#also funny because my sister mentioned something similar a few months ago

[wombywoo]

Started watching Fire Country and sometimes it‘s like… Vincent??

lololol I can kinda see it!! 👀👀 it's hilarious that there are glimpses of my boy out in the wild lol 🤭

[futurequibblerjournalist]

Hello again!!!!

I don't really have much to say abt Mary bc you did like,, such a good job telling me everything that I could have asked about her! You do a great job with everyone that I HAVE asked about too but you get it (I hope lol)

Do you have any like,, thoughts on Lucius? :0 or Viktor!!!! Ik you mentioned him a little while ago :3 Idk seeing him with your interpretation of Igor Karkaroff is special to me idk

Byebye!!!! See you soon lol :D

- 🍃

Ahhhhh I’m so glad you liked my little Mary rant!! I love chatting about the girls they’re just all so mwah,,,

I have a handful of thoughts on Lucius!

His full name is Lucius Abraxas Malfoy and he was born September 8th 1953 (making him a Virgo) at Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire, England. He’s the first born son of Abraxas Malfoy and only son of Luceille Malfoy née Famelle (she’s distantly related to the Flamels but as you can tell some stuff has gotten lost over the years hence the slight change in the last name!) and he’s the older half brother of Xenophilius. His mother died in childbirth and thus he never knew her and it’s given him a few issues ngl,,,

Abraxas remarried a few years after Luceille’s death and thus Xenophilius became a thing. Hestia (Xeno’s mother) tried to step into the role of mum for Lucius but he never wanted any of that and he was lowkey mad at his dad for remarrying even if he never felt like he should let anyone know.

I think he and Narcissa fully adopted Severus as like their Hogwarts kid just like how Xenophilius and Pandora later do with Gilderoy lol (it clearly runs in the family). I don’t usually base my headcanons off of the mobile game but there’s hints in there that Lucius and Narcissa’s marriage was a love match and I 100% believe that. He gifted her a Malfoy brooch to welcome her into the family I believe when they were first engaged (which would have been at some point while she was still at school?? because she puts it in her keepsake box that she had with her sisters while they were all at school) and to tell her that she was worthy of becoming a Malfoy. I think he placed a lot of values on family which is why I also think it’s so funny that the family he does have he’s like “nope I don’t wanna be related to that freak [points to Xeno]” lmaooo

I really love the fact that he’s a part of the school board. Like I don’t think people talk about that enough actually. Also the Malfoy house being represented by (albino?) peacocks and him canonically having Malfoy manor decked out with rhinestones or diamond rims or something like that in the windowsill. Like he’s so cunty. And that’s before we’ve even touched on the obvious hair care routine and the cunty bow that he 100% match with Narcissa.

I honestly need to think about him more but I think he’s just,, so funny. Also imagining Severus running around in his cunty ass hand me downs is just??? I can’t

As for Viktor!!!

I think he’s so fun. Like,, he’s actually so sweet and people can say what they want I don’t even care. I think he was really sweet to Hermione at a time where she needed it and I think it would have been fun to see them when they were older as like a fun ass power couple with him being a professional quidditch player and her being minister for magic. They’d like,, they’re so mwah to me.

I think it says a lot about how like,, lonely and isolated this kid was when the most important person to him was a girl he’d met a few months earlier. Like he didn’t have a Durmstrang buddy and one could assume if he had siblings they weren’t close and that just,, idk I feel bad for him. I like the idea of him striking up a friendship with Fleur and Cedric though despite them competing and all that

Similar like how I think Karkaroff is actually Karkarov I think Krum is likely Krumov (Крумов). It’s even stated in his wiki that it’s likely that Krum is just like,, an Anglicisation of Krumov. Speaking of Igor, I think Igor was friends/familiar with Viktor’s uncle when he went to school. I don’t have an explanation as to why he has decided to take Viktor under his wing in the way he has but I do think it’s kinda sweet. Me and a friend talked about this once but Igor would totally favour Viktor to the daughter he (in some universes) has with Charity and he’d be like “no no you’re imagining it” meanwhile we’ve seen how blatant his favouritism is lol

Now to the headcanon I’ve probably thought the most about lol,,, I think he’s got some sort of brain injury. This probably sounds a little damn okay but I think it makes sense. I think it makes sense with how much quidditch he plays. A lot of athletes have some sort of injury and considering how he went professional so early he’s undoubtedly played since he was young and I would not be surprised if he took a hit to the head a few times. I think this injury happened during his fourth-ish year (maybe during the summer when he was going extra hard on practicing at home or something??) and he took a Bludger to the frontal lobe and was knocked off of his broom.

I think he repeated a year because of this injury and having to recover (I’m pretty sure his age doesn’t line up with the rest of his supposed peers which is what I’m basing this on but also it’s 9 am and I’ve not yet slept so I could be pulling this out of my ass so keep that in mind lol).

He’s canonically noted as not being particularly intelligent (one of his canon nicknames is literally Dumb Krum) and I think this is in part because of this injury and the issues that followed him afterwards. I specifically think he’d had struggles with reading, both being slow at it and having poor reading comprehension as well as having a poor memory and being prone to confusion. (I also see him struggling with speech at times, perhaps some struggles with grip (which would be especially frustrating and something he’s working hard to overcome given his quidditch position) and since he’s noted as a bit of a klutz I wouldn’t be surprised if he bumped into things a lot).

His Transfiguration spell during the second task in the tournament is not done properly. Even if human transfiguration is a more difficult kind of transfiguration I would assume that if he’s smart enough to cover the basics, Igor (given his own talents with the subject) would have made sure his favourite student had mastered it. Whether this is something he was able to do before his injury I’m open to any takes on. He’s mentioned as someone who’s confident in his duelling skills but not necessarily good at duelling and even though Dark Arts are mentioned in his wiki it’s only in regards to things he did under the Imperius Curse

Also!!! Completely unrelated to me thinking he’s got a brain injury, I am a skinny twig looking Viktor Krum stan. I will always be mad we didn’t get to see him like that in the movies because he’s quite literally described as Severus and Igor’s love child lmaoooo

Can you tell I’ve been waiting to talk about him?? He’s like,, one of if not the only golden trio era character I care about lmao

I hope you enjoyed my little ramble cjfncjnfjc I saved my thoughts about these two for a bit to send something fun your way!!

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 3

Here is the next chapter! Yay! 

Words:5500

Warnings: mild swearing, possessive Ivar (maybe?), mild sexual tension, hint of violence

Series Masterlist

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius​

"Korítsi, one of these days I'll convince you to take a day off." (Greek: girl)

 Kari smiled as she re-tied her ponytail. Glancing over at her boss, she replied. "You would miss me too much. Besides you know I like working here."

 The woman shook her head. "You need a life outside of working- friends, a lover, anything besides this studio."

 "You just like listening to drama."

 "I'm happily married with my dream job; I need you ladies and your drama to keep me entertained. 

 Kari could only laugh along with her boss. Lydia Hansen was the best boss she could ever have asked for. The woman was in her mid-thirties, settled in life and always happy with a smile on her face and a kind word to share. She also had a mischievous side where she loved listening to the drama of her female workers, many coming to her for romantic advice or to vent about relationships. 

 Lydia leaned forward in her chair, putting an elbow on the desk beside her as she watched Kari. Even under the fluorescent lights, Kari thought the woman looked beautiful with her naturally tanned skin, short black hair and strong Mediterranean features. Kari could not help feeling like a used ragdoll next to her. 

"Why don't you come in at nine tomorrow morning, I can open the studio."

 Kari turned around after grabbing her purse from her locker. "Tonight is date night for you and Nels, which means several glasses of wine and you naked in your bed. If your stories are to be believed. So I'm guessing you don't want to be here at six-thirty tomorrow morning. Really, it's fine. I don't mind opening. I do it often enough."

 "And that's the problem. You've opened the majority of the time the past two weeks."

 "It's only until Sasha comes back from her family's funeral." Kari reminded her. 

 "Fine." Lydia huffed, then pointed a finger at her. "Then you're taking time off. I'll bar you from coming to work if you try to sneak in."

 "What if I want to come for classes?"

 "No. I'll kick you out of my studio. Do your yoga at home. By the skies above, you are a yoga instructor yourself. Just pretend to be teaching but alone….and at home!"

 The brunette smiled at her boss, knowing all of this was because Lydia actually cared for her employees. Both their physical and mental health. "No promises. Tell Nels 'hi' for me. See you tomorrow."

 "Go do something fun for once!" 

 Kari walked out of the office, chuckling. She waved to a coworker as she passed the front entrance before stepping outside into the late afternoon sun. Checking the time on her phone, she tossed it into her teal hobo bag and slung it over her shoulder, making her way towards the bus stop. In her black leggings, sneakers and purple racerback tank top with Whole Wellness Yoga Studio printed on the front, she could not help but feel slightly out of place as she walked the streets. Though no one gave her a second glance, she always felt like a fraud as she passed others by. The location of the yoga studio she worked at was certainly in the more affluent part of the city, and it showed by the manner of businesses in proximity and the looks and clothing of those who passed her by. 

 At one time she had worn expensive clothing, never paying attention to price tags, but those days were in the past. Although she adored working at the yoga studio, it barely made ends meet. Lydia mentioned once promoting her in the future to a manager, which came as a surprise since Kari had only been working there for just over a year. For now though, she was content with life. Happier than she had been in a long time. Even if her life seemed boring to others, only focusing on work and what the next book or TV series to enjoy was. It was her life, her choices. 

 For a brief second, she paused in her walk, thinking she had heard someone call her name. Which was highly unlikely since, truthfully, she hardly knew anyone in this city. With a mental shrug, she continued on, enjoying the feeling of the sunshine on her exposed skin. 

 "Kari Larsen! Don't you ignore me!" 

 The sudden scream made the brunette freeze in place, stunned and slightly terrified. Hesitantly, she turned, scanning around to see who had yelled for her attention. Luckily, it did not take long to notice the tall, blonde wearing the thigh-high boots and white, boho dress waving like a mad woman as she leaned over the short half-railing, separating the sidewalk and the restaurant's seating. 

 Smiling, Kari made her way back towards the woman, who beamed at her. "Gyda! When did you get back?"

 "Just yesterday. I know I say this every time but jetlag is a bitch." Gyda sighed dramatically, though her eyes twinkled in mirth. Leaning against the half-railing, she towered over Kari. On a good day, she stood just under six feet but with the short-heeled boots today, she peered down like a goddess from Valhalla surveying the lesser mortals. 

 "I don't know how you do it." Kari shook her head, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. 

 "Eh, you make it work." Gyda turned and peeked over her shoulder for a second before looking back at Kari. "What are you doing? Just get off work?"

 "Yeah. Heading home."

 "Do you want a ride?" She offered, tapping a finger along the railing. 

 Kari could feel the stares of the other patrons sitting outside and the wait staff, most likely wondering why someone like her was conversing with Gyda. Awkwardly, she toyed with her trusty diamond stud in her earlobe. "Not this time, but thank you. I'm sure you want to get back to your friends." 

 "It's just some of my many siblings and Torvi."

 "Oh, you'll have to tell her I said 'hi'."

 Gyda was a regular at the yoga studio when her schedule allowed. As a freelance writer, her schedule was chaotic at the best for time. Lately most of her works had been commissioned for traveling magazines, so her time coming to the studio was sporadic based on when she was in the country. It was through the studio that Gyda and Kari met. They would occasionally exchange pleasantries before or after Kari's class or in passing. Their friendship solidified only after Gyda found Kari standing at the bus stop in the cold rain months ago and offered to give her a ride home. They had met up a handful of times so Kari could hear all about the latest places Gyda visited and see the pictures she took, satisfying her own travel-wandering soul, sealing their friendship. 

 And through Gyda, Kari met Torvi. Though both women were at least ten years her senior, she enjoyed their presence and conversations. Torvi only came occasionally with Gyda as her guest to the yoga studio. At first, Kari was surprised when she learned they were sisters-in-law because of how close they seemed. Yet she found it refreshing, since most of her experience with family was tense to say the least. It was nice to know her own family's tendencies were not the norm. 

 "I will." The blonde exclaimed, her smile widening. "Oh! Do you want to meet Bjorn? I know you've heard Torvi and I talk about him enough that it's funny you haven't met him yet."

 "Oh, I'd hate to interrupt…."

 "Shut up. You're meeting him. Come on, I'll let you in through the main door, meet me over there." Then she spun on her heel and sashayed away, garnering a few lingering looks from nearby patrons. 

 If there was one thing Kari learned over the past several months of knowing Gyda, it was that the woman was head-strong and always got her way. So with an amused roll of her eyes, Kari headed around the restaurant to its main entrance just off the side of the busy sidewalk. The restaurant screamed money and prestige, something Kari learned both Gyda and Torvi had in spades. It was unnerving at first but their welcoming and kind presences help alleviate Kari's fears of being viewed as less. 

 Sure enough, Gyda stood waiting for her by the door. Chatting like a bird, she slipped her arm through Kari's and led her past the shocked waitstaff. The restaurant was even more impressive inside than how it appeared from the street. It was modern with a sharp black and white color scheme, tasteful and exquisite photos on the walls, and dark wood tables and chairs. Kari figured the price of a meal here was similar in cost to her monthly rent. 

 Gyda led her to a table that was outside in the sun, but partitioned from the street by the half-wall railing she had leaned over earlier to get Kari's attention. The brunette quickly counted five people already sitting there, apparently carrying on a lively conversation if the laughter meant anything. Before she could get a good look, Gyda directed her towards Torvi who reclined next to a man with an imposing physique and a long, blond, braided ponytail in a smart suit. 

 "Kari, this is my brother and Torvi's husband, Bjorn."

 "It's a pleasure to meet you." Kari smiled politely, taking his outstretched hand in a handshake. 

 "Likewise. So, you are the famous yoga instructor these two go on about?" He asked, with a twinkle in his bright blue eyes. "I must confess, I find yoga a peculiar activity but with it helping Torvi's flexibility while we…."

 Torvi smacked his shoulder, making the men around the table laugh. "Ignore him, Kari. I don't know why I bring him out in public."

 "Hey!" He pulled her closer and planted a loud kiss on her cheek. "You love me."

 "Mmm…. most days."

 At that point, Kari looked up to peek at the others sitting at the table, ready to greet and then head out. Except the first thing she saw was a pair of stunning blue eyes that captured her gaze. Unable to move or look away, as if he was physically restraining her with only his gaze, her heart soared and stomach dropped simultaneously. 

 It was only when Gyda started to introduce the others at the table that she ripped her gaze from his, all the while feeling his eyes never leaving her. 

 "Let me introduce these other assholes quick. At the head of the table is Uncle Floki, and the two idiots across from us are Bjorn and my half-brothers, Hvitserk and Ivar."

 Hvitserk greeted her with a flirty smile on his boyish face; while the strange-looking man, Floki, just gave a single nod in acknowledgement.  

 "We've already met," Ivar said with a wicked smirk, letting his eyes blatantly trail over her form while he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, "isn't that right, kitten?"

 Kari hated how just from the sound of the pet name, her heart beat increased traitorously and a flush rose to her cheeks. It brought to mind how his hands gripped her hips, caging her to him, how his lips and tongue caressed her skin, the peak of pleasure that crashed over her without warning...and about all the ice cubes and make up she had to use to get conceal the marks and hickeys he decorated her skin with. "Um, yeah, sort of. I…. I didn't catch your name though."

 "It's alright. I can't blame you as we were otherwise…. preoccupied." The blue-eyed devil teased, either uncaring or not noticing the inquisitive looks from the others at the table. It was unfair how striking he looked in a simple black t-shirt, showcasing his broad shoulders and muscular arms that were award-worthy. 

 Mortification was the best description of emotion causing Kari to further flush but also avert her gaze to the food-laden table. For some reason she figured the likelihood of her ever meeting Ivar again was slim to none. Clearly they ran in different social circles and really they had no reason to bump into one another. Apparently universe, fate, whatever decided her life was going too well and decided to throw a curveball at her. Then to make matters worse, here he sat arrogantly and alluding to what occurred between them in front of his family. 

 It had not gone unnoticed by her that Gyda mentioned Ivar was her half-brother, making her a Lothbrok too, even if she did not go by that last name. 

 Kari peered around the table, a polite smile on her face in a poor attempt to mask any further revealing thoughts. "Well, it was lovely to meet you all but I need to be going." 

 "You sure you don't want a ride?" Gyda kindly offered again, already reaching over to grab her own purse. "It's not a problem." 

 "No, stay. The bus should be here in a couple minutes. Your food is getting cold."

 Gyda opened her mouth to say something, then seemed to reconsider and instead gave her a quick embrace. "Ok, I'll stop by the studio this week and we can catch up."

 "I'll hold you to that." Kari returned the hug; her body tingled as if bugs crawled all over skin making her want to flee the restaurant even faster. With a hurried "goodbye" to everyone else, trying to avoid Ivar's penetrating gaze, she headed out of the restaurant. With the looks she received from the waitstaff and patrons, she quickened her pace, feeling like an intruder in the lavish establishment. 

 Soon as she stepped outside, back onto the busy sidewalk and warm sun, she inhaled a deep breath. A part of her felt awful for how quickly she ditched Gyda, who had only ever been kind to her. Truthfully, she had wanted to meet Bjorn because of the stories both Gyda and Torvi shared. 

 All of that had been eclipsed by the sight of the man she had made-out with over a week ago in that dark club…. Ivar Lothbrok.  

 Never aloud would she admit how often she thought about him since their encounter. Yet she knew it was best to stay away from him, ever if a part of her fought the notion. It would be safer, for both of them. 

 Now suddenly coming face-to-face with him, her emotions warred within her as to how she should feel. 

 Her feet hurried along the sidewalk, worried she would miss her bus because of her detour in the restaurant….and maybe a piece of her needed to put distance between herself and the handsome, cocky man that plagued her thoughts. At the crosswalk, she practically bounced on her toes, willing the light to change color faster. Her mind whirled with the new information of Gyda's relations. Could they still be friends? It also answered her unspoken question of where the wealth came from that Gyda and Torvi were accustomed too. The Lothbroks may not be a household name but it was certainly known in the business world, especially since the many sons had stepped up and expanded its empire. 

 Without warning, a firm hand grabbed her upper arm, whipping her around. A shriek stuck on the tip of her tongue at the unexpected action. She turned to be greeted by a stunned pair of eyes and open mouth. 

 "Oh, I'm so sorry, I thought you were someone else." The flustered man said, retracting his hand from her and rubbing his beard with it self-consciously. "No wonder you didn't answer when I called…. I thought you were ignoring me. Are you OK? I'm so sorry again. "

 She placed a hand over her chest, heart hammering almost painfully. The man appeared so concerned about scaring her, it was endearing. "It's fine. You just startled me, I guess I was thinking too hard."

 He shuffled his feet for a moment, looking down at them before looking up again. "I'm Daniel, by the way."

 "Kari."

 "You headed, ah, to the bus stop too?"

 A genuine smile touched her lips as he sided up next to her amongst the crowd of others waiting to cross the street. "Yeah, actually. Just got off work."

 "Hey! What a coincidence. I plan on going home, eating whatever is in my fridge that doesn't have mold on it yet and sitting on the couch watching TV for at least the next three hours."

 "That sounds amazing. I may have to steal that idea."

 He turned to face her, placing his hand on her shoulder, and stared at her in mock seriousness that made her giggle. "I give you full permission, no need for thievery. And don't eat something healthy, it's a perfect night for gluttony."

 Before she could respond with her own quip, someone grabbed Daniel from behind, throwing him to the ground. Bystanders barely made it out of the way as Daniel just caught himself on his hands and knees. 

 "GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF HER!"

 Kari stared in horror as Ivar loomed over Daniel, fists clenched and eyes blazing. Everyone nearby drew back, creating a wide circle and warily watching the fight that was threatening to happen. 

 "Ivar, stop!" Kari tried to move between the two men but he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back behind him effortlessly. 

 Daniel hesitantly got up, scraped hands held up in surrender. "Sorry, man. I swear I wasn't trying to make a pass on your girl. Just making conversation."

 "Sure. Now fuck off and don't let me fucking see you around her again." He seethed; the words spat out from between clenched teeth. 

 Eyeing Ivar as if he expected the man to suddenly attack him again, Daniel started walking away in the opposite direction, casting occasional glances over his shoulder. 

 At this point the light for the crosswalk turned green and those bystanders waiting began to move, all the while still leaving a wide berth around Ivar and Kari. Though she tried to ignore them, she could not help but catch a few looks of concern and pity directed towards her. 

 Pulling away from the arm still around her waist, Kari made to cross the street when Ivar grabbed her wrist. 

 "Where are you going?" He demanded, lingering fury coloring his tone.

 "My bus is just up there. I need to go or I'll miss it."

 "No, I'm giving you a ride home."

 "What? No, I don't need…. I told Gyda it's fine."

 He scoffed, relinquishing his hold on her wrist. "I'm not doing this for Gyda, now come on."

 "No, really, I…."

 "It wasn't a suggestion."

 Equal parts dumbfounded and angry, she looked back up the street only to see the doors of the bus closing. She closed her eyes for a second, begging for patience and understanding. What she really wanted to do was ignore Ivar and walk away, find somewhere to wait for the next bus. But if Ivar had followed her from the restaurant and was now demanding he give her a ride home, she figured he would not be beyond dragging her over to his car, or whatever he rode in, and continuing to make a scene. It made no sense why he would follow her to offer a ride or attack a random man. She wondered if this was the Ivar Lothbrok that her friends warned her about. 

 Deep down, she found herself still wanting to be around him again. To see if the man she met at the club was the real him or just a mask…. plus, she hated to wait for the next bus. There was a creepy lady that liked to sit next to her and tell her about the latest escapades of her many gerbils or the newest “friend” her adult son brought home for the night. 

 "Fine." She stated, turning back to him. 

 "Good girl. This way."

 Silently, she followed him back towards the restaurant and down the next street to a luxury Mercedes car. In her mind, she decided that just because she was getting a ride from him did not mean she had to be friendly. Her plan was to ignore him and stare out the window. Hopefully that was enough of a hint to leave her alone. He was the one who chased her down to give her a ride. His infuriating actions may have spurred her pettiness to supersede the wisdom of ignoring him, especially knowing he was a Lothbrok. 

 The driver held the door open for both of them to slide in. The bench seat was spacious with a detailed leather interior and that unique new card smell. Another time, Kari may have loved to ride around in a vehicle like this, pretending to be a celebrity or someone important. Now she just wanted to get home. Even if that traitorous part silently ogled him, an arm’s length away from her. 

 "Where to, sir?" The driver asked once he took his seat in the front. 

 Then with an arrogant smirk, Ivar rattled off Kari's address. 

 Kari's plans to ignore him flew out the window. She stared open-mouthed as he leaned back in the seat, brace-covered legs spread out obnoxiously. The first real trickle of fear since meeting him danced up her spine. 

 "How? I mean…. are you…. stalking me?"

 He laughed, cocking his head to the side, to eye her lazily. "You're harder to track down than most people. No social media really. Pay most things with cash. It's like you're trying to hide something."

 She gulped, the revelation he could find out all that about her so easily was unnerving. But his last statement hit a little too close to the truth to bring her comfort. 

 "But it wasn't too difficult." He added brazenly, apparently ignorant of the anxiety his prior statement caused. "And now I found you." 

 "Why? I mean… why were you looking for me?"

 He stared at her, those predatory eyes prying into her soul. She shifted awkwardly, wishing to be free from his gaze but unable to tear herself away on her own accord. Caught in his trap, his web, all she could hope for was mercy. Unconsciously, her eyes drifted down to view his lips, the memory of them against hers at the forefront of her mind…. even more than the anxiety still skating on her nerves. 

 In an instant, he reached over and hauled her across the bench seat and into his lap. A squeak flew from her as she abruptly found herself sitting sideways on his legs. 

 As her mind raced to figure out what to do, and honestly how to feel about this, his lips descended on hers and all prior thoughts vanished. His tongue invaded her mouth, forcing hers to comply, demanding attention. Without hesitation, she gave in. Her hands traced his sideburns and the braids on the top of his head. No matter how many times she tried to forget his touch, his kisses, it haunted her. Now having his lips on hers once again, she found even her memories were incomparable to the actual feel, of his lips, his hands, his breath, his body, his scent. It all drew her in like a beacon, directing her to her greatest desire and darkest temptation. 

 "All I can think about is you." He murmured, his tongue tracing her bottom lip. "Fuck…. how good you taste, how good you feel…. I could barely focus on work."

 "Ivar…" she moaned, feeling herself melting under his touch. As he pressed kisses along her jawline, a quiver ran through her but instead of feeling ashamed like before, she tilted her head to expose more of her neck. Normally so reserved with physical touch, for some unexplainable reason, she felt safe enough to embrace her wanton side with him. Somehow, she knew he would not make fun of her actions. Perhaps it was because of his reaction when finding out her virginal status. All she knew was his touch, his very presence, drew forth a side of her previously unknown while making her feel safe. 

 His hands gripped her with an almost possessive hold. "Gods, I want you." He groaned against her pulse point, the sound wicked with the sheer desire infused in it. 

 And for some reason, those three words broke the spell holding her hostage to him. 

 She froze. Slowly she leaned back to stare at him. The truth, the confession, tasted like poison on the tip of her tongue. 

 "I…. I can't." She whispered, hating how weak her voice sounded. 

 "What are you talking about?"

 "I won't…. I'm not having sex with you."

 What lust and tenderness towards her vanished in the blink of an eye. His hands that had been caressing, now gripped painfully. Eyes that beheld her as a goddess, now threatened to cut her without remorse. The very air between them threatened to catch fire with a single spark due to the tension. 

 "Why not? Cause I'm a cripple?" He snarled at her like an enraged animal. "You'll kiss me and let me get you off but you won't fuck me? Or did your friends tell you who I am? Is that it? Now that you know who I am, you're going to run away?"

 "No, it's not… no, I don't think I'm the kind of girl you'd want." Tears welled in her eyes, both from fear and the physical pain he was causing with his forceful grip. 

 "And what the fuck does that mean? You know me so well, huh?"

 That poisonous truth dripped off her tongue once again. How could she tell him that if he truly knew who she was, he would reject her? It was not even a question but a fact. It was better for both of them to stay away, to never see one another again. How twisted was her truth, how deceptive was she in the face of a man known for his violence. Even as her innermost being begged to let go of her past self and embrace this…. embrace him.  

 "I'm nobody. I'm boring. I don't have money or influence. I just am…. You'd get tired of me in like two days." She took a steadying breath, her hands fiddling in her lap as to avoid his piercing gaze. The lilac color on her nails was starting to chip at the edges, redirecting her attention for a brief second. Even if all she wanted to do was run, avoid this conversation like the plague, she knew in a way, she owed him the truth. Her next words came out in a rush, otherwise she knew they would never pass her lips. "And I don't want to have sex until I'm ready and with someone who cares about me."

 She wondered if this was the spark to set him off. How quickly he would reject her, push her off his lap, laugh in her face for her orthodox ideal, call her frigid like others before. Mentally, she prepared for it, even if every time the words were still a dagger to her heart. This time would be no different. 

 What she did not expect was after almost a minute of painful silence, for him to gently grip her chin and turn her head to face him once again. 

 "Go on a date with me."

 She balked. "What?"

 He stroked her cheek, his hand that had been gripping her thigh, most likely leaving vivid bruises, now created soothing circles. It was his voice that shocked her the most. What had been harsh and unrelenting in cruelty now was soft and gentle. "Let me take you out. I'll even follow your damn rule of no sex. Though I know you want me just as much."

 "Ivar…."

 "You can't deny it." He taunted, with a devilish grin, "You like the idea of me touching you, bringing you pleasure, showing you what you've been missing with my fingers," teasingly, he glided his fingers along her inner thigh, close to her core, "and my tongue," he licked the shell of her ear before whispering the next part, "and my cock. Tell me you haven't thought about it."

 Her breath hitched with each movement of his, his filthy words making her wet without her conscious approval and the cocky bastard knew it. "I…. please stop…." She tried to plead, only to make him laugh. 

 "Stop lying to both of us."

 "Please, don't do this. I just can't."

 "Why not?" Jaw tense, he regarded her with a look of pure hunger but also exasperation. "Give me a damn good reason."

 "It's better if we don't."

 He leaned back fully in his seat as if examining her. That devious and deadly gaze pinned her, reading her very thoughts and secrets. Beneath it she felt vulnerable and naked, something she detested. She tried to squirm out of his lap, to put necessary distance between them. His hands only tightened on her, keeping her restrained in his lap. 

 "It's not…" he started then stopped to lick his lips. And there it was, a glimpse behind the mask, that vulnerability she caught a peek of when they were at the club, "...because I'm a cripple?"

 "What? No, not at all. That doesn't…. no, you're beautiful." Soon as the last word left her mouth, her absolute shock at his question morphed into humiliation. Both of her hands flew up to cover her face, burning with embarrassment.

 "Beautiful, huh?"

 "Shut up."

 He chuckled, running his nose along the column of her neck and sending a shiver down her spine. "And you still won't go on a date with me?"

 Cautiously, she eased her hands from her face to meet his amused gaze. "I'm sorry." She replied with a shake of her head. 

 He eyed her as if trying to suss out more of her secrets, head tilted to the side and eyebrows furrowed slightly. After a long moment, he smirked. "Alright. We'll see about that."

 "What?"

 "You heard me. You'll change your mind eventually. I can be very persistent with something I want."

 With a push of a button on a nearby console, loud music filled the air but he did not release her. Instead, he continued to stroke her back or legs as he gazed out the window. Every time she tried to squirm out of lap, he would tighten his grip on her hip or thigh, silently demanding she remain. Finally, she gave up and relaxed against him, enjoying his soothing touches and the warmth of his body. 

 Ivar Lothbrok was the most complicated man she had ever met. Just in the past hour, she witnessed him go from cocky to murderous to sensual and now dare she even say…. charming. It baffled her that he purposefully sought her out, even if it was stalker-ish. That he wanted to go on a date with her, knowing she would not put out at the end for him. Her image of him and the one painted by her friends were so vastly different…. she wondered which one to believe. Not that it truly mattered, since they would not be seeing each other after this. She could not open that door. It was better this way. 

