#but there was this super weird fall in pacing that was just them hanging out and fistinf and nothing happening | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

coreytaylorslefteyespupil · 2 years

Text

the best monstrosity i’ve ever seen

we sing in sillyville is a 1993 vhs about laurie and scott and their dog barney. the two friends (and the dog) magically enter their coloring book and have to help the townspeople overcome their differences. super wholesome but it’s also really fucking weird. now you may be wondering why i’m doing this. well, this silly little thing has been a core memory from my childhood minus all the trauma, so when my mother brought this up out i nowhere, i decided to watch it and say thing. the video opens with scott and laurie coloring in their coloring book and giggling, when barney intrudes. as they try to move barney away from the page, they start singing do your ears hang low for no apparent reason. i mean the only reason this makes sense is because barney is a basset hound, but other then that i don’t understand. and then when they’re done with that minute and a half long song a random stick appears in the living room behind them?! what?! so scott is just like,”this so so regular and normal let’s go play outside with this random stick.” and laurie just goes along with it?! so the two kids try to get the dog to go with them and he doesn’t (good choice). instead, barney chases a magic stick that flys out of the coloring page and gets sucked into the coloring book. i don’t understand the logic but whatever this was meant for kindergartners. anyways, scott and laurie go back inside after barney doesn’t follow them and are like ”what the fuck where’s our dog”. laurie looks at the coloring book like she was expecting to find barney there and sure enough, there he was holding the magic stick. i just want to add, the pacing of laurie and scott’s conversation as they try to figure out where barney is is so weird. it’s so fast and it’s like scott asks,”where do you think barney is?” and laurie is just like “i don’t knoooooooow.” really long and drawn out. but two seconds after she’s done she’s like, ”i know where he is he’s in the coloring book.” it’s just oddly paced and kind of uncomfy. i just hope the rest of the movie’s not like that *looks off in foreshadowing*. so scott and laurie get sucked into the coloring book and are not even acknowledging what just happened. it’s like this is normal for them. they see barney and then they realize where they are. this is a side rant but i had no where else to put it but i fucking hate scott’s hair. it’s just ugly. anyways, they go and follow some weird whistling and a tree starts talking in the most five nights at freddy’s animatronic voice i’ve ever heard. it’s horrifying. the whistling people start singing about being here because we’re here. i honestly don’t know what’s going on in this part. or any of the film or be honest. then the whistling people sing another song about being crazy and animals falling on each other and stepping on each other among other things. again, very confused with the lack of context. and more odd pacing when out of no where a lady named silly whim (yes that’s her name) inform the children that the whistling people in yellow are called the spurtlegurles? that sounds wrong but okay. anyways she also explains that they are in sillyville and she brought the kids to sillyville to solve the problems of sillyville. apparently the yellow spurtlegurgles won’t talk to the red bitty booties and they won’t talk to the green froogyfrogs and the blue twirly pops are antisocial and don’t want anything to do with anyone. which is valid if your fellow towns people are called spurtlegurgles. basically all of the colors are staying away from the other colors, which is obvious symbolism for racism and wow i did not expect this odd show to get so serious but never mind it’s not serious anymore because apparently the kids are too colorful so silly whom makes them invisible so they won’t be bullied by the citizens of sillyville. i just want to point about another thing, silly whim does a little dance whenever she walks which i find to be adorable and also she’s a 30 year old woman who summoned children to help her town.

the children, and silly whim, go to meet the twirly pops, of course in song as they enter the vicinity. as silly whim tries to politely get their attention, they keep singing and just fucking ignore her. wow i am really not liking these guys. so silly whom begins singing along with them but just says “no” to the tune of the song. they retaliate and do the same then they start singing the real song until silly whim blew a rainbow at them. what. the. fuck. apparently the twirly pops were stuck singing and weren’t trying to be assholes which is fine i guess. then silly whom teaches the twirly pops to stop and about bodily autonomy. then more singing ensues until silly whim decides that for the next song, they should get the jingleheimers and the froogyfrogs to join them, to which they say no because there is too much green down by the pond where they were.

after this section, we finally discover what happened. basically one of the spurtlegurgles decided that, out of nowhere, they didn’t like blue anymore. then a twirly pop said they don’t like green or yellow, and the jingleheimers said they don’t like yellow, red , or blue and if just spiraled out of control and now everybody hates each other and the only reason they talk to silly whim is because all her colors are gone. because they stopped talking to each other. so since everyone dr used to be a bitch silly whim has a boring outfit and is upset about it. totally makes sense. i am following completely.

then they go see the jingleheimers, who are also singing and leapfrogging when they arrived. sillywhim joins in and the jingleheimers complement her leap frogs. then they sing the inevitable song of john jacob jingleheimer smith. how creative. you know what? i guarantee they named them that just so they could sing the stupid song. then they go harass the froogyfrogs, who the jingleheimer like only because they are green. then they start singing, again. i’m just so confused what the pacing is and why there is so much singing. i could see this being the same quality with less singing and more actual dialogue. but whatever i’m not complaining. i love this. and if you’re wondering where the kids are, they’re there but they’re invisible and aren’t doing anything important to the plot. so they sing like two more songs with the frogs when silly whim announces that she’s going to go to see the bittybooties’ house to see the new baby and sing? i’m confused but whatever. so the froogyfrogs and the jingleheimersare just like “uh nah fam. green is the only color we like. bye bitch.” and silly whom is just like “oh well guess we’ll go without them but this is sad and upsetting but we’re not gonna do anything about it yet.”

so they prance their asses over to the bittybooties to see babies. surprisingly, these guys aren’t singing but they are talking about red things and how much they loved red and evey tiger color can kiss their ass. cool. love that. then they start singing about how much the husband bittybootie love his wife but hates that she doesn’t clean enough. i mean what? we’re about halfway through at this point. this part feels really slow compared to the other parts, another weird pacing thing. so after the first song, the children bittybooties begin singing about how baby bittybootie had a cold and the doctor fixed it. this song is like ridiculously long for what it was about and i think it was an unnecessary song. after this is over, silly whim invites the bittybooties to join them in going to pasha’s place. who is pasha? i don’t know. but apparently she wears purple and that’s a red flag for the bittybooties. once again, silly whim doesn’t do anything and sits by the river.

silly whim contemplates the situation and the kids say to throw a party, invite everyone, and not tell anyone who will all be there which sounds like a terrible idea but silly whim loves it. and conveniently, the spurtlegurgles walk by at the perfect time and silly whim invites them to a party and completely deviants from the plan and tells them other colors will be there, so the spurtlegurgles say no.

so they decide to actually go to pasha this time because she wants to be friends with everyone and they all hate her. honestly gotta feel for pasha. but on the way, they step on a sentient acorn who starts sing into for no reason and it’s super weird and creepy and yuck. i hate it a lot. once again, if you’re wondering where the dog is, he’s just wandering doing whatever dogs do in a coloring book town.

so the gang arrives at pasha’s house and upon there arrival, pasha asks her tittlebirds to sing. i’m sorry tittlebirds? i can’t i’m sorry. so apparently “nap time” is almost over. nap time for who, you ask. well none other than the sentient balls of fluff called the rollypollies. they wake up and begin singing and rolling off the bed until the littlest pink one was hogging the whole damn thing, and if that doesn’t sound like my younger sister i don’t know what does. scott finds this pile of…something and pasha’s like,” don’t touch the whump.” excuse me?!? what?!? so scott doesn’t listen and we get jump scared by the singing whump. god how much singing is necessary? suddenly silly whim is very sad about the sillyville situation, reminiscing on what it used to be like. then they all leave and try to figure out a plan.

the brainstorming segment is so poorly paced i wanted to cry. it’s just them walking and going,”maybe we could!- no never mind that’s stupid. we’re just dumb stupid kids who can’t figure out how to solve racial issues.” then silly whim sprains her ankle and all the citizens of sillyville arrive. wow. that’s it? that’s all it took? wow problem solved movie over fantastic then silly whim gets her colors back because she united everyone. and i liked her outfit before the colors. then there’s a philosophical moment where the kids explain why they need all the colors by saying without all the colors they can’t have sillyville. then they begin singing about keeping old friends and making new ones and it’s really wholesome. then the kids get teleported out of sillyville and are totally confused as to what happened.

all in all, i throughly enjoyed this little thing from mine and my mom’s childhood. yes, it has shitty pacing and a confusing plot, but that’s what makes it so special and fun. if you’re bored and want a nostalgia trip to the world of straight to vhs movies, this is one i’d recommend. it’s an hour of my life i’ll never get back and frankly, i’m okay with that.

0 notes

gale-gentlepenguin · 2 years

Text

ML Reboot: Miraculous: Heroes of Miracles: Alya Césaire

-Out of all the people in the reboot, I would say Alya gets the least amount of changes in the reboot. But there are still some changes

-Alya's Ladyblog is developing and isnt up and running until Season 2. But before that she does study and take notes on Ladybug. Interested on getting more information on the heroine.

-In her old school, Alya was in a group of friends, but as time went on the group discouraged Alya's hobbies, her cultural knowledge and investigative nature, calling them weird and off putting. So Alya would hide what she liked with her friends. Eventually her mother got a new job, and the family moved to Paris. Her old friends told her to enjoy the city, but that with her moving there was no point keeping in touch.

-Alya realized her old friends were suppressive and she promised to be more true to herself going forward. But this would really be tested in origins, where she gets swept up in Chloé's pace. It wasnt until Chloé called Marinette "A girl with weird hobbies" that made Alya realize she was falling into the same traps as she did in the past.

-Alya and Marinette did become good friends. Marinette was amazed at Alya's self esteem and confidence. Alya admired Marinette's determination and creativity. Both of them often would encourage the other.

-Marinette was the one that encouraged Alya to start the Hero blog. Which Alya starts working on, and Marinette helped with making the layout for the blog (colors, patterns, and even how it was set up)

-Alya helped model marinette's designs. And encouraged her to enter the fashion contest Gabriel agreste Advertised.

-Alya and Marinette both happen to love super hero movies, and horror movies.

-Alya and Marinette would hang out often and normally drag the other into whatever plans they had.

-In the first season. Alya is more of Chloé's rival as she is the one that Stands up to Chloé publicly. Something that would normally be a social death sentence.

-Alya becomes Class rep after winning the election and Marinette as her second.

-Alya has a habit of jumping the gun, but as the season develops she does learn about subtly and patience.

-She is still the first hero picked outside of Ladybug and Chat noir.

-Adrien and Alya strike up a friendship over their love of heroes, and they drag Marinette to the Majestia movies (majestia is just a movie character in this world)

-Alya does develop a crush on Nino, but it is a slowburn and they end up getting together Officially in season 2.

-Alya was the one to deduce that Agent Volpina was Lila Rossi.

-Alya helped Adrien and Felix investigate Gabriel, which lead to the discovery of his connection to the secret society of elites. Better known as "Masqué"

-In Season 5, Alya gets an Internship working for Nadja.

Funfacts:

-Alya is technically the second known fox user in the series, the first is Marianne

-Alya's Father doesnt work in the zoo, he is an animal doctor, and happens to specialize in wild cats.

-Alya is still the middle child. And has picked up how to fight from her older sister. Making her very capable without a miraculous.

-Alya is the second fastest girl in the class, the first is Alix. (Unless Marinette is running away embarrassed)

-Alya wore contacts in the past, but refuses to wear them now, as it was one of the things she did to fit in, along with Straightening her hair.

#miraculous: heroes of miracles #ml reboot #gale boot #alya cesaire #ml reboot idea

89 notes · View notes

therenlover · 3 years

Text

In Fleeting Touches & Airy Sighs Chapter One (A Three Chapter Helmut Zemo/Reader Fanfic)

(Thank you to the wonderful anon who requested angst and smut between Zemo and the reader because Zemo had to be away from her on the run!)

Synopsis: A year after working together with Zemo in the events of Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Sam and Bucky seek him out once again in need of shelter from John Walker. Meanwhile, Zemo’s wife resents his absence and prepares for guests.

Tags: Flashbacks, Depression, Alcoholism, Separation Anxiety, Arguing, Struggling Marriage, Reunions

Rating: T (E in future chapters)

Warnings: Guns, Swearings, Reader shows signs of alcoholism/alcohol abuse, Reader uses a hot shower as a mild form of self harm

Word Count: 5000~

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

----------

Helmut Zemo was not often a man backed into a corner.

He was smart, resourceful, and had nothing left to lose. If it came down to the line, he would do whatever had to be done within his morals to achieve his goals, even if that goal was simply staying alive. The Baron bowed to no man, and made his enemies, no matter their size, fall to their knees with sheer wit instead of brute strength. That’s why, when he stood backed into an alley with the barrel of James Barnes’ gun to his forehead as the Falcon watched on, it was strange that he didn’t try to weasel his way out.

“We need answers,” Sam said, hands in the pockets of his dark hoodie. Bucky wore a similar one, only he wore a baseball cap instead of keeping his hood up. “How the hell did you break out of prison for a second time?”

Usually, Zemo would have replied with a clever quip. He had never been one to back down from a fight. This time, though, he looked almost frightened as he raised his arms in defeat. “I got in contact with friends on the outside during our short adventure together. They decided to help me out once I was re-incarcerated, willingly I might add. I had no part in the plan, but who would look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“And I guess I’m just supposed to assume you had no part in getting my pardon revoked?” Bucky spat.

“If you hadn’t noticed, James, I’ve left you alone,” A hint of his usual mockery slipped into Helmut’s tone, but he quickly pulled it back, “Believe what you want about me, but I’ve had some time since last year to… re-evaluate my feelings on the world. You had no choice but to do the things you did as the Winter Soldier, and as long as you pose no threat to society now I have no qualms with you,”

Despite the strangeness of Zemo’s response Bucky remained unphased. Sam, on the other hand, was less stoic.

“Man, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the government is looking for Bucky and I harder than they’re looking for you, and it’s kind of all your fault, so excuse me for not giving a shit about your supposed sudden change of heart!”

“Can we get to the point? I’m afraid my flight leaves in an hour and I would hate to be late,”

“Cut the bullshit!” There Bucky went, pushing the cold metal closer to Zemo’s furrowed forehead.

“Bucky...” Sam warned.

“No, Sam, I can do this. Did you or did you not actively attempt to get my pardon revoked when you took us to Madripoor? Because thanks to you, a worse symbol than Sam is now standing unchecked with the title of Captain America AND he has access to the last of the new super soldier serum AND he’s trying to get us killed so we can’t tell the world about the awful shit he does,”

“I-” Zemo went to speak and, for the first time since he had met him, Sam believed he was being genuine. There was a tremble that made its way through him, all the way to his raised hands and even his voice. It was enough that Bucky even lowered the gun minutely. “I understood that by following my lead, the both of you were risking a lot. I didn’t intend any specific malice with my actions though, no. If I may… the two of you have attracted a lot of attention here in the past few days. I assume Walker is very close to finding you?”

Sam and Bucky shared a look before Sam responded. “Maybe, why?”

“I have a safe house,” he continued, “I don’t stay there often so the location isn’t compromised, but it’s my next stop. Might I suggest we take this conversation on the road? I would hate to host your reunion with Mr. Walker in an alley over my corpse,”

There was a moment of complete stillness. Zemo remained, face dark with that strange deer-in-headlights look, a perfect statue, as the barrel of Bucky’s gun remained pointed firmly in his direction and Sam shared what seemed to be a completely silent conversation with Bucky. It was true that they had been burned before. Zemo was a man with his own agenda who did what it took to fulfill it. That being said, he had returned willingly with them back to prison before he was broken out, and without his help, the band of freshly minted super soldiers would still be running around Europe causing chaos. In the end, Bucky lowered his gun slowly before tucking it away into his boot holster.

Zemo grinned.

“Don’t think this means we trust you,” Sam groaned, pointing a finger at the man.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Now, gentlemen, I believe we have a plane to catch,”

As the trio began to make their way out of the alley Bucky and Sam fell to the flank of the group. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” Bucky asked, eyes darting between his two companions. Sam shrugged.

“At this point, I’m doing whatever it takes to get home to my family in one piece. If that means I have to ride in Zemo’s stupid private jet again and lay low for a while, then that’s what I’m gonna do, because Sarah and those kids don’t deserve to lose me all over again,”

“But don’t you think he’s acting a little… weird?”

“Don’t worry, I have my eye on him. If he tries anything we can just throw him out front when Walker tries to shoot us,”

“You’re doing a very poor job of concealing your conversation,” Zemo shouted.

