you really get those scars on your ankle?”

The bottom fell out of Jim’s stomach, taking every remaining drop of anger with it.

“.........what?”

“Well?” Toby stopped two feet away, green eyes boring holes into him “Go on, tell me, where did those scars come from?”

Jim couldn’t do anything but gape at him. The rehearsed answer, they came from a fox bite, sat in the back of his throat withering.

He couldn’t know. It was impossible. Only two people in the world knew the truth. The act done in the dim of the early dawn in the middle of a remote forest.

Don’t worry sweetie, it's a sterile blade. A few quick cuts and a bandage on top should get you all the shots you need, no questions asked.

There was no way for Toby to know, but the look in his eyes told Jim that he did. 

“How-- how--” he struggled to get the words out “How do you--” 

Darci gingerly slid out of her seat to come stand next to Toby “Ok let’s all just take a deep breath and relax for a second,” she glanced over, her expression cool and professional, no longer holding any trace of guilt “Jim, I’m sorry we lied about what we did but I’m not sorry for doing it,”

“Darci’s right,” Mary stood and approached, Claire at her side “And we all agreed, what’s going on with your mom….that’s not ok, and we couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. I know your mom was probably really messed up when your dad walked out, but that doesn’t mean--”

The words hit him like a fist to the gut “How do you know about that!?”

Mary shut her mouth, cheeks pink.  

By now everyone in the cafeteria was turning and looking at them. And who could blame them with all the yelling. Jim knew that this was exactly the type of scene he needed to avoid, but all the emotions boiling up in his chest were too enormous and tangled and turbulent for him to make space to care about their audience.

Claire took half a step forward “Look Jim, I’m sorry we lied to you about reporting your mom, that was messed up and we shouldn’t have done it, but...” she inhaled, drawing herself up to full, regal height “But we wouldn’t have had to report her behind your back if you had just let us help you in the first place,”

“Yeah, you don’t get to talk to us about lying,” he spun back towards Mary. Hands on her hips, eyes narrowed into diamond hard points “If you had been honest with us from the beginning we wouldn’t have had to lie about anything,”

Toby stepped to the front of the group, arms folded in front of him “To more tricks or lies. We need the truth Jim. The whole truth, about everything. The scars, the basement, your curfew,” his expression was granite, voice flint “Right here, right now.”

Jim staggered back, furiously glancing at each of their faces. Claire and Darci were stern and unmoving as statues, while Toby and Mary were full on glaring daggers into him.

How was this possible? How did they know all this?

He couldn’t get enough air, chest tight as he shrunk under the weight of the four sets of eyes on him.

What else did they know? If they knew about the scars and his dad and the basement, what else did they know? And how close were they to learning….the rest?

The one tiny, microscopic flicker of hope Jim had was that he knew that they still didn’t know about….his real secret. 

If they did they sure as hell wouldn’t be quiet about it.

But how close were they to figuring it out? They’d figured so much out already, it was probably only a matter of time.

And if this was how they responded to everything else, how would they react to learning that Jim was really a--

Icy daggers twisted in his gut.

He couldn’t do this anymore.

He needed out now.

Jim turned and bolted, running out of the cafeteria as fast as his legs could carry him. Barely aware of his friends’ shouts from behind him. But he couldn’t outrun the panicked screaming in his skull.

They knew about his mom locking him up, they knew about how his dad left, they knew how he really got the scars on his ankle. Sooner or later they would figure out that Jim was the monster all along and when they did--

Throughout the years ideas of what would happen if people learned about his transformation had always flickered at the edge of his thoughts. Jim had done his best to force them out of his head and keep them from taking full shape, but now every horrible, twisted thought he’d had over the years surged to the front of his mind and refused to be buried.

If anyone learned his secret it was only a matter of time until the government found out, and when they did they wouldn’t just let him run free. Jim’s blue form was an unknown; wild, dangerous. At the very least they’d lock him in a cell and throw away the key. Or maybe they would send him off to some secret lab to get dissected and analyzed piece by piece.

His breath became choppy and ragged as he raced down the hall.

Or maybe Jim was too dangerous to leave alive at all, maybe they’d drag him away for a long drive into the desert that ended with a bullet to the back of his skull.

And his mom-- 

A jagged lump spouted in his throat.

Would they lock her up to? For keeping his secret as long as she did. But she hadn’t broken any laws, maybe they’d just leave her alone? But then would they even tell her what they did with him? Or would she be left sitting alone in their house not knowing what happened to him while Jim sat in a prison cell, or got chopped to pieces in a lab, or rotted in an unmarked grave.

He could barely see the lockers rushing by him as heat built up behind his eyes. He was trembling all over now, blood rushing in his ears and scream building in the back of his throat.

Keep it together. Keep it together. Keep it together.

Jim was going to break down, he knew that. But he couldn’t let it happen in the middle of school. Not now, not again. Had to get out, go home, get somewhere safe.

Right now his secret was still under wraps, and the only way for Jim to keep those horrific ideas from becoming reality was to keep it that way.

And that meant not having another public meltdown.

Ignoring the sound of the bell, signalling other kids to start streaming into the hall, Jim scrambled up to his locker and started fumbling with the lock.

Despite his badly trembling hands he managed to get the locker open and pull his bag free, but in his haste to grab it the bag started slipping from his grip. Jim just barely caught the side in time to keep it from falling, but in doing so accidentally pulled the bag open, causing everything inside to spill out.

Jim could only watch in horror as textbooks clunked to the ground, papers scattering all over the floor, pens and pencils rolling in every direction. Insides curdling as he stared at the mess.

Why now? Why today of all days? On top of everything else--

His eyes stung.

Why couldn’t he just get a break?