 She was disheartened when they reached her home. The way their bodies fit perfectly together, how comforting his touch and presence was, it was unnerving and intriguing. A small part of her wished the drive was longer so they could continue remaining in this bubble of illusion. That she could soak this feeling up just a bit more, for something to hold onto when she was alone. How life could have been between them if fate was different. 

 The driver pulled up the luxury car in front of the unoccupied, short driveway. With no car there, that meant her roommate was not at the townhouse. Probably for the best, since if Alana had seen Kari getting out of a vehicle with Ivar, she would have lost her shit. 

 "Come on… tonight." He whispered into her ear, entwining their fingers, those exquisite eyes begging for her to change her mind. "Let me take you out, kitten."

 "I can't…. but we can be friends... if you want." 

 Soon as the words left her mouth, she cringed. What kind of stupid thing was that to say? She needed to stay away from him, she knew it. But seeing that last hopeful gleam in his eyes and the despair that replaced it as she told him 'no' once again…. it was too much. 

 A cocky smirk slowly spread on his lips, like he knew something that she was not privy to. He laid a kiss on the back of their entwined hands. "If you say so."

 Carefully, he helped maneuver her off his lap, and out of the vehicle, his hands grazing over her hips and thighs quickly. She turned around and raised an eyebrow, for him to only stare at her in an innocent expression. Instead of being upset, like she should have been, she just rolled her eyes and unsuccessfully tried to keep the smile off her lips. 

 "Um, thanks for the ride." 

 "Yeah. See you soon…. friend." With a teasing wink, he closed the door and a second later, the vehicle pulled away. 

 She watched the car drive away and wondered why the word 'friend' left a sour taste in her mouth. 

[freddie-weaselbee]

E1: The One Where It All Begins//F.W.

Series Summary: FRIENDS but with Harry Potter characters after Hogwarts graduation, trying to figure out their lives and relationships. Non Voldy AU. Begins around the end of FRIENDS season 4 with The Wedding (except this first one) and semi follows plots in season 5. Partially inspired by @lunalovecroft but follows different episodes and plots. 

Pairing(s): Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader, Romione, Hinny, Georgelina

Warnings: Mentions of food/drink, suicide joke (very brief and light, nothing graphic), slight language, mentions of sex/strip clubs

Summary: It’s been 3 years since Y/N graduated from Hogwarts and moved into an apartment in Diagon Alley. Her life with her friends is simple and predictable, until a girl she hasn’t seen in years walks through the coffee shop door. 

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: My first fic posted to tumblr! Probably going to be a 5-10 part series I haven’t decided yet

Based on FRIENDS S1 E1

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

“There’s nothing to tell! It’s just some guy I work with”

You waved your hands frantically at the people questioning you, trying not to spill your coffee on your new sweater and plaid skirt, apparently to no avail. You huffed as the latte sloshed over the edge and landed in a heap on your lap. The redhead sitting next to you, your roommate and closest friend Ginny, grabbed some napkins to help clean you up. 

“C’mon,” spoke a voice, coming from the chair to the left to the couch upon which you were sitting. “You’re going out with a guy, there’s gotta be something wrong with him!”

“So does he have a hump, a hump and a hairpiece?” came another voice, this time from off to your right. 

Rolling your eyes you replied to the almost identical voices coming from identical people. “Oh sod off you two, like you haven’t gone out with some whack jobs.”

Ginny laughed as her twin brothers, George and Fred respectively, mumbled and settled back in their seats. She helped clean up any coffee that spilled on the couch before realization dawned on her. “Wait, does he have a small penis?”

Three groans came out simultaneously from the group, ⅔ of which were from Ginny’s siblings. 

“What? I just don’t want her to go through what I did with Dean, aww.” She looked off into the distance as if in a trance, remembering her time with the boy she dated back when you were all attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

“You know you have a boyfriend, right?” Ginny smiled sheepishly at the words coming from her boyfriend, the infamous Harry Potter, known also as the boy who lived. If it wasn't for his mom sacrificing herself for him, Voldemort wouldn’t have died for good that Halloween night. Imagine if he was somehow brought back, what a series that would be. 

“Ok, everybody relax,” you said, returning the conversation to your dating life. “I have no idea how big or small his dick is, Ginny.” You scoffed and her brothers gagged at their sister’s discussion of her and her ex’s sex life. “Besides, this isn’t even a date. It’s just two people going out to dinner and not having sex.”

Harry, the quietest one of your group, spoke up. “Sounds like a date to me.” You threw your dirty napkins at him and he ducked the toss, hiding his chuckle behind his coffee cup. 

Ginny got up to order a cappuccino, her usual at the Diagon Alley coffee shop. After the twins started their joke shop, Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, and the rest of you graduated, you and Ginny  decided to get a place together down the street from the popular business. Being the same year as Harry and one of Ginny’s other brothers, Ron, you stayed in touch with the boys after graduation and they eventually found an apartment right across the hall from yours. With the 6 of you--Ginny, Ron, Harry, Fred, George, and yourself--living so close to each other, you began to spend all of your free time together, usually ending up lounging around the coffee shop until the owner kicked you all out. 

“Do you guys want to hear about a dream I had last night?” It was Fred who had spoken, the slightly older and slightly more attractive twin, in your humble opinion. 

“If it’s another sex dream about Snape, Freddie…” The group howled with laughter and you threw a hand to your mouth, silently cursing yourself for giving up the secret your friend had told you months ago. 

“You arsehole!” he yelled, not actually meaning it. He buried his face in his hands, trying to cover the deep red spreading through his cheeks. 

You tried to hold back your laughter but it bubbled out as you apologized. “I’m so sorry Freddie, it just came out! Kind of like in your dream when--”

“Y/N!” He jumped out of his chair and launched himself onto you, covering your mouth with his hand. You were bent over, holding your stomach with laughter. Ginny returned looking extremely confused. 

“What’s so funny?” Fred gave you a look, telling you that you were dead meat if you mentioned this to his sister. You shrugged at him and nodded. You would just tell her once you two got home anyways. 

“Your darling brother here was just about to tell us about a dream he had.”

Ginny groaned loudly, plopping down in her usual spot on the couch. “Is this like the one about Snape--”

“WHAT THE FUCK Y/N?”

Oh. Maybe you had already told Ginny. Whoops. 

After a few more rounds of laughter and jesting at the oldest of the friend group, Fred finally told his dream, consisting of nudity, a wand for a penis, and a very interesting Howler from his mother. 

You were all in hysterics, Harry wiping tears from his eyes and Ginny switching spots with you to throw her legs over her boyfriend's lap. It was at that moment that the final member of your 6 person friend group, Ronald Weasley, Gryffindor’s King, moped into the café. 

He trudged over to the couch and chairs that your group had practically claimed as your own. “Hi.”

“Wow,” said Ginny, “my brother says hi I wanna kill myself!” Harry slapped Ginny playfully on the shoulder as she moved and nuzzled into his chest. 

You stood up to meet your oldest friend. During Hogwarts you and Ron were inseparable. You did everything together, usually along with Harry and another girl, who you hadn’t spoken to in years. You laid a hand on the sulking man’s shoulder. “You ok sweetie?” you asked. 

Ron huffed and sat down on the couch. “I just feel like someone reached down my throat, grabbed my small intestine, pulled it out of my mouth and tied it around my neck.”

“Cookie?” The younger twin spoke up, trying to defuse the tension but only making it worse. 

You sighed and realized you would have to explain the situation, even though almost everyone there was his family and should have known what was going on already. 

“Padma moved away today.” Your words were met with a chorus of ‘ohs’ from the group. George leaned over to pat his brother’s shoulder and Fred stood up to buy him a coffee. 

“I’ll be fine, alright really everybody,” Ron said. “I hope she’ll be very happy.”

“No you don’t,” said Harry. 

“No I don’t, to hell with her she left me!” 

Ginny almost let out a chuckle but figured right now was not the best time to tease her hurting brother. Unfortunately, her other siblings didn’t have the same idea. 

Fred returned with the coffee and he and George spoke at the same time. “And you never knew she was a lesbian?”

Ron facepalmed and groaned into his hand. He was growing increasingly tired of you all making fun of him for his relationship with Padma. After their date to the Yule Ball they dated on and off for the rest of their time at Hogwarts. They stayed together after graduation, going out consistently for the last 3 years. Ron was even considering a proposal soon, but that was when Padma came out to the world and let Ron know she was moving to the country with her old “roommate.” Needless to say he didn’t take it well and your friend group never let him hear the end of it. 

The youngest Weasley brother kicked George’s shin as he continued to laugh. “No, ok? Why does everyone keep fixating on that? She didn’t know, how should I know?

“Sometimes I wish I was a lesbian.”

You all turned to the end of the couch, where two voices spoke in unison. However, these weren’t the constantly in sync voices of the twins. Harry and Ginny had both spoken those words out loud and were now staring incredulously at each other. 

“Harry--”

“Ginny--”

“Well mates, it looks like you two have got some things to work out, and I would appreciate it if that didn’t happen in front of your family.” Fred winked at the couple before turning back to Ron. “Alright Ron, look. You’re feeling a lot of pain right now.”

“You’re angry,” interrupted George. 

“You’re hurting.”

The twins leaned in toward their little brother. “Can I tell you what the answer is?” George asked. 

Ron nodded reluctantly and the twins sat back and nearly screamed their solution. “Strip joint!”

“You two are disgusting” you said, suddenly losing your appetite. 

Fred wiggled his eyebrows at you. “You’re just saying that because you don’t get anything out of it! How about afterwards we go back to your place and I put on a little show for you?”

At that comment everyone took turns slapping Fred upside the head, you going back for seconds. 

Ron was still sulking, not having even touched his coffee. 

“C’mon, ickle Ronniekins!” George began. “You’re single, have some hormones!”

You met Ginny’s eyes and shared a similar annoyed look. It was difficult only having one other girl in a friend group of 4 boys. Sometimes you wished you had someone else to help balance the group out. 

“See George I don’t want to be single, ok? I just, I just wanted to propose to her! To be married!”

The ringing of the bell above the coffee shop door grabbed your attention, and you almost spilled your coffee again. Walking into the building, wearing a full wedding dress, makeup and hair done and all, was your old friend. The one you hadn’t seen since you graduated 3 years ago. The one you hadn’t heard more than a peep from in forever. 

“Hermione?”

Fred looked between his youngest brother and the mystery bride, complete confusion on his face. “And I just want a million galleons!” He stuck his hand out as if expecting the coins to fall from the sky. You pushed past him and made your way to your old friend. 

The brunette turned at the sound of your voice and her face lit up. “Oh Godric, Y/N hi! I was just at your apartment and you weren’t there and then this guy with a big hammer, who probably should have a background check done on him I’ll write to your landlord about that, but he said that you might be here and you are, you are!”

You grabbed the hysterical girl and walked her over to your group. Hermione Granger, the girl who was usually so logical and under control, was going absolutely crazy. 

“Ok umm,” you started. “Hermione, this is the gang. You remember everyone right? I mean there’s Harry and Ginny, she and I share an apartment right next door. Then Fred and George, we’ve been spending a lot of time together over the past few years. Oh, and obviously Ron, he’s sulking in the corner.”

Ron shot daggers at you as he stood up to give Hermione a hug, which ended up a disaster of a mess as he dropped a jelly donut on her white dress. The boy sat down as Hermione said hi to everyone, greeting Harry and Ginny with massive hugs. 

“I didn’t know you hung out with the twins, I thought they always saw us as their little brother’s annoying friends. I guess I’ve missed a lot, huh?”

“Yeah, why do we hang out with them George?”

“Because it’s either that or have mum at our throats for not spending time with our siblings.”

“Ah, that’s right.”

Hermione scooted in between Ron and Ginny, sighing and staring at the coffee table in front of her, oblivious to the 6 pairs of eyes boring into the crazy woman before you. Having no spots left to sit you walked toward Fred who gestured to his lap with a sly look. You rolled your eyes at the boy and muttered a “you wish Weasley” before sitting on the arm of the chair, letting your ginger friend grab your hand and fidget with the rings on your fingers. 

“So you wanna tell us now, or are we waiting for 4 wet bridesmaids?” Hermione looked at you apologetically before she spoke. 

“Oh Godric, well. It started about a half hour before the wedding. I was in Bulgaria with Viktor’s cousins, all wonderful ladies by the way, and I was looking at his staff, y’know the big one he carries around that makes him so attractive?” 

You and Ginny nodded, along with Ron who seemed to be daydreaming about the Quidditch star. 

“Well, I’m looking at this staff, this rough rugged staff, and I realized...I realized that this staff has more intellect and substance than Viktor! And then I got really freaked out, and then it hit me. How much Viktor looks like Mr. Potato Head.”

You and George made eye contact across the room trying to communicate with your eyes whether or not you should all bolt and leave the crazy girl behind. 

But she continued. “I mean, I always knew he looked familiar but, anyway, I just had to get out of there and I started wondering, why am I doing this and who am I doing this for? I thought I loved Viktor, and moving to Bulgaria helped me with foreign ministry practices, but I just, I wasn’t thinking. Or maybe I was thinking too much? I don’t know.”

Ginny rubbed her friend’s back and Hermione leaned into the touch. “So anyway,” she said, looking at you, “I just didn’t know where to go and I know that you and I have kinda drifted apart since Hogwarts but you were the only friend I knew who was living in Diagon Alley--albeit I didn’t know you were living with Ginny but it’s a great surprise to see you.”

You took a second to process everything that was happening, not even realizing your other friend had begun to soothingly rub your back. “Your only friend in Diagon Alley, who you haven’t written to in years and who wasn’t invited to the wedding?”

Hermione rubbed her temples in desperation and you knew you could never actually be mad at the brightest witch of her age. “I was, I was really hoping that wouldn’t come up. I’m so sorry about that, Y/N, and Harry, and Ron, and even you Ginny.”

“Wow, alright then,” the twins spoke in unison again. 

Hermione scowled at them, her already bad mood being worsened by their jokes. “In my defense you two never really liked me in the first place.”

Fred was about to say something but you shushed him, fearing that more likely that not it would be something offensive to the scared girl. 

You stood from your uncomfortable seat and lifted your friend up by her hands. “I was just thinking about how great it would be to have another girl around. And Ginny and I do have an extra room that we were going to rent out, but seeing as an opportunity has presented itself…”

The young witch’s face beamed with happiness as she threw her arms around you. “Thank you Y/N, thank you so much! I’m still working for the Ministry so I can pay rent, and I’m sure there are things I can do to fix up the apartment, the building looked a little, umm, under the weather when I went to find you, and I can get closer with you and Ginny, and obviously catch up with you boys, and--”

Hermione continued to ramble on, but you drowned her out as you felt a warm breath next to your ear. Fred had snuck up behind you and was bent over your shoulder, whispering softly. 

“She’s going to be a real handful, isn’t she?”

You elbowed the boy and turned to look up at him, giving a knowing smile. “As if you aren’t. Besides, I have a feeling that having Hermione here is about to make our lives a lot more interesting.”

[tchallasbabymama]

Gone

Hey y’all, here’s Chapter 6 of Playlist. Check out my masterlist HERE to read the other chapters if you haven’t already, and check out my other stories too!

CW: alcoholism

Word count: 4894

Two months had passed and T’Challa was still not taking it well. He was still internalizing  the guilt he felt for putting Ashanti in harm's way, and it was all he could think about. He felt numb most days, and when he felt anything at all it was grief  over losing his love. Whenever he wasn’t working he hid away in his chambers, staring at the walls and playing sad music. Today his favorite song to wallow to was “Gone” by N*Sync. He laid across his bed sipping from a bottle of whiskey with the song playing on repeat as tears ran down his face. 

There's a thousand words that I could say

To make you come home

Oh, seems so long ago you walked away

Left me alone

I remember what you said to me

You were acting so strange

and maybe I was too blind to see

That you needed a change

Was it something I said

To make you turn away?

To make you walk out and leave me cold

If I could just find a way

To make it so that you were right here

But right now..

I've been sitting here

Can't get you off my mind

I've tried my best to be a man and be strong

I've drove myself insane

Wishing I could touch your face

But the truth remains..

You're gone..

You're gone..

Baby you're gone

Girl you're gone, baby girl, you're gone..

You're gone..

You're…

He barely spoke to his family anymore. Not even N’Jadaka could get anything out of him on their occasional walks when he would visit from Oakland. The king was a steel trap of emotions, and nobody could get in. His cousin could tell something was off, and began to worry about his health so he and Shuri decided to confront him about it. They knew it wouldn’t go well, but they never expected him to insult their intelligence. 

T’Challa had been able to hide his drinking from Queen Mother, but it was hard to get anything past the other two. N’Jadaka had seen friends go down a similar route and he knew the signs, and Shuri had overheard the kitchen staff talking about sending three bottles a night to the king’s chambers. When he was scheduled to leave for a mission with the Avengers she was scared out of her mind that he would get hurt, so right before he left she and her cousin confronted him. He lied to them, for the first time ever, and straight up denied the accusations. Shuri was hurt to her core knowing her brother was in such a bad way that he would stoop so low, but N’Jadaka expected his response. When he left they saw him off as usual, but Shuri broke down in her cousin’s arms after the Talon took off. Ramonda quickly became worried for both of her children when Shuri told her of the burden she had been carrying for her brother. They both internalized too much, and Ramonda had Shuri start therapy immediately. She also had a grief therapist and an addiction counselor on standby for T'Challa's return. She would be damned if she lost her son to his depression.

The Avengers had also noticed a change in T’Challa’s behavior, so much so that even Sam of all people was concerned for him. Thor had tried to lighten the king’s mood with their usual banter, but nothing changed. Wanda tried to regale him with her physics-defying powers to no avail, and Natasha couldn’t get anything out of him in their sparring sessions. Eventually Steve and Sam took it upon themselves to do something, Steve as a friend and Sam as a former counselor. 

“Catman, let me holler at you real quick,” Sam interrupted T’Challa’s brooding on the couch. He rolled his eyes, but reluctantly got up anyway. Sam led him into the kitchen, where Steve was already seated at the large table. Sam pulled out a chair and turned it around before sitting and resting his forearms on the back. 

“Ok, talk. You’ve been moping around the entire time you’ve been here and you’re bringing the energy down-”

“I think what Sam is trying to say is that we’re your friends and we can tell something is wrong... come on, man, you really think I haven’t picked up on your new drinking habit?” he asked in all honesty before trying to lighten the mood a little. “You know, for a cat, you’re not that sneaky.”

T’Challa closed his eyes and sighed. He had hoped nobody else would notice before he could get it together. When Shuri and N’Jadaka confronted him before he left he lied to their faces. He had never done that before, and as soon as the words left his mouth he was filled with shame and had to leave quickly to avoid them prying any more into it. When he looked out the window of the Talon after taking off he saw his baby sister break down in tears, and his heart broke. He decided then and there that he would stop drinking, but it didn’t exactly work out that way. Here he was, a month later and still no improvement. He was doing his best to keep it under wraps, but for once his best wasn’t good enough.

“Problems at home?...Is it about Ashanti? I haven't heard you mention her in awhile.” Steve continued, trying to get something out of him.

A lump formed in the king’s throat and he nodded before averting his eyes to the table.

“She left me.”

He proceeded to tell them the whole story and watched their faces twist in disbelief.

“Wow, that’s...wow,” Steve couldn’t believe it and his heart went out to both of them for what they went through and for what T’Challa is putting himself through now. “You know, for the longest time I blamed myself for what happened to Bucky. It ate me up inside, but you gotta let that stuff go, man. If not, you’re gonna start spiraling out of control, and nobody needs that.”

“He’s right, T.”

T’Challa and Steve looked at Sam in shock, he never referred to him by his name or anything close to it. It was always “Catman” or whatever cat joke he could come up with at the moment. 

“You need to talk to someone before this gets worse,” Sam said in earnest.

He thought back to his mother’s words shortly before he left Wakanda, “I’m worried about you, unyana wam. You have not been your usual bright self.”

T’Challa sat forward, placing his elbows on the table. He decided then and there that he couldn't keep doing this to himself. He was a king, he was a warrior, he was a superhero for Bast’s sake. He couldn’t afford to be a drunken shell of himself anymore, it was going to start catching up to him. He couldn’t keep blaming himself.

“You’re right.”

-------

After the incident, Ashanti moved back in with her parents so they could care for her. Kwame and Binta were over all the time, and Shuri even made a visit to bring her the new pinky she made for her. It took some getting used to how it felt on her hand, but she eventually got the hang of it.

At first, Ashanti was scared to leave her parents’ home, so they found a therapist that made house-calls. It took some time for Ashanti to trust her, but eventually she did and Jamila was able to convince her to go outside for the first time in two months. They stayed in her parents backyard for a few sessions, before Jamila gradually got her to move further and further from the home. After about 6 months, she was able to go to the bazaar on her own. She still wasn’t up for running Taj’s, so she let her new employees Zina and Jafari handle it. So far they had been doing a great job and she wasn’t too worried about getting back to it just yet. She took some time to find herself again, painting for the first time in almost a year and spinning clay at her pottery wheel whenever she felt the need. She caught up on the books she had been meaning to read, and she slowly got back into the habit of running in the mornings. 

 Ashanti surprisingly had no problem with moving back into the house with Binta and Kwame. She missed the twins more than she could verbalize, but really did need her time away. Eventually,  things went back to normal and it was almost as if the chapter of her life that included T’Challa never happened at all.

After a few months the twins pushed her to get back out there and she started dating a River tribe guy she met on her run one morning. She had tripped over a root and ended up falling flat on her face, but luckily another runner saw her fall and came over to help. He was a hot doctor named Zane. After he checked her ankle, he looked up and was captured by her beauty. He asked her out then and there, and three months later they’re still going strong. He was sweet, and smart, and funny, and all the things she wanted in a partner...but he didn't automatically know her favorite flower, and she didn't feel electricity from his touch. His kisses didn’t ignite a flame, just a little spark. He was a great lover, but the passion wasn’t there. 

In short, Ashanti was faking it, but she was too scared to break his poor little heart.

Even her parents and roommates could tell she wasn’t really feeling Zane, so they sat her down to talk some sense into her.

“Why does this look like an intervention?” Ashanti joked when she walked into her kitchen and saw her family seated around the table, all looking up at her.

“Because it is, girl. Sit down.” Kwame pulled out the chair next to him and she tentatively took a seat.

“Sithandwa,” Bisa started , “you know we love you-“

“What’s this about?” she cut her off, nervous and ready to cut to the chase.

“Zane.” Binta and Kwame stated, matter of factly. 

Ashanti knew what was coming. Each one of them had pulled her aside at some point to have what was sure to be the exact same conversation.

“Honey, you’re playing with that poor man’s heart. We can all see you don’t want him, he’s the only one who can’t.” Kwame reached out and grabbed her hand in his.

Ashanti sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. She hated being called out on her bullshit, especially since it didn't happen often. She knew they were right though, she was wrong for stringing him along.

“He’s a good man, I know, but you both deserve to be with people who want you the way you want them,” Bisa added,

“I know,” Ashanti let out a sigh before hanging her head and collecting herself. “I know, I just- he’s a great guy so I just keep hoping he’ll grow on me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Everyone seemed to look at each other out of the corners of their eyes without Ashanti noticing. They knew exactly what the problem was.

“Nothing is wrong with you, intyatyambo. You are just still in love,” Chidi cupped her face with his hand and she stared at him in shock.

“No, it’s been over a year. I’m past that now,” she tried to dead the conversation before it went somewhere she really wanted to avoid.

“Are you?” Binta asked. “Because everytime you see his hologram on the news you smile a little without even realizing it.”

“And don't forget when you ducked into a random bathroom and  texted me panicking because you saw Dora Milaje in the bazaar and thought he might be there.” Kwame added.

“I-I just didn’t want to see him, that’s all.”

“Mhm, then how come when I called you were you primping in the mirror?”

“I was not!”

“Sis…” he gave her the look.

Ashanti hung her head again.

“Fine,” she gave in. She knew why she wasn’t feeling Zane and why her palms still started to sweat when she saw pictures or holograms of him and why her heart almost beat out of her chest that day in the bazaar. She still dreamed of him. Her body still responded to the thought of him. Hearing his voice still sent chills down her spine. She still loved him, but she never wanted to admit it.

“Fine?” Chidi asked as he and his wife shared a hopeful glance.

“Yes, fine, you’re right. Happy?” tears came to her eyes, and as hard as she tried to keep them from falling she eventually lost the battle. She hadn’t allowed herself to feel the loss after the breakup, and it was all catching up to her right there in front of her family.

She sobbed on Bisa's shoulder and Chidi wrapped them both in an embrace while Binta rubbed circles on Ashanti’s back and Kwame held her hand. All four of them were relieved to see her finally come to terms with her emotions. They had been concerned that she seemingly blocked out that whole chapter of her life, not sure if it was due to the trauma or the heartbreak or both. Her time in therapy had focused on getting her through the trauma of what happened to her, and barely even touched her breakup. All she had done was lock her feelings in the basement and throw away the key, but they were still there and just as strong as ever.

After a few minutes Ashanti pulled herself together and looked at the people around her.

“I love you all so much,” she was able to get out through her tears and snot. Chidi grabbed some tissue and wiped her face.

“We love you too,” they all responded.

_______

After that day, Ashanti found herself thinking about T’Challa a little more than usual...ok a lot more than usual. Everything she saw reminded her of him, and it was starting to weigh on her. She still felt the same way about being with him, but she missed him more than she could say. Eventually she got the idea to give him a call. She talked herself out of and back into the idea for several weeks, and one day just said “Fuck it” and pressed his contact on her beads. She never got around to deleting it.

The trilling sound that followed filled her with dread. What if he didn’t pick up? What if she’s blocked or he changed his beads? 

She didn’t have time to go too far down that rabbit hole because the trilling stopped and her ex boyfriend appeared in the palm of her hand. They both stared at each other in silence before T’Challa spoke.

“Miss Ashanti, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

She was saddened by his formality but stunned by the smoky timbre of his voice. She had missed it so much.

“H-hi, how are you?”

“I am well, how are you?”

“I’m doing ok.”

“Just ok?”

“Yeah, just ok…” Ashanti trailed off, leading to a long silence between the two. 

“Ashanti, is there something you need?”

“Oh, um, no not really. I just-,” she sighed, “You crossed my mind a couple times and something told me to reach out so I did.”

A small smile appeared on the king’s face.

“Just a couple times? I’m disappointed.”

She laughed, a sound he hadn’t had the pleasure of hearing in over a year, forcing his crooked smile to grow larger.

“Ok maybe a few times,” she said, while smiling back. 

“But seriously,” her voice softened, “how are you T’Challa?”

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up when she said his name, but he wasn’t surprised she still had that effect on him since it happened every time he thought of her. He wanted to answer her honestly, he really did, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her about his drinking problem and stint in rehab a few months ago. He went back and forth on the decision for a few moments before making up his mind.

“I am well now, it has been an uphill battle.”

“I know what you mean,” Ashanti replied before they both just stared at each other in silence for a moment. “Well, I um, I know you're busy, and I didn’t really want anything so I don’t want to keep y-”

“We’re going to be late, baby,” Ashanti was cut off by a gorgeous woman in a red dress entering the room behind T’Challa. She hadn’t even noticed that he was talking to anyone, barely looking up from her beads as she walked back out of the room. T’Challa cleared his throat.

“Unfortunately you caught me at a bad time, tonight-”

“That’s ok! Uh, have fun!” she panicked and ended the call. 

“Why would you just hang up like that?” she asked herself out loud before flopping back onto her bed.

After that embarrassment, she doesn't know if she’ll ever be able to talk to him again. Of all the different ways she imagined that conversation going she never accounted for the fact that he could have already moved on to someone else. She knew it was selfish and hypocritical since she had been with Zane, but something about the idea of him with anyone else made her blood boil and tears come to her eyes. She let a couple fall before getting up and going on about her day.

Late that night as she laid in bed scrolling through her social media she came across an article about the king’s 30th birthday celebration on the 9th. It was open to the public, and for a moment she considered going, but then she remembered the silky, high pitched voice emanating from behind T’Challa and decided against it. She’d rather not have to feel that embarrassment in public. Ashanti shut off her beads and closed her eyes, letting sleep take her for the night.

-------

The drummers were extra hype today, playing their hearts out as all of Wakanda danced and celebrated their king’s birthday. As they partied into the early morning T’Challa spent the whole time glued to his girlfriend Tamala, the Mining tribe princess. She had a habit of being clingy and wouldn’t allow anyone else to steal a dance. Around 1 in the morning, he had finally had enough and excused himself to go to the restroom. Making his way out of the venue, he caught the eye of someone he hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Kwame?”

“My king,” he saluted T’Challa, but he waved him off.

“Please, you know me.”

“Better safe than sorry. Happy birthday man!”

“Thank you, thank you. Are you here alone?” T’Challa’s eyes scanned the crowd.

“No, I'm here with the usual people,” Kwame said, smirking in the king’s direction.

“So Ashanti is…”

“Over in the back corner avoiding you and the aggressive supermodel on your arm,” he took a sip of his rum punch. 

“I can understand that,” the king and Kwame stood there awkwardly, not knowing how to continue the conversation.  “It was good seeing you Kwame.”

“You too!”

The two quickly parted ways and Kwame ran straight to his friends at the table they had commandeered in the back. He sat down on Omar’s lap and told Ashanti of his interaction with the king, leaving out that he told him where to find her. Ashanti noticed Omar’s hands make their way around Kwame’s waist and she wished she could feel the king’s arms around her like that one more time. 

“I knew I shouldn't have come here, why did I let you two talk me into this? He has a girlfriend already.”

“Because your man knows how to throw a damn party!” Binta slurred a little, very obviously teetering between tipsy and drunk. Ashanti rolled her eyes at her ‘your man’ comment but agreed, looking around at all the happy partygoers. She sighed, wishing she could enjoy herself like they were. 

On his way to the restroom T’Challa was stopped by not one, not two, but three separate elders commenting on how good he and Tamala looked together and asking about marriage plans. T’Challa knew the council was anxious for him to get married and produce heirs, but no matter how much he wanted to, he just couldn’t see it with Tamala. She had everything he was looking for, but she was missing a special something. More like she’s not that special someone. She’s not her.