Bucky stormed ahead as Sam laughed.

“Oh, shut up!”

Surprisingly, the drive to the airstrip was mostly uneventful, as was the relatively short flight from Zurich to Avignon. There was, of course, the usual cutthroat banter and tension so thick you could feel it like a fog hanging over the group, but in an unusual twist of fate, the baron did very little to initiate. Of course, he wasn’t fully innocent though. He never was. That being said, even as his chauffeur carefully navigated the stone roads to the dropoff point he was strangely quiet. He had texted someone earlier to have the house prepared for their arrival but he kept looking down at the phone as if a response would come. It didn’t.

Sam appreciated the break from the noise. To him, it was a moment of peace after a few months of constant opposition. For the duration of the trip, he had chosen to shoot a few choice quips Bucky’s way before taking a long nap. Bucky, on the other hand, was only growing more suspicious of Zemo by the minute.

After his time with Hydra, Bucky had become intimately acquainted with the type of man that Zemo was. He was ruthless, driven by ideals that couldn’t be changed by any amount of debate or theory read inside a prison cell, and willing to do whatever it took to fulfill those ideals no matter the cost. There was remorse but no regret. A man like that doesn’t just stop believing in the thing that led him to kill dozens if not hundreds of people, because once the impetus is gone so is the only thing upholding their sense of self.

In basic terms, he was hiding something. Bucky was intent on finding out what that thing was, a thing important enough to make Zemo of all people shut the hell up and tell his enemies exactly where his safe house was, and he wasn’t going to rest until he did. The answer came easily enough in the end, but not before Sam and Bucky were forced face to face with the strangest thing they had ever seen, even when including aliens and wizards. That thing was Zemo buying flowers.

The trio had gotten out of the car somewhere around the center of the city and continued towards the safe house on foot. A few minutes after they started, though, Zemo had spoken.

“I apologize, but I’ll have to stop for a moment,” He said, holding up a hand to alert the two men trailing him to the fact that he was about to stop. Sam quirked up an eyebrow.

“At a flower shop?”

There, to the right of them, was a small fleuriste. The window was a burst of bright color. Pinks, reds, whites, purples; a certain bunch of spring blooms had caught Zemo’s eye. He shrugged. “It’s rude to arrive at someone’s house asking for a favor without a gift, Mr. Wilson. Excuse me,”

With a comfort that said he had been into the shop many times, Zemo walked through the door and began conversing with the shop owner in perfect French, even referring to her as tu instead of vous as he made his purchase.

“Did he just say someone’s house ?” Sam asked Bucky, eyes widening.

Bucky gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I think he did,”

“So, we’re just showing up at someone’s door,”

“Yup. Not to mention they’re someone who aligns themself with him,”

A groan escaped from Sam as he ran his hand down his face in disbelief. “I didn’t expect much from Zemo, but damn,”

“It’s your fault for expecting anything from Zemo in the first place,”

“For once, you’re right,”

They dawdled for a moment. As their conversation stilled, Zemo returned, now burdened by a sizable bouquet from the window. Around them, the city was starting to get off of work. Families walked together as businesses had their 5 o’clock shift change. Somehow as the world around them came to life it didn’t look at Sam and Bucky with anything more than a passing glance. They were tourists, nothing more. For a moment Sam understood why Zemo would go to a place like this for safety and anonymity.

Without ceremony, the trio began walking towards their destination once again.

“I apologize for the delay,” Zemo said, keeping his pace brisk and remaining about a foot ahead of his companions, “I suppose it’s become a bit of a habit that I buy Y/N flowers whenever I come back. We shouldn’t be long now, though, the house is just a few more blocks away, maybe 3 minutes by foot,”

“Y/N?” Bucky asked. The name felt heavy on his tongue, familiar. That had to be a coincidence though. Zemo would never align himself with anyone who had worked for Hydra, and there was no other place he could have heard that name and had it hold any significance. Right?

Zemo chuckled. “Y/N is our host. I’d appreciate it if you tried to maintain some semblance of respect when we arrive, she tends to have quite the temper and it would reflect badly on me if she believed I was asking her to indefinitely house two people who would happily send her to prison,”

“About that,” Sam chimed in, “Who the hell are we about to be staying with? It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t, and by extension, I also don’t tend to trust people who trust you,”

“I assure you, Sam, Y/N is more trustworthy to you than I will ever be,”

“That doesn’t answer my question, nor does it make me feel any better,”

“She’s American, and like you, she is seeking shelter from the government. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“Man, at this point I feel like you’re not telling us because she’s actually some sort of crazy Sokovian sleeper agent who’s gonna stab us in the back while we sleep. Am I crazy, Buck, or am I right?”

Bucky, who had been trying his best to stay out of the conversation, replied. “You are being unnecessarily evasive, Zemo, though that’s nothing new…”

“Right? Like, I’m really grateful that you’re lending us a hand, but I’ve gotta be honest, if I think for a second things are going south-”

Sam never got to finish his sentence.

Suddenly, Zemo stopped short, turning around and looking Bucky in the eye with a madness neither he nor Sam had ever seen before. His whole body was stiff, rigid. The hand that wasn’t cradling the flowers delicately was gripped in a fist at his side. He looked angry, but underneath the anger, he really just looked scared. “You will not touch her. Do you hear me? Do what you’d like with me, I have made choices worthy of punishment, but you will not touch Y/N. If you so much as think of it, all bets are off. Do you understand me?”

Bucky nodded, sharp. This was certainly interesting. Sam just smirked.

“Is there something else you want to tell us?”

Zemo walked up a small set of stairs towards a home to their right. “No, Mr. Wilson, I don’t believe so,”

The building was a nice one, all tan stone with dark wrought-iron fixtures on its many windows. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like a normal midtown manor-house for some upper-class member of the community. The normalcy of it all hid its true purpose in plain sight. It was genius, really. Over a dividing wall made of the same yellowing stone, Sam could see a small sliver of vibrant green garden space and a pool at the side of the building.

With a steadying breath, Zemo knocked on the door.

“You have to knock on the door of your own safe house?” There was a hint of incredulity in Bucky’s voice as he crossed his arms. This was going to be a disaster. Why had they agreed to this again?

“A little etiquette goes a long way, James, especially when you’re already in the doghouse,” Then, the door opened.

Bucky froze. There, standing in the doorway with a pistol in her hand and a fire in her eyes, was a woman he thought long dead: you. This couldn’t be right! He had killed you back in ‘02 with the rest of the AAHR...

You quirked up an eyebrow at Zemo.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,”

They were so fucked.

________________

The day, on your end of the world, had gone by much slower.

It started off like any other, with the alarm on your bedside table blaring as you opened your eyes and your arms reached out into the emptiness in the sheets beside you. Sometimes, when Helmut’s flight got in late enough, you would wake up and reach to the side only to find that he had appeared beside you in the night. Those were the best kind of reunions. They were free of pretense, no bitterness or resentment clouded your sleep-heavy brain when you opened your eyes to his peaceful resting face, and you could simply fall into the comforting rhythm of husband and wife. If you reunited with a clear head things tended not to go as well.

You groaned. It wasn’t as if there was even a guarantee he would come back, especially not after the way you’d left things last time. The philosophy of attendre et espérer, waiting and hoping like an Edmond Dantés type, wouldn’t do you any good, at least not anymore.

Maybe it was time to start moving on…

Tomorrow. You could start thinking about the next steps tomorrow. For today you’d enjoy what you had.

Getting out of bed was difficult but you managed. The sun streamed through the curtains that billowed gently in the breeze near your balconette, brilliant gold beams illuminating the dust that danced in the air. The first thing you did was shuffle along to the corner and pour yourself two fingers of brandy from Helmut’s private collection. It was like a morning ritual these days, a numbing agent against the loneliness. Once the drink was downed you moved on to the closet to get dressed.

Dressing yourself wasn’t of much importance these days. You couldn’t exactly leave the house, and nobody was visiting, so more often than not, it was easier to just wear the same pajamas for a few days until you knew Oeznik would be around to drop off groceries. Today, though, you felt… filthy. Not dirty in a physical way, just sticky and filthy and unclean under your skin and in your very heart. Maybe a shower would help.

You looked around the closet with a clinical eye. It was difficult to be in there, surrounded by lavish dresses and expensive suits that you and your husband had worn arm in arm while plotting the downfall of the Avengers before your unsteady alliance had turned into so much more. Everything still smelled like his cologne. In the small, often-closed, walk-in closet, the scent had only intensified, covering every article of clothing with a fog of cedarwood and sage. It made you sick, choked the air from your lungs and left you gasping for even a single breath that didn’t sit heavy on your tongue with the bitter taste of that familiar musk.

The alcohol had helped. It always did. The remnants of its burn in your mouth formed a sort of guard against the scent of the closet as you searched through a pile of shirts for something soft and easy to wear. Your hands suddenly stilled.

“Zemo, I’m gonna be honest, this is the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen in my entire life,”

“I’m hurt! That’s one of my favorites,”

“Where did you even get it, a 90-year-old grandpa’s closet? Jesus Christ, it looks like something out of a shitty 70’s flick about family values,”

“I’ll have you know that I thrifted that sweater. It’s very eco-conscious you know,”

Your heart hurt. Well, no, your whole body hurt, but your heart ached a little more prominently as you carefully picked up the sweater and held it to your chest. It was terribly ugly, 4 sizes too big even on Helmut and covered in an olive and forest green argyle. Somehow he was always able to pull off the oversized thing no matter how ridiculous you had always insisted you found it. When was the last time he’d worn it again?

The memory evaded you.

Still, it was a happy relic, happier than most of the monuments to a failing marriage that lined the shelves of your beautiful personal prison. It wouldn’t hurt to hope that by wearing it, you might rub just a little bit of that lost happiness off onto your present-day, right? With one last forlorn glance around the closet, you gathered up the sweater and a pair of jeans before getting out as fast as you could. With the scent of cologne clinging to you, the shower wasn’t just a good idea now, it was necessary.

So, you showered. You took the stupid foot-long exfoliating brush Helmut loved so much and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed yourself under the near-boiling stream of water until your skin was pink and raw. Disappointingly, even the new skin felt filthy. It was better, though, less intense. With some lotion and a little bit of Neosporin on the fresh patches of blotchy red, you were able to feel okay. Not good. Not clean. Just… okay. At least you didn’t smell like him anymore. The clock read 12:14 when you finally made it out of the bathroom in search of some real food.

Lunch, if you could call it that, was a silent affair. The fridge was almost empty and the pantry was only a little less bare, so you threw together a cheese sandwich, not even bothering to waste butter and grill it. You ate it plain with another glass of brandy out on the pool deck. It was gone sooner than you hoped it would be.

Oh well.

You finished your brandy with a sigh. Only seven or eight more hours until you could finish your day with a few more drinks and pass out in bed until nine or ten once again. Ah, dreamless sleep. That sounded divine. Now if only you could fathom any non-depressing way to spend the time between sleeping and waking. Swimming was out, the chemicals would burn your freshly eviscerated skin. Playing solitaire for the fourth day in a row sounded like absolute hell on earth. Even watercolors, a usual calming respite from the torturous and neverending monotony of life trapped alone in a house you had no help in stocking, were off the table ever since you’d run out of paper.

Somewhere inside the house, your phone dinged.

The second the sound hit your ears you jumped, dropping your glass and letting it shatter into a thousand tiny shards on the stone of the patio.

Phones were a difficult thing to own for someone who was trying to stay out of the eyes of the government. They were too easy to track and could tip off enemies to your location with very little error needed on your part. Even searching the internet for innocent things was too risky. If your search history was too similar to that of the alias you had used before Helmut went to prison, it would have been easy for them to find a connection and send someone to track you down. Still, you kept a cell phone charged and ready on the kitchen counter despite the risk for one reason and one reason only: Emergency contact with your husband.

He never texted from the same number on more than one occasion, always switching from burner phone to burner phone as he flew across the country doing god knows what, but if he was ever in a situation where emergency contact with you was needed, he was able to reach you at your number immediately. It had only happened a couple of times, and each time he had been in a considerable amount of danger. So, when you suddenly heard the sound you dreaded more than anything else in the world, you were quick to rush inside, even ignoring the shattered glass at your feet as you shoved through the doors and found the phone.

The small, LED display was lit up with the notification. It made your heart both soar and sink.

Flying home with two guests. Prepare the two rooms for their stay. We will be there by 5 at the latest - B

You read over the message several times before letting the phone fall from your hand and back onto the counter with a dull thud.

That absolute asshole.

Three months. Three months you had spent sitting alone. Three months without a call, or a text, or a letter, or even a word of when he was coming back by way of Oeznik. Three months! And after three months of loneliness and sleepless nights and empty bottles on the drink cart he reaches out through an emergency line of contact that almost certainly means he might be dying only to tell you he’s bringing two strangers into your safe house, the place even he refuses to stay in too long in order to not give its location away. The scar on your spine was starting to burn as you leaned up against the counter and cried.

It was ridiculous to think you had ever believed him capable of more tact than that.

Really, it was your fault. From the beginning, you’d had too much faith in a man incapable of being trustworthy, even to those closest to him. You knew that, and yet you had married him. Maybe the soft touches and sweet lies he had spoon-fed you had made you weak. Maybe you always had been.

“I’m not a child, Helmut, I know what I’m doing!”

“I don’t think you do,” he shouted. He was a few drinks in now, you both were. The nights before his departures never tended to end well when you both drank. “Because no matter what I do to protect you, you have the need to disobey me! Have you considered that I do the things I do for your own good!”

“Oh! Oh yes, the things YOU do!” You slammed your glass down on the table as you stormed over to Helmut, “I sit here all day like a fucking dog in a cage while you fly to fucking Ibiza and flirt with supermodels, but YOUR story is just so fucking tragic! I’m your wife, Helmut! I’m not an animal or your property, I’m your goddamn wife! You can’t just order me to sit and stay like a dog,”

He glared down at you, eyes hawkish and glinting in the low lamplight. For the first time in years, he looked threatening, “You may not be a dog, or a child, or my property, but you are a weapon! It’s my job to keep you here, away from the-”

“Excuse me?” You interrupted. The two of you stood, inches away and yet miles apart. Slowly, the drive in Helmut’s eyes faltered. “Say that again. I dare you,”

“Schatz, I-”

“No, Helmut, you meant it so say it again. Call me that again. I fucking dare you,” Tears were streaming down your face now. He took a step towards you, hand extended to wipe them away, but you were quick to take a step back out of his reach.

“You misunderstood me,”

“I don’t think there was anything to misunderstand,”

You swept the shards of your glass tumbler into a dustpan, hands still shaking even ten minutes after you’d read Helmut’s message to you. As you worked, your last conversation before he’d left echoed in your mind.

How had it all devolved into that? It wasn’t hard to remember Helmut before prison, jaded and broken and lonely. He had been so much like you and yet so different. Each of you seemed to be the perfect balm for the others' wounds. In the end, despite all of his flaws, you had found yourself in love. Now that he was a different man, was that love gone? You couldn’t say. All you knew for sure was that you weren’t nearly drunk enough to be facing the confusing feelings in your brain. With the last of your energy, you emptied the dustpan of glass into the trash can and returned to the house, sweater itchy against your irritated skin, to ready the guest rooms.

The job wasn’t a long one. You had never used the guest rooms in all the time you’d spent at the Avignon property, so the sheets were already clean. There was just a thin layer of dust on the furniture that needed to be swept away as you checked to make sure the dressers were bare and the bathrooms were stocked with amenities. Then, when that was done, you were left to your thoughts as the hours ticked by.

Most of the time you spent sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing. It sounded terrible, and in all honesty it was, but what else could you do? The house was already spotless so cleaning wasn’t an option, and you didn’t quite feel like doing much of anything as you stared at the clock and tried to remember a time when your life was less of a disaster. As it got closer to five, though, you started to get antsy.

You had tried your best to not think about the obvious issue of the guests. Zemo was not the type to threaten his home, even if he wasn’t happy with you, so usually having anyone who wasn’t Oeznik or another paid lackey aware of the location of your safe house would be a big no in his book, but then you started thinking of the implications of him bringing people into your home. Your home, not his. Was he on his way to kill you? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Or maybe he was bringing your replacement.

Now that thought made anger bubble up in your throat. You were no stranger to the idea that when your husband was away, he could be doing anything. There was no guarantee when he slept in lavish hotels or drank the night away in elite lounges that he kept his wedding ring on. The fact that there were two guests meant it was unlikely he was bringing two mistresses, but never impossible. Nothing was impossible when it came to Helmut.