Trying and failing to force himself through his breathing exercises, Jim got down on his knees and struggled to gather the contents of his bag.

Somehow his efforts to gather the papers just spread them even more, the task made impossible by how badly he was shaking all over, breath coming in quick, quivering pants, teeth digging into his lip until he tasted copper, a storm roiling just beneath his skin.

He squeezed his eyes shut, grabbing a textbook and clenching his fingers around it so tight they hurt.

Get it together. Get it together. Get it together.

“Oh my god are you crying again?”

Jim froze, inside and out, eyes shooting open to stare down at two of his pencils and the textbook he’d just grabbed off the floor. Familiar snide, smarmy voice coming from behind him.

“Dude he totally is!” Seamus said with a laugh “This is too good,”

Jim couldn’t move, nerves paralyzed. Every drop of emotion he’d had to deal with today, shock, anger, fear, and guilt, surging through him.

“Awww what’s the matter baby?” Steve jeered “Do you want a bottle?”

Seamus and Logan’s laughter echoed in his ears. From the corner of his eye he saw the traffic around them slowing as other people stopped and stared. He couldn’t feel his fingers any more, curled into rigid claws around the edges of the book.

And just like that Jim was done.

He threw his textbook against the lockers as hard as he could, unleashing a thunderous boom into the hall.

“Fuck off Steve!”

Steve, along with Logan, Seamus, and everyone else milling around in the hallway behind him, froze “What did you just say Lake?”

“You heard me Steve,” Jim growled, stomping to his feet “Fuck. Off.”

Normally he would never lose his cool with Steve, the guy just wasn’t worth it, but after everything that had happened today, everything that had happened over the last month, he just couldn’t take it any more.

And Steve thought he was such a hot shot; popular, spot on the basketball team, grades good enough to keep it but not so good to be considered a nerd. But Jim knew a lot more than Steve thought he did.

Recovering from his surprise at Jim’s outburst, Steve gave him his best sneer “Alright Crybaby you got about ten seconds to get down on your knees and apologize before I break your--”

“Oh can it Steve, like you have any business calling me crybaby when you were the one bawling in the locker room about how your daddy couldn’t come watch your big game!” Jim practically spat the words.

The smug look on Steve’s face vanished, eyes going wide and the color leeching from his skin “Wha-- how-- how did--”

“Since you can’t seem to figure it out I’ll spell it out for you, your dad doesn’t give a shit about you or your basketball games! And if you really want to make him happy go play in traffic so he doesn’t have to pay child support!”

A hush went through the crowded hall. Semus’s eyes were bugging out and Logan looked absolutely petrified; Steve himself was wearing the most hang-jawed expression Jim had ever seen.

More and more people were gathering around now, drawn by all the commotion. Jim knew it was bad to be drawing this kind of attention, especially after the stunt he just pulled on the cafeteria, but the dam inside him had burst and it felt so so good to finally let it all out.

Let someone else have the rug pulled out from under them. Let someone else feel exposed and vulnerable. Let someone else have their deepest darkest secrets thrown back in their face.

Let someone else be afraid for once. Someone who actually deserved it.

“Face it Steve you’re not special,” Jim’s voice practically dripped venom “You’re just some moron who thinks that if they dribble a basketball good enough they can get an even bigger moron to give two shits about them. It’d actually be funny if it wasn’t so pathetic,”

Even as he said the words, felt the thrill of finally being able to take Steve down a peg, a tiny trickle of guilt managed to creep in. For saying something so horrible, so wrong. That no one deserved to hear, not even Steve. But what little guilt he had was easily drowned out by the massive ocean of vindictive glee he felt now that Psycho Steve was getting to experience a tiny piece of what it was like to be Jim Lake.

The crowd around them was deathly quiet now, everyone stunned into silence by Jim’s words. Shocked that he actually went there. With one exception. 

Steve’s face had gone from ghost white to purple, the veins in his neck bulging, hands balled into fists as his sides “You’d better shut your mouth Lake,” his voice was soft but dangerous. Everyone, even Logan and Seamus, nervously edging away from him.

Unfortunately for him Jim just didn’t care anymore.

“Or what?”

He stepped forward, unable to resist poking the bear “You gonna punch me in the face or something? Well go on, do it! You’re only mad because I’m right!”

Another rush of spiteful satisfaction coursed through him when Jim saw the purple flush on Steve’s face darken even further at his words, so much that he didn’t even care that some of the onlookers had started to pull out their phones.

“Well what are you waiting for? Hit me, punch me, it’s not gonna make a difference. It’s not going to change the fact that you’re a loser who’s life has fucking peaked!” he jabbed a finger into Steve’s chest, getting right up into his face “That the only thing you have going for you is a spot on the basketball team. And after that all you have to look forward to is a dead end job at the gas station and at least two divorces!”

Steve was practically quivering with anger now, nostrils flaring, teeth clenched so hard he was surprised they hadn’t cracked, but Jim could still see the flash of genuine hurt in his eyes “I’m warning you Lake--”

“Because that’s all you’ll ever be, a loser! Maybe the real reason your dad left was because he finally figured out how much of a loser you really--”

The blow took him by surprise, more than it probably should have. A dazzling flash of pain in his temple that snapped his head back into the lockers with a deafening bang as more pain flared in the back of his skull. Hot stars danced in his vision, the world around him spinning,. 

Jim vaguely registered that he wasn’t on his feet anymore, felt the linoleum under his back, the cool metal behind his shoulders and neck. Dimly heard the panicked shouts coming up from around him, even though he couldn’t make out the words. 

Blinking past the throbbing pain in his skull, and the warm trickle of something in his eye, Jim’s sight cleared just long enough for him to see Steve’s face, twisted into a mask of primal rage, and another fist rapidly approaching.