For the rest of the night, T’Challa avoided the elders and slyly kept his eye on Ashanti and her friends. He was mesmerized by her colorful curve-hugging jumpsuit and her natural hair that had grown much longer in the year they’d been apart. Her shoulders seemed to glow and her deep purple lipstick drew his eyes to her lips. His eyes travelled down her body, noticing that she had kicked off her shoes and he smiled fondly, remembering her disdain for heels. She looked up and caught him staring more than once, but he just couldn't stop. Everytime she caught him she’d quickly look away, too embarrassed to hold his gaze. His staring angered Tamala who also caught him staring more than once.

“Do you know her?” Tamala asked with an attitude, standing in his line of vision. T’Challa rolled his eyes because he sensed another argument coming. Tamala was a lot of wonderful things, but jealousy was her worst quality, hands down. He had never been one to have a wandering eye when he was with a woman, so normally her jealousy annoyed him to no end. However, this time he understood where she was coming from. 

“Yes, I do. She’s an old friend.”

“A ‘friend’ huh? Do you think I’m stupid?”

“Tamala, please, not here. This is a celebration, try to be happy. For me, please.” 

The Mining tribe princess rolled her eyes and stormed off, shoulder checking Prince N’Jadaka on the way.

“Yo, me and your girl are gonna fight fight one of these days. Like, for real,” he said as he walked up to his cousin.

T’Challa chuckled as he sipped some more of his non-alcoholic ginger beer. 

“Let's go for a walk in the gardens,” he requested and the prince obliged. N’Jadaka pulled out a pre-roll and lit the tip, passing it to his cousin. “She’s upset because Ashanti is here.”

“Oh! She is, huh? Interesting...I’m surprised she showed.”

“I’m not,” he handed the blunt back to the prince, “she called me the other day. It was a very short conversation but...I still felt something and I think she did too. She looks good, really good. She asked how I had been but I couldn't really tell her the truth... She seems like she’s gotten so much better since the last time I saw her.”

The two walked in silence for a couple minutes passing the blunt back and forth before N’Jadaka broke the silence. 

“So you still love her?”

T’Challa didn’t even have to hesitate.

“Of course, I never stopped.”

---------

The next day, Ashanti and her roommates were all laying in the living room nursing hangovers while they half watched an old classic Wakandan movie. Ashanti was sick to her stomach, but she couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol or the sappy love story she was forced to watch. After it was over, Binta pulled up the news and right as the meteorologist finished explaining the upcoming weather patterns, a huge picture of T’Challa and Tamala kissing took over the screen. Bile rose in her stomach as Binta scrambled to change the channel. Before she could, Ashanti heard the anchor say the very words she dreaded hearing, “Could there be a royal engagement on the horizon?” 

Binta turned the hologram off altogether, and the three of them sat in silence for a while until Kwame couldn’t take it anymore.

“Are you ok?”

“I will be, it’s just rough right now. I’m happy he found somebody though, they look happy.”

Neither twin wanted to pry so they left it at that and changed the subject to food.

“I’m hungry, but I don’t feel like cooking.” Binta said in a huff, throwing herself back into the couch..

“Mood,” Kwame and Ashanti replied. 

“Ooh how about I grab some food from my parents? They’ve been wanting me to stop by,” Ashanti offered. 

“Bast bless you, my child.” Binta grabbed her hand and kissed it.

Ashanti threw her shoes on and was out the door in no time flat. She needed to get out of the house and clear her head. They looked so happy…

She was on autopilot when she reached the restaurant, barely even shooting a glance towards Taj’s before immediately heading back home. Chidi and Bisa could tell there was something bothering her, but chose not to pry.

Almost a week passed by with her being forced to see the new “it” couple everywhere she turned. It was starting to get to her so she called Jamila for a session, which turned into Ashanti seeing her on the regular. After a couple more months she no longer felt weighed down by her seemingly unrequited feelings for T’Challa and was genuinely ready to move on. She even downloaded a dating app on her beads and started meeting new people. Nothing really came of it, but she enjoyed herself nonetheless. Ashanti threw herself back into work, mostly focusing on her commissions while her employees handled Taj’s. Princess Shuri had spread the word about the artist after she received her necklace and since then Ashanti’s business had been booming. Everybody from farmers to nobility was knocking down her door for a custom piece. She even made a necklace for Shani, Chieftess of the Jabari. thAll was going well in Ashanti’s life and her therapy sessions were working, so when she saw the news of the royal engagement she allowed the grief to wash over her before shaking it off and going on about her day. On the other side of Birnin Zana, King T’Challa sighed as he watched the media coverage. He knew she was out there somewhere having to see it and he pushed back against the feeling of guilt that often tried to overcome him. He had to do it, though. He had been pushing the council to allow immigration into Wakanda and they just wouldn’t budge, just like he hadn’t budged on the issue of betrothal. It wasn’t until he announced to them that he had plans to marry Tamala that the council started to see things his way. This way everybody would be happy. He would be able to open up Wakanda more to the Lost Tribe, and they would have a queen and hopefully, soon after, an heir to the throne. A week later the news leaked to the press somehow and it quickly became all anyone could talk about.

During his weekly visits to the Merchant tribe T’Challa tended to avoid the Bazaar for fear of running into Ashanti, but this time he decided to venture in. People greeted him as he walked through, perusing the merchandise, and stopping periodically to chat. This is why he loved coming there, everyone was always so cheerful and bright. He had crouched down to talk to a nine year old girl who wanted his attention, and on his way back up he saw a woman in a purple headwrap walking out of a storefront, going in the opposite direction. He would’ve recognized that walk anywhere. T’Challa wanted to call out to her, but didn’t want to embarrass her or start a scandal. He watched her turn the corner and disappear from his sight. The king said goodbye to the little girl and her baba before heading off in the same direction she went, almost leaving his Doras in the dust. When he rounded the corner he stopped abruptly at the absolute vision staring right back at him. She was in shock, obviously not expecting to run into her newly engaged ex.

“T’Challa, h-hi.”

“Hi,” he said back, wanting to kick himself for not being more articulate.

“Um, congratulations on your engagement. I saw the news, well, everywhere.”

“Oh, uh, Thank you.”

“What brings you down here?”

“Just my usual weekly rounds.”

“Oh yeah, I remember those.” She smiled at the memory and his heart thumped a little louder in his chest at the sight. “You always looked forward to Mondays just for that…”

“I still do.”

They both awkwardly stood there, neither one of them saying what’s on their mind.

“Well, I uh, I have to go open up the store. I’ll see you around T’Challa.”

There was so much that he wanted to say, but he just couldn’t get it out. Being in her presence again after so long had him freezing up, something he never did.

She saluted him and winked before turning around and heading towards Taj’s. He couldn’t help but watch her hips twitch as she walked away and something told him she knew he was watching. She did.

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@maddeningmayhem, @theblulife

[wesokkasimp]

impulsive (part one)

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

word count: 8766

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure she’s awake?”

“She doesn’t look conscious…”

“Is she falling back asleep?”

“Hey! Whoever you are! Don't…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They would release you, right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N.” you sighed.

This may be harder than you initially thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 ****************************

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

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

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

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

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

 ****************************

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I suppose,” you sighed.

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

“Jasmine,” you responded.

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

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

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

Just as you began to sit, you were interrupted.

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

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

Or so you thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

“Yep.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

 ****************************

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 ****************************

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello, Miss Y/N!” Iroh greeted.

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

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

“Classic Zuko,” Iroh sighed.

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?” “Just… I was captured a few days ago, by the Avatar and his group. And some of the things they did and said got me thinking. Is it possible that the Fire Nation is in the wrong? We refuse to see good in anything but ourselves. I was taught from a young age to never show mercy; that mercy is weakness. But the Avatar and his friends were nothing but hospitable to me. I mean, what is the reason for this war? Conquest? Why are we trying to conquer the world? My school books say the Air Nomads were planning to invade us, but the more I think about that, the more absurd it sounds. They were pacifists, for spirits sake!” You hadn’t planned on saying all that, but once you started talking, you couldn’t stop. You felt confused, and now angry. Had the Fire Nation really been lying to you this whole time? Was everything you knew a lie? You felt like you were suffocating, shocked by the things that had come out of your own mouth. If you weren’t a faithful servant to the Fire Nation, who were you?

Iroh stared at his bowl of jook for a few seconds, contemplating what you had just said. Then, he spoke.

“Morals are something you must develop for yourself. Take a look at the facts and your own life experiences, and form a code of ethics to follow. I know how difficult it can be to question what you were taught, but we must always be bettering ourselves. Don’t take the easy way out, and always remember to trust your gut.”

You understood what Iroh meant. It’s easy to just follow someone blindly, especially if they’re manipulating you. Developing your own moral code, while harder, would be more fulfilling and worthwhile in the end. 

“Thanks, Iroh. I have a lot to think about,” you breathed at a barely audible voice.

“Of course, take your time.”

You slinked off to your corner, figuring you had about twenty minutes until you had to go to Zuko. You hadn’t eaten much jook. You thought about your brother, who had always been the perfect Fire Nation citizen. He never questioned the Fire Nations wishes, not for one minute. You had always looked up to him, and longed for his praise so badly, so you didn’t question the Fire Nation either. And look where that got the both of you. You were here, stranded in an abandoned Earth Kingdom village, and he was, well, dead. Killed in battle at the ripe age of 17, just as you were about to graduate from the Fire Nation Royal Academy for Girls. 

It was in that moment that you finally understood what Katara had meant. Why would the remaining two nations comply with the Fire Nation when the Fire Nation was trying to overthrow them? Complying wouldn’t result in peace. It would result in chaos.

Well, fuck. Now what were you going to do? You couldn’t go back to Azula, and your gut was telling you not to stay with Iroh and Zuko. You had to get going by tomorrow morning. 

“Iroh, I have a favor to ask,” you said.

“Anything, my dear,” he answered.

You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly. “Do you have, like, an extra canteen of water I could take? Or a little bit of extra food? I really need to get going tomorrow morning, and-”

Iroh cut you off. “Of course, Y/N. I’ll get a few things packed up for you, but in the meantime, I think my nephew is waiting for you.” “Thanks, Iroh,” you said, smiling. Iroh nodded in your direction as you jogged out the door.

Feeling much more optimistic and more sure of yourself than you had ever been, you sauntered over to Zuko, who was doing a few cooldown stretches.

“Oh, hi Y/N. I was just finishing up. Are you ready to repay me yet?” he chuckled. 

“Not quite yet. Follow me,” you said in a teasing tone. Zuko got up and followed you despite the confused look on his face. Oh, how naive, you thought.

You led Zuko to a crumbling wall you had spotted earlier during training. When you stopped, Zuko began speaking.

“What are we doing over here? What are you even teaching me?”

You could tell he was getting impatient with you. Oh well, just give the boy what he wants.

“Never knew you were the eager type,” you giggled.

Zuko’s witty comeback died in his throat as you yanked him by the arm towards you and effectively pinned him against the wall.

“Wh- what are you-”

“Quiet, hottie,” you murmured. “Class is in session. Would you consider yourself a hands on learner?” “I guess so,” he whispered. The almighty Fire Prince was melting into a puddle right before your eyes, at your hand nonetheless. He really was too cute for his own good at this moment. His eyes wide instead of the default glare they were set in, his entire face red. 

“Good,” you responded. You took his hands, which were hanging limply at his sides, and stationed them on your waist. You then placed your hands firmly onto his shoulders. Zuko shuddered under your touch.

“Ready for the demonstration?” you asked, serious tone not at all fitting for what you were about to do to this boy.

“U-um, well, I… ah-” Zuko sputtered. Was it only this morning he was glaring at you for joining his meal?

You rolled your eyes. “Lesson one: Talk. Less.” you stated.

You leaned in until your lips were just barely brushing Zuko’s. You could hear his breath hitch in his throat. But you weren’t done having fun with him yet.

At the last minute, you turned away from his lips, instead opting to place a feather light kiss on Zuko’s cheek teasingly. 

You pulled away from Zuko slightly with a sly smile, just enough so you could see his face. His expression was shocked, confused, and longing.

Perfect.

“You don’t have to be so stiff, you know,” you giggled. “Move a little. It-”

Zuko cut you off with his lips, grasping at your waist like his life depended on it. You gasped into his mouth before hurriedly kissing back. Sure, you’d kissed a guy or two in your life, but none of them felt like Zuko. He tasted like jasmine and woodsmoke. His lips moved against yours with passion and vigor as he let out little sighs into your mouth. Your hands left Zuko’s shoulders, going to his chest instead as you grabbed fistfuls of his shirt. 

You pulled away from the kiss, smiling as he chased after your lips.

“Why… did you do that?” he whispered.

“I had to teach you something, didn’t I? Did you learn anything?” you asked.

“Talk less,” Zuko said, his eyes hazy.

You chuckled. “Yeah. Remember that one.”

You walked off, leaving Zuko to contemplate what  just happened.

 ****************************

You left that same night. Iroh had gone to the nearby forest to forage for some plants, and Zuko was still standing at the wall, dumbfounded. That left the building you had stayed in empty. There was a small bag sitting in the corner you had slept in, packed by Iroh. You found a compass in Iroh’s bag, found which way west was, and started off in the direction, taking the compass with you. It didn’t matter; Zuko had one in his bag. You checked.

You weren’t quite sure where you were going. Going back to Azula was obviously not an option, but the Fire Nation wasn’t a good choice either. There would be too many things to explain to your family, and you could be sent to jail for abandoning Azula. Or worse. It would be better for the time being if you were presumed dead, not that anyone besides your parents and perhaps a few of your friends would care.

That left a few options. You could become a nomad of sorts, jumping around from town to town, never staying long. You weren’t built for that sort of life, though. The few weeks traveling with Azula had been enough to last you a lifetime. Omashu, now New Ozai, had become occupied by the Fire Nation. The Northern Water Tribe was secluded and virtually untouched by the war, as the recent invasion attempt had failed. Unfortunately for you, it was nearly impossible to get to, even by high-tech warship.  That left settling down at one of the abandoned Air Temples or Ba Sing Se. The latter seemed less lonely and more attainable, so off to Ba Sing Se it was.

 ****************************

“Fine, but you’re closing tomorrow!”

“Okay okay. Thanks, Xia!”

You washed the flour caked on your hands from hours of work, left the keys in the small tray by the back door, and began your walk back to the small apartment you lived in, apron in hand.

You had been living in Ba Sing Se for two months now. After forging some papers and departing the ferry that took you to the city, you landed a job at a small, but lively bakery that locals of the outer ring loved. Your weekly salary was enough to pay for rent, food, and a few recreational activities too. Overall, you lived a comfortable life, and you would have been happy to spend the rest of your days in the life you’d built for yourself, even if you had to pretend there was no war. 

You had been hearing about a tea shop from some of your neighbors. It wasn’t new, but there was a new employee that really knew his way around the drink. You hadn’t had a cup of tea since the ginseng shared with Zuko and Iroh, and you certainly had the money for it. Deciding to treat yourself, you walked into the store and ordered a cup of jasmine tea. After paying, you sat down at a table by the window and waited for your tea to be served. Drumming your fingers on the table, you thought about how much your life had changed in just a few short months. You had gone from a loyal servant to the Fire Nation, ready to sacrifice anything and everything for a facist tyrant, to a normal young adult working in a bakery. You couldn’t help but feel grateful you had fallen into this timeline. What if Sokka’s aim had just been a bit off and you hadn’t been knocked out? You’d probably still be out there with Azula, hunting down the world's last hope for balance. Crazy how one little action can have such a huge impact. 

As you thought about Azula, your mind wandered to her older brother. You smiled at the thought of Zuko. Your time together had been brief, but you looked back on it fondly. Sure, he could be very aggressive and intimidating, but he could also be quite shy and bashful, if you got him in the right situation. 

Looking back on the kiss the two of you had shared, you blushed. You felt giddy and slightly embarrassed at the same time. You had been so impulsive in that moment, but you couldn’t help it. He was just so cute, stuttering under your soft gaze!

“Order up,” a raspy voice stated behind you.

Ah, your tea. You turned around to accept the steaming cup, tip in hand, but something stopped you from  reaching out to take the drink from the rusted tray.

That something was the wide-eyed stare of a certain Fire Nation royal family member. 

“Oh,” you choked. “Hi again.”

a/n okay i know i said literally yesterday that this would be out in december but you never know when motivation will hit ig. this isn’t the full thing but i think that’s understandable since this bitch is loooong. the second part will probably be shorter. the other zuko h/cs will still be out before thanksgiving! requests are still open as well, but i want to finish this so it may take a little for me to get to them. thank you to @ladyamaya (sorry it’s not letting me tag you :() for requesting this. sorry it took so long. also, sorry if this sucks :)

[ruewrites]

Thrones are Built on Lies Chapter 5: Meeting You for the First Time

AO3

Ship: Solomon/Asmo

Word Count: 3471

Warnings: Brief suicide mention

A/N: Second part to that cliff hanger! I hope you guys are still enjoying this fic!  It’s a project I’ve been thinking of since near the end of WBT and I’m a bit nervous about it (^_^;)

Previous

Next

Lilith, or rather not Lilith, stared up at him, confidence finally starting to waver. They tried to back up, and Solomon stepped closer. 

His brow furrowed, staring down at the terrified little bunny he cornered. Solomon swore he could see their heart beating out of their chest. 

Not Lilith?

"Who are you then?" Solomon asked, refusing to let them out of his sight.

Sunset eyes slowly rose from the ground to meet ocean grey ones once more. 

"Asmodeus. Fifth born son of the late king."

Asmodeus.

No one had ever brought up this name to him before. He looked over him for a moment. He looked no different than the day that he'd met Lilith. Twins? Maybe. But he doubted they'd be that similar to the point of sounding the same. 

"Asmodeus," Solomon repeated, "Why haven't I heard your name before?" 

"Probably because I wasn't supposed to exist to you before," he frowned, "You were only supposed to know Lilith existed. That was what mattered."

"And when you were found out?"

Asmo didn't say another word. His soft hands gripped the sleeves of his dress tighter. "Then I suppose my fate would be in your hands, just as it is now," he said, "Except this way I told you instead of you finding out."

Solomon watched as Asmodeus turned and continued on with his spiel.

"I wanted to give you the chance to do whatever you wanted to quietly. You can always say you heard rumors about Lilith and changed your mind. They'd believe you."

He put himself in a place where he could control the situation and feel secure. 

"You know it's really not fair too, I wasn't expecting you to be my type. You couldn't have just been ugly, no, you had to be attractive and funny and witty too!"

He was still pretty, and still smelled of those sweet perfumes.

"I just had to feel bad for lying to you. I couldn't just ignore it! Stuff like that usually doesn't get to me! But you just had to go and be sweet on me too!"

Lilith or Asmo, he was still Solomon's ticket to staying in Arcadia. The fact that Asmo already seemed to be into him just made his job a little easier. 

"So here I am, potentially putting myself in danger away from my brothers to come clean to you and give you an easy-"

"Okay."

Asmodeus stared at him in confusion, his brow wrinkled ever so slightly as he cocked his head from one side to the other. Meanwhile Solomon stayed put in his position, back straight and arms behind him.

All this time he'd been nervous he'd done something wrong! But now he knew otherwise.

"Okay?" Asmodeus repeated.

Solomon shrugged, "Lilith, Asmodeus. You are the one I met all those months ago, yes?"

"But- But-" Asmodeus stuttered, his expression started to change.

"I see no problem. You are the one I've been arranged to marry. Husband, wife, both are the same to me."

"What."

"Although I suppose now I may have to redo my proposition. A king must give a proper proposal. After all, I was engaged to Lilith not Asmodeus."

"No!" The outburst took him back, "No no no! You were supposed to be mad! You were going to try to kill me! You- You-!"

"You wanted me to be mad and make an attempt on your life?"

"Well no but," he let out a choked squeal in frustration, "You can't tell me that I was worried for nothing! That I didn't have to do this!"

Solomon couldn't help the smile that stretched across his face. Something about the whole situation was just amusing to him. Normally someone wouldn't be upset at you for not being angry, and yet here he was. If anything, he could at least say his time in Arcadia had been eventful so far.

However, he knew he shouldn't leave his fiance like this. What type of man would he be to leave him upset? 

"It wasn't for nothing. You didn't know me. You've only heard rumors about me, and many of those rumors also involve women," he said. He moved a little closer to Asmo and placed a hand on his cheek. It reminded him so much of the first day they'd met. Asmo was still the same person, and he would still keep him in Arcadia.

Asmo's eyes shifted to the hand on his cheek before meeting Solomon's gaze once more. There was still some tension, and he was still pouting, but Solomon hoped he was able to at least calm him a bit.

"You mean that?"

"Of course, and I wouldn't tell you I felt the same towards men and women if I wasn't, and you're still incredibly beautiful."

It was true, an observation anyone could make really. 

"A lot of people say so, as they should,"  Asmo hummed, a smile pulling at the edges of his lips. So far so good. He seemed to be using the right words. Now he just needed to keep going.

"You're very correct," Solomon let his hand slide down and carefully placed it along his lower back, "Why don't we spend some time out here together just for a little bit?"

Asmo hesitated.

"We're already out here together," Solomon continued, "What's the harm?"

"Lucifer," Asmodeus mumbled, "I don't think he'll be as mad that you know, I think he'll be relieved really, but knowing I snuck out is what'll get him mad."

"Do you sneak out often Asmodeus?"

Asmo crossed his arms and huffed, "Yeah, but I never do anything bad, I just want to get out of that stuffy castle is all." His expression softened slightly, "Especially since not a lot really happens anymore."

"Do events usually happen?"

Asmo didn't respond.

Alright, dead end. Solomon tried to nudge him forward back in the direction of the castle, "Would you do me the honor of walking me back to my room?"

"Your room?" Asmodeus' voice lifted slightly. Solomon felt him lean into his side and a soft tug at the bottom of his shirt, "Isn't that a bit scandalous?" 

Solomon sputtered. Scandalous? The man spoke as if they were having some sort of affair and not engaged. Not only that, but Solomon certainly hadn't meant to imply anything more than a chat, a nice walk back together. "No," he coughed, "No it wouldn't be scandalous at all. I just thought that we could talk for a while. I haven't seen you very much since I've been here."

"You'd be the first."

Solomon barely caught those words. Although he wasn't entirely sure what he was referencing.

But Asmodeus indulged him and started walking towards the castle and moving away from Solomon's hand.

They walked a few inches away from each other yet keeping stride. Solomon could hear their footsteps begin to sync up as the trees above them started to rustle.

"You've always been Lilith then? Is it safe to assume that Lilith never existed?" he asked once the tips or the towers came into view.

Asmo shook his head, and a grimace crossed his face. "No. That's not…" he had to collect himself, "That's not the case."

"She was real then?"

"She was my sister."

A pause. 

Asmodeus pressed into the doors with a little more force than necessary, leading them back to the throne room.

"Our sister. She was real, but you never met her," he said softly, "She died three months before I met you."

And then he became her.

How long had he spent being molded to fit the part? So their father had cut out one of his own sons. It explained why there were eight windows instead of seven. Asmo stared at the white one, becoming lost in what little moonlight shown through. Solomon had to wonder if he even saw him anymore. 

"Which one is you?" Solomon asked, glancing at the windows, "You you, not Lilith you."

Asmo or Lilith, he still had a nice laugh. 

"You really care?" skepticism leaked into his voice.

"I do."

Asmo waited. Maybe he didn't believe him, maybe he was waiting for Solomon to tell him it was a joke. Or maybe it was something else entirely. 

"The pink one on the side," he nodded upwards. Solomon took a moment to study it a little more. He saw the online of the figure first, then the roses, and then a few other shapes he couldn't quite make out.

"And you have a tunnel system like your brothers as well." 

"Of course. It's a safety precaution. We travel back and forth through a system of underground tunnels so we don't end up murdered."

"You receive threats?" 

"Of course. We're an empire. It's only normal people would want us dead to take the land for themselves," Asmo explained.

"It must have been a miserable life to hide away."

"It wasn't always like that. They'd just become more… frequent the past few years." 

"So you're not able to live out your younger years," Solomon finished. It appeared that the only two siblings lacking tunnels would be Lilith and who he assumed was Lucifer.  

Unless Lucifer had his own network linking from somewhere else. 

But Lilith was right above the entryway. 

Where would she have gone?

"Did your sister get caught? If you don't mind me asking.

Solomon noticed that Asmo's finger tips grab on to his dress once more. But he didn't fidget this time.

"You don't have to answer-"

"She jumped," his voice cracked, "I- We don't know why she just did."

This was different than when they were discussing the death of the king. Mentioning their father had been more of an awkward topic than a sad one. They all knew there should be some sort of sadness looming in the air, that that was how things were supposed to be. You were supposed to mourn when you lost blood, to vow to carry on their legacy and to honor their memory. 

He watched Asmo wipe his eyes, "Your room then right? It's late and I dragged you out. I'll take you back."

"And you'll be okay walking back on your own?" he didn't like the feeling in his stomach that came with the thought of leaving Asmo upset. He told himself  that he could be a decent husband. What type of spouse would he be if he did nothing but make his spouse miserable? Especially with a brother-in-law like Lucifer.

"I'll be peachy," his smile didn't reach his eyes, "Besides, you don't know how to navigate the tunnels yet. But I'll teach you so you can be a perfect gentleman."

The trip back to his room had been a quiet one.

Solomon had never realized how strange trying to connect with people was until he came here. Sure he could talk with fellow rulers over diplomatic affairs and make a good impression and he had both Simeon and Luke, but did he really understand people? He could be charming sure, but he'd also been rather isolated growing up.

"I will inform my brother about this," Asmo gestured towards himself and then to Solomon as they stood in front of his bedroom door, "I hope he'll be more relieved than upset."

"And why would he be upset?"

"Who knows."

The hinges creaked ever so slightly

"I appreciate you walking me back. I'll have to make sure I repay the favor sometime," once he learned how to navigate his way through the tunnels that is.

"Of course, but I can think of a way you could repay me now."

Solomon stopped in the doorway and peered over his shoulder. Would he receive another innuendo perhaps?

"Join us at breakfast tomorrow."

Such a simple request.

"Lucifer gets to have Diavolo there with him and it's not fair that I don't get to have you."

He was pouting now. Solomon couldn't help but snort at the way his cheeks puffed out and how his arms crossed. It was over such a simple little request too.

"You talk as if you own me," Solomon leaned against his door frame and lowered his eyelids.

"Do I not?"

"I don't believe so." If they wanted to play the who owned who game, Solomon didn't doubt that he'd win. If Asmodeus had been truthful while they were out in the woods, it would mean that he was quite infatuated with him.

There were always ways to test his theories of course.

"Besides," he stepped away from the doorframe, and tilted Asmo's chin upwards with his index finger, "Wouldn't that mean there's a possibility that I own you?" 

The dilation of his eyes and pink rising towards his cheeks was all Solomon needed to see to know that he was back on track.

He just needed to keep him happy.

"Well, when you put it like that, I suppose so."

Was this flirting?

Was he flirting?

Solomon could pretend the look in his fiance's eyes didn't make him nervous. 

Solomon would have never imagined that this little thing would be making him anxious. Asmo seemed a bit more confident now. Could it be that all of his anxieties had been linked to playing the part of Lilith?

"But no matter the case, you'll accompany me, yes?"

Solomon intended to keep their little game going. That is, until he looked into those eyes. He never knew a person could make him feel somewhat guilty with a look alone. Like a newborn kicked puppy.

It was inhuman and unfair. 

Solomon couldn't bring himself to say no.

"If it would please you."

"Oh it would! It very much would!" Asmo didn't really seem to have a sense of personal space. His arms flung around Solomon's middle, knocking him back ever so slightly into the doorway. His grip was also surprisingly tight, and Solomon's lungs were screaming for air. "I'll see you bright and early then! Don't forget to come okay?"

The air that flooded his lungs was the only thing that made Solomon aware of the fact that Asmodeus had let go of him and left. He was a whirlwind. 

But he had to regain his composure. 

Before he started, he decided to touch the pendant now resting on his table. He didn't seem nearly as anxious as before. There was a small feeling of relief and a giddiness that he could only assume was due to their last little interaction. Solomon had solved the mystery behind those pesky anxieties. Well, maybe he hadn't necessarily solved it, but at least things made s little more sense. Just a little.

Now he cpuld switch his focus to other mysteries.

Finally he could open the book that Azazel had given him so he could dig a little deeper. When the book opened, a small handkerchief slipped to the floor. 

Curious.

Could it belong to Azazel?

It was a plain white cloth with orange threaded lettering stitched onto the side.

'Henry'. 

He hadn't met anyone named Henry. Had he also read through this book? Was he another magician in Arcadia?  Maybe Azazel would know who he was. After all, it was in his book.

But he could focus on that later. Now he needed to take notes.

***

Furthermore multiple assassination attempts have been made against the family. Few have ever been successful. Recently they've seemed to stir up again (from what I can gather), and this may be the cause as to why so many of the streets seem empty.

The underground tunnels are designed to be disorienting on purpose. They are magical by nature and one must learn and adapt to them in order to navigate them. If not, it is very likely that one could become lost down there forever. The king who built said corridor was rumored to have thrown prisoners of war into the tunnels in order to test how effective they were when the idea was first conceived. It should be noted that the first ones were not made in Arcadia. 

The Heart of Arcadia lies somewhere beneath the tunnels. Not only do the tunnels travel from sector to sector, but they also continue down. Even further beneath the castle lie safe rooms and valuables that the family wants to keep out of the hands of others. In the furthest cavern, deep in an underground system of caves, lies the Heart. The Heart of Arcadia is what gives Arcadia and her descendants magical abilities. Legends say it was the gift given to the first Kings and Queens by the gods. Without it Arcadia's prosperous lands may cease to exist, and the people will die with it.

***

"A word, Solomon," Solomon stopped in his tracks. 

Why did the crown prince have to sound so unreadable? At least Solomon could hope he could return the same energy in kind.

"Perhaps, I did promise that I would meet a certain someone for breakfast this morning," Solomon said, "A certain someone who I also happen to be engaged to."

"That's what I wanted to speak to you about."