No, it was more likely he had finally decided it was time to end your suffering. The shouts and boisterous laughter that started to sound directly outside of the front room window only confirmed the for you. Slowly, you crept towards the door and grabbed a small pistol from its place in the umbrella stand. If he wanted you dead you weren’t going to go without a fight.

Through the curtains on the front door, you could just barely make out the trio. When you saw them your blood ran cold. It was one thing if he needed help to take you down, but getting the Winter Soldier on board? Your rage only grew by the minute.

Helmut said something, probably planning the best course of action to catch you off guard, and you sneered. Two could play at that game. When he knocked on the door you opened it calmly and held the gun with your finger just barely ghosting over the trigger.

Everyone froze.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,” you said, rage coursing through every nerve in your body. You may have been in retirement for quite a few years, but you still knew how to handle a gun. Everyone there, except maybe the Falcon, knew that. As Zemo went to open his mouth, you prepared for a firefight.

“Because I brought you flowers,”

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

a/n: Sorry that only one chapter is out! The fic is just getting very long and complicated and I wanted to make sure you got as much as possible before the next episode drops lol. I’ll be working pretty much nonstop from now until then, though, so the next parts should be out soon!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace, @multiyfandomgirl40 , @lovelymischief , @rami-malek-trash , @dazzlingseb, @avgravy , @sarahsilver , @wh0re-4-techno , @forcebros , @sugarsweetkiss , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff , @killsandthrills , @novasstudy , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp , @inmate-marmalade, @alanathedeer , @mossybank , @simsiddy , @xxspqcebunsxx

Please do not post my work on other sites, thank you!

#zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x reader

556 notes · View notes

djpurple3 · 3 years

Text

Donnie and the late night emergency super special secret recipe Raph hot chocolate

ROTTMNT fic, 5500ish words, under the cut. I got a lotta feelings about Raph and Donnie and i accidentally wrote 5k words about it.

Characters: Raph, Donnie. Mentions of Splinter, Leo, Mikey, and April.

Warnings: Food, step by step making of food/drink (it’s kinda vague tho), mentions/talk of neglect, anxiety, touch starvation, insomnia? (cant think of much else but yeah).

Headcanons: Autistic Donnie & ADHD Raph solidarity babeyyyy, some angst about their childhood, touch-starved!Donnie.

Set about 6 months after Shredder/season 2 finale.

Do not tag as t*cest

Summary: Donatello’s been... withdrawn lately, and it’s really starting to worry Raph. He decides he needs to step in with some good ol’ fashion Big Brotherly Instincts, hot chocolate, and late night heart-to-hearts, and see if he can get to the bottom of this before their relationship falls apart any more.

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

Donnie is in his lab again.

Raph lingers outside the closed door, knowing he can't hear whatever Donatello is doing just like his brother can't hear him shuffling and sighing outside - Donnie has long since soundproofed his lab. …Donnie seems to have made a habit of soundproofing things, now he thinks about it. Maybe Donnie thinks they're too noisy. Raph wonders if he should be feeling guilty for that or not.

But that's not why he's loitering. Well, not tonight's reason. He's working up the courage to enter; to barge in, perhaps. Because he's worried about his little brother. Though to be fair, when is he not? It's good Raphael doesn't have hair, because between the four of them, he would have pulled it out years ago.

But Donnie's been spending even more time holed up alone in his lab. He's been explicitly excusing himself from stuff. He's been acting weird, even for Donnie standards. Weird like he’s avoiding them, and in all the years he’s known Donatello, his brother has never really done that. Mikey went to give him a hug a week or two ago, and the moment there was a hand on his arm, Donnie had gone stiff and dodged out of the way, bumbling out a reason that went back itself halfway through, and then he'd bolted from the room.

Raph's been racking his brain to think of when the last time he'd actually seen Donnie just... hanging out with them really was. He hates that the realisation he comes to is one that tells him that it must have genuinely been months by now.

And look, Raph's not good at time. Time slips by really fast or goes so slowly, or both at the same time, and in his memory things that were years ago feel like they happened yesterday, and things that happened yesterday feel like years ago. It’s jumbled and tiring to keep track of. April said it was an ADHD thing.

But still. It is not a good enough reason to have let Donnie drift so far away. Donnie wasn't good at asking for stuff from them. Like... asking for comfort, or emotional support. If he could build himself some machine to take care of it, he'd never bring it up. Hell, he'd never bring it up anyway, but Raph had considered himself pretty good at telling when his little brothers needed a hand, or an ear, or a shoulder.

Had. He doesn't think he's very good at it anymore.

Raph's pacing. He isn't scared of knocking - or, at least, he shouldn't be. But he has to admit he is afraid of being shut out. Donnie's good like that, and something about this feels risky, like a last chance. Though that could be Raph's anxiety talking.

It's been doing a lot of talking recently.

He wonders if he should ask Splinter to deal with it. Maybe it'd be better for Don to hear whatever he needed to hear from their dad, rather than from his probably frustratingly overprotective big brother. But Raph's heart aches at the mere thought of pawning off his brother's emotions to someone else. He wants to help. He might make it worse, but he wants to at least prove to Donatello that he is willing to try. It might make the difference.

Though he might be being dramatic.

Raph is still pacing, lost in his own thoughts (drowning in his own fears), when the door slides open with a hiss, and Raph is rooted in place as he sees a very tired Donatello standing there, without his mask and in his pyjamas, arms folded, staring at him.

"What are you doing, Raph?"

"Oh! Donnie! Aha, fancy meeting you here. Me? I-I was just... going for a walk."

Donnie raises an eyebrow. "...Right. Of course. A walk, up and down the same two metres of carpet, for the past forty minutes. Outside my door. At 2am."

Raph blinks, before rubbing the back of his head, trying to laugh it off. "What? Me? No, I-I wouldn't... I.... how do you know?"

Donnie dryly points upward, and Raph tilts his head up to see a security camera fixed on him.

"Oh."

"Oh indeed," Donatello agrees, fixing him with a tired and stern look as he shifts his weight to lean against the doorway. "Look, can I help you?"

Ah, an in.

"Yes!" Raph seizes the opportunity with both hands. And Donnie. Though he quickly puts him down because he’s grabbed Donnie by the shoulders before he could think not to and doesn’t miss how his brother has flinched. "Sorry. Yes, you can."

Donnie’s face is pinched with an expression that is doing its best to be polite.

“Can…” Raph is suddenly aware how close he is, how uncomfortable Donnie looks, and how far out of his depth he really is, and steps back, rubbing his arm. “I’m sorry, Donnie. I… I just really need to talk to you. Do you have a moment?”

Donatello’s face drops, but he doesn’t slam the door in Raph’s face. So… booyah. First obstacle cleared.

But what happens next makes Raph feel worse. Donnie’s face goes blank, and he steps aside with slumped shoulders to let Raph by.

“Hey,” Raph steps back again, putting on his bravest smile. “Tell you what, it’s cold, it’s late, and it’s time for a talk. You know what that means?”

A smile tugs around Donnie’s lips. “Super special secret recipe Raph hot chocolate?”

“Super special secret recipe Raph hot chocolate,” Raph agrees, and he turns and offers his shell to his brother, like when they were little, when his spikes had first grown to perfect handhold size and he became the family’s favourite climbing frame. “C’mon. Kitchen time.”

Donnie stares for a moment, unmoving, and Raph does his best to keep smiling. Was this too much? The others would not have hesitated. Probably wouldn’t even have waited for an offer.

Don’t let me lose him. Please.

Donnie hesitantly closes the distance, and Raph looks away to feel with relief the added weight of Donnie scaling his back, to settle on his shoulders.

“Lead the way, big red,” Donnie commands, and Raph feels Don pat him on the head lightheartedly.

He doesn’t bring up how his brother is shaking.

--- --- ---

It really doesn’t take long to get to the kitchen. It could have taken shorter, but Raph decided against jumping down to the first floor, especially seeing as Donnie usually didn’t do that himself, and got a heart attack and a half when the rest of them did.

If Donnie notices the effort, he doesn’t say anything.

Raph shivers despite himself. It’s winter and it does get cold, but it’s always warm in the kitchen. He has to stoop to enter normally, and he reminds himself to pause to let Donnie down before he goes in – last thing he needs to do is give his brother a concussion.

He ushers Donnie in and shuts the door tight behind them. Even if anyone else were awake this time of night, they shouldn’t be eavesdropped-on. And Raph has to admit, he notices tension leak from his brother’s shoulders at the sound.

Raph kicks himself into action, and goes about pulling out the pan he needs, the milk, the chocolate (he has a secret stash of actual chocolate bars he has to hide from the rest of the family for this reason, because the sneaky extra word in the title of his magnum opus is emergency super special secret recipe Raph hot chocolate). He pulls out multiple little containers of spices and sets them out on the bench, and stacks all the ingredients, double checking he has everything he needs.

He’s so caught up in organising that he spooks when Donatello speaks.

“Are… Can I watch?”

Raphael freezes. Normally he does this in private, and brings the hot chocolate with him, which he would have done if this wasn’t one of his make-it-up-as-he-goes-along plans (his best kind). He’s fiercely protective of his recipe, not even Dad or April knows how to make it.

“Y’know what?” Raphael says instead, making sure to shoot his brother a wink, “sure. You’re worthy of my secret. Juuust as long as you don’t tell.”

He sees a shift in Donnie’s body language out of the corner of his eye as he turns back, before Donnie slips out of his seat and in beside Raph. Raphael lets him tuck in in front of him, having more than enough space to loom over him if need be.

“Oh…” Donnie picks up one of the spices, eyes wide with realisation as puzzle pieces of flavour click into place. “That’s it.”

“Yeah,” Raph smiles, and sidesteps his brother so he can have enough elbow space to pour the milk into the pot, though he doesn’t miss how Donnie tenses when he steps away.

That… that’s different now. Raph had been wondering if it was touch-related, like too much touch. Now he’s beginning to wonder if it’s the opposite.

Is that even a thing? He doesn’t know.

He’s melting the chocolate on autopilot, his hands long since having memorised this routine, and he’s oblivious to Donnie’s observing eyes as he slowly stirs.

“Oh, you use that brand,” Donatello suddenly comments, jolting Raph back into the moment. “No wonder I couldn’t place it.”

“Yeah.” Raph turns the wrapper over in his hand. “It’s a little rare, it’s hella pricey, especially seeing as it comes all the way from New Zealand, but damn if there’s nothing else like it.”

“Mm,” Donnie agrees, and his thieving hands have snuck a piece before Raph can think of stopping it.

“Wh-hey!” he shakes the wooden spoon at Donnie, who now has a very smug look on his face as he savours the richness of the chocolate now melting on his tongue. “Hey, that’s for super special secret recipe Raph hot chocolate only! Stop eating my stash.”

Donnie sticks his tongue out at him. Raph tries not to laugh but he can’t help the snort that’s ripped out of him, and he tries to hide it as he turns away, and turns the heat right down.

“Oh, don’t worry, dearest brother,” Donnie leans his head against Raph’s arm and Raph has to bite his lip to keep the relieved smile down. “I won’t eat it all. Probably.”

“You better not,” Raph jokingly grouses. “I spent months finding a hiding spot that actually works.”

Raph can feel Donnie’s shoulders shake with gentle laughter more than he can hear it, but it’s more than enough for him.

It’s looking good so far. Raph hands Donnie the spoon and tells him to keep stirring slowly, before stepping away to wash his hands. When he comes back, he takes back over and starts to pepper in the spices. A pinch here, a pinch there, some more of that, and he knows Donnie likes it a bit more mellow so a bigger pinch or two of that.

He sets them back on the counter and focusses on not over-heating the milk. Usually he leaves the putting-lids-back-on for later, but he sees Donnie do it for him, and shoots him a smile of thanks.

It doesn’t take much longer after that. He takes it off the heat and switches the element off, before going to fetch their mugs and a ladle.

“Is that really necessary?” Donnie nods at the ladle. “Surely we could just dip the mugs in.”

“That’d make such a mess!” Raph gasps, clutching the ladle to his plastron. “The ladle is an integral part of the process! Do not mess with the process, Donatello!”

Donnie’s laughing at him, and he’s so happy to hear Donnie laughing again. “Of course not, of course not, Raphael,” he placates him, trying to sound serious but his smile giving him away. “One cannot mess with the process.”

“Damn right.”

Raph dishes out the hot chocolate, artfully filling Donnie’s mug to almost-the-brim, before handing it to him, pressing it into his hand because he knows that when Donnie is tired, his hand-eye coordination is one of the first things to go.

He gets himself a mug too, before sitting down at the kitchen table. Donnie hesitates, eyes flicking between the seat opposite Raph and the seat beside Raph. Raph takes a sip of his drink, and without making eye contact, pulls the chair beside him a little out.

An invitation.

Donnie pauses, before slinking around the table to slip in beside him. He takes a sip of the hot chocolate, and Raph watches even more tension just bleed out of him, the crease between his eyebrows that seemed so permanent as of late finally easing.

“Mm, even better than I remember,” Donnie hums.

“You say that every time.”

“It’s true every time.”

Raph takes another sip and smiles to himself. He makes a slightly different recipe for each family member. Leo likes a kick of chili in his. Mikey likes it when he leans a bit more into the nutmeg-ginger-cloves; he says it tastes like gingerbread but a chocolate drink. April likes it with mint. He keeps it plain for Splinter, the one or two times he’s done it for him. And, well, he knows how Donnie likes his. And clearly, he’s nailed it this time, because half the mug has gone already.

“Help yourself to more,” Raph nods at the pot, and Donnie hums but says nothing more.

They sit in silence for a moment or two.

Then, “you wanted to talk?”

Raph winces, and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he agrees. “I… I do.”

All of a sudden, the set of Don’s shoulders are far too stiff for Raph’s liking. Damn it, he’d seen him, just before. His brother is in there. He just doesn’t know what Donnie’s waiting for.

“It’s nothing…” Raph cuts himself off there. Nothing serious? Nothing major? Nothing wrong? All of those are false. Because it is serious, but he doesn’t want Donatello to feel like he’s in trouble, because that ego of his makes him shut down, and Raphael will never get to talk to him.

“…Am I in trouble?”

Right on cue.

“No,” Raph turns to him now. “You really aren’t.”

Donnie looks at him now, searching Raph’s face for something. Raph doesn’t know what he finds, but it seems to placate him.

“I… I’m sorry, I don’t really know how to word this.” Raph fumbles, turning his cup in his hands, before sighing. He’s getting a headache.

He reaches up and unties his mask. He’d almost forgotten he hadn’t taken it off. He puts it down on the table and starts folding it, letting Donnie watch him, and wait.

“And before I say anything wrong,” he adds, “I don’t mean to insult you, and I-I… I value you dearly, Don.”

“…Ooookay?”

His brother looks uncomfortable. Raph kicks himself for ramping up the emotions so early. He can’t help it. Asking Raph to control his emotions is like asking the sea to stop washing up onto the beach every minute. Or something. He rubs his temple and tries to keep the metaphors at bay.

“Have we upset you?”

Donnie freezes, and blinks at Raph. He seems… bewildered at the question.

“I just, I know after… a-after Shredder,” Raph manages to stammer, and they both wince at the name, “that it took us all a lot to recover, like, physically. And it’s only been a… what, a few months?”

Raphael scratches the side of his head and curses himself for not really knowing.

“Yeah,” Donnie finally pitches in, and his voice is quiet and a little shaken. “It’s been six months. I’m… everything’s healed.”

“Ah,” Raph holds up a finger, takes a sip of drink, before continuing. “Everything physical’s healed.”

And yes, there comes another flinch from Donnie. Raph’s found the nail and the haystack and still managed to hit it on the head.

“And I realise… uh, I ain’t been too good at making the rounds.” Raph shakes his head. “I… I’ve been putting my head down and pretending to be okay because that’s easier than talking about it.”

Donnie makes a sort of a tch that makes it sound like he agrees.

“A-and it ain’t been any good for anyone!” Raph has set his mug down, and he can’t keep himself from gesturing wildly in the air. “I know Dad’s been talking to Leo, at least. And Mikey… he said he had someone to talk to, and I know Draxum’s become a bit kinder recently. But I know April’s been busy as all hell recently, and-”

“What does it matter if April’s been busy?” Donnie snips, and it’s Raph’s turn to flinch as he finds a sore spot. “I have other people to talk to. I have other friends.”