Solomon finally turned to face him. Just as he expected, there wasn't a trace of readable emotion on his person.

"Then speak away. He seemed concerned about telling me. You always could have called off the wedding," Solomon shrugged.

"And you could have started a war," the growl in Lucifer’s voice finally gave him away, "Look, I told you all that time ago that I did not condone my father's decisions. I care deeply about the safety of all of my brothers."

"What was your plan then? Just in case I had turned out to be as vile as Asmodeus clearly thought I'd be."

The silence between them spoke volumes.

Yes, Solomon wanted to get along with all of his brother-in-laws, but there was an air about Lucifer. It caused the two of them to but heads. They had similarities, Solomon wouldn't deny that. Perhaps that led to the tiniest bit of irritation in Solomon.

None of their interactions had been pleasant thus far, and it was starting to wear on Solomon's nerves. 

"To keep you away from him until I could figure something out," Lucifer said, his shoulders almost sagging before he caught themself. For a man his age, he seemed worn. Bags under his eyes, pale skin, and Solomon swore he saw him going grey. Lucifer had a few years on him, but even then he seemed so much older. "I don't trust you, not in the slightest, yet I feel as if I have to. Keep him safe. I will not lose another one of my siblings. Asmodeus is precious, and he will be treated as such."

"I wouldn't dream of hurting him."

"I didn't just mean protection from you."

How to go about trusting a man you didn't trust? The short answer was that you couldn't, not really. Lucifer had no reason to trust him, he had every reason not to trust him. Yet Asmo and his future would be in Solomon's hands. He knew this. Some part of him felt bad for Lucifer, but only a small part. 

"And make sure he doesn't sneak out anymore, it's for his own good."

Solomon wasn't in charge of him, but knowing what he now knew about the current climate he understood.

He had no idea if they'd still let him in Arcadia if something happened to Asmo.

It would be a shame if something happened to him, he was very pretty, and Solomon hadn't heard him sing yet.

Solomon didn't bother answering Lucifer as they walked to breakfast in silence. He had nothing to say. Surprisingly Solomon hadn't been left behind to rot in the tunnels by the prince. 

No sooner had they come to the surface than Asmodeus was on him.

"You're late! I thought you weren't going to come!" 

He was dressed differently today. Instead of the dresses he was used to seeing him wear, he was dressed more like his brothers.  Long boots, pants, and a pink shirt that poofed out at the sleeves. 

He did have nice legs.

Lucifer ran his shoulder into his back, pushing him forward slightly and Solomon had to suppress a retort. He didn't need Lucifer’s warnings, and he certainly didn't need to feel his eyes boring into his back with every interaction he had with Asmodeus. 

Why did he still have a problem with him? Solomon hadn't done anything. At least nothing to warrant this behavior.

"I promised you, did I not? And I'm a man of my word dear one."

Asmodeus' eyes went from displeasure to sparkling at the little name. It wouldn't be hard to make him happy. He could be good to him.

It didn't mean he was in love, but he could be a decent spouse.

"Now sit, I'm sure I have much to learn about you."

[mediocre--writing]

The Only Aussie I’d Fuck

Luke Hemmings x Reader

Word Count: 3K

Summary: Luke’s girlfriend, Y/n, is a famous actress she’s been begging him to watch her show and he’s finally caving, watching with his band mates, but how will Luke feel at her and her co-star’s on-screen relationship?

Warnings: Despite the title, this isn’t smut, a few mentions of making out but no smut. 

All the boys sat crowded around the television as the screen was being switched from Cable to a streaming service.

It was unlikely that the boys would just sit around a TV when they weren’t touring, since they usually wanted to do things they weren’t allowed to on tour, like spend time with loved ones or, the least likely thing they would actually get to do on tour, have a good night's sleep. But this was a special occasion, Luke’s girlfriend, Y/n, had been practically begging him to watch her show for the past few months, and he wasn't ignoring his girlfriend, he just never really had the time to. 

She had wanted to watch it with him, something that she had expressed multiple times to him on the phone, but she was busy filming the next season of the show somewhere in the mid-western US, Nebraska, he thinks. It was some sort of horror/comedy/teen coming of age thing that she never really explained other than she was in it and alluded to him a time or two. 

Luke was immensely proud of her and all that she had accomplished, when they met in 2014, he never thought that they’d both become who they were today and they never imagined the relationship that grew between them, especially a healthy relationship, given their current occupations that set certain restrictions on their capabilities on getting together in person. 

They fit together well, where he was introverted to an extent, she would push him out of his comfort zone, and vice-versa depending on the situation. They both understood each other on different levels, they both had a really creative and artistic side, yet they also enjoyed the quiet peace of being home just laying in the quiet; sans Petunia’s toenails tapping on the hardwood floors as she roamed about the house aimlessly. 

All the boys settled in to watch, given they were all close to Y/n as well, for she had gone on the american leg of the Sounds Live, Feels Live and Meet You There tours with them and bonded with the boys, gaining three more friends, real friends, not some snobby stuck up bitches that she worked with regularly. These were normal, down to earth boys who understood more than money and fame and could take a joke. 

Luke snapped a picture of the screen and the boys and their load of snacks and sent it to Y/n, proof that he was actually, finally, watching it, something she’d been begging him to do for far too long. 

As the show loaded and began to play, Michael nudged Luke’s shoulder a few times as Y/n’s face came into view, showing her sitting in a classroom gnawing on the eraser part of her pencil. 

“Look at our girl” Ashton said as they all watched the screen with more attention than they ever gave at a business meeting.

The show was set in a private-school like setting, all the kids wearing white and navy blue uniforms. The whole scene had a white noise, disturbed only by the slamming of a book, which made Y/n’s head shoot up to look at the teacher. She had a kind of glare to her eyes as she stared at the older man, who looked very displeased at her attention focused on her daydreams rather than school. 

“Ms. Carter, what was I talking about a moment ago?” 

“Dinosaurs!” She said with confidence. 

“This is a calculus class, Ms. Carter, detention,” 

“Aye, Aye captain,” She saluted him, causing him to shoot her another glare as she smirked and high fived a few people around her. 

The scene changed as she was now walking through the hallways, towards a crowd around the bathrooms, “What’s up, Maggie, we watching people piss or something?” 

A girl, who Luke distantly remembers Y/n complaining about at some point, begins to speak, “There’s a new hot guy in the bathroom and some girl said that he’s from a different country.” 

“We live in fucking Nebraska, who the hell would move here? People move away from here, not to here.” 

“Just wait, I swear he had a weird voice!” Another girl said from the group. 

“Was it anything like yours? Because if so we may need to fumigate the place” Y/n snapped at her. “What’s his name? Or do you know nothing other than his ‘weird voice?’” 

After her statement, the boy came out to see the small group of seven-ish girls standing near the boys bathroom. 

“Hey you! What’s your deal?” Maggie yelled at the boy.

He turned, showing his TV-perfect face scrunched in confusion, “What'd ya mean?” 

“Where you from, why are you here, what's your deal?” Maggie spat at the poor boy who was blushing redder than a firetruck. 

“I’m Oliver Hunnington and I’m from Sydney, my dad got a job somewhere here and so I’m here too.” He shrugged, looking far too uncomfortable with the situation

“Sydney like as in Australia?” Maggie asked with a raised eyebrow, to which he nodded and ducked his head in embarrassment at the herd of girls staring at him like raw meat. 

Y/n’s character stepped up with a hand held out to him, “I’m Savannah Carter, and you look like you’re about to shit your pants so do you need help finding your classes or are you just generally terrified of women?” 

The boys chuckled at the statement, thinking of how Y/n had said something similar to Luke the first time they met, the boy was blushing so bad he looked ready to pass out.

“Little bit of both, not gonna lie,” He chuckled, to which she grabbed his hand, looked him in the eyes with a smirk, and led him down the hallway, the girls hooting after them, Y/n turning to playfully glare at them.

The first episode just established the basic plot, it ending with a threatening scene of some gloved hands cleaning a bloody hammer as screaming is heard in the background, the end credits rolling as the next episode begins to load. 

The show was good, it wasn’t like the cringy ones that have creepy staring contests that were meant to be intimate, and the comedy wasn’t forced, it was just generally sarcastic, and it was actually enticing to watch, not just another boring Riverdale-type knockoff. 

Y/n’s character had made a few flirty remarks at Oliver, mostly jokes about eating him alive if he’d let her and asking him if he’d ever done...things with girls, which were awkward scenes but funny nonetheless.

She had teasingly trailed her fingers down his neck and shoulders a few times. There have been a few make-out scenes between her and a few other characters, most of them being guys though there was a point when she kissed Maggie, but those scenes only caused mild discomfort for the boys, three of which had been eyewitnesses to her and Luke’s make-out sessions every once and awhile. 

Her character was so different from the Y/n they knew, Y/n was kind and soft and would bake them cookies when she felt like it and she would never force anyone to do anything. Her character, Savannah, however, was sexual and not at all the socially anxious Y/n they all knew too well, Savannah had an air about her that couldn’t be ignored and practically begged for attention. 

They were on the seventh episode, they were gonna end on the fifth but they got intrigued by the plot and decided “just one more” which was really just an excuse, though they knew none of them wanted to actually stop the next episode from playing. 

The show is all about a person who is going around and hurting people, but never killing them, just slow torture, but you don’t know who they are and nobody can figure it out, and one of the characters involved with the main characters in the first episode was attacked by the masked person, so they all get involved; Savannah, Maggie, Oliver, and the other, more minor, characters in the show. 

Another character, Jess, an innocent girl who was a class below them and looked up to Savannah to guide her, so she became like a little sister and helped them all figure things out because she was really smart. 

Oliver and Savannah got really close too. She would always make sexual jokes at him and make him uncomfortable just so she could see him blush and have his hair fall over his face as he looked down in embarrassment. 

The scene the boys were at now consisted of them being at a party, Y/n’s character and Jess being in a bedroom looking for anything suspicious, while they talked idly. 

“Do you ever worry what this all could mean for your future?” Jess asked.

“What do you mean?” Savannah asked, stopping her searching and leaning on the bed.

“Like what if something happens and things go wrong and… i don't know what if someone thinks we are the ones doing… all this?” 

“Listen honey, I hate to tell you this, but my only goal in life is to get that cute little Aussie downstairs to pin me down by my neck and fuck me so hard that I can taste it, so if you’re asking me for advice about the future and shit, I’m really no help at all, kid,” Y/n’s character said with a smirk as she returned to looking for whatever she was looking for before. 

Calum, who had just been taking a sip of water, choked on it as all the boys looked up to Luke, who was staring wide eyed at the TV with a prominent blush across his cheeks. 

Michael and Ashton, who had moved to the floor in front of Luke and Cal on the couch somewhere between the third and fourth episode, were wiggling their eyebrows while Calum turned around and rubbed his hands over his back as if he were making out with someone, making Luke flush even more than before. 

A weak “Stop,” could be heard but the boys just laughed at Luke as they returned to the show. 

They ended up finishing the series that night, since there were only 11 episodes and they had to finish it then or else they would never be able to find the time to sit and actually finish it. 

It ended with Y/n’s character being attacked by the masked killer guy, but surviving and finding out that it was Jess’ dad who was behind the attacks, and he was manipulating Jess to get information on people going against him.

Savannah and Oliver ended up having their little moment, which gave the boys another reason to make jokes at Luke. 

The scene consisted of her grabbing his silky looking shirt and pulling his face to hers, whispering, “Is that a telephone pole in your pants or are you just happy to see me?” 

“Well maybe I was promised a chance at something and now I finally have the perfect moment to get it.” 

“Then come get it, we don’t have all day,”

He shoved her into the wall by her hips and reached a hand up to her neck, “We have as long as we want,” 

She smirked and the scene was moved to an overview of the city, turning into a map, then a big, red X was placed over the house that it had zoomed away from, then the credits rolled. 

The boys decided that, since it was roughly 4 am anyways, that they’d all just stay the night, especially since they were gonna meet at Luke’s and have brunch together the next day anyway. 

Ashton and Michael ended up knocking out on the floor, Calum curled up in a chair and Luke took the couch. 

--

The sun rose only a few hours after they had fallen asleep, which didn’t disturb their sleep in the slightest, but the knocking on the door sure did. 

KayKay and Crystal had been knocking on the door for at least ten minutes before Crystal tried to call Michael, who didn’t answer, so she called Luke, then Ashton, but neither of them answered either. 

Calum was woken up by the buzzing of their phones, so when his phone rang, he answered with a groggy voice, and had to pull the phone away from his ear at the sound of excited squeals, “Thank God!” Crystal said, “Let us in, we've been here for half an hour and it's COLD!” 

Calum chuckled as he walked to answer the door, kicking Michael and Ashton’s backs as he walked by, causing them to stir in their sleep. 

Cal let the girls in and the other boys woke up soon after, getting semi-ready for their brunch, which was looking to be more of a lunch as they took forever to wake up and get ready-- the boys claimed it was payback because the girls always took far to long to get ready.

The boys told KayKay and Crystal about how they finally watched Y/n’s show, to which they made a few remarks of “What took you so long?” and “Isn’t it great?!” and “Damn, I wanted to watch Luke’s face when she made the Aussie jokes at Oliver!” 

When they finally were about ready to leave, there was a knocking on the door, each of them looking around in question since their whole group was already here. 

Given it was Luke’s place, and he was still getting ready, they had a silent debate on who would get the door before Crystal’s eyes widened almost comically and she shot up to go to the door. 

Michael made a face at her as if asking “What the fuck?” but made no verbal response to her actions until there was loud squealing heard from the door. 

Luke came down the stairs as the guys rounded the corner to see the door when they saw Crystal jumping and hugging someone--Y/n.

Luke came the rest of the way down the stairs and shoved through his friends, towards his girlfriend, and picked her up just moments after she had escaped Crystal’s death grip. 

“Hi Bubs,” She whispered into his curly hair, which made him hold her even tighter than he was before, Crystal had taken a secret picture of the couple hugging (which would soon become Luke’s phone wallpaper). 

The hug lasted a bit longer than it should have, but they hadn’t seen each other in person for over four months, so the rest of the group ignored it for now, especially since they were just hugging and not having a fun little make out-sesh in front of them like they had a tendency to do every now and then. 

Luke set her down and looked into her eyes, which were filled with happy tears that had yet to fall, “When did you get back?” 

“I took the weekend off to come see you because I don’t have to work until Tuesday next week and I really wanted to see you and then you sent me the text last night and I wanted to watch the show with you even if it was cringy for me. Then I realized that I really, really needed to see you and so I booked a plane ticket and it left at like four this morning and I’m really tired but I'm here and I’m with you.”  Y/n barely breathed as she explained herself, but Luke just fell more and more in love with her, if that was possible.

Luke put his hands against her jaw as if he was going to kiss her but he just looked into her eyes and smiled, a big toothy grin that took up his whole face and made her smile too, tears dripping down her cheeks freely now as they hugged again. 

After their hug, he invited her to come to brunch with them unless she was too tired, in which he would stay at home with her, but she agreed to go to brunch because she hasn’t eaten in almost 12 hours and “might drop dead of hunger soon” if she didn’t eat soon. 

They went to a smaller cafe for a lunch/brunch thing where half of them got waffles and the others got hamburgers or pasta. 

They joked and laughed for a few hours, basking in being together as a group for the first time in forever. The boys recounted tales of touring that the girls may have missed and also complimented Y/n on the show they finally watched, to which she shoved her head into Luke’s shoulder in embarrassment, but thanked them nonetheless. 

They all hugged Y/n, as it would likely be the last time they’d see her that weekend, then they all drove to their respective homes. 

--

When Luke and Y/n got inside, Luke grabbed her waist from behind as she squealed, “Put me down, Bubs!” 

He ignored her and just walked up the stairs to his room and threw her onto the bed, causing her to squeal again. 

“So are you saying that you don’t want me, a hot Aussie, to pin you down by the throat and fuck you?” She groaned, not an erotic groan but one of annoyance as she looked up at Luke who was also giggling at her reaction. 

“I hate you! I really do! I really, really hate you! I swear to god, Hemmings, I can not stand you!” Her cheeks became hot as she shoved her head into the pillows.

Luke just giggled as he laid down next to her and pulled her in by the waist and cuddled into her like a koala, “I love you, you know that?” 

“Matter of fact I do know that, and I love you too,” She said, “but I don’t love you when you use my character’s dialogue against me, hurts my heart a little bit, not gonna lie,”

He pushed his bottom lip out in a pout, “Well I’m sorry, how bout we cuddle then we can just watch something on TV or nap, because I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t fall asleep til after 5 and you had an early flight, so I feel like i’m gonna crash soon.” 

“Fine by me, bubs,” She took a deep breath, inhaling the way he smelled as if it were the last time she would be with him and she snuggled her face into his chest a bit more, electing a giggle from him, “Fine by me.”

“I’m still the only hot Aussie you want to fuck though, right?” Luke asked quietly, looking down at her.

“Of course you are, you’re the only Aussie I’d want to fuck, you big baby,” 

They both giggled for another moment and Y/n drifted to sleep, soft snores coming from her parted lips as Luke could almost see the small velvet box sitting in his underwear drawer that he couldn’t wait to give her soon, really soon.

[doyelikehaggis]

Ginny Weasley and Landon Kirby!!

So this is nearly like a month late! And I am so sorry for that!! I got very distracted, wrote half of this, then left it for like two weeks, so you have my sincerest apologies! But I hope you enjoy this!! ❤️

Ginny Weasley:

• Headcanon for their sexuality — Oh, she has the biggest bi energy out here. She probably figured it out really casually as well, like, she realized she had a bit of a crush on Tonks and was like, "Oh.”

• Have they come out? If so, how — She came out to Bill first, because she remembers him telling her about the boy he fancied when he was in fourth year, and she trusts he’ll be kind, so she waits until he’s visiting and slips it into conversation when they’re alone in the garden. Then she casually tells Luna while they’re reading a book that mentions this queer witch from centuries ago. Then comes the rest of her family, little by little. When it came to the media finding out after the war had settled however, now, that was a far more dramatic and hilarious story; the rumours flew around faster than her supposed secret lovers from her team! She definitely played them up and let people speculate for months, finding the whole thing downright ridiculous but at least entertaining.

• How their friends/family took their coming out:

Bill is as supportive as she expected. He smiles this knowing smile and hugs her, then they’re back to de-gnoming. “I’m happy you trust me.”

Ron is the second sibling she tells, because even though he can be a bit dense, she listened to him gush for hours about Krum, Harry, and his favourite Chudley Cannons player. He stares for a minute like he doesn’t quite know what she means, then he’s making her promise not to date any of the Gryffindor girls in his year because “Dean was one thing, alright, but if you and Lavender—“

George blinked for one second of surprise when she casually mentioned that she was thinking of asking Katie on a date to Hogsmeade, and if he thought she’d say yes, then he shrugged and told her she has a good chance. When she caught his eye, he shot her a soft smile. “If any of my other teammates catch your eye, let me know and I’ll see if they’re interested.”

Arthur was so understanding and supportive that she cried. They were talking, and she couldn’t keep it in anymore, and she just told him. He nodded, shifted closer in his chair as she rambled a bit to try and explain what she meant. When she wouldn’t look at him, he gently took her hand, and she lifted her eyes to meet his and he was smiling. She just started crying and he hugged her until she calmed down. “Thank you for telling me. I’m happy that you’re being who you are, and I will always love you for that.”

Fred grinned like it’s the best thing he’s heard all year when she told him about her date with Katie. He congratulated her, hooking an arm around her shoulders, and proceeded to ask many questions — mostly about her date. “Mum’s gonna accuse the two of us trying to end our lineage.”

She gave Fred and George full permission to tell Percy, because she honestly wasn’t sure about doing it herself. They do it in some really obvious but attempting to be subtle way, when Ginny isn’t there. He doesn’t react then, but he comes to find her later in her room, and he sits down with her. He tells her that it doesn’t matter to him, and he’s sorry that she didn’t think she could tell him. She assures him she was just nervous and he understands. “I will always protect you. Even when you don’t need me.”

Charlie was delighted. She told him in a letter because she wasn’t sure when she’d see him but what he wrote back was nothing but love and support, and he actually came out to her at the same time, and promised to talk properly in person next time he visits. “If you need someone to talk to in the mean time, I’d recommend Tonks, she’s brilliant.”

Molly was the one she was most scared to tell. That’s why she waited so long before finally telling her while they were getting dinner ready. She stared at her back, waiting for her to respond while she dried a plate to set it on the table. When her mum turned to face her, she was wearing a small smile, and said, “Okay,” then handed her another plate and continued with the dishes. Ginny didn’t know what to make of it. Dinner was quiet. It wasn’t mentioned again, and Ginny decided that her mum tolerating her future relationships like she tolerates Bill’s marriage and Charlie’s lack of one was probably the best she was going to get.

As for her friends; she told Luna over a discussion about a queer witch from centuries ago, and Luna had smiled, chin in her hand, and said she was happy to have a friend who shared how she felt. Harry had sat in silence for a moment long enough for her to worry, then quietly asked, “If you’re allowed to feel like that in the wizarding world, does that mean... guys are allowed to feel that way about about other guys?” And she had indeed gone to Tonks once or twice, who was as delighted as Charlie, practically bouncing, and promised to be like a big sister if she needed her for anything.

• Do they go to pride? If so, with whom? — Ginny discovers that Pride is a thing through Tonks, who excitedly tells her everything about it at an Order meeting. She asks if Tonks will take her, which is the height of honour to her. Ginny casually mentions it to Fred and George in the passing, and they ask to tag-along. Bill trusts Tonks, but he still comes along. Just in case; those four out in the Muggle world is a recipe for disaster. She manages to convince Harry to join, too, so of course Ron’s there, and Luna was already planning to go with her dad anyway so they meet up.

• Do they show their colours? (Flag-wise) — After coming out to everyone she cares about, Ginny is happily confident in letting everyone else know. She wears the bi colours to Pride, and she got a few badges there courtesy of George that she has pinned somewhere on her outfits nearly all of the time around Hogwarts.

And now Landon Kirby!

• Headcanon for their sexuality — I just get very strong ace vibes? And possibly bi. It just makes Sense to me.

• Have they come out? If so, how — He told Rafael before anyone else. Just sorta blurted it out to him in their room after many, many days of overthinking how he’d say it. Telling Hope and Josie was then easier, as they were preparing one of their movie nights.

• How their friends/family took their coming out:

Rafael was the most supportive person in Landon’s life about everything, so this was no different. He picked up on Landon’s anxiety while telling him and approached his response with great comfort, assuring him that it changed nothing, he loves him unconditionally, and he would be right there by his side to stand up to anyone who said one word about it. His response actually made it easier for Landon to be more confident in accepting who he is.

Hope reacted in a similar way. She saw how nervous he was and told him that it didn’t make her feel any differently about him. He was a little more worried about telling her he was ace, but she smiled and hugged him, promised that they would never do anything he didn’t want to and she was okay with that.

Telling Josie didn’t feel as daunting; after all, he knew how open she was about her own sexuality, so easing it into a conversation made him less anxious about how she’d react. Sure enough, she gave him a soft, knowing smile behind the wide eyes, and they were joking about it within two minutes.

Lizzie was downright delighted. She claimed that she picked up on the “vibes” from him right from the beginning but couldn’t be sure, so she was just waiting to see if he ever said anything. He of course rolled his eyes at that, but he was grinning as she plunged into a seemingly endless well of questions — mostly about if they had the same taste in people, because they have Hope in common, so she wanted to see if it stretched to her two-week crush on Jed, or her infatuation with Sebastian. They got into a whole debate over Star Wars characters.

Kaleb honestly thought that Landon was already out, so that was more of a surprise to him. He swears hands-down that they had flirted a couple times, so he just assumed! It was a funny moment.

MG was bright smiles and literally just a ball of supportive sunshine. But actually, while talking about it, Landon kinda helped MG realize that he may not be too straight either. It was a nice, very insightful conversation that helped both of them.

Wade could not be happier. He had already come out to Landon a few months before during a D&D game— something that had given Landon a little push — and he’s so glad that Landon trusts him and sees him as someone important enough to share this part of him with. He, of course, also told him while they were playing D&D; he slipped it into his character’s story.

• Do they go to Pride? If so, with whom — Landon doesn’t really know what Pride actually is until he joins the Salvatore School, and after he comes out, Josie gives him a better idea. Mystic Falls hosts Pride every year (it’s a new tradition, really, but the town’s trying to pretend it’s always been so progressive), and so she invites him along. He’s unsure since crowds aren’t really his thing, but Lizzie is insistent (she admits she just wants to see if she can find the love of her life and maybe someone for him if he’s willing), and Hope says she’s going too, and after Wade, Kaleb, and MG invite him as well, it’s hard to say no.

He goes with them all and actually… it’s pretty cool. It’s the most colourful he’s ever seen the town, that’s for sure. And it’s fun!

• Do they show their colours? (Flag-wise) — He’s proud to be himself, obviously, but at the same time, he’s still more comfortable with keeping it quiet from anyone outside of his close friends, so he doesn’t tend to display either of his flags colours too often. He does make an exception for the second time he goes to Pride, though.

So, this was long. I don’t know whether to apologize for that for or not but again, I hope you enjoy some of these headcanons! I had the most fun with the reactions from the rest of the Weasley’s!

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

For the Flame Always So Loved the Stars - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Jon Kent, Tim Drake, Conner Kent, Kara Kent, Clark Kent, Lois Lane Pairing: jondami Summary: Nothing stays the same forever. But fairytales always end the same way. A/N: This is just a whole fucking lot of self-indulgent garbage. Takes place over 5 years, Damian is 18-23, and Jon is 15-20. The last section is just their superhero way of saying ‘I love you and always will.’ but like. Subtly. I wrote this for myself, but I’m pleased with how it came out, so I hope you like it too. Sorry not sorry for literally the first line of this fic haha. The legend was googled so I took the most similar parts in all the wikis I read. I ignored the part where they all said ‘their story always ends in tragedy and betrayal’ but I’m going for happy endings dammit.

~~

Dick Grayson died when Damian was eighteen.

He wasn’t there. No one from the family was. It was a simple carjacking gone wrong. A single bullet, straight to the chest, from a scared kid who thought completing the initiation to the local gang was his only option to survive in this life.

It was almost funny. A single bullet. No poison, no torture. No evil mastermind, or world-ending apocalypse. No battles against armies, or lives and loves at stake. Not anything they dealt with daily.

Just an old car with a purse left on the passenger seat that someone saw. Just a weak spot in aged armour that was going to be replaced in the next year or so.

Just a single bullet.

Damian doesn’t remember much from after he was told, after he came home from class and found his siblings and Stephanie waiting for him in the parlor. He remembered knowing it must have been bad; Tim’s face was blotchy, his eyes red-rimmed and he wasn’t even trying to hide it.

Stephanie was the one who told him. Cassandra held his hand. But that was about it. That was all his mind supplied.

That, and the fact that his first thought after being told was: ‘But that’s not fair.’

Not fair because Dick was the best of them, in every way. Because he was funny, smart, kind, and every single thing a hero should be. A good person.

Not fair because Damian only got eight years with him, his closest confidante, one of his only friends. Because Damian decided at age ten that a world without Dick Grayson was not one he wanted to live in, and yet here he was, in the worst reality he could think of.

He doesn’t remember much from after he was told. He remembers Stephanie saying: “Dick died, Damian.” He remembers thinking: ‘But that’s not fair.’

Then...he remembers a pain in his knees. Remembers blinking and finding himself staring at the floor, which was much closer than it should have been. He remembers his sister kneeling in front of him, allowing him to press his  forehead into her shoulder. Remembers Jason next to him, rubbing his back, asking if they should get him water, or take him upstairs.

He remembers hearing Tim sob, and that might be the most memorable thing of the moment, because his body registered that that’s what he wanted to do too, he wanted to cry.

But he couldn’t, because you don’t cry over things that weren’t real. And that’s obviously why he collapsed, why he couldn’t form words to come out of his mouth, why his mind was refusing to remember this moment.

Because it wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be.

~~

Jon was antsy. Nervous.

Alfred had called days ago to inform him and his parents what had happened. And Jon had already been halfway out the door when the butler interjected to request that none of them visit, not right now. The Waynes and their closest companions were grieving, and needed to be alone.

And he hated that – he hated being away from Damian on a good day, but now, when Damian was going to need him? It was pure agony.

So two weeks later, when Clark gave him the okay, he took off to Gotham faster than he ever had before, and bypassed every bit of security measures that Bruce asked him to complete upon arriving.

He found Damian in the cemetery, and he had a feeling it was a place Damian didn’t often leave anymore.

Jon said nothing as he approached. Just plopped next to Damian and silently wrapped his arms around the other’s neck. Damian didn’t say anything either, but he leaned gratefully into the embrace, reaching up to cling to Jon’s forearm.

“I’m so sorry.” Jon whispered, leaning back. He didn’t leave Damian’s personal space, though. Kept their shoulders touching, knees keeping each other warm. “I…I don’t know what else to say. To think.”

“Me neither.” Damian murmured. His voice sounded dry, and Jon wondered when he last drank anything, or ate. “But…I’m glad you’re here.”

Jon let himself smile a little bit, and reached out to hold Damian’s hand. Damian didn’t refute the gesture, and even squeezed Jon’s fingers between his. “I wish I’d had been allowed to come sooner.”

Damian shrugged. “It was better you didn’t see any of us as we…were.”

“Were, huh?” Jon asked dubiously. He glanced forward towards Dick’s grave. Flowers and statues covered it as a makeshift memorial, and the flowers were starting to wilt. “…How are you doing with all this?”

Damian absently shook his head. “I don’t…I don’t know.”

Jon waited, sensing there was more. Had a feeling that in their grief-induced isolation, not many feelings were shared amongst the Wayne family. That they probably all suffered in silence, despite being together.

“I…I didn’t get enough time with him.” Damian continued, just like Jon knew he would. Because Damian didn’t trust easily, but when he did, he trusted you with everything. And Jon knew he was one of the few Damian trusted. Maybe the only one, now. “Eight years. That’s it.”

He squeezed Jon’s hand again.

“If I’d had known that’s all we would have gotten, I…I wouldn’t have wasted it. There was so much I wanted to do with him. Learn from him.” Damian sniffed, and Jon looked up at his eyes. But he didn’t see a hint of tears. In fact, he saw nothing. Damian’s eyes were empty. “But now I’ll never get the chance. I’ll never get to ask how he escaped Father and Gotham. How he survived on his own, and found himself, or how can I do that too. How I can leave Robin, and start over somewhere else like he did. How he rebuilt his life, how he became and remained kind. Did he think it was possible I can remain kind too? Did he…did he believe in me? Or what about how…”

Damian trailed off, and Jon was almost glad he did. Because in his ramblings, Jon heard something, and he wasn’t so sure Damian meant to let it slip.

“You want to leave Robin?” Jon asked softly. Damian’s mouth clamped shut. “Since when?”

Damian stared at the stone in front of him for a moment, before sighing and looking at the ground.

“A few months.” Damian admitted. “I…just don’t fit in it anymore, I don’t think. Or it doesn’t fit me. And I can’t stay in Batman’s shadow forever, no matter who is wearing the mantle. Besides, Grayson left it when he was around my age. As did Drake, even if it wasn’t by his choice. I might as well follow the tradition as well.”

“…Does your dad know?”

“…No. No one does.” Damian frowned. “I was going to speak with Grayson about it next time I saw him, but now…now you’re the only one who knows by default, I suppose.”

“Well, thanks for telling me.” Jon smiled. He waited a moment, then looked up at the sky. “So…what do you want to do after you leave Robin? Find a new name? Quit and go on the straight and narrow?”

“I don’t know. That’s…what I was going to speak to Grayson about.” Damian admitted softly. “I want to still help, of course. But…is behind a mask the best way? Is Gotham where I’m best utilized?” He sighed, and curled his knees to his chest. Though he never let go of Jon’s hand. “But now…now I am even more confused.”

“Why?”

“Because Batman needs a Robin, and I can’t leave my father now, Jon.” Damian almost snapped, like it was obvious. “He’s grieving, and he’s lost. He shouldn’t be alone. He shouldn’t be left alone.”

“Absolutely not. I agree.” Jon nodded. “But…it can’t all fall on you, D. Just like it can’t fall on Alfred or Tim. He has his family, no matter where in the world they – you – are, and he has his friends. He has my dad, and Diana.”

“This is different. This is the loss of Richard. And not even Superman can heal that wound.” Damian shook his head. “Not to mention…if I left now, would my father see it as a betrayal? Abandonment? Would the family?”

“They wouldn’t. They couldn’t.” Jon argued. “You’re growing up, and they all know how it is. You can’t be stuck as the Boy Wonder forever, that’s not fair to you. Does the timing kind of suck? Maybe. But also…maybe this is the best time.” He hesitated, but squeezed Damian’s hand and said his thoughts anyway. “Maybe this is exactly what Dick would want you to do. Spread your wings and fly, so to speak.”

Damian stared at the ground. “…I don’t know what I’m going to do without him, Jon. I truly don’t. What if, without his guidance, I’m tempted by my mother again, and actually consider any offer she makes? What if I stray, and Batman cuts me loose, like I was burden in the first place? What if-”

“Hey, hey – stop. Don’t talk like that.” Jon shook their clasped hands. “None of that is going to happen, okay? Despite the fact that it won’t ever happen at all in the first place, I won’t let it. I promise. Alright?”

Damian didn’t look at him. But after a moment, he let himself tilt to the side, and lean his head on Jon’s shoulder.

“…Thanks for being here, Kent.” Damian whispered. “It means a lot.”

Jon let go of Damian’s hand, only to wrap his arm around his shoulders instead. He looked at the tombstone at their feet, sent a silent prayer up to Dick himself. “Don’t even mention it, D.”

~~

A few months later, Robin had all but disappeared off the streets. It prompted news articles and primetime specials. Conspiracy theory websites and Twitter hashtags.

Jon liked to print them out and bring them to Damian every time he visited.

He was still in Gotham, and even still going out on patrol with Batman and the rest. But now his uniform was all black, and he stayed in the background as much as he could. This new shadow of Batman’s was never mentioned in the papers, never caught in a photo. A ghost, almost.

That wasn’t Damian’s new moniker, though. He still hadn’t chosen one.

“Not even a general idea?” Jon asked one day, as he and Conner visited. Tim had taken the newly printed article and was reading it over with an amused smirk, Conner cackling behind him. “Or like, a motif?”

“Not a priority.” Damian had shrugged. “Maybe I’ll never pick one.”

“Now you’re just being stubborn.” Jon pouted. “…How’s Bruce doing?”

Damian shrugged again. “Same as always. Attempts to lock himself in the cave, or in his office with work from Wayne Enterprises. I drag him out of the house at least every other day.”

Jon pursed his lips.

“But he’s been smiling lately. Like real smiles. So, it’s a start.” Damian promised. He knew Jon didn’t like this, Damian caring for Bruce. Because he knew that same care was not being reciprocated in the way it should.

“How long are you going to stay?” Jon asked, as he did every visit. “In Gotham, I mean.”

“I don’t know. Also not a priority.” Damian sighed. “I’m needed here, both in uniform and at home. When I feel I’m not necessarily needed, then I’ll start considering my options elsewhere.”

~~

Something felt different when Jon was nineteen.

Clark and Conner found him sitting in the kitchen, staring fiercely into a soda can when they arrived home one afternoon.

“Hey, champ.” Clark hummed, leaning down to kiss Jon’s temple.

“Hey, Dad. Hey Kon” Jon sighed. “How was Gotham?”

“Gloomy, like always.” Conner chuckled, plopping down across from him. “Damian said hello, by the way.”

Jon felt himself blush a little bit. And he shouldn’t have, he’s known Damian forever. But lately, it felt like the two of them were growing closer, in a way he never expected when they were just teenagers trying to live up to their fathers’ legacies.

In a way that included flirting, holding hands in a park, in front of paparazzi. A way that included what may have been a date, since it ended in a quick, barely there kiss.

“He said he was going to give an answer to a question he knows you’d ask.” Clark continued, drawing Jon out of his reverie. “No, he has not decided on a new codename yet.”

Jon groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “He knows this isn’t like a blood contract or something, right? It doesn’t have to be permanent! It’s not that big of a choice!”

Clark held his hands up. “Don’t shoot the messenger, son.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Jon sighed. He sat back up and watched his father grab a glass and start to fill it in the sink. “Speaking of codenames and all that…”

Clark tilted his head as Conner sat up.

“I don’t…when do you think…” Jon huffed. “Conner, when did you realize you didn’t want to…be called Superboy anymore?”

Conner pursed his lips, looked at the ceiling. “I don’t know. Guess I never really thought about it. Just…stopped using it. And eventually everyone else did too.”

“I don’t think I knew that.” Clark mumbled sheepishly. “What do you go by now, may I ask?”

“Nothing, really. And not like Damian where I’m still deciding something. But just…Kon, usually. Different enough from Conner, honestly.” Conner grinned. “A lot of people also seem to think it’s Con – as in Pros and Cons? Works real well for the taunting wordplay and all that too.”

Clark snorted. “I’m sure your friends love the puns.”

“Bart does. Cassie, depends on the day. Tim is like a disappointed dad all the time anyway, so he doesn’t count.” Conner waved off. He returned his attention to Jon, whose attention seemed to be drifting off again. “Why do you ask, squirt?”

Jon frowned at the name, and that was new. Normally he didn’t mind the random nicknames his older brother gave him. “Because…I don’t…I don’t know. I don’t think…I want to be called Superboy anymore.”

Clark joined them at the table, sitting down carefully. “Why not?”

“Because, I’m not a boy anymore. I’m a teenager. I mean, I’m…I’m practically an adult!” Jon sounded exasperated already, like he’d had this conversation a million times. “It’s…it’s demeaning, and childish, and…and…”

He trailed off into a huff, slumping in his chair.

“I don’t even know if I want to keep the Super part, honestly.” Jon glanced at Clark. “Sorry, Dad.”

Clark shook his head, raising his hand. “None taken, Jonno.”

“Especially since I don’t feel all that super most of the time anyway.” He sighed.

“…If you want out of the life, Jon, I wouldn’t blame you.” Clark offered. “I’d love it, honestly. It’d just mean you’d be safer.”

“No, no. I want to be a hero. I want to help. I just.” Jon leaned back forward, hiding his face in his hands. “This is stupid. I feel stupid.”

Conner smiled and leaned forward, slapping his hand on Jon’s shoulder. “Not stupid. Pretty sure every hero has gone through it at least once in their tenure. Even Batman.”

“And he settled on Bat. Man.” Clark winked. “So obviously not all names are winners.”

Jon looked over to Clark. “…You’re not disappointed?”

“That you want a new codename? Not at all.” Clark grinned. “My only request is…don’t take over four years to decide something like Damian is.”

Jon smiled. “I’ll try.”

~~

“Maybe I’ll just go by Krypto.” Jon lamented from the bed. “He’s a dog, so I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“If you started going by Krypto.” Damian countered from the bathroom doorway. “I’m disowning you as my friend.”

Jon rolled to his side, deeper into the blankets. “What about as your potential bedmate?”

Damian’s face twisted, even as he came forward. “Christ, Jon. We haven’t even done anything, how do you still make that sound so dirty?”

“Because I know what annoys you. And if you’d just let me say boyfriend-”

“Which we are not officially.” Damian countered. “…Yet.”

“-Then I wouldn’t have to say things like bedmate, or friend with benefits.”

“We haven’t done anything, there is no benefit for either of us at this point.” Damian reiterated, even as Jon tugged at his arm when he got close enough. Damian sat on the edge of the bed, and almost smiled when Jon shimmied over to place his head in his lap. “Though I am finding your company less beneficial by the minute…”

Jon cackled, even as he felt Damian’s fingers twist into his hair. “Hey, if nothing else, I’m a good cuddle buddy, right?”

“My cat is better.” Damian shrugged. “Probably.”

“I’ll take the probably as a win.” Jon grinned. “…But hey, think about it this way.”

“Hm?”

“Even if I went by something dumb like Krypto, at least I picked a new codename.”

Damian frowned, and pulled his hand back. “For as charming as your parents are, neither of them taught you how to flirt properly, did they?”

Jon immediately pulled his arms out of the blanket, latching on to Damian’s waist. “You hate when I sidetrack a conversation. I was getting back on point.”

“…Fair.” Damian sighed. “I’ll allow it.”

“…Are you any closer to picking anything?” Jon asked. “According to Barry, you’re throwing off everyone’s betting pools.”

“I...have an idea.” Damian murmured, keeping his gaze away from Jon’s. “But I still need to think of a backup.”

“What? Why?” Jon asked.

“…Personal reasons.” Damian murmured. “And I don’t wish to get my hopes up.”

Jon watched him silently.

“But we aren’t talking about me.” Damian countered. “Have you thought of any other suggestions for yourself?”

“I don’t know. Something related to my dad, like Krypton? Or even like your dad – he named himself after what he was scared of, right? Or weakness. So, Kryptonite.” Jon listed. “Or maybe I should just be lazy and follow everyone else’s lead. Starman, or Sunguy or something stupid like that.”

“Hm. Well. Those are certainly…options.” Damian tilted his head apologetically. “I’d offer assistance, but…well…”

Jon laughed.

“Be my distraction instead, how about that?” Jon suggested instead. Without warning, he used his momentum to throw Damian back onto the bed, cocoon him in the blankets as he loomed overhead. “Because there’s totally a lot of other things I’d like to be doing than thinking of new codenames.”

Damian smiled as Jon leaned in for a kiss.

~~

He didn’t know how Damian had lasted four years without a name. It’d only been a few months for himself, a few months of not using any name, and he felt like he was going crazy.

He also felt like he was a total letdown.

He was a Kent, for crying out loud. Son of Superman and one of the world’s greatest journalists. And here, he couldn’t choose a name, couldn’t pick a damn word.

Not to mention, it was detrimental in the field. When he didn’t notice an enemy coming behind him, or someone needed his help – he had no name to be called. And they couldn’t just shout Jon.

How did Damian make it look so easy? Because Damian and his family were freaks. They all moved too in-sync, too well trained. They were like animals themselves – they didn’t need to speak, movement was like instinct. Communication could be silent, because all of them were always three steps ahead of each other.

He let out a guttural groan as he entered the apartment, slammed the door behind him a little too hard. Heard the squeak of the chair in his mother’s office as she stood to greet him.

“Hi honey.” She called, walking into the room. She took in the annoyance on his face and gave him a sympathetic, knowing grin. “It’s not the end of the world, Jon. Names aren’t that big of a deal. So long as you’re helping, who cares what your name is?”

“I know, I know.” Jon mumbled, kicking off his shoes. “I’m just frustrated. It shouldn’t be this hard! Why doesn’t anything feel right?”

“Because it’s not.” Lois shrugged simply, leading the way into the kitchen. She motioned for Jon to sit, and got out a mug for him. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth. It might take a while, but – when you know, you know.”

Jon groaned again. “Mom, I love you – but that was literally no help whatsoever.”

“Sometimes, the truth isn’t helpful.” She laughed, pouring him a glass of ice tea. She set it in front of him, and kissed his head. “But if you’re really struggling with this…talk to your father. He’s helped a young hero or two discover a new path before. You’re no different just because you’re his son.” She paused. “In fact, I’m a little surprised Damian hadn’t told you.”

“Told me what?” Jon stomach nearly dropped. “Dad finally helped him decide on a name too?!”

“Of course not. Damian is as stubborn and tight-lipped as his own idiot of a father.” Lois rolled her eyes, but it was fond. “No, his brother – Dick.”

Jon blinked.

“Nightwing was a Kryptonian name. From the Kryptonian legend of Nightwing and Flamebird.” She hummed thoughtfully. “Even if you don’t want you father’s help on a name, ask him about the story. It’s very good.”

~~

Tim found Damian in the cave alone, and his gut immediately told him that something was off. Not wrong, but…not necessarily good.

“Hey.” He offered. “What’s up?”

Damian didn’t move from the computer chair. He looked too much like Bruce in that moment – slouched, hands steepled in front of his face, looking too thoughtful for someone so young.

“I’d like to talk to you.” Damian returned, just as vaguely.

“I’m all ears.”

Damian hesitated a moment. Dragged it to two. Tim was about to speak, to push the conversation along, when Damian sighed. “I…we didn’t do it right last time. And I don’t want to make the same mistake twice. Not here. Not with you.”

“…Damian?” Tim asked, moving towards him. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“No, no. I just.” He sighed. “I wanted to ask your…opinion.”

“On?”

“I think I’ve chosen a new moniker to go by.” Damian murmured. “But I want to make sure I had permission first.”

“Permission?” Tim repeated, bewildered. “I mean…as long it’s not like Red Robin or Red Hood or something, I think you can go by whatever you wa-”

“Nightwing.”

Damian’s voice was so quiet when he said it, Tim almost thought he’d misheard, or that maybe Damian didn’t actually speak at all. That it was maybe a breeze, or a ghost.

But when Damian said nothing else, eyes still not on him, Tim realized he said exactly as he’d heard. “…Really?”

Damian nodded, but seemed to swallow a lump in his throat.

“I mean, those are quite some shoes to fill, especially after all these years, but…” Then Tim paused, replayed what Damian already said. “…Wait, why would you need my permission to use Dick’s old name?”

Damian still didn’t look at him. “Because last time I changed names, I took yours.” He frowned. “I stole yours.”

Tim shrugged. “It was over a decade ago. I know you and I have held a lot of grudges in our lives, but trust me. I’m over that one.”

“And I know Todd would never want Nightwing.” Damian continued as if Tim never spoke. “But…you were next in line. You loved Grayson like I did.” Finally, he looked up, eyes boring into Tim’s. “And you’d deserve it.”

Tim stepped back like someone had punched him in the chest. “Damian…”

“You do, and you know it.” Damian continued. “You’ve fought tooth and nail for respect in this family, for every title you’ve ever carried. You fought for your independence, and have thrived as Red Robin. In a way, you are everything Nightwing embodies, and you deserve the title most.” Damian’s gaze dropped once more. “And I don’t want to take that opportunity from you. Not like I’ve taken everything else from you too.”

Tim just stared.

“He would have chosen you himself. I know it. If he were…” Damian trailed off. Seemed to have to take a moment to compose himself. “…If he were still here.”

Tim lowered his own eyes at the thought. It’d been five years since their beloved older brother died. Despite what the world tried to say, time didn’t heal all wounds, and the loss of Dick Grayson was a wound that seemed almost infected now, especially for Damian.

The world was less without him. Less bright, less kind, less happy – less everything.

Just…less.

After a moment Tim smiled. Picked his head up and moved forward so he could crouch next to the chair, leaning his arms on it. Despite being twenty-three years old, Damian turned his head away so he didn’t have to look at Tim, just like a child.

“I don’t want Nightwing.” Tim said honestly. “I’m happy with where I am and what I’m doing. But I appreciate you asking. I’m…honored, in fact.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome. I guess.” Damian mumbled.

“But I have to say I disagree with you.” Tim leaned his chin on his arms. “Dick wouldn’t have picked me to succeed him. He wouldn’t have picked anyone. But he would have been so proud to see you take it on after him.”

Damian closed his eyes, sucked his lips between his teeth.

“Because, for once, I’ll toot my own horn a little bit. I won’t disagree with you on this one. Maybe I do deserve the Nightwing name.” Tim admitted. “But I’m not the only one.”

Damian didn’t answer, but shook his head.

“You do too, Damian.” Tim reached out and took his hand, squeezing it. “You’ve overcome so much. You’ve done so much. And Dick was proud of you for it until the day he died. I know he was.”

Damian opened his eyes and looked at Tim. The tears immediately fell down his cheeks.

“And he’d be honored, knowing you wanted to follow in his footsteps, and carry on his legacy, for a second time.” Tim chuckled. “Especially after your first words to us when you were a kid was how badly you wanted to be Batman.”

“One day I still will be.” Damian blubbered with a laugh. Tim laughed too.

“I know.” He hummed warmly. “But that was all a long, surprisingly emotionally-charged way to say: while it’s not mine to give, yes you have my permission to become Nightwing.”

Even as his tears continued to fall, Damian stared at Tim for a few more seconds, before leaning forward and, once again to Tim’s surprise, enveloped his older brother in a hug.

“Thank you, Drake.” He whispered. Tim just let his smile widen as he held Damian just as tightly back. “Thank you so much.”

~~

“Tim told me Damian finally picked a new name.” Conner said one morning, as the two of them sat on a rooftop overlooking Metropolis. “…He also mentioned you two might be dating?”

Jon’s eyes widened slightly as he tried to keep his heart rate in check. Damian had told Tim?

“He hasn’t told me about choosing a name.” Jon said instead. “When did this supposedly happen?”

“The other day. Maybe he hasn’t made it official yet.” Conner shrugged. Then he grinned. “Though you’d think he’d tell his boyfriend about it anyway.”

Jon frowned. “We’re not dating.” A hesitation. “Officially.”

“Ooooh.” Conner mocked, scooting closer. “Tell me everything.”

Jon rolled his eyes, but laughed as he pushed Conner’s shoulder. “First off, not your business. And second, there’s nothing to tell? We hang out. We hold hands. We…do things.”

Conner wiggled his eyebrows.

“Stop.” Jon chuckled. “I just…like being with him. Being close to him makes me feel happy. Safe. All that cliché stuff.”

“Has he reciprocated?” Jon nodded. “Then why not official?”

“His choice. I think he feels like he’d be judged for having actual emotions or something.” Jon shrugged. “I also think he feels like he’s…not good enough? Or a bad person, or something, and is hoping I might find someone else before we’re legit.”

“Ouch.”

“It sucks, but…I get it.” Jon sighed. “And he just…has stuff going on. Mentally, I think.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning we started flirting a little bit right before Dick died. So our whole relationship so far, romantically, he’s trying to deal with the loss, with the vacuum that loss created in his family, and growing in his role as a hero.” Jon listed. “He’s stuck in his own head so much that honestly I’m just happy when I can get him to smile some days.”

“That’s sweet.” Conner grinned. “And proof you’re head over heels.”

“I mean…did I ever deny that?” Jon grinned back, but it was sad. Conner’s own smile fell slightly.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Jon exhaled a bitter laugh. “That obvious?”

“Does he know?”

“I think so?” Jon thought out loud. “And I think that’s why he thinks himself such a terrible person.”

“Because he doesn’t love you back?”

“No, no. I think he absolutely does.” Jon said confidently. “It’s just like I said – he thinks himself as a bad person, and that I deserve better.”

“That’s…” Conner pursed his lips. “…quite the conundrum.”

“Yeah.” Jon smiled wistfully. “But anyway, the name. Did Tim say what name he chose?”

“Nope.” Conner kicked his feet against the building. “Tim said it was incredibly personal, and he wasn’t the one to share it.”

“Interesting.” Jon muttered. “Wonder what it could be?”

~~

He was twenty, very much an adult, but oh boy, did he feel like a rebellious teenager right now.

After all, how else were you supposed to feel when you and your not-quite-boyfriend were lying almost naked, cuddled up in your parents’ bed?

Somewhere in his mind he was panicking. If – when – they found out, he was doomed. He’d never live it down.

(But at the same time, it was also totally not his fault. Their apartment was closer to downtown than his was, and the room he still had here only had a single bed. There was no way they’d fit. And since his father was in space and his mother in the Philippines, the bed would have just gone to waste being empty, so…)

Though, simultaneously, any fear of repercussions was drowned out by the utter bliss he felt at being cocooned in Damian’s arms, and using his collarbone as a pillow while they watched the nightly news.

Under his ear, he felt Damian’s heartbeat slowing, a clear sign he was falling asleep. So it was the perfect time to ask:

“I hear you picked a new codename.”

Damian stirred a little and hummed, “Yeah.”

“What name did you pick, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Damian hesitated a moment, then whispered, “Promise you won’t laugh.”

“Never.”

“…Nightwing.” Damian answered sheepishly. Quietly, like he wasn’t allowed to say it. “I…decided to carry on Grayson’s legacy.”

Jon turned and looked up at him. Without thinking he cupped Damian’s cheek in his hand. “Oh, Damian, that’s wonderful.” Damian kept his gaze over Jon’s shoulder, face heating up in an embarrassed flush. “He’d love it, he’d be so happy.” He stroked his thumb across Damian’s skin. “I’m so proud of you.”

Damian snorted. “Nothing to be proud of. It took me five years to pick a name someone had already used.”

“For good reason.” Jon countered. “And an homage to a great man.”

Damian allowed himself to look at Jon now. He stared at him for a moment, taking in his face, then carefully took hold of Jon’s wrist, and leaned in for a kiss, which Jon ate up greedily.

After a moment, they separated, and Jon twisted back to stare at the TV, Damian’s arms still tight around him.

“…What about you?” Damian asked softly. “Any ideas?”

“I don’t know. Superdude is sounding better and better every day.” Jon said dryly. “But I guess I haven’t really been thinking about it either. Been focused on some other more important things lately.”

“Oh? Like what? School?”

Jon grinned, kept his eyes on the weather report now lighting up the room.

“You.”

Damian didn’t answer, but Jon felt him gently kiss his temple, and lean their heads together.

~~

“Mom said I should ask my dad.” Jon hummed as he paid for their coffee. “But we haven’t seen each other in a while, and you know more about Krypton and all that stuff than he does, you know?”

“Sure.” Kara smiled, taking her cup from his hand. “But that still doesn’t explain why you’re so interested in some old Kryptonian legend?”

“Just curiosity, mostly.” Jon shrugged. “Dad helped Dick Grayson become Nightwing back in the day, and now that Damian is taking the title on, I figured I should learn a little bit about it myself.”

“To support your future husband?” Kara smirked.

“Stop.” Jon groaned. “I should have never told Conner the truth.”

“I’m just glad to know you’re happy.” Kara squeezed his hand as they walked outside. “And also that I now have a viable reason to beat Damian up.”

“And that reason would be?”

“For the honor of my littlest cousin.” She winked. Jon found himself laughing. “Thanks for walking me back to the office, by the way. I’m sorry we couldn’t have lunch today.”

“I totally understand. I have to get back to campus for class soon anyway.” Jon waved off. “Rain check for a movie night, though?”

“Absolutely. Go buy a lot of tissues, wine and chocolate, because I am in the mood for some tearjerkers.” Kara demanded. “And…Damian is more than welcome to join us, if he’d like.”

“He’d never.” Jon promised as they jogged across a crosswalk. “But he’ll appreciate the invite.”

“Are you just saying that, or would he really?”

“Honestly, he really would.” Jon swore. “He’s trying not to take little things like that for granted anymore. Not since…well. You know.”

Kara frowned. “…I miss him too.”

“Everyone does.” Jon murmured as they stopped outside a building. Some people waved to Kara as they exited and jumped into a taxi nearby. “He was the best of all of us.”

“Give Damian my regards, and a hug for me. Tell him I’m sorry about Dick, if you think it’s appropriate.” Kara murmured as she turned to her purse, and began digging in it. After a moment, she held out a book. It looked old, and pages were misshaped, almost like they’d been gnawed on, or burned. “First, last and only edition.”

Jon took the tome, marveling at the etched green cover, and symbols seemingly floating around the image. But then he frowned. “Kara.” He sighed. “You know my Kryptonian isn’t that good.”

“Well then this will be a great tool to learn.” She smiled, squeezing his bicep. Someone suddenly called Kara from the door. She smiled and waved back before glancing to Jon. “Gotta go, kiddo. It was great seeing you! Tell your pops hi for me!”

She turned, and began to jog away, when Jon called after her. “Kara, wait!”

She did, glancing over her shoulder.

“Give me a quick summary?” He tried with a lopsided grin. “You know, to keep me interested?”

Kara twisted her lips in thought, then smiled. “Nightwing and Flamebird always find each other in the end.”

She took a sip of her coffee and disappeared into her office.

~~

By two o’clock in the morning that very night, Jon sat at the desk in his apartment, tears pouring down his face.

The legend was magical, breathtaking, awe-inspiring…but heartbreaking. The most heartbreaking thing he’d ever read.

But it also made him realize exactly what he needed to do. Exactly what his future was.

Exactly who his future was.

Without thinking, he wiped the tears from his eyes, and laughed as he stood, turning towards his window.

It would be a quick flight to Gotham, and surely Alfred was still awake at this hour.

~~

Damian stood on the top of Wayne Tower, staring at the city below him. The city he’d come to think of as home. The city that was…his.

He felt weird without the cape, without the hood. Was still getting used to the tight, plain bodysuit. The lighter armour. The dip of red across his chest.

He could take Grayson’s name, but he could never take his colors. That blue was too pure. Damian refused to taint it.

He inhaled and held his breath, then exhaled slowly. It was his first night in his new gear – would the villains know who he was? Would they mock him? Could he live up to his brother’s standards? Would he honor his memory?

“Damn.” He heard off to his side. “You look good.”

Damian glanced over, and found himself at a loss for words. The other man was in a similarly simple bodysuit, though instead of black, it was a deep blue. Opposite of the downward red arrow on Damian’s chest, the bright, near-blinding golden arrow on the other pointed upwards, almost looking like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

Damian stared for a moment, taking it in, before meeting Jon’s eyes. “This is new.”

“You like?” Jon asked, practically shy. “Alfred helped me make it.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” Jon stepped forwards. His boots, which matched the shimmering yellow on his chest, seemed to flicker as he walked, like fire. “I mean, he helped make yours, and it’s only natural our designs match a little bit.”

“Why would they need to match?” Damian asked. Then he squinted. “Jonathan Kent, have you chosen a new moniker?”

“I did indeed.” Jon grinned. “Surely Dick told you how he got his name.”

“He did.”

“Did he tell you the story behind it?”

“He did not. But I’ve heard of it.” Damian found his voice going quieter, his throat drying up. “Your father told me, I believe.”

“Mhm.” Jon reached out, gently taking Damian’s hand in his, raising it between them. “And do you remember how it goes?”

Damian blinked, then smiled. “Refresh my memory.”

“Nightwing can’t exist without Flamebird.” Jon smirked. He pressed his lips to Damian’s knuckles. “And no matter the universe, no matter the situation, they always find each other in the end.”

“…Well, Flamebird.” Damian whispered softly. “I’m glad you found me.”

“I’m glad you found me too.” Jon stood back up. “Ready for our first official patrol in the new digs? Say goodbye to Robin and Superboy forever?”

“Do you want to call it our first official patrol?” Damian let his grin widen. “Or perhaps our first official date?”

Jon gaped at him, eyes wide and hopeful. “For real?”

“For real.” Damian promised. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting-”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Jon surged forward, wrapping him in his arms and lifting him off the tower’s ledge as he smashed their mouths together. Damian let his surprise linger for only a second, before grabbing both sides of Jon’s head and returning the gesture.

The moment felt like it lasted both an eternity and no longer than a blink. When they parted, they were both out of breath, and trembling from the emotional adrenaline.

“Flamebird.” Damian breathed as Jon lowered him, his hands still on Jon’s face. “I think I like it.”

“Good. Because I didn’t have any backups.” Jon chuckled.

“It suits you, I think.” Damian smiled.

“Nightwing suits you just as well.” Jon countered. “…Dick would be so proud.”

Damian just lowered his gaze, but allowed himself to keep smiling.

“…Well.” Damian exhaled, looking out into the city. “Shall we?”

Jon bowed, holding his arm out. “After you, ‘Wing.”

Damian laughed and turned, stepping off the building and allowing himself to freefall. “Follow me, ‘Bird.”

Jon smiled, and jumped right after him.

[baegarrick]

idk if you've read/seen the book/movie but just... love, simon zukka au ?? sokka as simon and zuko as bram because blue spirit ( though if we r going for it personality-wise maybe switch their roles? idk ! ) — also in this one the friends are exponentially better

ok im so sorry I haven’t actually seen love, simon or read the book but.... I HAVE ACCESS TO WIKIPEDIA SO LETS GO

ok so I was considering Zuko as Simon bc of the musical thing/the loving parent (Iroh), the girl he sees Sokka (Bram) kiss is Suki.... but also bc I just love writing Zuko (maybe I’ll parse that out at the end)

BUT lets go with Sokka as Simon bc I also love writing the Gaang

Sokka is Simon

Katara is both Nora and Abby

Jet is Martin

Aang is Nick (but slightly also Abby)

Zuko is blue/Bram

Suki is Leah (but slightly also Nick)

Toph is Ethan (sorta)

Haru is Lyle

Ok so, obv this follows the plot of the movie/book. Sokka is a gay + closeted junior, not that his dad isn’t loving, but he’s in the military, and occasionally makes homophobic jokes, and Sokka feels like he has to be tough for him, esp. since his mom died. But he really likes making people laugh and so he joins the school musical, which is a comedy this year.