“I’m not saying you don’t,” Raph shoots back quickly, but Donnie averts his eyes because they both know the other is lying. Mikey and Leo are the ones who are good with friends. Donnie’s not good with people, and Raph…

He’s… he’s not good at letting people do their own thing. It’s one thing about Dad that he can really understand now, understand why he was like he was when Raph was the only one old enough to talk and walk around on his own. Because little Hamato Yoshi was neglected too.

So he doesn’t trust himself with new people too well, because he knows he’s… controlling?

He puts his head in his hands. Is this just… his character flaw times twenty? Was this necessary? Would Donnie just brush this off as Raph being Raph? Would he resent him?

“Hey, big guy.” Donnie puts a hand on his arm. The contact is delicate and hesitant, like Donnie isn’t sure he should, if he’s allowed to, and that tugs at something fresh and painful deep behind Raph’s plastron, because why wouldn’t he be? “I can see all that negativity rattling around in there. Just get to the point, alright? Then I can see if I need to be offended or not.”

Raph can’t help but laugh. Donnie pointedly drinks more hot chocolate and wiggles his eyebrows at him.

“I’m worried about you.”

The words tumble out before Raph can think of a better way to say it. He’s no Doctor Delicate Touch, or Doctor Feelings. He’s no good at this.

But there is no way he’s leaving his brother to fend whatever’s going on in that massive head of his by himself.

Donnie pauses a moment, takes a long drink and sets down a now empty mug, before sighing. “When aren’t you?”

Raph laughs, short and bitter, but it’s enough to draw a look of concern from Donnie, to clue him in he means it this time. Though, he always means it. “I know, I know,” he huffs. “But… Don, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this before.”

“…Like what?”

“Holing yourself up. Avoiding family activities. Being really, like, short? Curt? With us, if that makes sense? And how you flinch when someone touches you.”

Donnie’s eyes are wide.

“Yeah,” Raph nurses his drink and shoots him a sympathetic look. “I’m a bit more observant than you think, I guess.”

“I…” Donnie stammers.

“I’d been wondering if somehow it was all too much? Like, I know about sensory overload sorta stuff, April’s been helping me understand, and hell, I feel that. But this seems… the opposite of that?”

“I…” Donnie blinks a few times, before pushing the empty mug away and turning away. He folds his hands and hides his mouth behind them, staring at the wall. Raph’s seen this enough to know what’s up. Donnie’s debating with himself. Weighing the risk and reward of being open with him.

Raph lets him. He gets up, and picks up both their mugs, and goes for a second serving. His mug wasn’t even empty yet, but he doesn’t want Donnie to feel any more singled-out than he already does.

He’s partway through ladling more drink into Donnie’s mug when his brother finally speaks.

“…I think I’ve developed mild touch starvation.”

Raph tenses, pauses for a second to make sure he doesn’t overfill the mug, and carefully sets it down, before topping his own red mug up too and letting the ladle splash back into the pot. He takes a moment before ferrying the drinks back to the table.

And as he sets Donnie’s mug down in front of him, he doesn’t make eye contact. He’s waiting for Donnie to get on a roll. He usually does. But if he doesn’t, Raph will sit back down and talk to him about it.

“It… It wasn’t on purpose,” Donnie accepts the drink with a shiver, also not looking up at Raph. “I didn’t mean to avoid you guys for so long. I just… there was so much to fix. Raph, I lost almost all my tech to Shredder. I haven’t even managed to finish rebuilding Shelldon yet. There’s so much I can’t replace yet and… I guess it all ran away from me.”

Donnie rubs his eye as he talks, and Raph slips off to the side to return to his seat. Donnie angles a little towards him, not looking at him but clearly still talking to him.

“And it’s cold all the time recently, so I didn’t really click that was a thing that was wrong. Sure, I got lonely, but I just… just wanted to get through it. Power on through, if you will.”

Donnie takes a drink, and Raph’s eyes flick to his brother’s face to watch that damn crease between his eyebrows ease a little again.

“I didn’t realise I kept turning stuff down. I was… fixated, I guess.”

“Easy to do,” Raph agrees, voice quiet. He’s more sort of rolling his mug between his hands than he is drinking.

Donnie snorts a little at that in agreement. “I didn’t really realise I had… I didn’t know until…”

“Until Mikey went to hug you two weeks ago?” Raph guessed.

“Damn, you are good.”

Raph smiles despite himself. “I just try to pay attention to you guys. I want to help when and where I can.”

Donnie’s eyes are on him, and they are analysing him. Raph takes a drink and pretends not to notice. He wonders what Donnie finds.

Finally, the scrutiny eases when his brother sighs. “I… I’ve been researching touch starvation, and all that.” Donnie rubs his eye again. “And, well, it sounds right. Maybe it hasn’t been long enough. Maybe I’m making it up, but...”

“Nah.” Before Raph can think not to, he’s reached out and patted Donnie on the shell. “I trust you to know yourself. I…”

He realises Donnie’s gone tense under his hand.

“Oh, shit,” he whispers. “I… is this okay?”

Donnie shudders. His lips are moving but he’s not saying anything. Raph almost goes to move his hand but before he can his brother makes a desperate noise he hopes never to have to hear again.

It sounds like a wounded animal.

“Can I hug you?” Raph’s voice is low and urgent.

Donnie’s nodding.

Raph sweeps Donnie up in his arms the moment he starts to nod his head, and curls around his smaller brother as best he can, feeling Donatello gasp, feeling him go tense, and then feeling him go limp, plastering himself against Raph’s chest and melting into his warmth.

Despite turtles being cold-blooded, Raph runs hot. It must be the human DNA in his favour. But right now it’s perfect for looking after his little brother, who is now all but clinging to him.

“Oh,” he hears Donnie breathe to himself. “Oh, I was right.”

“Is this okay?”

“Yes!” Donnie flinches at his own volume. “Sorry, sorry. Yes, and I swear to god, Raph, if you let me go I will-”

“I ain’t letting you go,” Raph says firmly. “Your new problem is getting rid of me.”

Donnie laughs, hiding his face in Raph’s plastron. “That’s not a problem,” he murmurs, and Raph has to bite his lip because suddenly there are tears in his eyes. Curse his overemotional state. This isn’t supposed to be about him.

Suddenly, Raph feels really small.

He curls around Donnie as tight as he can, and he wasn’t sure when he started shaking. But under his fingertips, from where his hands are all but plastered against Donnie’s shell, he can feel the healing scratches, scars from Shredder…

He shudders himself, and ducks his head. Don’t think about it.

“Raph?”

Don’t think about it, I said.

“Raph, talk to me, bro.”

“I was scared,” he finally blurts out. “I was scared I was gonna lose you.”

“Lose me? I’m right here.”

“Not like that,” Raph shoots back, frustrated at his own emotions as his tears spill over, and he tries to turn his head away to hide it. “I… I don’t know. You know me, Don.”

“I do,” Donnie agrees, and he pulls back enough to reach a tea towel on the kitchen table, and use it to dry Raph’s face.

“And… I,” Raph lets him, before turning his head away again. Because it’s been so long now, and Shredder isn’t coming back. But fuck, that thing nearly killed him, nearly killed his brothers, nearly killed Donnie right in front of him and if he had been even a little bit slower he wouldn’t have a brother to hug.

Without thinking, his fingers trace the scars on Donnie’s shell, and Donatello takes a sharp breath in. The sound of realisation.

“Hey,” Donnie’s hands cup his face and force Raph to make eye contact. “Raph, look at me. I’m safe. You saved me. Shredder’s gone. We… we did it. I’m safe, okay? I’m healthy. I’ve healed from that.”

“I…”

“You took more damage than I did. In the least, we’re matching.”

“…Donnie.”

Donnie studies his face, expression falling as Raph can’t keep from crying, and Raph screws up his face, eyes tightly shut.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “This is supposed to be about you. This ain’t Raph’s Pity Parade.”

“Pity Parade?” Donnie scoffs. “No pity needed or earned, Raphadaelious. Anyone would be reacting like this after what we’ve been through.”

“But I’m not anyone,” Raph blurts again. “I need to be there for you guys. I need to be, like, the shoulder. Y’know?”

Donnie forces him to look him in the eye, and Raph’s eyes widen in shock as he sees he’s made Donnie cry too.

“Who looks after you, Raph?”

Donnie is blunt, and to the point. Raphael doesn’t have an answer.

“That’s what I thought,” Donnie hums. “…Tell you what, let’s make a deal.”

“...I’m listening.”

“You help me with my… problem,” Donnie looks down at his own hands, which he’s since peeled off Raph’s face. “And I’ll make sure you’re not in this alone.”

“Donnie, you’re not a problem to fix,” Raph interjects, making his brother look up again. “You’re a person, who needs help. But you’re not some machine that if I adjust the settings just right, you’re magically fixed, okay? I just… I don’t want you to depersonalise yourself that much.”

“That’s... a big word.”

“I’ve been trying to pay more attention.”

“It’s been working,” Donnie tries to smile. He leans back, and Raph gives him the space he’s silently asking for. Donnie takes a moment to dry his eyes, before getting to his feet, sliding out of Raph’s arms.

Donnie’s shivering. Raph wants to sweep him up again because he knows how cold it gets. He knows about the icy-hot burn touch leaves behind when you don’t have enough. It’s been years, but now Donnie’s told him the words for it, Raph knows exactly what he means.

Raph is the oldest, and the strongest. He was not allowed to handle his younger brothers until he could control his strength. And Splinter wasn’t exactly the most present back then. He was so glad his brother’s never really had to go through that themselves. He was so glad Splinter is better now, both in his own mental health and as a father. He wishes it could wipe away the bitter loneliness as a kid. He wishes it could smother out the panic he still feels the minute he’s left alone.

He’s overprotective. He fawns. He doesn’t want anyone to feel as lonely as he used to. But now the problem? The problem is that he’s failed, because a touched-starved Donatello is standing in front of him, drinking his second mug of emergency super special secret recipe Raph hot chocolate, and if Raph had been a little more… something… he could have prevented this.

“Donnie, I’m sorry,” he says, and Don looks at him with a strange look on his face.

“It’s… it’s not your fault, Raphie. If anything, it’s mine. I knew, on some level, it’d be bad for me. I… just didn’t care, I guess.”

Raph winces, but he does have to admit that he understands the feeling.

“We’re your family. We should have been able to see something, and step in sooner.”

“It’s okay,” Donnie says, and the worst part is that he’s earnest.

“It’s not.”

“It is,” Donnie shakes his head. “Because I… I could also see that the ice was thin, Raph. Leo was prepared to bite my head off at every dinner for weeks. Mikey was so shaken, you remember, right?”

“I do,” Raph murmurs, because how could he forget? And they didn’t really let him help much. But a heart to heart, just like this one, over emergency super special secret recipe Raph hot chocolate, had been enough to start wheels in motion.

“I wasn’t going to make that any better,” Donnie sighs, and he slumps back into the chair beside Raph and leans his head on Raph’s arm. “I have at least a scrap of self-awareness sometimes. Maybe that’s another reason why I stayed out of the way.”

“Wish I had your self-control,” Raph mutters. “I… Mikey and I had a fight.”

“I remember hearing it.”

“We’ve both apologised, and I can tell Mikey’s moved on, but I still feel so bad.”

Donnie shrugs. “We’re family. We aren’t supposed to get along all the time.”

Raph snorts. “If that ain’t the truth.”

They talk more. Talk more about things that matter and things that don’t. Donnie drinks a whole third mug of the hot chocolate (though now it’s more mildly room-temperature chocolate), and Raph manages to successfully put the rest in a bottle to put in the fridge for tomorrow.

He offers Donnie a ride back upstairs and this time Donnie takes it without hesitation, clambering up onto his shoulders gracelessly, yawning widely.

“When’s the last time you slept?” Raph asks as he climbs back upstairs.

“Technically? About 11pm. Properly slept?” Donnie yawns again, and Raph feels him shrug. “Like… a few weeks.”

“Jeez,” Raph whistles lowly. “What’s wrong?”

“Cold, touch-starved, nightmares,” Donnie lists off, and Raph can tell that he’s trying to be clinical about it, but Donnie can’t hide how his voice shakes on the last one.

“Yeah,” Raph admits. “Me too.”

He pauses outside his own bedroom, staring at the red curtain, before shifting on his feet. “When we were kids,” he starts, and feels Donnie’s hand flop down over his shoulder. “We… whenever someone had a nightmare, they’d always sleep better in a pile.”

He’s not necessarily talking about Donnie specifically here, it happened to all of them. But he does vividly remember Donnie shaking him awake late one night, about six years old when Raph was about eight, tearfully asking if he can sleep in Raph’s room tonight, and-

“Yeah,” Donnie whispers. “I remember.”

“Would that help?” Raph shifts on his feet again. “Tonight.”

Donnie doesn’t reply. Raph kicks himself for asking.

“It might.”

Raph looks up to see Donnie leaning over his shoulder.

“I’m willing to test it,” he sort-of smiles, and yeah, Raph can see how tired he really is.

“Great,” Raph tells him as brightly as he can manage. “Is my room okay?”

“Yeah,” Donnie smirks at him. “You wouldn’t fit on my bunk.”

“Shut up!”

Raph pushes back the curtain with a smile, letting the darkness of his bedroom envelop them, before casually punting his little brother into his mattress.

“Hey!” Donnie tries to shout, but he’s too busy laughing.

“Uh huh,” Raph puts his hands on his hips. “Scoot over, small fry, seeing as I need all the space I can get.”

Donnie obliges with a grin. A tired grin, a grin interrupted by another yawn, but a real, actual grin none-the-less.

They get settled, tugging blankets and getting comfortable, and Donnie falls asleep remarkably quickly. He sinks into Raph’s warmth and hangs on tight, even in unconsciousness, and Raph loops his arms around him as safely as he can and closes his eyes too.

For the first time in a long time, his worry is finally set at ease. He doesn’t have to worry about where Donnie is, or if Donnie’s well, or if he’s sleeping, or if he’s okay. Because he knows for a fact that Donnie is safe, Donnie’s right here, and even if Donnie’s not okay yet, he will be.

That’s a super special secret Raph promise.

He curls up and lets the sound of his brother’s breathing ground him. They’re okay. They’re okay. They’re going to be okay.

And they both sleep through the night, for a first time in a very, very long time.

#rottmnt #rottmnt raph #rottmnt donnie #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt fanfic #rottmnt fic #djpurple3's writing yo #touch starvation #touch starved!donnie #autistic!donnie #adhd!raph #food tw #food m #neglect m #neglect mention tw

130 notes · View notes

golbrocklovely · 3 years

Text

remember me // colby brock (pt 2)

A/N: as i mentioned before in a different post, this took me FOREVER to write. i loved writing this story but something about it just made me drag it out for so long. nonetheless, i love this and i'm excited to see what you all think. please lmk what you thought about this. thank you to everyone that has supported me and sent me kind messages. yall are the best ! hope you enjoy :) also lmk if you want another part...

prompt: she's the only one that remembers colby, or so they both thought.

trigger warning: ANGST, heartbreak, AU mention, friendship problems, cursing, happy-ish ending (but not the end...?), kissing

word count: 5526

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

Colby was relieved that the waitress, the only one that remembered him, decided to help. The moment she agreed, Colby gave her his number and left. She texted him not too long after, and he realized for a moment she never said her name. He planned to ask her the next day when they decided to meet up at his place.

It was weird to come back to his apartment, knowing that down the hall his best friend, his brother, lived there and didn't know who he was. Usually when Colby felt lonely, he would walk down the hall to Sam's and hang out for a bit. It was always nice to talk to Sam about anything and everything.

But now... he couldn't do that.

Colby tried to sleep during the night, but barely any rest came from it. He tossed and turned, hoping that when he would wake up, this would all just be some weird-ass nightmare.

When his cell phone rang the next morning at 9:34 A.M., it was an unfamiliar ringtone. As he rubbed his eyes awake, he glanced at the caller, the name 'Waitress' appearing on his screen.

I guess this wasn’t a dream after all.

"Yeah?" Colby groaned, squinting his eyes at the sunlight.

Her voice came through cheery, the tone too loud in Colby’s ears. “Let me up to your apartment. I'm here.”

He cleared his throat. “This early?”

“I figured you would want your normal life back as soon as possible, yeah?” She sassed.

He rolled his eyes. “Alright, give me a second. I'll come down and get you.”