His best friend is Suki, who he’s known since he was a kid, but he’s kinda been withdrawing from her since he got to high school. He loves her, he really does, but everyone always thinks they’re dating, and it kinda makes him uncomfortable. He tried to like her, when they were younger, but he just... isn’t into girls. His friend group is Suki, Katara (his sister, and it was the two of them against the world since their mom died, but he’s pulled away from her too), Aang (a transfer freshman from out of state), and Toph (who spent up till 8th grade at a private school).

Also in the musical is Zuko, a hot senior who’s like.... super lofty. He gets really into theater, but he rarely interacts with people outside his friend group, like he’s better than them or something. (Mai and Ty Lee are also there, they’re Zuko’s friends.) Not in the musical, but in one of the other clubs Sokka is in, is Jet. He got kicked off the football team for being too rough with the other team last year, so he mostly just hangs out behind the bleachers smoking.

Sokka’s on the school’s tumblr one day (shut up, Katara, I don’t have a tumblr!!) when he sees someone posted an anonymous confession saying they’re gay but they really don’t have anyone they can talk to because of their family situation. Sokka gets their email (BlueSpirit) and start emailing (BoomerangDude) them for a couple of months. He learns that Blue’s family has really high expectations of him, and since he’s only a year away from college he can’t mess them up because if he does he’ll be cut off, and he can’t afford college if that happens. He’s got a sadistic little sister (who isn’t actually terrible, she’s just got her own shit going on, and if shoving Zuko in the warpath of their father takes the spotlight off of her, all the better) who would absolutely out him if she knew, a girl he’s pretty sure wants to date him (Mai), and an after-school job (the tea shop) thats cutting into his extra-curricular activities.

This is.... really similar to Sokka, actually, and he likes making Blue laugh (they switch to chatting online sometimes, like discord or some chat app), and Blue has a lot of insights on things Sokka likes (some of the same music,

Meanwhile, Sokka ends up going to this tea shop he heard about from Blue (it had been a slip, Zuko had NOT meant to say too many personal details, but he’d mentioned getting some kind of boba drink) and studying there with his friends. While he’s there, he’s surprised to see Zuko, who he’s never spoken to outside of the musical they’re working on!! (At some point, Zuko checks his phone and laughs, and Sokka’s like, oh no, I’m crushing on.... TWO DUDES???? BAD SOKKA). He starts to wonder if maybe.... Zuko is Blue?? it generally sorta fits, he knows Zuko is also a senior, and the tea shop Blue mentioned.... (to be fair, though, they see like three other kids from school there, so it’s not really a niche place)

Before Sokka can test out this theory, though, there’s a Halloween party which Sokka goes to with his friends. (They go as the Power Rangers.) He sees Zuko there (he’s in some some Kabuki costume), but with him is.... Mai from the play. They’re making out, and Sokka feels his stomach drop-- he’s not gay and Sokka’s crushing on a straight guy. He gets drunk. He throws up in the bushes outside, and Katara finds him, chews him out, and then sneaks him back home.

He emails Blue again, drunk, and says some stupid stuff like he wishes things were easier, and that he thought he knew who Blue was, but he didn’t. (Blue doesn’t reply.)

He’s checking his email on a school computer in the library when the bell rings, and he doesn’t log out properly, and Jet, who is skipping class, finds Sokka’s emails. He confronts Sokka about them, and says he won’t reveal Sokka’s secret... if Sokka helps Jet get with Sokka’s hot sister. Sokka hates the idea, but also, the idea of being outed is really terrifying. So he says yes, and tries to talk up Jet to Katara, who’s a little surprised bc while she thinks Jet is hot, Sokka was super against Jet whenever she mentioned it. Katara is involved in school politics, and convinces Jet to pretend to be interested to spend time with her. (he ends up running against her...)

Around Thanksgiving, with all their extended family there, ribbing him about getting a girlfriend (asking about Suki), Sokka leaves and goes to sit on the roof. Katara finds him there, and demands he spill whats up and why he’s acting so weird, especially about Suki. (she looks freaked out for a moment, and is like.... oh my god, sokka, is suki pregnant?????? sokka blanches at that) He admits he’s gay, and she hugs him, and they stay out there until their dad sticks his head out the window and calls them inside.

Feeling guilty about Jet, Sokka admits to Blue their emails might have been compromised. Blue starts to back away, taking longer and longer to answer emails.

At a football game, Sokka runs into Haru, who starts asking him stuff, and Sokka wonders if he’s Blue, but it turns out Haru is interested in Katara. Upset, again, that he doesn’t know who Blue is, he encourages Jet to “go big or go home”-- and so Jet asks Katara out by bribing the kid who does the scoreboard to switch out his campaign ad for asking Katara out. Katara is shocked, as she thought Jet was really interested in her campaign. She slaps him.

Mad that Katara wasn’t interested after all, and from the slap, Jet outs Sokka anyway, posting the emails on the school’s gossip site. Katara, who was mad at Sokka, instantly forgives him and is on a WARPATH against Jet, but Sokka just wants it left alone. Suki shows up a few hours later, and finds him on the roof. She admits that she had a crush on him, which was why she never said anything when people asked if they were a couple, but she knew Sokka wasn’t interested in her, so she never pushed it. She’s sorry she made it difficult for him to come out to her.

Blue is upset their emails have leaked, and deletes his account.

He comes out to his dad later, in the car, on the way to school on the last couple of days before winter break. His dad takes it well, and apologizes for all of the jokes he used to make-- it doesn’t make it right, but it was the kind of things he and the other soldiers used to say to each other. He ends up taking them to this tea shop he heard about (it’s Zuko’s/Iroh’s shop), and while there, he comes out to the owner of the shop, Iroh, as sort of..... practice. It’s liberating and also terrifying. Iroh is super cool about it, and tells them about his own son, who passed away a few years ago in an accident, was gay. It’s way later than Sokka thought, and when he looks up from the conversation with Iroh, Zuko’s standing in the doorway. not wanting to deal with people from school, Sokka leaves the tea shop without waiting for his dad to follow him.

The next couple of days at school are rough. His friends stick by his side, but Jet’s friends are obnoxious and loud, and Katara punches one of them. She goes to the school, but they’re eternally unhelpful bc.... what can tey do... its not a school website..... Later, Toph tells Sokka she’s a lesbian, and it’s not that she’s hiding it, but... it’s already tough enough when people treat her like she’s glass because she’s blind. They all go home for winter break, and when they come back, Sokka is refreshed and determined not to be put down by a couple of assholes.

He’s wildly surprised when Blue posts on the school’s tumblr that he wants to meet Sokka at the school’s carnival. This draws a crowd, which makes Sokka worried he’s gonna be pranked, but when he sits down on the Ferris wheel, he’s surprised that Zuko from the tea shop/musical sits down next to him.

Zuko says he’s sorry for ignoring Sokka’s emails, and he’s sorry that Sokka got outed to the school, and it wasn’t his fault that Sokka was blackmailed, and he should have reacted better to it. Sokka apologizes too, because Zuko shouldn’t have to be outed either, which... is why they’re here? Zuko blushes, and says he came out to his uncle, who’s letting him stay with him, since he’s tired of going home to his shitty dad, and that he might go live with his mom while he’s in college. He admits the Mai thing at the party was a drunken misunderstanding, and that he likes Sokka. He thinks he’s funny, and they like the same things (theater, music, strange taste in food...), and he’s hoping after this... Sokka might like him too? (they kiss on the Ferris wheel, and Katara takes like, 30 pictures.)

....

alternatively////

Zuko as Simon au-- bc I just wanted to write it out. he lives with his uncle, who’s the loving parent here, not Ozai!! (or his Mom/stepdad but I kinda forgot they existed for like 5 minutes)

Zuko is Simon

Katara is Abby (she’s his lab partner, and they have the same temperment)

Azula is Nora, but she doesn’t really play a big role (she’s an asshole, but also she’s 14 and is Going Through Things. she’s also in the closet and in love with Mai, but she doesn’t know it yet. it takes her a couple of years to figure that out.)

Mai is Leah

Aang is Martin (but less of an asshole. just the embarrassing + frustrated bits.)

Sokka is blue/Bram

Suki is the girl at the party Sokka kisses

Ty Lee is Ethan

---

I HOPE THIS WAS OK, like I said I haven’t actually seen the thing, but now I actually know what the plot is about!! <3333

[teamdoubleoh]

Q’s nephew

(Vaguely) based on this post by @needacuppa and @midrashic ‘s dialogue prompt. (technically) featuring @caffeinatedflummadiddlebutmerlin ‘s non-binary Merlin bc I like to see myself represented.

wordcount: 2312

Beware: Q is Holmes and has a fourth sibling, like in all my other fics bc I love consistency and Merlin.

TL:TR James thinks Q is married, Q thinks sleep is overrated and Mordred is very not-amused that James thinks Q is straight.

Q woke up in at 03:08 am because there was someone in his flat.

Someone other than himself, Mordred, Turing and Hawking. Q silently prayed that whoever it was could be killed quietly, so the cats wouldn’t wake.

He kept his eyes closed and listened. He could tell the someone wasn't moving, even though the door to the living room was shut. He turned his head to the bedside table, where his phone and glasses were sitting. He reached out, carefully avoiding to make any noise, put on his glasses, unlocked the phone and and logged into his security feed.

Apparently the intruder had had the decency to enter the flat trough the front door, which was a feat in itself.

Q selected the camera the monitored the door and went through the timeline. The feed was monotonous until two minutes ago, when a figure had walked up to the camera and opened the door with a key. Before entering the figure looked around, exposing their face to Q’s camera.

It was Bond. Who else would manage to steal acquire a key to his flat and show up in the middle of the night.

Q sighed and slipped out from under his comforter. He then reached under the bedside table where one of his personal guns was located and slipped it into the waistband of his pyjamas. He knew the double ohs well enough to know that taking a gun would be the best course of action.

Now armed, he opened the bedroom door. "Bond. What are you doing in my living room."

Bond was sitting on the couch, illuminated by the light of a half-moon that shone through the window. "Q! how nice to see you, what a coincidence."

"You've gotten yourself injured and the best thing you can think of is to break into my flat. Hospitals exist, you know that right?"

"Oh Q, I missed you. How did you know I was injured?"

"Posture." Q sighed.

"Ok, thats fair. You don't happen to have a bandaid or twenty lying around, do you?"  

Q sighed deeply and went to retrieve the MI6 issued medi-kit from under the bathroom sink. "Over here Bond. I don't want any stains on my couch."  

Bond stood and even in the relative darkness of the room Q could tell that it was a painful endeavour. Not a grazing shot then. Q searched the medi-kit for needle and thread. Bond sat down on the tiled floor, already pulling up his shirt over his left hip, where the bullet had dug into the flesh but had luckily been stopped by the hip bone.

Apparently the shot had been long distance, which would make the surgery relatively easy. Bond groaned when Q poured disinfectant over the wound.

"Honestly, Q. There is an intruder in your flat and you’re not even armed. What do they even teach you in basic training anymore."

Instead of answering Q pressed down a cotton swab on the bullethole and pulled out his P99 from his waistband.

"...Touché"

"Now if you'd be so kind and refrain from talking. You’re not making this any easier for either of us and I swear to god, if your noise wakes the cats or Mordred I'll-"

"Too late for that." Came a sleepy voice from the living room.

Bond was already half on his feet, trying to shield Q with his body, before Q could stop him.

"Hi. I'm Mordred." The boy, he could’t be older than 17, waved sluggish.

Bond looked hesitant but slowly sat back down again.

Q pinched the bridge of his nose with his unbloodied hand.

Bond smirked. "Didn't know you were the 'married with kids' kind of person."

"You do realise I can kill you, 007."

Bond looked stunned at the mention of his designation. he looked from Q to the kid and back to the quartermaster. "Uh, Q..."

"What."Q snapped.  

If the Quartermaster wanted to throw around his top secret designation so be it. Q knew what he was doing.

"...Nevermind."

"I don't think he wants me here. "the kid murmured turning away, obviously still half asleep. "I'll go back to bed."

Q sighed. "Now that’s is some good thinking. Bond, hold still." he picked the pair of tweezers. "This might hurt a tad."

Somehow James ended up in Q’s bed. With a very disgruntled Quartermaster in it. 007, being himself, couldn't resist commenting. "If you wanted to get me into bed, you should have just asked, Q. I mean I don't usually go for married people when off mission, but I'll make an exception for you."

"Shut up or I'll put you on the couch."

"Pray tell, if I’m annoying you so bad, why am I not already there? Should I inform the other agents that you're secretly concerned about our well being or do just like me?"

"That couch was my mothers, and she is ready to maim anyone who leaves stains on it."

"...Stains, huh? Got it. Thats the no-fun zone."

"You should know that I am also ready to maim anyone who keeps me from sleeping."

"Good night, Q"

Bond woke at 6:38 am precisely.

Someone was working in the kitchen, and since the bed was empty, save himself, it was probably Q. Or his son, apparently. Come to think of it, if Q was married and had a son, where was his wife?

The smell of toast and freshly brewed earl grey wavered into the bedroom and James decided that those were questions for another time.

The kitchen was, to Bonds surprise, well stocked and maintained.

He wouldn't have pegged Q for the cooking type but he hadn't pegged Q for the married-with-kids type either so that was that.

Q was just pouring a mug of tea when James limped in. The boy - Mordred, what a peculiar name - was sitting on a stool, nursing his own tea.

In the light of day his dark brown hair seemed to be a similar shade as Q's, while his pale blue eyes were a little unnerving, but that could be a side effect of him being a teenager. Everyone knew teenagers were dangerous creatures as they didn't need sleep and had fatal levels of cynicism, sarcasm and caffeine running through their veins.

Q handed James a mug of steaming tea, which tore him out of his staring.

"You should sit down." Q advised, pointing towards a kitchen table with three mismatched chairs. "And you should go to medical. I'm head of Q branch not a doctor." He hesitated for a second. "Well I am a doctor, just not of medicine. My point is: get that checked out, or I'll kill you."

"Aw don’t worry, I will, or it might kill me first."

"As if you wouldn't just come back from the dead to just to annoy me, hm 007?" Q smiled sweetly, something dangerous lacing his tone.

"I have before, I could do it again. Given a good enough reason." Bond eyed Q provocatively up and down.

Q just sighed and turned to take the slices of toast out of the toaster, placing them on a plate. "I assume you will join me on my way to work, seeing as your flat is on the way and you need to stop there for new clothes?"

Bond looked down at himself. He was wearing his boxer briefs and a tee shirt that definitely wasn't his. Since there was as science pun on it, he was pretty sure it was Q's.

“Yeah.... that might be a good idea.” James mused and went to find his slacks.

***

“So, what kind of a name is ‘Mordred’ anyway?” Bond asked the boy some months later.

He had broken in again and again and at some point Q had given in and made him his own key, which only made Bond come by more often.

Now he was sitting on the no-stains-allowed couch, enjoying a cup of perfectly brewed Rooibos tea he had gifted Q a few weeks prior. Mordred, currently located in the kitchen, was busy making dinner for himself and Q, who was still at Q-branch handling 009′s Washington mission.

Mordred, who rarely ever talked, much less with Bond, kept dicing onions and garlic. After half a minute of silence, just when James thought he might never get an answer, the boy opened his mouth. “It’s from the Arthurian legends. According to the popular legends Mordred was Arthur’s son.”

“You say ‘popular’ like you know better...”

“Well-” Mordred smiled ever so slightly. “-I know Arthur is my uncle.”

James grinned. “Is your mother a historian by any chance?”

Mordred shook his head and turned his attention back to the stove. “My mother is a PA. But her name is Morgause and her half sister is called Morgana - you know, like, from the Legends? -, so she thought it would be funny.”

James smiled and emptied his cup. Now that was something he could tease Q about.

Q chose that exact moment to stumble in through the door. He looked like he was dead on his feet. His tie was askew and his hair ruffled. He closed the door behind him, hung his parka on the mantle piece and placed his messenger bag on a nearby drawer, but his movements were that of someone who was kept awake only be caffeine and spite.

By the time he reached the living room his eyes where almost completely shut. He dropped down on the couch where James was still sitting, but Bond just steadied him as Q slumped against him.

“James?”

“Hello dear Quartermaster. You do know that sleep is essential for your personal health, right?”

Q only groaned and closed his eyes.

***

Four hours later Q woke to the smell of pasta and the clinking of cutlery being placed on a table. He sat up and opened his eyes, but everything was blurry. He groaned. Someone entered the living room.

“James?”

“No this is Patrick.” James answered deadpan. “Honestly Q, I thought you were supposed to be smart!”

“Firstly, You took my glasses. You should be glad I can distinguish you from Mordred right now. Secondly, why are you quoting Sponge bob at me?” Q asked in a tone that made it very clear that he was ready to murder someone or just fall asleep again at any moment.

“...Oh, yeah. I forgot about the glasses. You look adorable with out them, I have to say. Here you go--” James care fully placed Q’s glasses on his nose.

Q blinked twice and waited for his eyes to focus again. Right in front of him was James, smiling widely. Q shrunk back and tried to stand up in an effort to hide the slight blush on his cheeks.

“So. Why were you quoting sponge bob again?”

James took a step forward and held Q on his upper arms so he wouldn’t keel over. “I don’t know what Sponge bob is but that’s what Mordred sat to me when  I ran into him in the city the other day.”

Q rubbed his forehead. “Ah yes, he does that. And here I was, thinking you knew what memes were.”

“Whats a meme?”

***

Mordred cooking, James decided, was divine.

“You should become a Chef.” James mused, after finishing his third plate of Aglio olio and fourth glass of wine.

“How about I finish school first.” Mordred aswered snarkily.

Q snorted. “Aren’t you planning on becoming a pharmacist or bodyguard?”

James shook his head in confusion. “How are those two even related.”

Mordred looked at him weirdly.” They're not.”

“Then why would you? ...nevermind.”

Q rolled his eyes. “Mordred is interning with my uncle Gaius whose a Apothecary. if He’s good enough when Gaius retires he could have a change at taking, over like I did.”

“last I checked you were running Q-branch...”

“-and before me uncle Boothroyd was Q.”

James turned to Q. “Boothroyd was your uncle? That explains... so much.”

Mordred sighed. “could you leave the flirting till I'm back in my room.”

Q sat up straight. “He wasn’t flirting.”

“I was.”

“Since when?”

“Since before I broke into your flat. But sadly you’re faithful and straight and all that crap.”

Mordred let his head fall into his hands. “Here we go...” he muttered under his breath.

“And who would I be faithful to, exactly?”

“Your wife?”

“My--?” Q sputtered.

“Mordred’s mother?”

“Wait, you thought I was

straight

?”

Mordred raised his hand. “You do know I’m not actually Q’s son, right?”

James turned to Mordred. “Wait, what?”

Q looked almost gleeful as he explained. “Mordred is my sibling’s... .” Q turned to Mordred. “What do they call you?”

“Mostly ‘a baby’”

“No, no there was something else...”

“Lovechild? Morgause-spawn? Heir to the throne?”

“They really call you that?”

“I don’t have a second name, so they had to improvise when they were angry.”

Q shrugged. “Well, point stands. Mordred isn’t my son. He lives with me because he’s kind of my siblings adopted son? But he can’t live with them and their husband and apparently I can’t take care of my self or something--” the last part was muttered. “--So he lives with me.”

Mordred was staring at James wide eyed. “Wait. You thought I was Q’s son? Honestly? Q? Your Gaydar is BLOODY SHITE. YURUSENAI!”

James flinched and faced Q, who was rolling his eyes at Mordred. “Translation please?”

Q smirked at him. “He says your ability to build context about inter person relations and read peoples attractions is rather bad and that he won’t forgive you for thinking he was blood related to me.” Q paused. “I would be rather offended by that last statement if it wasn’t for the blatant sarcasm.”

James smiled dreamily. “This is why I love you.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Mordred took a sip of his water. “He said he loved you.”

[lovelylogans]

love light gleams

previous chapter | chapter two | next chapter

part of the wyliwf verse.

the sideshire files | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: food mentions, complicated parental relationships, teenage emancipation, emotional abuse, mentions of being disowned, mentions of transphobia and homophobia, classism, mentions of past underage drinking, crying, religious content (church, going to confession), remus cameo, mentions of choking/killing someone, something similar to the canon “have you thought about killing your brother?” monologue, please let me know if i’ve missed anything!

pairings: gen 

words: 57,686

notes: it took my catholic-raised ass three months into writing this story to realize all of the goddamn religious implications i wrote into this story, and that realization was spurred because of the scene that gets introduced in this chapter, so, enjoy!

so, the sky is dark, but patton genuinely has no idea what time it is. god, he really hopes that the diner’s open. he could probably steal back to the inn and see what they’ve got leftover, or maybe get the cheapest thing on the menu at al’s pancake world, but. he’d really like to see virgil.

logan starts crying midway through the walk, so that means that patton has to steal inside the town’s gas station to check if he needs anything, but of course, he doesn’t, it’s his colic, and the reason patton doesn’t know what time it is is because he’d fallen asleep in the kitchen , somehow, without logan’s crying to wake him up for however long, so he’s probably held in the crying for a while, and—and it’s still upsetting, he knows that logan’s crying and it feels like he’s a bad dad because he can’t fix whatever’s wrong because something has to be wrong because logan’s crying, but he can’t fix it, he can only bounce logan and walk him along and hush him the best he can.

logan’s still crying—not screaming, but still crying—by the time he walks into the diner, so when he enters the diner he steals into the nearest empty booth in order to keep bouncing logan and rest his aching feet.

“it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” patton chants to him. “shh shh shh, it’s okay, sweetheart, i wish i could fix whatever’s wrong—”

he keeps talking to logan, trying to keep his voice quiet so that he isn’t disrupting the other diners, and eventually logan quiets, staring at him with red, watery eyes, and patton blows out a slow sigh of relief, air streaming toward his bangs.

“okay,” patton whispers. “okay. are you feeling better now, little love? yeah?”

logan sniffles a little, makes a babyish kind of hiccuping noise, and patton adjusts his hold on logan so he can wipe the tears off his face, and then, with one hand, smear at his own face. god, he’s so tired. shouldn’t a nap have made him less tired? 

“hey, what can i get—”

patton and the woman stare at each other for a few seconds. some of those seconds patton’s spending frantically searching through his brain to see if he’s forgetting that he’s met this woman before, or—

“i’m so sorry, but, um, are you new here?” patton says uncertainly.

“funny, i was gonna ask you the same thing,” the woman says, cocking out her hip. she looks familiar, with dark hair and blue eyes and ohh.

“wait, are you virgil’s sister?” patton asks.

“one of ‘em, yeah,” she says, and gestures. “i’d offer to shake your hand, but, ya know. baby holding takes priority. i’m technically winifred, because our parents hate us all, but i go by fred slash freddie. mostly freddie.”

“okay,” patton says. “freddie, hi, nice to meet you. um, i’m patton, this is logan.” he pauses, before he explains, “we moved here about a month ago.”

“ohh, that’d do it,” freddie says, sticking the pencil behind her ear. “i moved away—oh, i guess about a year ago now for work, so.”

“oh, what do you do?” patton asks, seizing on a socially acceptable way to do small-talk, but it’s as if those words are some kind of secret code that he’s shattered, because virgil bursts out of the kitchen, eyes wild, plonking the baby carrier on patton’s table as if to prove his point.

“ no feet on my tables or counters, no hands on my counters, do not do any backflips, frontflips, sideflips, or fancy acrobatic tricks i don’t know the names of, and no you can not show him your weird tricks that prove that mom and dad had your spine removed at birth—“

“—it’s called contortionism—”

“people are eating, that sh—stuff is gross,” virgil finishes.

“you aren’t the boss of me,” freddie says.

“no, but i’m the boss of here,” virgil says, and freddie blows a raspberry at him.

“sorry about her, patton,” virgil says, and now that they’re side-by-side, patton can see the whole sibling resemblance thing even clearer.

“oh, don’t be, i think she’s funny,” patton says.

“ha! see? i’m funny,” freddie says.

“why did you stick around here again?” virgil says.

“mom and dad were going to a museum’s diorama opening,” freddie says, and raises her eyebrows for emphasis. “a diorama opening, virgil. so if it’s between that and—”

“—not getting out of my hair?”

“spending time with my beloved baby broooo-theer,” she coos, and virgil ducks out from any of her attempts at a hug like getting his hand off a hot stove, and patton tries to stifle his laughter against his hand.

“just—go back to the counter, winifred jane, ” virgil huffs, and freddie curtsies and prances, dramatically, back toward the counter.

“so, she’s an ...acrobat?” patton guesses as he starts to situate logan in the carrier.

“acrobat, wannabe circus woman, dancer, stuntswoman on occasion, yeah,” virgil says wearily. “the dream’s cirque du soleil.”

“that’s really awesome,” patton says. “i went to one of those shows once, a few years ago, it was—” a time he remembers fondly with his parents, which sends a stab of regret through his chest, makes him think of the papers that are practically burning a hole through logan’s diaper bag—“i mean, wow. that’d be a really interesting job. she seems like she’d be really good at it.”

“please don’t say that where she can hear you, her ego will grow three times too big.”

“grinch reference?”

virgil smiles, just a little, and patton clears his throat, digging around.

“um—i’m happy you came over, actually, i meant to drop this off yesterday but well, you know,” he says, and makes a vague hand gesture with one hand, digging in the bag with the other, before he presents it to virgil, flushing just a little.

he’s not the best knitter, but. it’s the best he can do really. and it doesn’t feel like even a fraction of enough, in terms of a gift for virgil, but—virgil’s face does something at the sight of it.

“it’s a scarf,” patton elaborates, because, well, to be fully honest, it’s kind of difficult to tell. “um, for your birthday. so. happy late birthday. again.”

“oh,” virgil says. “patton, that’s—that’s really cool, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“this was seriously the least i could do,” patton says firmly.

“well,” virgil says, and picks it up carefully, ignoring the bit at the end that patton didn’t knot very well and is therefore unraveling as they speak, “thanks. hey, it’s purple!”

“well,” patton says. “yeah. it, um. it’s your favorite color. isn’t it?”

virgil then unfolds it.

“oh, you—you don’t have to wear it right now,” patton says.

“no, i love it,” virgil says stubbornly, carefully winding it around his neck. he smiles a little, touching it gently, as if to ensure it won’t unravel anymore. “thanks. no one’s ever knitted something for me before.”

“oh,” patton says, perking up a little. “well, um, you’re welcome!”

“it’s nice and warm,” virgil says, and readies his notepad. “do you want—?”

“oh! um, one more thing,” patton says. “i had—well, part of the reason i couldn’t drop it off is because i had lunch with maria yesterday, as, like, a check-in kind of thing,” and to drop off the papers that will definitely be like in the top three of major life-changing decisions i’ve made this year , “and apparently christmas pay is first come, first serve, and since i’m the most recent hire, i, uh. i guess logan and i are coming to your family christmas? if that’s still okay?”

“of course that’s still okay,” virgil says firmly. “that’s great. um, i will let you know that freddie will also be there, so if you want a get out of jail free card now, i can pretend you never told me—”

patton laughs, even as he swats at virgil. “she’s your sister.”

“yeah, i know,” virgil says. “which is why i’m offering you the get out of jail free card.”

“i dunno, it seems like it’ll be kinda fun,” patton says. “i’m an only child, so. siblings are kind of a mystery to me.”

“god, i wish that were me,” virgil mutters under his breath. 

“it’ll be fun!” patton says. “you called your sister by her full name, am i gonna hear you get middle-named by your parents, at some point?”

( god, virgil hopes not; he’d panicked a couple weeks ago when patton had been talking about names, said that his “oh, my confirmation name was thomas” and patton had gotten so excited about him and logan and virgil being “middle name twins! or, triplets, i guess!! that’s so cool!!” and virgil had said “HAHA YEAH HOW COOL IS THAT” all while dedicating himself even more to locking down his full name so no one will hear it, because god virgil wishes his name was virgil thomas!)

“uh, maybe,” and then, “what do you want for dinner?”

oh, so it’s dinner time, patton thinks. he’d been a little nervous he’d slept straight through the night, almost to the dawn. according to the stuff he’s been reading, that probably won’t happen for another month and a half, and for it to happen regularly until logan hits six months. 

“hot cocoa/coffee,” he starts, and virgil groans, and logan makes a babyish noise, as if to support patton, and patton decides to resort to using the baby to get him caffeine.

it’s worked before, and patton’s banking on it working again.

(it does.)

⁂

it takes patton slightly embarrassingly too long to tune in to the abnormal thing on his schedule, the next morning.

it’s probably because patton got about an hour of sleep in snatches, between trying to calm logan and when he was lying on his back, staring sleeplessly at the cracked ceiling of the poolhouse, turning the emancipation situation over and over and over in his head.

because on one hand, he fills out the emancipation form. which is the logical thing to do, at this point—sixteen-year-olds can file for emancipation and teen parents have an even better chance of getting approved, especially since he has a job and a place to live. he fills out the emancipation form, he stops feeling the urge to look over his shoulder all the time, no more fear of his parents sending a detective after him to try to find him or anything—honestly, he’s surprised they didn’t file a missing persons report. he knows they haven’t, he’s been checking.

but he files for emancipation. and then what? his parents would hate him. any chance patton might have at forgiveness gets slimmer and slimmer by the day, like a rope fraying, a rope he’s clinging to despite the fact that he’s got a pretty decent foothold in the mountain that he’s climbing, and filing for emancipation would be like taking out an axe and chopping the rope so with one misstep he’d start free-falling. emily and richard sanders are proud people. patton filing for emancipation would be like a slap in the face.

and then what? they’d be furious with him. they might never, ever forgive him. they might never even talk to him again.

and on the other hand, if he doesn’t—then that means that that looming threat of being dragged back home still hangs heavy over his head. and then what? he’d be locked up in his room, for the next two years, at least? thrown back into chilton? sent right back to his life before, before he’d gotten a taste of a world being free of being emily and richard sanders’ child first and the continuation of the sanders line second and any anything about himself third, of being expected to go to an ivy league and be a house spouse and join a thousand societies and go to a hundred balls and luncheons and meetings a year and just, what? be a pretty bird, in a gilded cage, and miss any chance of seeing logan through these baby years and his childhood? maybe even be forced to give logan away, or make him be kept at his parents’, be logan’s older “brother.” he doesn’t even know what they’d do to him—and that would be the nice option.

but. but, if he doesn’t... his parents might forgive him for running away. oh, not immediately, of course not. but there’d be a hell of a lot better chance of them forgiving him if he doesn’t actively turn away.

yeah. so. patton’s lost a lot of sleep he’s got a lot on his mind. he missed something atypical on his schedule. he’s tuned into it just in time.

so, he manages to tidy up the last room before his lunch break a bit quicker than usual, and, after being waylaid by changing logan, manages to slide into the kitchen.

“sorry,” patton pants. “am i—am i late?”

“you’re early, actually,” cindy says, and patton blows out a slow breath of relief, trying not to clutch the stitch in his side.

“good! good, i was worried i’d be late. um—how do holiday parties usually go around here?”

“oh, they’re pretty casual here,” cindy says. “eat some snacks, drink some drinks—well, you’ll be having soda, i guess—play some music, you know. casual. maybe a game, if someone gets too into it, but it’ll be charades or some other party game like that.”

“uh-huh,” patton says, whose experience with christmas parties are mostly his parents formal events with the really good apple tarts and really terrible small talk, “casual, okay. i can do that.”

“and probably,” they say, with a wry smile, “a round of pass-the-baby, but that’s pretty normal around here now.”

“well, as long as everyone washes their hands, i’ll be fine with that,” patton says, already moving to remove the baby carrier (and logan in the baby carrier) from his chest. 

“since they’re coming into my kitchen, they better be,” cindy says.

their coworkers start gradually filtering into the kitchen over the course of the next few minutes; patton hands logan over to rafael, as he makes the first claim and is the first to finish washing his hands to cindy’s satisfaction. patton’s kind of glad, because he can chit-chat pretty easily with rafael; he usually ends up hovering nervously the whole time anyone else is holding logan, so this at least gives him an excuse other than looking like a hysterical, overprotective nervous nelly.

"so,” patton says, “do you have any plans for the holidays?”

it turns out raf’s wife is jewish, so they’re celebrating hanukkah already (”it’s not as major a holiday as, like, rosh hashanah or yom kippur, but she loves latkes, so i’m going to eat potatoes for the whole holiday, which is the opposite of a problem”) so they’re already in the middle of their holiday celebration. 

and then hector wants to hold logan, so patton starts talking to hector—he’s going to see his daughter and his granddaughters, and he hands logan back in time to dig out photos and proudly show them off (which frankly is the exact kind of dad and, oh god, potential grandpa he wants to be) chattering patton’s ear off about how little ana is so smart, reading already, and sofia might only be a bit older than logan but she’s already a strong one, nearly broke his finger with how strong she was holding it last time. 

and then logan starts fussing, so patton takes him and ducks into the nearest unoccupied room to check on him, and when he walks out—

“oh! excuse me,” patton says, before he realizes who he’s talking to.

“not a problem at all,” meredith says warmly. “oh, hello, logan!”

“can you say hello?” patton prompts, even though he knows it’s about eleven months until logan will start using basic words like hello or bye-bye, but he doesn’t so much as babble.

patton smiles apologetically, but she laughs.

“he’s a newborn, i don’t expect any of that yet,” she says reassuringly. “i heard from virgil that we can expect to see you at the family christmas?”

“oh, yes,” patton says, shifting logan in his arms. “turns out holiday pay is a first come, first serve thing, which i probably should have expected. thank you again, so much, for inviting me, by the way,” he adds hastily—he can hear his mother lecturing him about rudeness now, and then even the thought of his mom makes him sad—and she smiles.

“well, it’s just nice to meet a friend of virgil’s after,” she says, hesitates, and continues, “well, it’s just nice to meet one of virgil’s friends.”

that’s a strange way to put it. look, patton knows he’s practically sleepwalking, but that’s a strange way to put it, right?

“well, it’s nice of you to have us,” patton says.

“oh, my, what do we have here?” maria asks, as she comes down the hall. “patton, i hope she’s not corrupting you.”

“maria,” meredith says warmly.

“no, no, not at all,” patton says. “um, i was just thanking her for inviting me to the family christmas.”

maria smiles at meredith, putting a hand on patton’s shoulder. “well, how nice! i hate to steal patton from you, meredith, it’s just that if my employees don’t have a baby in the room i fear they’ll riot. honestly, they’ve been the best-behaved they’ve been in years when there’s a baby to be held.”

“why do you think mark and i kept having them?” meredith says dryly.

“we should get coffee, sometime, before you leave for the holiday,” maria says. 

they exchange a look that’s a bit too loaded for patton’s exhausted, sad brain to unparse right now.

“so lovely to see you back in town!” maria says, patting patton’s shoulder, which he takes as his cue to go.

“coffee, maria, really, i know where to find you,” meredith, and adds, “i’ll see you three later!”

“bye, mrs. danes!” patton calls.

“it’s meredith—”

“oh, mer, i’ve been trying to break him of his manners for a month,” he can hear maria say as he edges back into the kitchen, “i wish you luck with it.”

he enters the kitchen, and someone is at his side.

“i’ve washed my hands,” pauline says stiffly, and patton grins.

“pauline, would you like to hold the baby?”

“if you insist,” she says, as if she does not immediately cuddle logan close to her as soon as patton puts him in her arms, logan’s chubby fists opening and closing as he reaches for the fine silver chain that supports the modest, everpresent cross that hangs from pauline’s neck.

there’s the soft ting-ting-ting, and patton turns his attention to maria, who’s holding a glass and spoon aloft. 

"i’d say i’ll keep it short, but all of you know much better than that,” maria says cheerfully, to a chorus of chuckles. “now! it’s been a wonderful year so far, and i have high hopes that it will continue to be a wonderful year when i leave you all to fend for yourselves after tomorrow. and to ensue in our yearly tradition—”

“our yearly what?” patton says in an undertone to pauline, but pauline’s handing logan back and everyone’s getting up and standing in a circle, so patton hastens to follow.

“now,” meredith says, “we’ll start with cara, and move down the line.”

with a rush of aww s and chuckles, cara walks into the center of the circle with a bowed head and flushing cheeks. 

what’s happening? patton would ask, except everyone so clearly knows what’s happening already, so he just sinks a little further back into the round to see what—

“cara,” pauline says, “you are a great speaker. you have a natural ability to best explain to guests any plans thoroughly and articulately, all while answering any questions before they can be asked.”

“aw, thanks, pauline,” cara mumbles, face still bright red.

“cara,” rafael says, “you can solve problems for me in ten minutes that would take me six weeks to figure out.”

oh, patton realizes. it’s a compliment train.  

“cara,” maria says warmly, “i know that when i leave for the day, or i’m not there, i am leaving the inn in spectacular, capable hands, and i know that any inn you decide to work in once you’re done with your degree will be just about the luckiest inn in the world.”

and round and round they go, until they get to patton, who says, “cara, you really helped me settle in here, and i always know that when i walk by the front desk i’ll be greeted with a kind word and a smile. you’ve been so gentle with logan, which sets me at ease faster than anything when someone holds logan. you’ve given me a lot of comfort and i really hope you have a lovely holiday with even half the tenderness you’ve shown him, because you really deserve it.”

“oh,” cara says, a little choked up, “thanks, patton.”

“and let’s give it up for cara, everyone!” maria says, and everyone applauds. 

hector, rafael, cindy, maria, more and more, every employee of the inn has their time in the center of the circle. patton tries his hardest to impress on each and every one of them how welcome he feels, how grateful he is for them helping them, and he knows it’s not enough, not even close to enough, but the looks on their faces at least make patton feel like he’s at least started to pay them back somehow, and then—

“last of our new hires but certainly not least,” maria says warmly, “patton.”

patton’s face feels like it’s on fire, and he tightens his hold on logan as he steps cautiously into the center of the circle. 

“you parent us so effectively, and we’re older than you. logan’s going to turn out so well with you there to teach him everything—you are such a mixture of a teddy bear and a papa bear and i love it!”

“patton, you always try to build everyone up and you’re always so supportive of everything anyone does—you’re encouraging, and you always make an effort to reach out and compliment someone, which really means a lot to me when i’m having a rough time.”

“patton, you always try your hardest to do the right thing, and whether it’s as big as raising that beautiful baby of yours or as small as messing up a customer’s bed, you will always, always strive to make it better than it was before.”

“you are such a nurturing, loving, caring friend, and you are already an amazing father. logan is going to be so lucky to grow up with a dad as kind, understanding, and supportive as you.”

“patton, you always try to greet everyone with a smile and you are such a ray of sunshine to absolutely everyone you meet, it’s incredible. you are just such a... such a good person, like, disney levels of good, it’s almost like birds should do your hair every morning.”

around and around and around it goes, and when it gets to maria she steps forward, face creased with concern, and that’s when patton realizes he’s crying. 

“sorry,” he gasps out, and sniffs, loudly, wiping under his eyes with his sleeve. “sorry, sorry, i’m sorry—“

“oh, honey, you don’t need to be sorry,” maria says. “if this is too much—“

“no,” patton says, and tries for a wobbly smile. “sorry, um, it’s—it’s hormones, i think, i’m okay, i’m just—” he swallows, and forges on. “i’m just really grateful for how kind and welcoming everyone has been, and everyone—everyone’s been so nice to me, and i just—” don’t deserve this, i don’t deserve this, why are you being so nice to me? i’m me, you shouldn’t be so nice to me, “ thank you.”

maria gently wraps an arm around his shoulders. “do you think you can handle one more?”

patton, sniffling, nods, smearing his sleeve under his eyes again.

“you have been,” she says, “a spectacular new hire. you’ve been a great employee, you’ve caught up well with your training, you clearly get along well with your coworkers—“

a rush of agreeing noises pour forth, and patton sobs, just a little, and maria squeezes him around the shoulders.

“—you have been so kind and welcoming. guests take notice, and we have taken notice, and patton—you are welcome to stay here for as long as you like, as long as you need. i think that you are a remarkable young man who is working through a variety of unfortunate circumstances, but you face them admirably with a level of strength that i marvel at every day. even with everything that has happened to you, you have not let that affect you, and you remain to be one of the most unique, shining rays of kindness that i have ever met. you are gentle, and sweet, and a good father, and a good boy, who i would be privileged to watch grow into a good man. you are welcome here, and you are loved. more than you know.”

he’s trying to look at maria, but her face is blurring up and he can feel his face crumpling up, and there’s something lodged in his throat that won’t let him say “thank you” in anything louder than a rasp.

“yeah, we love you, patton,” rafael says warmly, as maria draws him in for a hug.

“we love you, patton!” cindy.

“te amo como un hijo!” hector.

patton buries his face in maria’s shoulder, just for a second, trying to get it together enough to thank them, to try to communicate how much it means to him, how much he loves it here, and how much of that is due to the people.

whatever he says, he knows it won’t be enough.

it won’t ever be enough.

but, patton thinks, as maria squeezes his shoulder and murmurs “truly, we do,” in his ear, maybe it can be a start.

⁂

patton doesn’t even know what day it is, really, but cara had been put under instructions re: making patton go for walks and eat something other than inn leftovers, so she’s shooed him out of the front room for dinner. taking logan on a walk and getting some fresh air sounds like a great idea, until—

“oh, shoot,” patton says in an undertone, as soon as he feels the familiar plop! of a cold drop on his head, and immediately places a protective hand over logan’s head as he rushes for safety under the nearest building’s eaves.

and not a moment too soon—it seems like as soon as he gets safely under the roof, that weird precipitation that’s somewhere between rain and snow pours upon the sidewalk, and patton directs a stream of air toward his bangs.

right. he’s stuck here, then, at the...

oh.

he’s at the church.

he’s seen the church, of course; it’s within eyesight of the diner, near the center of town, so of course he’s seen it. he knows that the priest and the rabbi share the space, since the town is so tiny it can’t really justify two separate places of worship, so all of them shared the historical building. it’s pretty, and big, but nothing like the stone behemoth that his parents usually attended—this is white, with a big black door and a steeple, just big enough that it would hold a congregation. 

he hasn’t been to this one. he hasn’t been to a church in a while, actually. well, he’d gone before he’d told his parents about pregnancy, trying to win them over before he had to dump life-changing news on them, too, but prior to that had been them inviting over reverend boatwright to talk to patton about the gift of his “virtue” and that had gone over with about the grace and subtlety of a lead balloon. he hadn’t been to church in a long time, really. ever since, well—ever since he realized he was a he.  

his feelings toward church have skewed toward complicated since then.

patton chews at his lip. on one hand, it’s the middle of the day, but on the other, it’s in the middle of the christmas season, which meant that there might be a service, which he really doesn’t want to interrupt. he can peek in and see if it’s busy, he figures. that’d be a good compromise.

still keeping his hand over logan’s head, in case of any stray raindrops, he slowly ascends the stairs and reaches the big black door, which has two signs on it. patton squints, adjusting his glasses to read them—one details the jewish services, the other christian. both say all are welcome.

apparently, there isn’t much going on right now, but they’ve got something happening soon.

patton takes his chances. he takes a deep breath. he eases open the door as quietly as he can. 

no one’s in the opening section of the church. it feels strangely anticlimactic.

patton cautiously removes logan from his chest, adjusting so that he’ll cradle logan in his arms instead, and settles carefully on one of the benches that’s relatively out of the way.

“all right, love, we’ve got some time to kill,” patton says. “how’s your day been?”

logan babbles at him, and babbles even more, culminating in waving his arms around and a smile, and patton makes a shocked face.

“goodness, you did all that?! where was i, for all this?”

logan pulls a face at him, scrunching up his nose, as if to say silly daddy, and patton laughs.

“yeah, you’re right, i’m sure,” patton says, and surveys his surroundings. it’s decorated, but not in the way he’d expect; cloths of gold and silver descend from the ceiling, like streamers, almost, a christmas tree in a corner, menorahs gleaming proudly in the windowsills, a manger tucked away in an alcove, poinsettias overflowing from anything that might have been an empty space. it’s warm in here, really—warmer than patton would expect.

logan babbles more— pay attention to me! — and patton obligingly turns his attention back to him, tickling logan’s belly, feeling his heart swell up as logan smiles again. 

god, patton had had no idea he could love someone so much.

patton leans to kiss logan on the forehead, before he asks, “tummy time, d’you think?”

logan doesn’t really respond. which is fair, he’s a baby.

“tummy time it is,” patton says, and carefully adjusts so that he’s lying on the bench, legs awkwardly splayed and spilling over the edges so that he can stay balanced, and carefully eases logan onto his chest, on his stomach. he is kind of worried that logan isn’t getting enough time on his stomach, since patton carries him around so much and then when patton’s sleeping he’s in the crib, so he’s trying to do it more and more. the trouble is, it’s difficult to do that when his job has him on his feet so much.

logan thumps his fist on patton’s chest, and patton tries not to wince, before logan settles in place.

“there we go,” patton says. honestly, he’s not very comfortable at all, but, well. as long as logan is, that’s what matters. “how about that, huh?”

logan settles, and so does patton.

it’s been a fairly calm day. even though the holidays mean that there’s a lot of people flocking to sideshire to see relatives, everyone’s so frequently out of their rooms that it’s been easy for him to steal into rooms and tidy them up. a lot of employees are taking leave for their holiday plans, maria included, but it seems to even out.

really, patton’s kind of at a loss—he isn’t sure if this is a holiday thing, or if it means he’s getting used to the way things go here. on one hand, he’s happy about that. he likes it here, he wants to stay here, and it’s a good sign that he’s settling. on the other...

well, he’s settling here. not back with his mom and dad. thoughts of going back to school at chilton are starting to seem strange, foreign; why would he need to learn geometry proofs? that isn’t going to help him take care of his baby.  

patton lets out a sigh, watching logan rise and fall on his chest, and fixes his eyes on the ceiling.

he’s spent his nights since he got the papers biting his nails down to the quick and worrying about this. he won’t worry about it now.

he won’t.

honestly, if he wasn’t so uncomfortable on this bench, he’d be close to falling asleep. the sound of the rain pattering on the roof and pavement, the warmth of the room, the gentle twinkling lights strung about the room—there’s something inherently calming about it.

of course, that’s when logan starts crying.

“oh, honey,” he says, dismayed, sitting up carefully, “oh, oh, what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

he doesn’t need a diaper change, and, after a quick sojourn to the bathroom (god, patton loves the prolific presence of unisex, family restrooms in sideshire, no gender strangeness about going into the one that usually has a changing table and no lack of a changing table when he goes into the one for the gender he is) logan isn’t hungry, which means it’s probably colic, which means that patton has to, mostly, wait it out.

patton mumble-sings “blue christmas” as he walks laps around the church’s reception area, bouncing logan as he goes, and then “rudolph the red-nosed reindeer,” then “joy to the world,” then “twelve days of christmas.” none of them really help, and patton keeps darting nervous glances toward the church, hoping that the crying baby isn’t disturbing whatever might be going on in there, and—

“oh, i don’t think i know you,” and patton turns, flustered, patting logan on the back.

“i—no, i’m new in town,” patton says. “i’m so sorry, usually i’d take him outside, but with the rain—“

“no, no,” the reverend says—and he has to be a priest or a reverend, he’s wearing the clerical collar—and gestures. “just david and i here, decorating the main space. is it colic?”

patton huffs a breath toward his bangs, trying to get his curls out of his eyes. “yeah, how’d you know?”

he smiles. “lucky guess. how old is he?”

“about seven weeks.”

“i’ve seen babies for baptisms for years. may i—?”

“oh!” patton says, even more flustered. “um, of course, sure, just—”

pattno carefully hands over logan, and, with a practiced, professional flip that still makes patton jolt forward, heart in his throat, hands up as if to catch logan if he dropped him, the priest positions logan so that he’s on his stomach, his head still pillowed by the priest’s elbow, body balanced along his arm, and, with several firm pats to logan’s back, logan hiccups and falls silent.

“i,” patton says, “how did you—how did you just do that?”

“colic carry,” the priest says, lifting logan slightly, as if in demonstration. “uncommon trick, and really it doesn’t usually work this quickly, but. still useful.”

“oh,” patton says, breathless. “i—thanks.”

“you’re welcome,” he says. “your name...?”

“oh!” patton says, shaking himself. “right, i’m sorry—i’m patton, i moved here about a month ago.”

“archie skinner,” he says. 

“nice to meet you,” patton says. “would you mind, um. showing me how to hold him like that?”

the priest smiles, and shows patton how to position his arm, before he gently transfers logan back to him, and patton adjusts to this new, unfamiliar, frankly miraculous way to hold him.

“forgive me for asking, but are you religious?” archie asks. “i don’t think i’ve seen you, but of course you might be more familiar with david—“

“i,” patton begins, and huffs a breath. “to be fully honest, that’s a good question.”

“oh?”

“i used to go to church a lot more when i was younger,” patton explains. “but then i, um, well. at my parents’ church, they didn’t seem very pleased that i was... well, like i am.”

archie frowns. “i’m sorry you had that experience.”

“yeah, well,” patton says, and shrugs, mindful of how he’s carrying logan. “it is what it is, i guess.”

“well, i’d invite you to sit in, if you like,” archie says, “except for the next few hours, we’ll be doing reconciliation.”

patton frowns. “i thought that was an easter thing?”

“traditionally, yes,” archie says. “however, some parishioners prefer a more frequent opportunity, so we do it once every three months or so.”

patton absorbs this, and archie gestures.

“well. if you and—?”

“logan.”

“—logan would like to come in, we certainly won’t make you sit out here to wait out the rain.”

“thank you,” patton says, and he follows him into the (church? temple?) worship space. 

there is a man with a yarmulke in a corner—david barans, the rabbi, patton guesses—who’s making sure that a gold cloth stays affixed, as archie disappears into the confessional.

eventually, david leaves too, and patton slowly relaxes back into the pew as people slowly filter in.

he falls back into the sort of lull he’d been in before—the rain, the soft piano music in the background, the low, flickering light of the candles, logan falling asleep and staying asleep when patton cautiously eases back onto the pew and sets logan on his chest for pseudo-tummy-time, cradling logan’s head—and startles a little when someone sits beside him.

“i didn’t know you were catholic,” pauline comments, and patton rubs at his eyes.

“mostly on a technicality,” patton says. “went to church growing up, that kind of thing.”

pauline nods. “well. reverend skinner has good sermons each week, if you’d like to join.”

“i’ll think about it,” patton says, and shrugs. “weekend hours, you know.”

“yes,” pauline says. “i do.”

a long pause.

pauline’s an older lady, with hair that’s a strange shade between blonde and gray, and an ever-present cross around her neck. she almost always wears twinsets, sweaters and slacks, skirtsuits that remind him of his mom, tights that never have runs in them, sensible, neutral-colored heels. her hair’s cropped close to her head. it’s curling a little, just at the edges, probably from the stray drops of rain that had gotten to her, despite the umbrella folded up in her left hand. 

“are you going to penance?”

“oh—i, um, i just got caught up in the rain and i ran for cover, ‘cause, you know,” patton says, lifting logan ever so slightly.

“hm,” pauline says. “well, you might think about it. i’ve found that penance always gives me a great clarity of mind. it may be difficult, but when i walk out of the church, i feel... lighter. it might give you some form of closure. perhaps it would help.”

patton sits, silent, not quite able to meet her eyes. yeah, patton, starting to cry because people were too nice to you at the christmas party was a great move.

“i know you’ve had quite a year,” she says. “acknowledging that may help you move forward, in anticipation of the new year. but either way,” pauline says, and offers her hand. “though it’s not mass... may peace be with you.”

patton smiles, and shakes her hand. “peace be with you.”

“i hope that for you,” pauline says. “genuinely. i wish for you to move forward and achieve some kind of peace.”

patton folds his lip under his teeth and swallows. “thank you,” he croaks. “that’s—that’s very nice, pauline. i appreciate it.”

pauline nods, and she stands, smoothing her hands down her skirt, before she moves to where the line has dwindled to one person for reconciliation.

penance always gives me a great clarity of mind. it might give you some form of closure. i wish for you to move forward and achieve some kind of peace.

patton blows out a slow breath. “all right,” he says under his breath. “what could it hurt?”

and so, after pauline enters the reconciliation confessional, patton stands and slowly moves toward the line. 

when she exits to see him there, she looks startled, only for a moment, before she offers him a rare smile.

“i’ll be praying for you,” she says.

“thank you,” patton says softly, and he slowly enters the confessional, settling in the seat, shifting logan just slightly.

patton takes one deep breath, two, before he admits, “it’s been a while since i’ve done this, i can’t remember—”

“forgive me father, for i have sinned,” archie prompts gently.

“right, right,” patton says, and swallows, swiping his free hand along his jeans to get rid of the sweat, then swapping his hold on logan so he can do the same for the other. “forgive me father, for i have sinned. it’s been... i think two and a half years since my last confession.”

“may god the father of all mercies help you make a good confession,” the priest says formally.

patton swallows, hard, eyes suddenly stinging. 

“um, i’ve. i’ve lied,” he says. “to my parents, teachers, and friends. about who i am, what was happening to me. if i was happy or sad. if i’d done the work that was asked of me. about where i am, and what my plans were. are. i was—i am— deceitful and secretive.”

no response. patton guesses he’s just supposed to keep going, then.

“i’ve been angry,” he says, and suddenly it’s difficult to look at logan, and the guilt that comes from saying all of this out loud, and how is he supposed to feel lighter? “about—about the way others treated me, and i know i’m supposed to turn the other cheek, but i—i didn’t, sometimes, and i spoke in words of anger or hurt, but it doesn’t take away the fact that it was mean.

“i’ve been sad,” patton says, “and ungrateful, and i didn’t properly cherish what i had, what i could have. i’ve been prideful, and greedy, and lustful, and wrathful, and envious. it feels like i’m making my way down the list of the deadly seven, so. there’s that.

“i’ve drank—alcohol, i mean—and i’ve drank too much, a few times, and i can’t remember all the stuff i’ve done then but it was probably pretty bad. i’m not sure if that’s a sin, but it feels like it should be, especially since i’m not of age.”

he chews his lip, and says, “i’ve snuck out of the house, and lied about where i was, and shut out my parents for asking where i was. sometimes, i’d just... disappear. sneak out of the window, or wait until they were asleep, but i’d just sneak out of the house. i’m sure i’ve worried them terribly.”

“i’ve been...” he says, and his voice cracks. “i’ve been a terrible son. i’ve lied to my parents. i’ve been cruel to them. i ran away from home without a word, and there’s only been one phone call to tell that i’m not dead, which feels like i’m being unthoughtful at the least. i’ve caused them so much worry, and pain, and i’m stuck in the middle of a choice that will either hurt me and my son, or hurt them even more, and i—i don’t know if it’s a sin, choosing to hurt them, but it feels like it should be. and i—i don’t know what to do?”

a beat, and then patton adds, “oh, i guess i had premarital sex, too. um, that’s a sin,” he says, with a sobbing kind of laugh, swiping his fingers under his eyes. “i don’t know if having a child outside of marriage is a sin, but it probably is, ‘cause of the whole sex thing, so add that one on there. i’ve done a lot of bad things over the past couple years, but i think i covered the big ones and i wouldn’t want to keep you for hours.”

“that’s quite a list,” archie says, and patton gulps.

“yeah.”

“it must have weighed on you quite heavily.”

“yeah,” patton says, and a sob escapes him, involuntarily. “it—yeah.”

“and you are truly seeking repentance?”

“yeah,” patton says. “i mean, i think i—yeah.”

“well,” archie says. “i’m afraid my advice mostly follows on what you’ve been doing, which is changing your ways—you’re making a living, you’re caring for your son.”

patton blinks, sniffling. “isn’t the advice usually to pray my rosary five times, or something?”

“well, if you feel it’ll help, you can certainly do that too, i’m sure mary wouldn’t be opposed,” archie says reasonably. “but repentance —true repentance, in my mind—is a marked, vested interest in change. i certainly think that you’re doing that.”

“i’m changing,” patton says wearily. “trust me, i’m changing. to say the least.”

“quite,” archie says. “and... i suppose the rosaries and stopping by more church services couldn’t hurt, wouldn’t you say?”

patton manages a giggle—a snotty, gross one, but a giggle. “sure. i’ll say some rosaries.”

“all right,” archie says. “do you remember the act of contrition? i can walk you through it, if you like.”

so archie walks him through it, before he says, “god, the father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the holy spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins. through the ministry of the church, may god give you pardon and peace. and i absolve you from your sins in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy spirit.”

“amen,” patton says.

“now,” archie says. “go forth, and go in peace.”

patton hesitates, before he says, “thank you” and quickly scuttles out of the confessional.

he’s re-strapping logan to his chest out front, listening keenly for the rain, by the time archie re-emerges from the church.

“oh!” patton says, “um—“

archie holds up a hand, and says, “if you prefer, i can stick very firmly to the whole ‘confessionals are private’ aspect of it.”

patton blows out a slow breath of relief. “yes, i’d appreciate it.”

he makes sure that logan’s secure in the carrier, and archie nods at him.

“well,” he says, “you’d certainly be welcome at our christmas mass, if you like.”

“i’ll think about it,” patton says, and admits, “i’m spending christmas with the danes’, so i’m not really sure of my schedule.”

“oh, they’re fine people,” archie says. “have a nice day, and a merry christmas.”

“you too, reverend,” patton says, and opens the black door, about to step out into the square, before—

“patton?”

“yes?” patton asks, turning around.

archie smiles thinly, before he says, “you do realize that who you’ve been offering to pray to—well, mary was an unwed teenage parent too, you know.”

patton’s lip quirks. he runs a hand over logan’s downy hair.

“huh,” he says thoughtfully. “you know, i guess she was.”

⁂

“hey. hope you didn’t get caught in the rain.”

“no, no,” patton says, and tilts his head. “well—i did, a bit, but i managed to steal away into the church so we didn’t get too drenched.”

“oh, that’s—good,” virgil says, and similarly tilts his head. “i didn’t know you were—?”

“raised catholic,” patton says. “i like church better here, i think. it seems less—”

“homophobic slash transphobic, yeah,” virgil says dryly. “archie’s nice, he and david stop in here sometimes.”

“that’s good,” patton says. “how’s, um, the family being in town going?”

“good enough, i guess,” virgil says, scratching at his temple with the eraser-end of his pencil. “um—they’re over there.”

patton glances to where he’s gesturing to see freddie, meredith, mark, and three people he doesn’t know in a booth.

“esther and silas,” virgil elaborates. “they’re twins, second and third oldest. oh, and essie’s fiancée annabelle, too, she’s the one in pink. wyatt’s coming sometime tomorrow morning, he’s oldest.”

“the surgeon?”

“the surgeon,” virgil confirms. 

“should i go over and introduce myself?” patton asks uncertainly.

“mom and dad will take care of that for you,” virgil says. “can i put in your order?”

“pasta with marinara and parmesan cheese?” patton asks.

“side salad too?”

“sure, side salad too. and—“

“don’t say it,” he says, trying not to sigh.

“c’mon, please,” patton begs. “i need caffeine, c’mon, look at that face. look at that little baby face—“

“don’t bring the baby into this—“

“i have to bring the baby into this, he’s why i need it to stay awake to make sure i can take care of him, virgil, and you want him taken care of, don’t you?” patton wheedles. virgil hesitates. wavers. sighs.

“you’re on a limit, you hear me?”

“‘course,” patton says happily.

“i mean it,” he says sternly.

“uh-huh, sure,” patton says. 

“i’m serious.”