Colby stumbled out of bed, running his fingers through his hair as he threw on a random shirt and jeans, slowly trudging down to the lobby of his apartment. She sat on a couch, tapping her foot against the carpeted floors. Her eyes were staring out the door, almost like she was looking at someone. When she heard Colby’s footsteps, her gaze pulled away from outside.

“Did I wake you?” She frowned, grabbing her bag next to her and standing up.

He shook his head. “You can't really be woken up if you barely slept.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” She lightly bit her lip, following Colby to the elevator.

He shrugged tiredly. “It's okay.”

They both slowly got into the elevator, climbing up to Colby's floor. The loud 'ding' of the elevator broke their silence moments later. They walked to Colby's apartment, and he unlocked his door quickly.

She whistled quietly. “Woah, nice place.”

A half smile spread across Colby’s face. “Thanks.”

“No offense, but how do you pay for this place if you're not a social media person?” She questioned, stepping into the kitchen.

He raised an eyebrow. “That's... a good question. From what my mom told me over the phone yesterday, I worked all throughout high school and college, so maybe it's from that?”

“You only worked at Dairy Queen while you were in high school. You must have gotten a better job in college because there is no way you can afford this place.” She disagreed.

Colby smirked. “How'd you know I worked at Dairy Queen?”

“Well, for starters, my friend told me. And also, I did some research about you. But I'll get to that in a second.” She continued, her voice falling to a serious tone, “So... would you like to hear my theories?”

“Theories?” He puzzled.

“As to why everyone forgot about you.” The waitress explained.

Colby sat down on his barstool, exhaling. “Let's hear it.”

“Okay. For argument sakes, you're gonna have to just go with me on this. Because otherwise, I literally have no way to help you.” She started, already pacing slightly.

He cautioned. “...okay?”

“So last night, I tried to think of a reason why everyone would collectively forget about you. And the only conclusion I could come up with is that you're in an alternative universe.” She hypothesized.

Colby’s eyes widened, bugging out of his head. “A what?”

“An alternative universe. Basically, everything is pretty much the same in your life, except a few minor details,” she revealed. “That’s why you still live in this apartment, but you didn’t get here the same way you did in your other life, your real life.”

“This... it's way too early for this.” He grumbled, astonished.

She sighed, her hands resting on her hips. “The only other option is that this is a very long-winded prank that your friends are still pulling on you. Have you tried talking to any of your other friends besides Sam?”

“No, everyone else’s number is gone in my phone, which I can only assume means they don’t know me either.” Colby retorted. Then he took a deep breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “But, this doesn't make sense. How did I end up here if this isn't my life?”

“I’m not sure how you got here, but I think you’re here for a specific reason. I think you’re here to right a wrong that this Colby Brock did. I’m just… not entirely sure what that wrong might be.” She answered, unsure.

He huffed. “Okay… what am I supposed to do then? Stay here and hope we figure that out soon? I don't even know who I am in this universe.”

“And that's where my research comes into play.” She pulled a laptop from her bag quickly, placing it down on the counter and opening it. She scrolled through her browsers until she came across Colby's Facebook, which surprisingly looked active for someone who hadn't been personally on it in years.

I use Facebook? Gross.

“First, I started by seeing if you and Sam were friends on here, but that didn’t amount to much since Sam doesn’t have a Facebook. However, what I found out is that you and Sam did live in the same town, go to the same high school, and played in the same marching band. Sam talked about his early years before he was ‘famous’ in one of the first videos he posted, and I crossed referenced that with your profile and it all matches up.” She informed.

“That's strange,” he mumbled. “What did we do after high school?”

She stated. “You went off to college and majored in Business Management with a minor in Philosophy. You graduated early too.”

Me? Graduating early? I couldn’t even get through math without Sam’s help.

“What did Sam do?” He asked.

The waitress scrolled to another tab, opening it to show a search of Sam. “Well, a very quick Google search shows that he actually went to the same college as you but dropped out once his Vine career started to pick up. Then he went on to Musical.ly when Vine died. He moved out to LA in 2017 and started a YouTube channel after he met Katrina, and slowly met all of his- your, friends that way. He got a bump of followers once he started dating Kat because of her following.”

Colby’s mouth gaped at her words. “That can't be true. He would have never wanted that. I mean, I had to convince him that we should be on social media so that we could spread our message. Plus, he hates those channels that use their relationship for views.”

“Not this version of Sam. Or at least, it doesn't seem like it.” She commented.

He covered his face, groaning into his hands. “What the hell am I here for? What wrong have I done in this universe?”

Her voice low, she replied. “I think it might have to do with Sam.”

“But... he doesn't know me.” He dissented, sitting up.

She nodded. “I thought so too. However, after scrolling through all of your public photos, I found this.”

Colby squinted at the screen, an old photo of him and Sam stared back. They looked super young, probably sophomores in high school. They were both smiling, laughing at something. He vaguely remembered this day.

“So, we did know each other.” He bit his lip softly.

She hummed. “Yeah. And weirdly, it’s the only photo of the two of you on your profile. But it’s not the only strange thing.”

Scrolling to a different tab, she pulled up an old tweet of Sam’s. It read ‘Never thought you would be the one to hurt me. But I guess everyone can be surprising.’

Colby noted the date. “That was back in high school.”

“Yeah, and there’s a bunch like them. He talks about being betrayed and someone hurting him deeply. He never mentions, of course. But his tweets line up with some that you were tweeting at the same time.” She confessed.

The waitress clicked on a different tab and another tweet showed up, one from Colby’s account. He gazed at it, reading the words ‘If you hate me… imagine how I feel about myself.’

Colby’s face dropped. “Wait, what?”

“You don’t tweet that often, but when you do, you talk about righting wrongs and fixing things you fucked up.” She added, “You also hate on yourself a lot.”

He doubted, crossing his arms. “You think they’re connected?”

“I do. I think in this universe you fucked up somehow and hurt Sam. And I think you are here now to fix what the other you did.” She explained.

He ranted. “This is all so fucked! When I saw him yesterday, he acted like he didn’t even know me. How am I supposed to even go about this? What, do I just go down the hall and apologize for something I don’t even remember doing?”

“No. Sam's not in his apartment anyway. I saw him leave while I was waiting for you.” She mentioned nonchalantly.

He grunted. “Great, he could be anywhere in LA right now.”

“I know exactly where he is.” She smirked.

“What? How?” He questioned.

The waitress divulged. “This version of Sam has a favorite restaurant he goes to all the time. A lot of his fans know about it, thus one look through any of his fan accounts and you'll see it. It's called ‘Paradise’.”

“Sounds like a strip club.” Colby deadpanned.

She pouted. “It's not. But he goes there all the time, and I got us a table there last minute.”

“What exactly are we gonna do when we get there?” He crossed his arms.

“I was planning on going up to his table and talking to him, maybe asking him about you, see how he reacts.” She described.

Colby furrowed his brow, confused. “And what about me?”

She slid her laptop into her bag, zipping it up hastily. “Well… I didn’t really think that far ahead. But hopefully, whatever you did is forgivable, and we can just fix it right there.”

He murmured. “That's a lot to hope for.”

“It's better than sitting here and wasting daylight.” She grabbed her stuff and headed for the door. Colby followed suit, grabbing his keys.

He spoke as he locked his door. “What if this doesn’t work?”

She turned back to him. “It will. It has to.”

~~~

Paradise was a themed restaurant, which Colby thought was strange because his Sam never really liked those types of restaurants. The theme was nice, however, tropical and Hawaiian. It felt like something he, Sam, and a few friends would have gone to after a fun, drunk night.

As Colby and the waitress were escorted to their table, they both kept an eye out for Sam, glancing around nervously for the blonde boy.

“I think the worst thing about this universe version of me is how messy my car is,” Colby joked. “It’s like I live out of it.”

She shrugged, smiling. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You should see my real car. My honey wagon is spotless.” He expressed, waving his hand.

“Honey wagon?” She queried.

“Long story,” he chuckled. Then abruptly, he gasped. “Holy shit, I just realized I never got your name.”

She cocked her head. “What? I never told you?”

He blinked. “No.”

She started. “It's-”

“Hi, I'm Tony, I'll be your server for today. Can I get you something to drink to start you guys off?” Tony greeted, cutting her off.

“Yeah, sure. A water for me.” She blurted out.

Colby added. “Coke, please.”

Tony smiled. “Okay, coming right up.”

Once Tony left, the waitress started scoping out for Sam again, her eyes widening once she saw him.

Her body stiffened, turning back to Colby. “He's over there, three tables down to your left.”

Colby gazed over his shoulder at his friend. Sam looked lost in thought, staring at his phone as he ate his food.

“Why is he alone?” He muttered.

“From some of the blogs I read, he likes to go out and eat by himself. Also, apparently, him and Kat are on the rocks.” She admitted.

“They love each other so much, it's kinda gross to be around them sometimes,” He quipped, but shook his head. “So to hear that...”

“I'm gonna head over.” She announced quickly.

Before he could speak, she left the booth. Colby watched her walk over to Sam, listening closely to their conversation as he ducked his head down.

“Hey... sorry to bother you, but are you Sam Golbach?” She asked sweetly.

“Yeah I am. Did you want something?” Sam stared blankly at her.

“Um, yeah?” She almost scoffed at his tone. “I’m a huge fan and I know this might be a weird question, but do you know someone named Colby Brock?”

Sam’s face remained stoic, but his eyes intensified. “No, I've never heard of that name before.”

“Are you sure, because I'm pretty certain that you and him are best friends.” She insisted.

He raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

Colby watched nervously as she pulled out her phone and showed Sam the photo. Sam scrunched up his face, his eyes scanning the image. “Yeah, no. Still don’t know who he is. What was his name again?”

“Colby Brock.” She stated.

“...Sorry. I’ve never heard a name like that before.” He mumbled, almost inaudibly. “Sounds stupid anyway.”

She cocked her head. “Wait, what?”

Colby clenched his fist, unable to hear this conversation any longer. He needed to come face-to-face with Sam. He slid out of his seat, walking hastily over to Sam and the waitress. Sam’s eyes narrowed as he gaped at Colby.

“Sam…” Colby started.

Sam growled. “Are you fucking serious, Colby? Did you really have to get one of my fans involved?”

“What?” Colby puzzled.

Sam jumped out of his seat, grabbing Colby’s arm and pulling him out of the restaurant. The waitress followed behind them, confused just as much as Colby. Sam’s feet stopped behind the back door of the building, turning to Colby without warning.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sam barked.

Colby stepped back, surprised by Sam’s anger. “...Uh, I don’t know what you mean by that.”

Sam scoffed. “Why the fuck are you here? After all this time?”

“So, you do remember me.” Colby remarked.

“Yeah, I do. When you showed up at my place yesterday, it took me a minute to realize it was you, since you decided to dress up like a Hot Topic employee, but yeah, I knew it was you. Are you really gonna pretend in front of her that we don’t know each other?” Sam teared his eyes away from Colby’s, staring at the waitress suddenly. “Let me guess, he hasn’t told you the whole story, right?”

“I guess not.” She shrugged uncomfortably.

Sam chuckled darkly. “Of course not. If he told the whole story, he would have to admit he was an asshole, and God knows he’s not gonna do that.”

“What are you talking about?” Colby panted.

“Do you not remember? Well, I’ll give you a refresher. You and I became friends freshman year of high school. You were my best friend and I was yours. I trusted you. I trusted you with a lot of shit that I’ve never told anyone. Senior year of high school, right before we were about to graduate, right as we were starting a social media career, suddenly you don’t want anything to do with me; which would have been bad enough, but then I go and find out you and my girlfriend were hooking up behind my back,” Sam snapped, catching his breath for a moment. “So yeah, I remember you, Colby.”

Colby’s mouth fell open, his breathing speeding up.

None of this sounds like me. I would never hurt Sam like that.

“And now, you have the fucking audacity to show up when everything in my life is going great and I’m succeeding. I have fans, friends, and a girlfriend that all love and care about me, and you’re here trying to what? Stir up drama? Get some clout from me?” He demanded.

“If your friends and girlfriend love you, why are you eating all alone?” The waitress jeered.

Sam glared at her, biting his tongue. “And you made one of my fans hate me. Dope, dude.”

“Sam, look; I’m sorry for what I did. But that was years ago. I’m not who I was back then.” Colby choked out.

“I don’t care. I don’t want you in my life. Do you not understand what you did to me?” Sam persisted.

“I know I was an asshole, and I apologize for ever hurting you like that. But I miss you, and I want to work things out. Let me prove to you that I’m better.” He trembled, getting closer to Sam.

Sam backed up, blocking Colby. “No. No! You don’t get to miss me. You don’t get to miss a relationship you fucked up. It took me years to trust again. Hell, I’m still going through it. You don’t get to decide whether or not you’re in my life. Not anymore.”

“Sam… please.” Colby whimpered.

“Don’t show up at my place again. Don’t talk to my fans about me. Don’t act like you care about me. Because I’m done,” Sam stared into Colby’s eyes before going back into the restaurant. “I don’t care about you. Fuck off forever and leave me alone.”

Sam’s words punched Colby hard, taking the breath out of him instantly. He caught himself against the wall, his legs turning to gelatin under his weight.

He stuttered. “I… gotta leave. I-I have to…”

“Colby, relax. It’s gonna be okay.” She grabbed his hand.

He shook off her embrace. “What? No it’s not! Did you not hear what he said? Why would he want to be friends with a piece of shit like me?!”

“You were eighteen when this all happened. Give yourself a break.” She argued.

“No. I’m fucking terrible. This version of me is terrible. Of course he doesn’t want to be friends with me! I don’t even want to be me.” His voice quivered with anger, his body racing away from her.

She furrowed her brows, trying to keep up with him. “Where are you going?”

“I just need to leave. I can’t be here right now!” He grunted, his pace picking up.

She called after him, but Colby didn’t care. His heart slammed against his chest over and over again. Tears weld up into his eyes, blurring his vision as he began to run. He wanted to keep running until his legs gave out, until he couldn’t remember all the words Sam had said to him.

It dawned to Colby how much worse this universe was.

He wasn’t just stuck in a universe where Sam didn’t know him.

He was stuck in a universe where Sam didn’t want to know him.

In a universe where Sam didn’t love him.

And he had no way of escaping.

Colby must have blacked out while he ran, somehow maintaining to stay upright, because once his thoughts started to subside, and his body basically gave out under him, he noticed he was in a part of LA he had never been before. Some random neighborhood that was unfamiliar.

He shoved his body up against a metal telephone pole, sliding down to the ground. He tried catching his breath, gulping back breaths as he forced down the nausea overwhelming his senses. He wiped his face with his sleeve, feeling more tears rush down his cheeks.

His throat and chest burned with each sharp inhale. He whimpered into his hands, covering his face from the slowly retreating sun.

He slid his phone out of his pocket once he caught his breath, calling the only number he knew.

“Hey honey. What’s up?” His mom’s voice rang back sweetly.

Colby’s voice was monotone, exhausted. “You know who Sam is, don’t you?”

The line went quiet for a moment, all Colby could hear was her light breath.

“You told me not to talk about him. After you two stopped being friends, you said you never wanted to hear his name again.” She exhaled deeply, “I was taken aback when you asked about him yesterday.”

“He’s out here… in LA.” He responded.

She gasped lightly. “Did you run into him?”

He laughed bitterly. “You could say that.”

“Oh, Colby. I’m so sorry.” His mother consoled.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, mama. I just…” Colby trailed off, unable to explain.

“Why don’t you come home this weekend?” She offered. “I miss you, you know.”

“I would love to. But…” His chest heaved as hot tears drifted down his cheeks. “That’s not my home.”

“Nonsense. You will always have a home here.” She assured him, her voice almost trembling.

He wiped a fallen tear, a broken smile coming to his face. “That’s good to know. I love you.”

She hummed. “I love you too, baby. Call me again soon.”

“I will. Bye.” He uttered breathlessly.

The sky was getting darker and darker, and Colby remained against the phone pole. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but suddenly his phone vibrated, a new message from ‘Waitress’ asking where he was. He sent his location, and she arrived twenty minutes later in his car. He stood up, stumbling to his passenger door. His legs were weak from the sprinting he had just done. As he got in, the cool AC blasted the sweat and tears off his face.

They didn’t speak, a quiet radio station playing in the background the only sound. She drove through the hills of LA, eventually hitting a peak. She parked the car as it overlooked LA, the lights looking like stars on the horizon.

She got out a minute later, walking over to the hood and leaning against it. He could see something in her hand but didn’t recognize it. Colby sat in the car by himself, not able to physically move his body from how exhausted he felt. Eventually, he achingly stepped out of the car, sitting next to her on the hood.

“I’m fucked.” Colby breathed.

She started. “I don’t think-”

“Please don’t try to make me feel better. I know you mean well, but I am fucked,” he rebutted, his voice dark. “I’m stuck here, in this universe, where Sam hates me. And as if that weren’t bad enough, I did terrible things, things I know I would never do to him. How the fuck am I supposed to apologize for those mistakes? I wouldn’t take him back if the roles were reversed.”

“Read this.” The waitress stated, handing him a journal.

He glanced down at the leather-bound book, slightly faded from years of writing. He unclicked the lock and opened it, looking down at the pages. It was his, a journal full of writings he had done.

“Where did you get this?” He inquired.

“You were right about your car being messy. But you’d be surprised what you fine if you just look.” She teased.

Colby read over the words, the first entry catching his eye. It was dated a year after him and Sam had graduated high school.

Sam is succeeding without me. I knew he would. He was always so smart when it came to business decisions. He just hit 10k followers on Vine. That’s crazy!

“What the hell is this?” Colby questioned.

She answered quickly. “This whole journal was you keeping up with Sam without him knowing. This version of you always paid attention to what he was doing, even if you guys were no longer friends.”

“I’m obsessed with Sam? That’s great.” He deadpanned.

“You’re not obsessed with Sam. Read this entry.” She skipped a handful of pages, finally stopping on one and showing it to him.

I hate myself everyday for the hurt I caused Sam. I can’t believe what an idiot I was back when I was 18. We could have gone so far together… but I had to go and fuck it up.

He scowled. “Am I supposed to be sad for myself?”

“Keep reading.” She pushed.

The night I chose to never speak to Sam again, I knew I made the wrong decision. But I had to. Sam was ready to go on and do bigger and better things. I was just gonna hold him back. I was terrified of failing, not only myself, but him. He deserves success. That’s why I had to ignore him. I have never been as smart as him. I would have ruined our chances of doing something great. And I have been proven right by how far he has gone without me.

“You stopped being his friend because you were scared, not because you didn’t care anymore.” She repeated.

He slid off the car, scoffing. “So what if I was scared to fail? Sam didn’t deserve the hurt I caused just because of that. And what about me cheating with his girlfriend?”

She jumped off the car, striding up to Colby. She grabbed the journal from his hand. “You didn’t cheat, look.”

She pointed at the bottom of the page, his eyes following her finger.

“Me and Lexi were never together! I hate her for telling him that. One night, they had a really big fight and she came over to my house to ask what she should do. I told her to break up with him if she really didn’t care anymore. And then she tried to hit on me. I told her off and threatened to tell Sam, but she got to him first. She must have told him her and I were together.” The waitress read aloud.

“Wait, if I never hooked up with his girlfriend, why wouldn’t I tell him that?” Colby hissed.

“I think at that point, you wanted the friendship to be over, and I think this solidified it.” The waitress responded.

“All this time I could have been friends with Sam, but I ruined it because I was scared? What a fucking idiot.” He spat.

“You weren’t an idiot,” She interjected. “You just disliked yourself so much you didn’t think you deserved happiness. At least now you know that this version of you isn’t as terrible as you thought.”

“Even with that being the case, Sam’s never gonna accept my apology. Why should he?” Colby lamented, “I let him down the worst ways. I broke his trust and loyalty.”

She shook her head, stepping towards him. “Give him some time. You might be surprised."

Before Colby could speak, his phone rang. He took his phone out of his pocket and looked at the number. It looked familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

“Hello?” He answered.

“Did you really mean it when you said you were sorry?” Sam spoke, his tone hesitant, but dry.

His breath hitched at the sound of Sam’s voice. “Of course. I never meant to hurt you, Sam.”

Sam paused for a moment, before breathing out. “I’m giving you one more chance. Tomorrow. Come by my place. You apparently know where I live.”

“Yeah,” Colby laughed awkwardly. “I’ll come by. Thank you… Sam.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I’ll see you later.” Sam stated, hanging up.

Once the call ended, Colby’s eyes stared down at his phone widely. He almost couldn’t believe that happened.

He inhaled sharply. “Sam just called me. He wants to meet me tomorrow.”

“That’s great.” Her voice just above a whisper.

“He wants to hear me out… he wants to give me another chance.” His face dropped with confusion. “How did he get my number?”

It hit Colby like a brick as he gazed up at the waitress, who bit her lip hiding her smile. “You…?”

“You weren’t the first person I showed the journal to,” she explained. “When you ran off, I was gonna go after you. As I got in your car, I saw this journal sticking out from under your seat. I read through it and… I knew I had to show Sam. I went back in and talked to him for an hour, showing him how much you were actually sorry. How much you had beat yourself up over hurting him. And then I gave him your number. I wasn’t sure if he was gonna call but-”

“Oh my God, you’re amazing!” Colby ran up to her, grabbing her by the waist and spinning her around. She gripped his shoulders tightly as they spun, laughing loudly into his ear. As her feet touched the ground, he stared into her eyes, his smile the brightest she had ever seen it. His hands glided up her body to her face, cupping her cheeks quickly. He smashed his lips against hers, his heart pounding as he did. Her hands lowered to his chest, her grasp on his shirt tightened as she felt herself lose her footing and back up into the car.

As they stumbled, he realized what he was doing, pulling away quickly. “Shit… I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have-”

“No, it’s okay,” She giggled. “I’m just… surprised.”

He exhaled, letting his arms fall away from her body. “Me too.”

They leaned against the car, keeping a slight distance from each other. A light blush rested on both their faces; however, it was hard to see with the setting sun, something they were both grateful for.

The waitress sighed, breaking the moment of silence. “I think I know why this happened. Why I was the only one who remembered you…”

He raised an eyebrow, slightly side-eyeing her. “Really?”

“I lied to you when we first met. I wanted to seem a bit cooler than I am, but I don’t think I can hide that anymore.” She began, nervously.

Colby’s face relaxed a little, surprised at her words. “Okay.”

“My friend didn’t introduce me to you guys… I introduced her… to you.” She confessed.

A soft grin came to his face. “I had a feeling.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did! I totally did,” he snickered. “Not every fan knows I worked at Dairy Queen. And… no average fan would have helped me get Sam back the way you did.”

“I think there’s a reason for all of this. I think in your universe, your life… you don’t know me.” Her voice dropped suddenly, making Colby turn to her.

“That’s true, I don’t.” He nodded.

Her eyes met his, a sad glint reflecting in the moonlight. “But I think the reason for that is because… you’re not supposed to.”

“What do you mean?” He replied, his face twisting in confusion.

“I think you and I are only supposed to have met here, in this universe. But not in yours.” She glared up at the sky, “Maybe in some weird way, I’m your guardian or guide or something.”

Colby’s thoughts raced. “So, what you’re saying is-“

“This might be the last time you’ll ever see me. You did what you had to do. You got Sam and you to talk again.” Her voice cracked as she held back tears, “You can go home.”

He grabbed her hands, holding them close to his body. “But… I don’t want to leave if it means I don’t know you.”

A hitched breath fell from her lips, a smile appearing from his words. “If we’re meant to be, we’ll see each other again.”

“That’s not fair.” He shook his head, a deep frown settling on his face.

“I know, but it’s how it has to be.” She whispered.

He rested his forehead against her, breathing deeply. “Can I… get one more kiss?”

She bit her lip softly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

They leaned in, his breath fanning across her lips for a split second before he pulled away.

“Wait…” He shuddered. “I never got your name.”

A soft smile came to her lips. “I’ll tell you after.”

His arms wrapped around her, pressing her body into his as their lips collided. He held onto her for dear life, terrified that the moment he pulled away, she would be gone.

He could feel things around him slow down, almost melting away, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the beauty of their kiss making him dizzy. A whirling silence overcame his senses. A burning sensation sliced through his abdomen; his breath ripped from his lungs.

A heavy darkness overtook his vision and for the briefest of moments, he felt absolutely nothing.

Except her lips.

<< |

#colby brock #colby brock fic #colby brock story #colby brock one shot #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock fanfic #colby brock oneshot #colby brock angst #sam golbach #sam and colby

182 notes · View notes

loving-all-for-loki · 3 years

Note

Your writing is so wonderful! Could I maybe request something comforting? I’m currently recovering from a surgery to repair my foot with bone anchors and I’ll be bed ridden for 6 weeks. Maybe something with Loki being very supportive and caring for the reader 24/7, moving into her room etc. and the team are just surprised at how helpful he’s being to her. 🤗.

A/N: I’m sorry if I posted this at a weird time, but I have the next chapter to my series Voiceless Love coming out and I wanted to give this fic some time to be seen before that got posted. It’s also a little short, but I felt like this was perfect as a short and sweet fic, instead of a 2k+ story, haha. Also, I know it isn’t 100% exactly what you wanted, but I get stuck with one idea and run with it, oops. I hope you are getting better with your foot. That stinks so much and I’ve been there with my own ankle injuries. If you have any requests for some fics while you recover, send them my way! I always need some inspo and if I can give you some entertainment during your recovery, that would be great. Now, read this, get some sleep, and drink some water. I hope you heal nicely <3

Lucky

Loki x reader

Word count: 1533

Warnings: Pure fluff, just fluff, fluffiness, maybe a bit of sexualizing Loki (I couldn’t help myself)

Seeing your friends carrying big heavy boxes for you swells your heart. It’s also hilarious to see Thor actually struggling to carry something. Tony finds it amusing too given that he’s not doing any of the work but it’s sipping mimosas next to you. Thor grumbles about getting all the heavy boxes, but you also know Sam and Bucky purposely avoid the big ones.

If someone were to tell you ten years ago that you’d be saved from getting tortured by Hydra and become an Avenger, you’d tell them they’re delusional, but this is your life. Even after years of torture and pain, you considered yourself lucky. You could have been the new Soldat, ruined over and over again to be a war machine, but now you’re a trained assassin like Bucky and Nat with a broken leg.

You lean yourself against a wall in your room with your crutches beside you (along with Tony, of course, that lazy bum). Steve, Bucky, and Thor are carrying in boxes while Sam, Nat, and Peter help unpack some things. Today is the day you officially move into the tower with the rest of your teammates and due to your current disability, the other avengers offered to help you. Another reason why you consider yourself lucky.

Peter is by far the most adorable on the team. He’s fully unpacking for you, even arranging the frames on your shelves and the organizers on your desk. He at point made your bed when Steve brought in your blankets and sheets. Bucky has been super sweet, too, giving you funny looks every time he passes by and asking where the best spot for the box he is carrying to go.

But the one “avenger” you didn’t expect to be as helpful as he is, is Loki. The others told him to move out of the way, not wanting his condescending attitude to ruin the fun day, but Loki started to carry boxes in as well. The first time, the avengers were stunned by him, but then they were gracious because he used his magic to transport them, making the job go by quicker. Loki just stands at the bottom of the truck outside and wipes his hand over each cardboard box, sending it to your room.

You really are lucky.

Two days pass by and you decide to ignore your laziness and finally unpack the rest of your boxes. You attempt to push some photo boxes on the top of your shelves, but you find yourself stretching so hard to reach the top. Your foot injury really is stupid and you just want to be able to normal walk, or jump, or even go on your tip toes.

Then you hear a sly chuckle coming from behind you. You let out a frustrated sign knowing exactly who it is.

“Loki, if you’re going to stand there and laugh at me, could you least help me and laugh at me?”

“Of course, darling.” He jokes.

He comes up behind you and takes the box from your struggling fingertips and carefully paces it on top of the shelf.

“Is there anything else you helpless being needs help with?”

“I could use help with hanging my window curtains.”

You point to the box in the corner with your large sheer curtains folded in them. He chuckles and goes over the box, carefully picking them up and hanging them on the frame. You can’t help but notice his figure as he hangs them. He is a marvelous being and who are you to deny your eyes of such a sight?

The sight in front of you proved that you are lucky

Tony gathers the group for a game night and it results in everyone becoming drunk and children. At some point, it becomes a truth or drink game night and everyone has their poison. You have your legs laid over Loki’s lap, who was really hard to convince to join the game, and a bottle of Smirnoff Ice in your hand, only because Tony didn’t have anything else. Loki’s slowly running his fingers over your legs, but higher than your cast.

“Okay, Steve,” Natasha coos, “your turn. Have you ever done drugs?”

“I did marijuana in high school once.”

The whole team gasps and whistles at his answer.

“Captain ain’t so wholesome, now, is he?” Sam cackles.

“I remember that night,” Bucky laughs, “You were so high.”

Steve chuckles and nods his head before looking to see you cuddled up next to Loki and gets a wicked idea.

“Loki, you’ve been quiet. Your turn.”

“Please no, I’m beyond your little games.”

“Aw come on, brother! One question won’t hurt you,” Thor laughs.

“Who in this room would ever kiss?”

Tony whistles and takes a sip of his drink as everyone else laughs. You can feel the ice giant get slightly warm out of embarrassment. His face is flushed with a rose pink color as you get nervous, lightly chuckling to himself.

“I uh…”

“Answer it. Answer it. Answer it.” Sam chants.

Everyone chuckles at the clear uncomfortableness of the god, not seeing him like this often.

“Y/N.” He whispers, almost too quiet for you to even hear.

“Louder, brother. I couldn’t hear you,” Thor says innocently.

“Y/N.”

You smile up at Loki in shock. He won’t look down to meet your eyes but stares straight out the window past Tony. The entire team cheers and chuckles.

“Oh, we’re never letting that one down.”

“How lucky am I?” You laugh.

You attempt to cook yourself some lunch but your stupid cast is getting in the way of moving around. It’s getting tiring to pick up your crutches every time you need a tool two feet away from you. Letting out a frustrated sigh, you hit the edge of the counter with the spatula in your hand.

“What is wrong, dearest?”

You turn your head to see Loki standing behind you with a concerned look on his face, this time not here to make fun of you.

“I’m tired of my stupid foot getting in the way of doing normal activities.”

“Darling, sit down. I’ll make lunch for you.”

“Loki, you really-”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.”

Loki picks you up and sets you down on the couch while also handing you the remote. He goes to the kitchen and attempts to resume your lunch.

“Sweetest, what are you cooking?”

You laugh really hard at his confusion.

“Fajitas.”

“What are those?”

“See Loki, it’s fine! You really don’t have to.”

“And I’m not going to. I’ll make Stark do it.”

Loki orders JARVIS to get Tony and finish making lunch for you. You laugh and shake your head at Loki as he sits down beside you on the couch. He starts to run his fingers through your hair but keeps getting caught in the tangles.

“Why is your hair like this?”

“It’s hard to do anything while standing up. I can barely brush my teeth without falling over.”

“Well, it looks like I’ll do that for you, too.”

“Loki, I swear if you-”

“No point in arguing. I’m going to assist you.”

You rolls your eyes at the cocky god as he smiles at you. Nuzzling your head into his neck, Loki holds you tightly in an embrace. Tony comes in to see you two cuddling and shakes his head.

“You are so lucky we love you.”

You wake up the next day to see Loki sleeping beside you on your bed. You try to remember anything that happened last night, but you were so tired, nothing comes to mind. If you didn’t have a broken foot, you would be concerned about waking up next to a god, but you also know he wouldn’t have done anything with your injury. He’s too kind (much to some disbelief).

“Good morning, darling.”

Loki leans over to you and kisses you on the forehead. He wasn’t as asleep as you thought he was, but you’re not complaining. Waking up beside this adonis isn’t the worst way to spend a morning.

“Good morning.”

“I don’t care what you say,” Loki smiles, brushing a piece of your hair behind your ear, “you’re staying in bed and I’m waiting on you.”

“That’s very sweet. Thank you.”

“I’m glad someone learned something last night.”

“Actually, I don’t remember a lot from last night. I was tired.”

“We bickered about me waiting on you, hand and foot.”

“Hmm, that sounds about right.”

“So, today I’m treating you like a proper princess.”

“Does that mean we’re together?”

Loki looks at you confused, but his face lights up when he realizes what you’re implying.

“I suppose so. In that case, my princess, I will wait on you.”

You watched as the god all day served you lunch and dinner. He brushed your hair and teeth. Helped you change clothes. Played your music to cheer you up. Even carried you to the bathroom when you had to go.

Thinking about all the things your friends have done for you and all of the things that Loki, your prince, has done, all you can say is how lucky you are.

#loki fluff #loki fanfic #loki fan fiction #loki laufeyson #loki #loki x reader #loki x reader fluff #loki oneshot #marvel x reader #anonrequest #lovingallforloki

120 notes · View notes

haikyuuishete · 4 years

Text

S/o being followed and stalked|| Headcanons

Akaashi,Atsumu,Iwaizumi, Ushijima

Akaashi:

Finished with work you were ready to go home, unfortunately Akaashi had practice so he couldn’t come visit

Walking home you felt someone following you

Turning around couple of times no one was behind you, maybe it was paranoia

No one was on the streets except for you

Turning your head once more you see a group of men following you

You started to speed up your pace so did they, then you started to run to the nearest store you could find

They were running too trying to catch up to you which scared you a lot

Getting out your phone when you got to the store immediately calling Akaashi

Akaashi just finished practice and was talking to Konoha and Bokuto about their next game

His phone rings and he quickly answers it

“Hey love” “Akaashi I’m at a store and some guys are following me and I don’t know what to do” your voice trembled, Akaashi immediately turned pale, Bokuto and Konoha started to get worried watching Akaashi shakes in anxiety and anger

“Stay right there, I’m going to come get you send me your location” hanging up the phone rushing to get his stuff

“Akaashi what’s wrong!” Konoha stops him, “a group of men are following y/n”

everyone heard and got their stuff ready following Akaashi out, running to the place you were at

At the distance they could see the group of men waiting outside, it was already 8 pm and they were already drunk

Akaashi let’s out a venomous scoff

The team slowed down their pace and acted nothing was happening as they entered

Washio was holding Bokuto off who wanted to beat them up

“Let me fight them” “bokuto no”

Akaashi lost his cool and looked for you in each aisle to find you holding onto your bag staring at a random vending machine

“Y/n” Akaashi started to clam himself knowing you’re safe, “Keiji”

Running into his arms where he held onto you tightly, “y/n” he whispers lowly, holding onto you

His whole team looked so relieved once seeing you, “you scared us!” Bokuto pinches your cheek scolding you almost

“You’re hurting her dumbass” Sarukui pushes him away

“Okay time to plan and loose those losers” they formed a huddle and whispered

The plan was for everyone to buy snacks and make a leave

Akaashi gave you his jacket holding your hand tightly

His team surrounded you so they wouldn’t see you

The group of men didn’t notice at all and still thought you were in the store

“You’re not walking home by yourself anymore” he kisses your knuckles taking you home where it was safe

Atsumu:

It’s been happening for days actually for months with the stalking, these group of boys would just stalk you but never harm you

Knowing Atsumu he would attack them and he would get in trouble in the end so you brushed it off because they haven’t tried to harm you

You don’t know them probably from another school but they smell like alcohol from a mile away

It was just another day walking down the streets going home

The same group was standing by the street lights hanging out

You try not to make eye contact and walk pass them quietly unfortunately today wasn’t your day “HEY you come here!” Which startled you a lot but ignored them

Unfortunately they didn’t get the memo and started to follow you by whistling at you

You started to fasten your pace, so did they

Taking your phone out of your bag quickly you dialed Atsumu who was in your emergency contacts

Atsumu was taking a break he was causally arguing with Osamu and Suna, getting a call he immediately picks up because it was you

“Hey baby girl” “Tsumu this group of guys are following me and I’m running please help” you huff out in panic, Atsumu could hear the whistles and shouts in the background that made him beyond furious gripping on to his phone tightly, everyone could see his knuckles turning white

“Go to an alleyway baby and send me your location try to lose them I’ll be right there!” He shouts

“What’s wrong Atsumu?” Kita stops him from going anywhere “let me go,a group of guys are following y/n” Letting Atsumu go, following along, dropping the balls for later not caring if their coach would yell at them

All of them rushed to your rescue, Atsumu was running little bit faster trying to get to your spot

Meanwhile you were hiding in the shadows but those boys are still looking for you and not leaving

Your phone rung, unfortunately they heard it and got ahold of you

They started to ask questions and holding onto your arm tightly causing a small bruise to form, you were trying to kick them away and fight back but they were much more stronger than you

“Leave me alone you idiots!” You gritted at them, throwing a kick

Before they could say any back

A punch was thrown at one of them, “don’t touch her” Atsumu and osamu pulled you towards them as Omimi and Hitoshi hold off that group with cold glares.

Holding them off

Kita tells them to never come around you or the team will find them

Scary I say super scary, Atsumu hugged you so tightly, “You are never walking alone ever again” he growled pulling you into a kiss, you could feel his beating heart “I promise” you hug him in pure relief

“Y/n have they been following you lately?” Kita asks, “yea almost stalking” Atsumu’s grips gets tighter

“You are never leaving my side” he growled kissing your forehead

Iwaizumi:

There were rumors about a stalker around school but everyone thinks it’s a rumor or a joke that one of the guys said to scare girls

It was the end of practice, you walked home with Iwaizumi half of the way since his house is at the other way with Oikawa and the rest of the team

“Okay I’ll see you guys later okay” you bid goodbye to them giving Iwaizumi a quick kiss goodbye making Oikawa gag

you had to make a quick stop at the store

Browsing through each aisle you felt someone staring at you

Ignoring that feeling you bought snacks for yourself, leaving the store almost immediately

Then suddenly you heard footsteps behind you, gulping a bit you decided to go somewhere else just in case

This person started to follow you to the short cut, you started jog a bit, only for him to speed up his pace

Knowing Iwaizumi is close by probably eating with his team

You run for it as fast you could and this guy won’t give up

Getting closer to the place the team usually are at, you see him and Oikawa talking to the team and laughing

“Iwa!” You shout, he turns around smiling at you only to see his smile fall, he could see the stalker behind you

Iwaizumi got up opening his arms wide open pulling you into his chest glaring at that guy who was behind you

The team gets up from their chairs, “excuse me sir do need something from our friend?” Oikawa asks glaring at him, everyone was. Kyotani was ready to fight this guy

Meanwhile Iwaizumi was holding on to your shaky body, kissing your head in reassurance, “I’m here baby no one will hurt you ever” he whispered holding on to you tightly

“Leave or I will make sure you loose all your teeth!” Iwaizumi shouted at the guy who didn’t even move, since he was just one against a whole group of boys

The stalker retreated and walked off causing Iwaizumi to rage but you held him tightly

“Don’t do anything please just stay with me” you begged which made him sigh and hug you

“We’ll walk you home every night okay y/n” Oikawa pats your head

“Tomorrow morning we should report this guy” Makki sighs looking at the distance where that guy left at

“Let’s go home okay”

Ushijima:

Since everyone had to leave the dorms for some reparations everyone had to walk to school now

Didn’t bother you much since you like walking

But recently weird things has been happening ever since your parents left town for two weeks

Weird letters and flowers has been sent to your doorstep

At first you thought it was from Ushijima which wasn’t, “it’s probably for someone else and probably and the delivery man mistaken the address” Tendou shrugged it off, maybe he was right Ushijima agreed but made him slightly irritated if it wasn’t a mistake

After a few days more flowers and a love letter appeared on your door step, you brought every letter to Toshi’s team to read it

“Whoa this guy is hooked” Semi read every letter and was amazed

“Throw them away” Ushijima gets up and starts to practice again, everyone started to wonder who is this secret admirer

It started to get worse, the flowers and even letters started to get scarier

But instead you ignored it, which was a bad idea

You walked home at the end of the day without Ushijima since he had late practice with the boys

You started to get chills down your spine, you made a few stops making sure you weren’t followed at all, taking double takes but as you pass a window of a shop you saw a reflection of a figure behind you which scared you

You had to keep calm and pretend nothing was happening, going to another store close by

This person followed you in as you pretended to browse for some snacks, taking out your phone and called Ushijima

“Hey y/n” he finally answered “hey Toshi are you almost at (name of store)?” “Y/n whats going on?” “You’ll be here soon? Okay great better hurry” there was a hidden message behind it, he knew it, wasn’t the usual way you talked to him. “Is that person behind you?” “Yea baby I’ll see you here”

Ushijima immediately grabbed his stuff, “whoa whoa Ushiwaka what’s wrong?” Tendou asks “there is a guy following y/n” “you mean that secret admirer?” Semi gasped, It take long for the rest to follow their captain out, he was quicker than them, yet they tried to stay at his pace

He finally made it and found you in the corner, “y/n” he says out of breath, “Toshi” you pull him into a hug trembling a bit

The guy that was following you left the store but as you watched the whole Shiratorizawa caught him and started to interrogate him

Tendo was ready to fight him, he was stopped by Ushijima

you behind him, he glared at the guy before him

“You should never make a girl feel unsafe and uncomfortable, never again will you follow or try to talk to my girlfriend again got it”

The guy started stumbling back trying to get up

Semi told Ushijima to bring you home while the rest went to report him

Ushijima took you home hugging which made you cling to him; he didn’t mind

He stayed at your house for a few days till your parents got home “even if you’re parents are back you will wait for me after practice no matter what” he kisses your forehead, cheek, lips, nose

“I will”

#haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#haikyuu nekoma #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fukurodani #haikyuu shiratorizawa #ushijima x reader #akaashi headcanons #atsumu headcanons #iwaizumi imagine #haikyuu ushiwaka #akaashi haikyuu #atsumu x reader #haikyuu iwaizumi

1K notes · View notes

cades-outsider · 3 years

Text

Johnny Cade X Reader

Warnings: None

Broken

Most of your days consisted of spending time with the Curtis's. It was just a known thing, you were also the only girl in the gang and they protected you with their lives.

It made you feel so special, they wanted you to feel special because you were the only girl they would ever allow in the gang. Even some of the boys girlfriends didn’t know the gang nor you.

You even got along with Dallas, not many people get along with Dallas Winston and that’s saying a lot. Dallas didn’t just like you because you were a girl and had all the parts, but he liked you because of your personality. You were apart of them and you understood them like no others.

You were also kind of like the mom in the group, when they got into rumbles you would patch them up and take care of them.

You could say that your favorite person in the gang for sure though was Johnny Cade, also known as johnnycakes.

He hardly joined the rumbles, only when they really needed him. Ever since he got jumped by bob he was jumpy to most touch. So fighting wasn’t really in the picture right now.

It was bad enough his parents treated him like they did, but the socs on the other hand was enough to make someone weak and broken.

Johnny would mostly hang out with you during rumbles, you would talk, laugh, and joke around to the point where you started falling in love with the puppy eye'd boy, also another nickname for Johnnycakes.

You really didn’t know how to express your feelings, the only think you knew how to do was ignore people that you liked.

It was a coping mechanism that you had set, it also made everything awkward though. The constant avoiding made forceful comments awkward and even Johnny could feel it.. of course he could.

It made him feel like he was more broken that he realized, though the mechanism you used made you feel better about your feelings it hurt Johnny more, it made him think you wouldn’t ever want to be seen with him or be with a broken boy like him.

He was very insecure in that area, his confidence was definitely not low. From the constant pain he would receive from his own parents and socs just lowered his confidence, therefore he was super quiet so he wouldn’t draw attention to himself.

With that being said you were at the Curtis's along with the rest of the gang, including Johnny of course. He kept the group together.

Dallas started joking around and talking with you, you started interfering back and sparking conversations with him, little jokes here and there but all platonically considering your love for a certain puppy eye’d boy.

Suddenly Johnny felt very left out, he was the only one in the group that wasn’t speaking. It seemed that no one realized well to him, you noticed it but you didn’t know what to do.

Johnny was sitting right next to you, so it made it harder to ignore his heating presents. You were practically touching arms and legs, you could feel the heat radiating from his body and it sent goosebumps up your skin.

Your breathing started picking up once your brain realized everything, your heart sped up until suddenly that warmth was replace with cold air as Johnny got up, stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking outside on the porch.

A few seconds later you excused yourself and decided on checking up on Johnny, walking outside on the porch you close both the screen door and the main door wanting to have as much privacy as the thin house could maintain.

The sound of the screen door closing caught Johnny’s attention from blowing smoke up in the air. You didn’t condone smoking to much, but somehow Johnny always looked so hot doing tricks like that.

You walk over to the rocking chair beside him and take a seat, "hey Johnny" You awkwardly say.

"Y/n" he tilts his head towards you.

You sighed as you let silence fall over you two, "ya know, I never thought I’d say this but I really like you Y/n" Johnny finally admits looking up from playing with his fingers.

Your heart drops as you realize you practically ignored him and he felt the same. "I guess you ignorin' me confirmed you don’t like me back" He says, and you can practically hear the hurt behind his voice.

"Johnny I-" you don’t even get to finish the sentence before Johnny speaks back up.

"It’s okay Y/n, I understand I’m to broken for me to..." He sniffles, getting up stuffing his hands in his pockets and rushing down the street.

"Wait! Johnny!" You speak up rushing towards him, but he doesn’t stop walking except he speed up his pace.

"Johnny!" You finally catch up to him gently grabbing onto his arm and stepping in front of him.

You get a good look at his face, he has tears forming from his eyes. He turned his head away from you, embarrassed from showing you weak feelings.

"Johnny look at me please..." You trail off, using your finger to guide him to look at you. Eventually he does.

"I’m sorry I didn’t say this before, but I love you to Johnny" You admit with red cheeks.

"Really? You’re not just sayin' that because you feel bad?" He sniffles.

"Of course not, I’m in love with you Johnny Cade" You smile grabbing his hands and interwinding them, bringing your body’s closer.

Johnny blushes as he pull you in a much needed hug, he digs his head in the crook of your neck "I’m in love with ya' to Y/n" He states shyly.

You both pull away from the hug, gazing into each other’s eyes "can I kiss you?" You question, wanting to make sure incase you overstepped any boundaries.

Johnny nods and you seal your lips together, his lips press firmly but still gently agains his chapped lips, he tasted like smoke and vanilla and honestly it was addicting to you.

He places his hand on your jaw and pulls you in closer, you both pull away gently "wow you taste' good" You blush.

"I’m sorry that sounded weird" You confirm scrunching you your nose, Johnny blushed as he lets out stutters of words.

"N-no it’s great' you taste wow'" Johnny blushes as he looks at the ground.

"Wanna' go to the lot?" You question grabbing his hand.

Johnny nods as you began your journey to the lot, if anyone would have told you that you would be here 5 minutes ago you would have laughed, but not anymore and you were thankful for that.

_______________________________________________

This was requested by @peachymelon69

#wattpad #robby keene #cobra kai #cobra kai imagine #cobra kai x reader #eli moskowitz x reader #hawk #tiktok #x reader #masterlist #ralph macchio #johnny cade x reader #johnny cade #the outsiders #outsiders #cobra kia #requested #requests closed

187 notes · View notes

shadowsinger11 · 4 years

Text

You, The Stars And I

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k (oops)

Requested by @amira3113: Can I request a fic abt the reader seeing Fred and George comforting a kid after Umbridge punished him and the reader helps them and Fred thinks it's so cute what she is doing and she does the same and extra mega fluff, pls?🥺 you don't gotta do it if u don't want to btw.. so no pressure ;)

Warnings: A bit more angst than intended, Fred being a soft boi™️

A/N: I don't know how to feel, I just roasted myself hardcore with this and I'm feeling even more single. I'm sorry for not being able to use a 'keep reading' tab

Masterlist

The sun fell asleep behind the endless hills, enveloped by dense, opaque darkness. Its golden rays no longer shone through the wide windows of the castle and instead let shadows creep into the long, empty hallways, revealing the ugly truth about what the school had turned into over the past few months.

The naked walls stood tall, towering over you and inching closer with every step you took, and you hung your head low, aiming to block out the singular buzzing thought in your head.

Hogwarts was no longer home.

Your heart ached at the memory of hundreds of students chattering and laughing all day long, freely walking around the school grounds and simply being children. You so terribly missed being careless and having fun without the fear of potentially facing a life-threatening punishment.

But now there was no laughter, only your footsteps echoed in the hallway.

You were headed straight to your common room, determined to go to sleep early. The curfew and the dozens of new restrictions prevented you from meeting your friends, and you hoped that sleep would at least somehow distract you from your worries for a couple of hours.

The deafening silence nearly caused you to miss the muffled sobs and quiet whispering, coming from a turn not far away. It seemed as though there were more than one voice speaking, and your chest clenched with dread.

You hurried your pace until you reached the source of the noise, and peeked from behind the wall.

The sight most definitely surprised you, but the pain in your chest only sharpened.

There, on a bench, Fred and George were sitting, hunched over a small boy, probably no older than a second year. You could tell by his green robes which house he was in, but his red, tear-stained face was what alarmed you.

You immediately approached him and fell to your knees. George was on his left, rubbing slow, soothing circles on his back, while Fred was on the other side, holding his small hand in his, on the back of which a few words glistened with fresh crimson blood.

I must not ask questions.

You sent the twins a questioning look, but Fred dismissed it by shaking his head; clearly that was not the time for an explanation, nor was one necessary to begin with.

You placed a hand on the boy's knee to make your presence known.

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

This only caused the child to sob harder and you internally cursed for having to go through this routine.

"It hurts…" he whimpered, "I thought Hogwarts was fun. I met friends last year and it was great. But now… Now I really want to go home."

Your jaw clenched and you swallowed hard, furious about seeing innocent children slowly losing faith and joy in life, turning into hollow shells of the amazing people they could have grown to become.

The horrifying experience would inevitably have a massive impact on them and unexplainable guilt twisted your stomach. And even though the long-term damage had already been done, you could at least take care of the temporary pain.

"It's not going to hurt for long, I promise," Fred whispered, tenderly playing with the boy's trembling fingers. "Ours are already fading."

"That's true, see?" George showed the back of his hand on which you could make out the faint, bloody words 'I must not cause trouble.', and you felt sick. "Soon you won't even remember it was there."

Tears stung in your eyes, but before you gave them a chance to fall, you turned to the redheads.

"I can heal the wound. Well, to an extent. If anything, I can lessen the pain," you began. "But I need to grab something from the Charms classroom."

Fred frowned, confused, "Wouldn't you need a potion for that? Why Charms?"

"Snape isn't the only one armored with potions for just in case things go wrong. And we can't risk going to the dungeons at this hour. It's not wise to tell Madam Pomfrey yet either."

The twins nodded. George said.

"It's not a good idea for all of us to go at once. I suggest one of us returns and covers the others up if necessary."

"I'll go with her," Fred stated without a second thought. "I can get them safely where they need to be, let her do her thing and bring them back."

Fred's eagerness to help filled you with warmth and for once that night you had the strength to smile, even for just a second.

"That sounds like plan then. But you should really take the map," George added, already pulling out the neatly folded Marauder's Map from his backpack. "Don't wanna risk getting caught by the ugly toad, you know."

"As if she'd be strolling down the hallways late at night. Doesn't she have hobbies?"

"Does hanging creepy pictures of cats on pink walls count as such?" you commented and the second year giggled, which made you feel slightly better as well.

Fred took the map from George and you grabbed the boy's hand.

"Good luck, guys. And, like, don't die."

"Woah, greatly encouraging, Georgie," you replied sarcastically, but appreciated it nonetheless. "You sure you'll be fine?"

"Absolutely. I got the route memorized like the back of my hand. I'll be careful."

And with that, George headed towards the Gryffindor Tower while you, Fred and the boy went in the opposite direction - the East Towers.

The night was eerily quiet, only the footsteps and shuddering breaths of the three of you keeping you sane. The soft light, gleaming at the tip of your wands, didn't do much to brighten the empty hallways which now seemed like endless voids of darkness.

Occasionally Fred would warn you about Filch's cat approaching, or Peeves causing trouble nearby, but fortunately, you reached the classroom sooner than expected.

"Alohomora," you whispered, but the door didn't bulge when you tried to open it.

Fred grinned, "Surely a Charms professor wouldn't let such a cliché unlock his own classroom."

"Shut up," you grumbled. "Aberto!"

The door opened. Fred's eyes widened in amusement and you flashed him a charming smile on your way in.

You placed the boy to sit on a desk as you and your friend rushed to look through drawers and chests for something useful. Most of them were full of basic items such as old books and quills, half-full jars of salamander blood, pearl dust and gillyweed, and after long fifteen minutes of not having found anything, you slid your back down against the wall, sighing in frustration.

Sleep-deprivation was kicking in, but your anxiety was getting stronger.

You needed to do something. Fast.

"What about this chest right here?" Fred asked from the other side of the classroom, pointing at something under Flitwick's desk.

You shook your head, "Doesn't open, already tried. Even if the cure is there, we can't get it."

"I take it your brilliant spells don't work anymore?" the redhead teased and you so badly wished to slap away the cocky smirk on his face. Or kiss it. There was something oddly attractive about the way he'd set your nerves on fire, and you hated yourself for enjoying it. Fred seemed to love it too.

"If you're only here to be annoying, just leave."

"I'm here to help too. I can multitask."

You nearly jumped from the ground to strangle him, and he clearly saw through your intentions because his toothy grin almost split his face in two. That bastard.

That super annoying, devilishly handsome bastard.

"Are you gonna keep staring at me, or are you coming? Not that I mind the attention," he shrugged.

You rose to your feet and made your way over to where he was standing, not granting him the pleasure of facing him, "Don't flatter yourself, Weasley. Your stupidity is simply impossible to be unnoticed."

Fred laughed, "Oh, so I was annoying and now I'm stupid too? Make up your mind, woman."

You pulled out your wand and smirked at him over your shoulder.

"You said it yourself that you can multitask. Aberto!"

Nothing.

Fred squinted his eyes as he stared at the wooden chest. What spell could the professor have possibly used? Could you have even heard of it? The chances of ever finding the precious item were becoming grimmer with each passing second and the inevitable sense of dread had started to settle in.

After a minute Fred finally spoke.

"I think your problem is that you're using spells that only work on doors. You need a charm which unlocks containers."

"You might be right. What would that be then?" you enquired, glancing at the redhead. He took his own wand out of his robes.

"I know a spell that's come in handy before. Hopefully it will work now," he wettened his lips and said. "Cistem Aperio!"

Blinding light caused you to cover you eyes, and the chest opened with a loud thud which could have easily alerted the entire floor of your presence if it wasn't for the silencing charm you were lucky to have used when you first entered the classroom.

You finally dared to open your eyes and kneeled on the ground, carefully rummaging through fancy-looking boxes and vials sparking with liquids that seemed to be quite important.

"What are we looking for?" Fred asked as he crouched next to you.

"Wound-Cleaning Potion. Purple."

It was weird having Fred stand this close to you; sparks of electricity would pierce your heart every time his shoulder brushed against yours, or his fingers would accidentally graze yours. And when they did, they had you longing more and more for their touch, for their warmth.

But this warmth did not belong to you.

You swallowed down the disappointment and instead attempted to focus on the task at hand.

Just as you had expected, the precious crystal bottle was carefully wrapped in sparkling cloth and placed inside a box that was hidden deep in the corner of the chest. You breathed a sigh of relief and got on your feet, determined to stay away from Fred. For his sake and yours.

"Here it is," you smiled at the boy as you walked over to him. "Fred, can you get me some bandages from the drawer in the back?" you asked, pointing right behind him, and he did as he was told.

You took the hand of the young Slytherin and examined it closely - the wound was sure to leave a nasty scar, one that would never heal.

"Can you make it disappear?" he asked, fearfully.

Your heart dropped. But you replied with all the courage you could muster.

"I can try."

Fred was soon by your side and placed the medical items on the desk; a half-full packet of cotton, some bandages and a small box of bandaids. You muttered a 'thanks', not even looking at him, and opened the middle-sized bottle. It spread a characteristic smell of ashes, mint and lemon when you lifted it towards your nose - it was ready to use.

"So what now?" Fred asked.

Not granting him a reply, you simply took a small piece of the cotton and dipped the opening of the bottle into it, soaking it with a generous amount of the purple, dense liquid. The smell grew stronger.

Fred could only watch as you yet again gently grabbed the boy's hand and carefully dabbed the back of it; a thin steam of smoke soared from the contact of wet cotton and wounded flesh, purple mixing with red, and the kid hissed in pain. You worked attentively but quickly, with measured gestures and a straight face, and you missed the way Fred's eyes seemed to soften at the sight of you helping a small kid.

But one thing baffled him - why did you suddenly start acting so emotionless? Even towards the youngling who didn't know a thing. And though your expression seemed calm and collected, the Gryffindor noticed your tensed jaw.

What he wasn't aware of, however, was the racing speed of you heart, increasing each second. He wasn't aware of the short, shallow breaths you were taking because if you had allowed yourself to breathe freely, you'd certainly let out tears along with the deeps sighs.

Every move was calculated, every word and breath.

You pressed a fresh piece of cotton against the now cleaned wound and kept it there as you began to roll the bandage over it, securing it in place. When you were done, you placed a gentle, lingering kiss on the hand.

"There. It should do the trick."

The boy's face lit up and he hugged you, not giving you another choice but to wrap your arms around his small body. At least you had managed to bring him back some of the lost warmth.

"We should get him to his dorm," you told Fred and despite not facing him, he knew the words were directed towards him. That still didn't prevent the stinging pain in his chest from being so effortlessly avoided by you, and he frowned, bewildered by your unexpected coldness towards him.

Had he accidentally done anything to upset you? Were you mad at him? What for?

The boy jumped to his feet, visibly less burdened despite the present tear stains on his puffy cheeks. You hoped he'd be able to get some sleep that night regardless of the circumstances.

The three of you left the classroom as quietly as you had entered it and went in the direction of the dungeons. Fred, as usual, did his job at looking at the map and keeping track of the names, moving on the yellow-ish piece to old parchment.

Fortunately, you reached the Slytherin common room without any disturbances along the way, and the boy went inside, eager to crawl into bed and not think about the ugly lady who had punished him so unfairly just a few hours ago.

The door closed without a sound, leaving you and Fred on your own.

His soft voice broke the burdening silence.

"Are you going to bed?"

If you were being honest, you hadn't even thought about sleep during your secret adventure and though your body was on the verge of giving out, your restless mind was sure to wander all night. And the idea of being alone with your thoughts scared you.

"Actually… I don't think so," you began, fiddling with your fingers in hopes to not let Fred see how much they were trembling. "I doubt I'd be able to get any sleep now."

"Me too, I admit," Fred scratched the back of his neck, uncertain as to how to make the situation less awkward than it was. Trying to get you to talk was hard enough as it was, but your sudden avoidance wasn't helping either. All Fred wished for was to witness the hopeful spark in your eyes, the spark that he had noticed diminish on the first day of school when the unsettling news was announced.

Fred was determined to bring the light back and see your joyous smile again.

Without skipping a beat he said.

"Come with me."

Your eyes shot up in surprise, meeting Fred's for the first time that night. You expected to see the ever-present playful mischief in them, but instead they glistened with something you could not quite recognize. The corners of his mouth had formed a smile, one that didn't intend to mock or provoke in any way, but still contained his usual boyish charm. It was humble and sincere, and along with the anticipating look in his eyes it read.

Trust me.

Your mouth went dry, any and all reasoning to stay vanishing in thin air as you tried to make sense out of your inner conflict. Fred surely wouldn't care if you said no, would he? It's not like he'd be offended that someone like you refused to go with him; why would he even be interested in you in the first place?

But the idea of spending some time alone with him did sound very tempting - you desperately needed some positivity in that moment, feeling exceptionally drained of all your energy after having to witness the emotional and psychological impact of Umbridge's dictatorship. And if there was someone who could lift your spirit even in such dark times, that would be Fred.

Screw the idea of a potential relationship, you needed a friend right now.

"Where to, Weasley?"

Fred grinned at the nickname and shoved hands into his pockets.

"The Astronomy Tower. Are you coming?"

You smiled at him.

"Sure."

It was indeed a brilliant idea to spend the night at the place where anyone rarely ever set a foot. Regardless of it being crowded during classes all day, the Tower wasn't a common choice for students to meet, them much preferring locations like the common rooms, the Great Hall, the school grounds or even the Black Lake. But the Tower did possess a magnetic, obscure charm which many people failed to comprehend and appreciate; charm only meant to lure the wandering souls seeking peace under the stars.

Fred approached the iron railing, breathing in the cold, early spring air, and sat cross-legged on the ground. As he saw you standing a few feet away from him, he patted the empty spot next to him.

"Come on now, don't leave me sitting on my own like that," he joked and his face lit up when he noticed the ghost of a smile on your lips for a brief moment. You joined Fred on the ground, settling on a polite distance from him, and though he was slightly disappointed by the gesture, he was grateful to be in your presence nonetheless.

Silence fell over both of you like soft velvet while you stared off into the horizon; the view reached the Forbidden Forest, the outlines of which had melted into the pitch black sky like ink, the lines between the two practically nonexistent in the dead hours of the night as they blurred into one endless void.

"I don't remember the last time I saw stars on the sky," Fred addressed your ever-listening companions above in a low, hushed voice that caused warmth to blossom within you regardless of the cold surrounding you.

"Me neither," you agreed, nostalgia creeping into you, but you decided you'd welcome it this time. "Such a shame we can't see the moon though."

Your friend nodded, lips pursed into a thin line, "That's because it's currently new moon. We'll need to wait for awhile until it's visible again."

You turned to Fred and the air was knocked out of your lungs. All you could do was silently admire the way the starlight was softening his sharp features and giving his usually flaming red hair a calming shade of copper. His eyes seemed to glow in the dark, and you found yourself coming to the conclusion you had realised long ago.

He was such a beautiful man.

Those glowing eyes landed on yours and you felt your face heat up.

"How are you?" he asked abruptly and you choked out in bafflement.

"Y-You mean, right now? Or in general?..."

"How are you coping?" he rephrased. "You know, with everything going on. I noticed Umbridge bothering you recently."

A shuddering breath.

"I like to think that I'm doing better than others," you nodded hesitantly, finding it hard to sort out your emotions. "I'm more worried about the most vulnerable among us, the youngest students. They're just children. They're the ones that are most terrified. I really hope Dumbledore will be able to do something about it… no matter where he might be right now."

Fred was watching you intently; he did not miss your expression, darkened with concern, nor did he miss your slumped figure, slightly hunched over for a reason he believed was other than exhaustion. Your friend moved closer and nudged your foot with his.

"I don't want you to talk to me about the rest. I want to hear about you. I can clearly see you're being tormented by her."

"As if you're not."

"That's not the point," he insisted and placed a hand on your knee, causing you to face him. His smile was gone. "I need to know how this madness is affecting you."

"I couldn't care less about what that toad puts me through," you shook your head dismissively and shrugged. Why was he getting so worked up about it? "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it does! It matters to me!" Fred hissed in frustration. "Do you think it doesn't hurt me every time I see Umbridge picking at you or calling you for detention? Because it bloody does and you have no idea how horrible it feels to not be able to help you."

He gave your knee a squeeze.

"For once, just for one time, please. Please, stop trying to be the hero of everybody. Believe me, we see- I see how hard you're trying to keep your chin up despite all the shit you're facing, and that's admirable, but right now it's not necessary. Let go. It's just me."

A way too familiar lump formed in your throat and your chest constricted painfully before it harshly dilated, letting out choked breaths. Fred was quick to envelope you in his long arms before your tears even rolled down your cheeks, and when they did, they met his shoulder. Your hands flew around his neck, body falling into his and soaking up his warmth. Fred pressed his soft lips to your temple, calming the racing pulse as you cried freely and unapologetically. Darling, you feel too much.

It's just me.

Your friend didn't let you out of his hold even when your heart-wrenching whimpers were reduced to weak sobs. He continued cradling your exhausted body which was on the verge of completely giving out. But Fred didn't mind, finding astonishing strength in your vulnerability.

After what seemed like hours, you forced yourself to timidly whisper, lip quivering, "I'm scared... And confused."

"Me too, sweetheart," Fred hummed into your ear. "Me too."

You wiped away the trails of dried tears lingering on your face.

"There's just too much going on. Too much that I'm not ready for."

Realization flashed in Fred's brown eyes and they looked down at you with so much longing, sincerity, but also sympathy and understanding.

You weren't angry at him. You were afraid.

And that was alright.

There was enough time, not need for a rush.

Fred had been waiting for years to find out whether his burning feelings for you were reciprocated, constantly suppressing them in fear of scaring you away and losing you. And now that he knew your heart belonged to him like his did to you, all the stars above couldn't contain his untamed happiness, pure and hopeful.

Surely he could wait a little more for you to grow comfortable with your own emotions.

Fred tightened his hold around you and pecked your cheek tenderly, the subtle touch sending a shock throughout your body and subsiding your need for sleep.

"That's alright," he whispered. "Rest now."

@self-ship-love @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hufflexpuff @neovannii

Message me if you want to be tagged~

Reblog my work if you enjoyed it!

Masterlist

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader angst #fred weasley x reader fluff #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley #james phelps #george weasley #oliver phelps #fred and george weasley #weasley twins #harry potter imagines

1K notes · View notes