“of course you are,” patton says, and he must do a better job of looking less gloaty that time, because virgil sighs and notes it and heads back to the kitchen.

and, true to virgil’s word, meredith gets up and then gestures for everyone else to get up, and patton hastily waves at her, trying to get her not to, because really he’s just one person (well, one person and one very tiny person, who is easily carried) and that’s six people, so he quickly cuts across the diner before they can move to get up.

“hi,” patton says. 

“hi!” meredith says cheerfully. “this is our son, silas—“

silas, who looks the most like virgil of any of the siblings patton has seen so far, nods his head in a little jerk of acknowledgment. 

“—our daughter, esther—“

“essie,” she corrects, in a voice that’s bright and cheerful, and patton likes her immediately.

“—and esther’s fiancée annabelle,” meredith finishes.

annabelle, whose hair is pulled back into twin puffs, smiles at him, her white teeth a contrast against her perfectly smooth, dark skin.

“nice to meet you,” she says.

“nice to meet you too,” patton says. “um—i’m patton, this is my son, logan.” 

my son. still so new, so wonderful to say.

“would you like to have dinner with us?” meredith asks.

“oh!” patton says. “well, i mean—you don’t have to, i know it’s probably family time, and—”

“nonsense!” meredith says. “plenty of space, you’re joining us for christmas, the proximity to a baby—“

“please distract them,” essie says, jokingly, “dad keeps asking about wedding plans and i think he’s the only one who cares about napkin colors.”

“details are important,” mark says.

“not when the wedding’s still nearly two years away, they don’t,” annabelle quips.

“i—okay,” patton says, and so they end up pulling an extra chair at the table and mark basically immediately lays claim to holding logan first. 

virgil exits from the kitchen, looks confused, before he lays eyes on patton and strides over.

“your caffeine, which again you know is limited,” virgil scolds.

patton’s about to say something teasing, like you’re not the boss of me or something, but a voice cuts in.

“surely he’s old enough to decide if he wants caffeine if he has a baby,” the brother—silas—says, and patton falters, fingers withdrawing from the mug. there’s just—something. in his tone. that reminds him of withdrawing into a corner at chilton. which isn’t—it’s stupid, it’s his tone, it’s not like he’s said anything especially hurtful, but—

“ silas matthew,” mark says.

“what, he does,” silas says. 

“yeah, he does, but he’s my friend and i don’t want him overdosing on caffeine, si,” virgil says, and silas scowls.

patton tries to come up with something to say, fails, and ends up shifting in his seat as virgil and his brother glare daggers at each other, before virgil double-checks that everyone’s drink is okay and going back to the kitchen.

he’s my friend.

well—of course, patton had thought that virgil was his friend, he’d said when they met, hadn’t he, i’ll be your person, but he just kind of figured that virgil was being nice and helpful, but—

he’s my friend.

no one other than christopher has voluntarily called patton their friend since he came out. (and even christopher was pretty leery about doing that in public.)

patton directs his smile into his mug of hot cocoa/coffee.

the conversation moves on swiftly. annabelle ends up prodding essie into telling a story from work, and she’s apparently a coding analyst (seriously, the array of jobs in this family???) and has a horrific coworker. really, it’s mostly annabelle venting about how essie gets taken advantage of at work, and essie going “well, i wouldn’t say” and annabelle going “no, you deserve better,” and the only time essie really indulges in the venting is when it comes to the way the coworker treats other coworkers. 

honestly? patton can admire a partner sticking up for their partner. he’d like to have a partner like that one day.

oh, great. and now he’s thinking of christopher, and that distinct, bittersweet but way more bitter than sweet ending, and his “what are you going to do?” and patton doesn’t know what he’s going to do and now he’s gotta redirect his train of thought now .

“hey, pat, watch out, hot plate,” virgil says, and patton lets out a sigh of relief that he hopes isn’t too noticeable. “plus, salad.”

“thanks, v.”

“aaand parmesan,” he says, setting the little adorable bowl with the little adorable spoon that the diner uses to give out things like parmesan. 

“it looks great,” patton says truthfully, and, after virgil withdraws, patton folds his hands in his lap. 

it takes a couple minutes for meredith to glance sidelong at hm.

“are you not hungry, patton, sweetheart?” meredith asks, and oh no, now everyone is looking at him, and—and patton, sweetheart, the same way he says logan, sweetheart, is that just a parent thing or?

“oh, no i am, but—“ patton says, ruffled, “but, i, um, it—the way i was raised, you wait until everyone has gotten their food before you start eating, or else it’s—or else you’re being rude. so.”

“what planet are you from?” silas asks, and sure, said by anyone else, it could be a joke, but—but it’s that tone again, and—

“silas,” essie hisses.

“ what, i know you’re thinking it too—“

“look, i—maybe a little, before i met patton, but look at him, he seems perfectly nice, he’s been nothing but polite, he doesn’t seem anything like—”

“kids,” meredith says, clipped, and both fall silent. patton swallows.

“you can eat,” meredith says gently. “really, eat. even the best pasta never tastes very good cold. i promise we won’t think you’re rude.”

patton chews his lip for a few seconds, but everyone is staring at him still, and just to make them stop he picks up his fork and starts mixing up the salad, so the dressing’s more easily dispersed, and taking a bite.

(if he eats his salad first, it’s almost like he’s the only person who ordered something during the salad and soup course, and that—that isn’t rude, refusing to eat that would mean that a waiter wouldn’t come to clear it away and everyone would have to wait longer for their food, so eating that quickly was polite, so there!)

he manages to make eating his salad last until everyone else’s food gets there, and so, cringing only slightly, licks off his fork and uses the same one to eat his pasta. when he’d first asked for an extra fork, virgil had asked if his had fallen on the ground, and he said, “no, you just forgot to give me a salad fork,” and virgil had laughed for about ten seconds before saying “oh, you’re serious?”

he can practically feel his etiquette teacher entering death throes at the faintest whiff of what he’s doing right now—well, if everything else patton had already done wouldn’t have killed her first.

he digs into his pasta a moment after meredith takes a bite out of her french dip.

everyone eats slowly; patton stays mostly quiet, listening as attentively as he can, as they reminisce about family times past, laughing at jokes when he understands them, passing condiments when necessary.

so he listens and learns things. it turns out annabelle’s a pediatric nurse, and silas installs and repairs electrical power lines. esther’s food-themed nickname is pumpkin and silas’ is peanut, and meredith and mark spend a solid minute attempting to debate one for annabelle, now that she’s just about part of the family. apparently, the danes’ do a big breakfast-for-dinner thing on christmas, which sounds delicious, frankly, and patton should not be sad about the slim-to-none chance of them having something apple-tart-adjacent being snatched away, it was absurd to even privately hope for it anyway. it turns out that that tone wasn’t just a silas thing, wasn’t just how silas talked, it’s just how silas talks when he talks to patton ; he seems quiet, like virgil, and patton guesses virgil’s dad, which is fine, of course, it’s more than fine, but—but what did patton do? he didn’t say anything mean to him, he wasn’t rude, he was just—he’s just patton.

well. it’s not like silas is the first person to dislike patton just because of who he is. and it’s not like people usually tell him the reasons why, other than the transphobic ones.

other than that—which really patton should have seen coming, honestly, he’s him, sideshire had been too good to be true, it’s almost a sign that patton hasn’t exited reality now that someone sees and acts like he's unlikeable again, a near-comforting return to earth—the dinner’s really nice. annabelle and esther are an adorable, lovely couple, and mark and meredith are welcoming, which he knew already, and even silas is kind of funny—a little like virgil, but virgil’s funnier than silas, and virgil’s much less acidic about it.

when patton moves to stretch his back, he can’t help but notice that the diner’s practically empty. it’s just them, and a few workers, and virgil at the register, punching some order or other in. the family starts drifting slowly out, and logan, of course, starts crying, so patton says his goodbyes and bears logan away to the bathroom to see if he needs anything. 

it turns out he’s hungry, and patton hates the prickle of unease he feels in his stomach, every time. he’d read books, articles, and so many talked about the joy of feeding your baby, and the joyful bonding with your baby, and yes, there are parts of it patton likes—the way logan seems to reach for him, relaxing in his arms, the opportunity to sit down alone with logan and just be with him, and to be sure that he’s well-fed and happy. that stuff, patton likes.

it’s all the rest of it—the technical, practical, actual stuff that tends to come with feeding logan—that patton really strongly heavily dislikes. which he feels terrible about, and then feels terrible that he feels terrible, and it’s this terrible, terrible cycle. 

so patton tries his best to focus on the parts he likes, and not the aspects of dysphoria that nearly crush him, he tries, he really does, but it’s hard.

but he does it. and he breathes a sigh of relief when it’s all done, the way he always does, before he walks around and burps logan and makes sure they’re both all settled in and ready to present themselves to society, the routine ending parts that he uses to redirect his thoughts and not think about top dysphoria.

patton’s about to turn the corner to walk back into the diner, where silas is the only one left at the table, knotting his scarf around his neck, except—except there’s a shadowy figure looming at the door, and then the person walks in.

he’s never even seen this person before and frankly, there’s a lot to look at. sure, he doesn’t know everyone at sideshire, but complete and total strangers that he’s never even seen before have been rarer and rarer.

this man, he would have remembered.

though he doesn’t look very old, he’s got a strong white streak in his hair that patton isn’t entirely sure is dye. he has a mustache, too, one of the ones that an old-timey villain strapping some poor damsel to the train tracks would have, and bags under his eyes that might even rival virgil’s. but what really makes him stand out is the outfit.

he’s wearing a velvet-y looking tophat, black with a moldy green ribbon wound around the base of it, sitting jauntily slanted on his head, like it’s about to fall off. the ribbon matches his moldy green, velvety suit jacket that he’s wearing over a t-shirt that patton’s pretty sure says art thou nasty? in that old-timey, blackletter font that’s always in storybooks. he’s also wearing overalls, or maybe just really high-waisted pants with matching suspenders, patton can’t tell, with an eyewatering hawaiian-shirt type pattern in too-neon oranges and greens. and heeled boots, with a curled toe, the kinds elves are always shown wearing in santa’s workshop.

if his fashion sense is always like that, patton really would have remembered seeing him.

silas, on the other hand, looks like he definitely knows who this man is—he almost bares his teeth in a kind of snarl, which the man doesn’t notice.

“oh, virgil!” the man trills in a nasally, somewhat unpleasant voice, and virgil peeks in from the kitchen.

“remus, hey, man,” virgil says. “we’re closing up, so food’s probably out of the question, but i could get you some coffee or someth—“

“can’t a man see his old buddy, old chum?” the man—remus, patton guesses—says, with a twirl of his hand.

“i mean, i guess,” virgil says. “why... now, though?”

remus grins, and turns in his seat to wiggle his fingers at silas with a near-flirtatious wink. silas looks like he’s fuming.

“yeah,” virgil comments. “okay, i see your point.”

remus turns back in his chair, and, in the process, locks eyes with patton, who’s just—he doesn’t know why he isn’t walking out into the diner, but now they’re in the middle of a conversation and it would be awkward— and winks again, before turning his attention fully back to virgil.

“ anyway,” remus says. “today, i bring forth the news that pregnancy is, quite possibly, one of the most disgusting things to happen to the human body and i am enamored with the concept.”

“you’re telling me this on the day before christmas eve?” virgil says.

“seriously, i mean, think about it,” remus says. “your body thinks that thing is a parasite. you pee yourself a little when you even sneeze. your nose can just start bleeding out of nowhere, like you’re possessed or something! isn’t that awesome?”

“not for pregnant people, i’m sure,” virgil says.

“puking, rashes, random lines appearing all over your body, drooling and hemorrhoids and weird ankle swelling, and you can see the baby moving under your belly like it’s about to be a chestburster from alien, ” remus rattles off happily. “did you know that the whole start to giving birth is losing your mucus plug? that even sounds nasty!”

“man, rem, if only you could get pregnant to have all these joyous experiences,” virgil says, with the expression that makes it seem like he’s heard monologues like this before and that this is not, even in the slightest, a weird occurrence for this man.

“well, with my help, isadora is, and that’ll have to be good enough,” remus says.

patton’s never seen virgil’s jaw drop before. it’s kinda funny.

“i,” virgil says, and, clearly looking for something to say, mouth moving with words he’s trying to articulate, but he can only say “ what?”

remus tosses something like he’s throwing confetti, and patton recognizes the familiar filmy texture of a sonogram as it flutters through the air, landing on the counter with a crinkling noise as it folds on impact.

“it’ll be three months on the seventh, so she’s finally cleared off her threats of practicing very elaborate knife tricks on me so i can start telling people now,” remus says. “and i am telling everyone. everything. about pregnancy. it is so gross. it’s practically seven novels worth of gross. i can’t believe people just walk around pretending like it’s all pregnancy glow and gentle little kicks and slightly odd cravings, people can crave lead and babies can break ribs, you know?”

virgil slowly picks up the prints, paging through them, and he shakes his head in disbelief.

“that is either going to be the weirdest baby on the face of the planet, or the most terrifyingly disciplined one, and i can’t figure out which idea freaks me out more,” he admits.

“yes, isadora thought the combination of our genes would be a gamble, but frankly it is a gamble i was very willing to make,” remus says. 

“you’re having a baby,” virgil repeats, and lets out a disbelieving laugh. “holy shit, man, you’re having a kid. congratulations.”

remus grins. patton isn’t sure if that’s his “i’m very happy” smile or what, but he looks... just slightly deranged. maybe that’s just his face, though, patton shouldn’t be passing judgment.

“so. that’s what i wanted to tell you.”

“yeah, good thing you did,” virgil says. “wow. a kid .”

a pause, before virgil continues, “i feel like i should get you something—you want coffee, on the house? that’s about the most i can do right now, i don’t have champagne or anything.”

“with mayonnaise and orange soda, remember.”

patton nearly pukes. god, he hopes he means all of that separately.

“how could i possibly forget, you absolute freak of nature,” virgil says, and he sounds fond. “i’ll be right back.”

a brief pause as virgil vanishes into the kitchen.

“fuck you,” silas says.

“aw, honeyface, you say the nicest things,” remus says, “i know you’re straight, you know i’m gay, but even i have to draw a line at fucking the tedious big brothers of my friends. i mean, look at you. you’re just too vanilla for me, sweetiebear, you couldn’t handle all this without your mind melting out of your ears like jell-o with fruit inside.”

patton’s nose wrinkles at that mental picture. ick.

“you know what i mean, you psychopath,” silas says. “stay away from my brother.”

“oh, but he wants me here, si,” remus says.

“don’t call me that.”

“—i mean, at least i’m his friend, you couldn’t get along with virgil if your life depended on it,” remus says, almost amused. “doesn’t that just frustrate you, si? don’t you want to put those big, strong hands of yours around his neck and choke him, you get so angry?”

“shut up,” silas snarls.

“you can tell me to shut up all you like, but i never will,” remus says, grinning, and he definitely looks more than slightly deranged. “i know you’ve thought about it, si, you must have, or are you forgetting those times he’d show up to me with a bloody nose and i’d come up with a plan?”

“we were—we were fucking kids, that’s not—“

“oh, it’s not the same,” remus simpers. “it’s not the same, anymore, of course it’s not, you’re both big boys, i bet your brain has gone into those big boy scenarios. what do you think would work best?”

patton shrinks further and further behind the doorway, a mounting sense of horror growing with remus’ every word.

“knife, do you think? it’d be ironic if you killed him in his own diner, with his own knife. or maybe you just nudge him the wrong way and he trips on down the stairs and just a tiny little broken bone in exactly the right place, that’s all it would take. or—“

“i’m not killing my brother,” silas says. “i want you to stay the fuck away from him.”

“oh, of course not you’re not killing your brother, si,” remus says. “but i bet you want to kill me. that’d keep me away for a very... long... time , wouldn’t it?”

a silence looms, so great and so dense that even patton, who isn’t even involved in the conversation, feels like he’s being crushed under the weight of it. patton holds his breath, and clings to logan, praying that he doesn’t wake up and start crying and draw attention to where patton is hidden away, where he can see virgil emerging from the kitchen.

virgil pauses, a gently steaming to-go cup in his hand, and surveys the room, where silas stands with shaking fists and remus lounges indolently at the counter. he surveys them for one moment. two.

“sorry, remus,” virgil says quietly, breaking the silence, but not the tension. “i think you better go. but it’s, um. bottom of the pot, near-burned stuff. just like you like it.”

“right, right, closing and then yelling at your brother, i get it,” remus says, swiping the to-go cup and taking an experimental sip and sighing exaggeratedly. “you’re good to me, v. it’s absolutely horrific. merry christmas, happy hanukkah, jocund kwanzaa, mirthful yule, blithe saturnalia, all that jazz. i’ll sacrifice a goat for you.”

“even after all these years, i can never tell if you’re joking,” virgil says.

“and,” remus says, with a doff of his cap before he puts it on, just as crooked as before, “you never shall. ta-ta, honeyface, bye, shmoopsie-pudding, call me up if you ever want death via hookup!”

he jumps in the air, clicks his heels, and twirls his way out the door.

well , patton thinks. that’s certainly a first impression.

and there’s that silence again, before—

“what the fuck is he doing here.”

“you heard him, silas, he’s gonna have a kid,” virgil says, sounding exhausted. “he wanted to tell me.”

“does he come around often?”

“yeah, shocker, he comes to one of three places to eat in town sometimes,” virgil says. “leave it.”

“am i supposed to leave it when you start breaking windows at doose’s grocery again?” silas retorts, and patton blinks.

virgil’s jaw works, for a few seconds, before he says, “remus is my friend. did we do dumb shit? yeah, we did. is it any of your business? no, so—”

“it’s my business, you’re my brother,” silas snaps. “this was mom and dad’s diner, i’m not going to let you ruin it—“

“i’m not going to fucking ruin it, i’ve been running it just fine on my own—“

“—if you keep talking with him, you are going to ruin it, you ruin everything,” silas bites out.

virgil removes the towel on his shoulder and throws it down on the counter furiously. “i didn’t realize we were seven again, si—”

“don’t call me—”

“—i’m running the diner well, it’s going fine, and just because you’re bitter that i happen to like my job and you hate yours—”

“—you’re going to ruin it, like you ruined mom and dad when you were acting like you did with him—”

“i did not ruin mom and dad,” virgil says sharply. “do they seem ruined, to you?”

“—they were worried about you all the fucking time, because they knew when you’d get home you’d have some other shit that you got into because you just surround yourself with bad people—“

“—you included, apparently,” virgil mutters, not quite under his breath.

“and that kid that’s coming to christmas now?”

virgil tenses; patton draws back further into the shadows, praying and praying and praying that logan will stay asleep.

“what’s his fucking deal, then?” silas snaps. “how old is he, fifteen, and he’s got a baby? i mean, jesus christ, could he not stop to think for five seconds?”

patton swallows, hard, staring at his own feet.

“shut up, silas.”

“what, is he like, the teenage version of remus, now? god, poor kid. poor remus’ kid, seriously, there should be a ban on people like that procreating—“

“i said,” virgil says, looking angrier than patton’s ever seen him, “shut the fuck up, silas. he’s a good kid, he needs help, what kind of shit are you going through to push your issues with remus onto him ?”

“i mean, seriously,” silas says. “where are his fucking parents? did they kick him out because he was too weird, like remus’ should have, or is he just running from town to town, because his parents saw through all of that and he didn’t want to face—“

“get the fuck out.”

silas stops. “what did you just say?”

“i said,” virgil says, “get the fuck out, silas.”

“you can’t do that,” silas says, “you aren’t the boss of me.”

“no, maybe not,” virgil says. “but i’m the boss of here. it’s my name on the building and the lease, so it’s pretty within my rights to tell you to get the fuck out.”

silas hesitates.

“do you need me to come out from behind here and throw you out?” virgil barks, and silas sneers, grabbing his coat and throwing it on, before walking out with a much angrier jangle of the bell, and the slam of the door.

virgil plants his hands flat on the counter and bows his head, taking a deep breath in, holding it, and letting it out. again. again.

“i know you’re there, patton,” he calls wearily, and patton flinches. 

“i’m not mad at you,” virgil continues. “you can come out, it’s okay.”

patton chews his lip, before, sheepishly, he shuffles out into the diner.

“how much of that did you hear?”

patton chews his lip more, shifts his hold on logan. “...snippets.”

“all of it, then,” virgil says, and patton sighs.

“just from, um. the man—remus?—coming in.”

“okay, yeah, all of it,” virgil says, and rubs a hand over his eyes. “ shit. i was hoping si wouldn’t do that this year, i thought distance would help. i’m sorry he dragged you into it.”

“i mean, it’s—“ patton says, and he frowns. “i mean, it isn’t okay, but—“

“yeah, it’s not okay,” virgil says. “christ, i’m so sorry.”

“it’s not your fault,” patton says.

“i mean, seriously, him assuming stuff about your situation was so not okay, on so many levels, and i just—“

“it’s not your fault,” patton repeats, because he really doesn’t want to think about it. 

“i just—“ virgil rubs a hand over his eyes. “ god. silas has always hated remus, and, i mean, the rest of my family didn’t like him but at least they were polite about it, and—”

“why?”

“why what?”

“why didn’t they like remus,” patton elaborates.

virgil hesitates, before he sighs, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “it’s kind of a long story.”

“i mean,” patton says, and tugs over the baby carrier before he settles logan inside, “we’re friends, right? friends can tell each other long stories.”

virgil hesitates, surveying his face, before he sighs. “yeah, all right. you should probably know in case it comes up tomorrow slash on christmas, anyway.”

patton hops up onto the barstool, eager to leave the part of silas and virgil’s argument about him and his situation behind.

“uh, well,” virgil says. “god, okay. um. so, you know i have anxiety.”

“right.”

“i wasn’t—“ he sighs, runs his hand through his hair. “i wasn’t in the best place, i guess, i was... i was lashing out a lot, or isolating myself, and my parents are saints, you know, but i mean—i don’t blame them for kind of losing it with me, sometimes? they had five kids, and the diner, and me saying rude sh—stuff, right, the baby, sorry—me saying rude stuff and refusing to make peace and just ignoring them every day couldn’t have been easy, you know?

“so, to make a long story a little shorter, i ended up kind of... identifying with outsiders, you know? and there’s no bigger outsider in sideshire than remus duke, so that’s who i hung out with. he’s older than me, by a few years, but he never—i mean, he never held that over my head, like silas did sometimes, and i’d tell him things, and he never really seemed to judge me for it. 

“he was... well, you saw him, you heard him. he’s a strange guy. and sure, sometimes the stuff remus would do would scare me, but—but he was a good guy, deep down, you know? he helped me. the whole, like, being an outsider thing, and then kind of waking up to everything that i could do that would be way worse than, say, running a diner, it helped, in a really weird way, but—but i did some stupid stuff.”

“you were like me,” patton realizes quietly.

“not exactly,” virgil hedges. “i walked the line of juvenile detention a lot more than you, tagging and graffiti and egging houses and that kind of thing, but—but yeah. i can sympathize with doing stuff that might not be the best for you when you’re a hurting teenager.” 

there’s a pause, before virgil clears his throat and says, “anyway. it's not like silas and remus ever got along, but it got way worse after i became friends with him, i think silas got it into his head that remus was influencing me, or peer-pressuring me, or that i’m just a bad person instead of someone who made some mistakes, and he’s just held a grudge about it since. so.”

patton has the feeling he’s getting the shortest possible version of the story, with almost all the details cut out, but. he thinks he gets it. 

“and now your family doesn’t like him because... because you did that stuff?”

“yeah, essentially,” virgil says. “or, well. they think i’ve grown up, and they think remus hasn’t.”

well—patton doesn’t think they’re wrong. goading silas while virgil’s outside of earshot didn’t seem like the most mature thing to do, but.

“i think i get it,” patton says. “i mean—you aren’t doing stupid stuff now, so. it’s not a crime to be friendly with someone.”

“yeah, exactly,” virgil says. “ exactly. remus is a good enough guy when you get to know him, when his kid’s born i could introduce you and logan, since i guess they’d be in the same grade, and i just— god , silas is such a word i can’t say in front of the baby sometimes, you know?”

patton nods, and it’s like it sets loose the floodgates. virgil rants about silas (”mom and dad say it’s because we’re both too alike, but god , the things he says sometimes i’d never even dream of saying to a person’s face, you know?”) and the various arguments they’ve had over the years, and how virgil gets along with his siblings, most of the time, but there’s just something about silas that’s always gotten under his skin, and vice versa, and silas had always been a bit more sporty than he had and so when virgil hit his growth spurt late it almost seemed like silas was disappointed they couldn’t get away with “childish rough-housing” anymore, and silas didn’t like his job, everyone in the family knew that, but seriously if it was getting this bad to the point where he’s being this mean (well, virgil said a different word, and then said, “sorry, right, the baby, sorry!”) then it may well have been worth it just to quit, even if there wasn’t a paycheck waiting for him, and virgil loves him because he’s his brother but if they weren’t brothers, virgil really doesn’t know how he’d feel about him, he really doesn’t, and—

“god, patton, i’m sorry,” virgil says. “i’m so sorry.”

patton blinks. “sorry for what?”

“well, for dumping all of this on you, and it’s so late, and you’re—y’know, you’re having a rough time as is, i shouldn’t be adding to that by—“

“virgil, stop,” patton says quietly. “i mean—i’m kind of glad that you’re ranting like this.”

virgil stops. “you are?”

“yeah,” patton says. “i mean, i—i dunno, this might be weird, but everyone’s been treating me so nice. which isn’t bad, of course it isn’t, but hearing about someone else’s problems and being talked to about them, it—it makes me feel more like a person and less like a charity case, you know?”

virgil considers this.

“i don’t know, maybe it’s weird, and it’s just a me thing,” patton says quickly, looking off to the side, away from that contemplative gaze.

“no, no, i think i get it,” virgil says. “it’s... taking your mind off things. letting you focus on something else.”

patton lets out a breath of relief. “yeah. yeah, exactly.”

“and there’s a lot to keep your mind off of,” virgil says, and patton looks down, guilty, chewing his lip.

“what?” virgil says.

“i just—” patton chews his lip. “no, it’s not your problem. i should be able to handle it just fine.”

“i,” virgil begins, looking concerned, before he says, “you’re sure?”

“yeah, i’m—i’m sure,” patton says. he’s trying to figure out if he wants to be emancipated or not. that kind of shows that he should be independent, right? he shouldn’t go around putting all of his problems on other people. they’re his problems.

“okay,” virgil says. “just—this whole ranting to each other thing is a two-way street, you know.”

“one you haven’t crossed until tonight,” patton says, and leans to pick up logan. “no, it’ll be okay. i should probably get back to the inn anyways, it’s late.”

“do you want me to walk you back?”

“no, no, that’s okay,” patton says. “um. thanks for dinner and stuff tonight, and—and for the whole family christmas thing tomorrow. i’m looking forward to it.”

“well,” virgil says. “good. i’m glad. and i’ll try to have a word with silas about not being a jerk to you.”

“i appreciate it,” patton says, walking slowly back to the door. “um. night, v.”

“night, pat. night, logan,” he adds, and patton opens the door and lets it shut behind him.

where are his fucking parents? did they kick him out because he was too weird, like remus’ should have, or is he just running from town to town, because his parents saw through all of that and he didn’t want to face—

god, patton, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, for dumping all of this on you, and it’s so late, and you’re—y’know, you’re having a rough time as is, i shouldn’t be adding to that by—

and there’s a lot to keep your mind off of.

there is. there is a lot to keep his mind off of. he has a colicky infant. even with a paycheck, patton’s funds are rapidly depleting and he should have started paying attention to his finances sooner. he broke up with his boyfriend (?) his childhood best friend, the closest thing he thinks he’s ever had to love (he loved christopher, he loves him, and now—) he ran away. his emancipation. his parents’ reaction to both of those things. seeing his parents again. will he see his parents again? what’s he going to do about school? what’s he going to be about logan’s school? his body is an absolute nightmare of dysphoria—he can’t bind down his chest for at least four more months, if not longer, and he knows that feeding logan is supposed to be a time for bonding but patton can hardly bring himself to look most of the time, tries to do it in the dark when he can, and his bodyweight is all out of whack and his appetite comes and goes and he’s only just stopped bleeding and thank goodness it’s done now but god, no one had warned him that he’d be bleeding for so long after giving birth. he’s achy and exhausted and sometimes when logan starts crying and keeps crying in the middle of the night patton will cry right with him, sobbing even as he tries to bounce logan into calming down, and—

—and there’s a lot to keep his mind off of. but virgil—god, not for one second, not for one second was virgil one of the things he was worried about hurting him. he never would be. the rest of his life, though...

he wonders, bleakly, how many minutes of sleep he’ll get tonight between the colicky baby and the stomach-churning guilt.

[fanfictionisliteraturetoo]

A Supernatural Christmas Carol (Chapter 3)

Chapter 2

Series Summary: After a rough year, the reader is having a hard time doing anything besides work. When Dean encourages the reader to celebrate Christmas with Sam and him, the reader declines. After their disagreement, the reader retreats to her room. Throughout the night the reader is visited by four unexpected visitors. Will these visitors be able to help her have a change of heart before it’s too late?

Chapter Three Summary: The reader is visited by the Ghost of Christmas Present. What he shows the reader causes conflicting feelings in their heart.

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Mild Angst

Word Count: 2,050+

A/N: Clearly I’m a little behind. I got sick yesterday, and while I was trying to finish this part I was falling asleep sitting up. I still need to post two chapters after this one before the end of Christmas Day. So be prepared for a lot of fanfiction for Christmas! Anyway, this is loosely based on A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. I will be writing five chapters to follow the format of the book. Wish me luck. Merry Christmas and Enjoy!

Remarkably my deep sleep got interrupted somehow. I sat up straight unsure as to why I was suddenly awake. Between my sister and the glowing ghost, my mind was reeling. Just as I sat up my phone began to go off once again. This felt like the final straw. I had turned the phone off. In no way should it be able to make sound or light up my bedroom. I turned it off once again and waited for the next messenger my sister spoke of. Where they would come from, I had no idea, but I wasn’t going to lay down and wait for them to arrive. This time I was ready.

Almost an entire hour passed waiting for the next visitor, but no one showed up. This unnerved me. I was just starting to feel like I understood how this worked. Had they decided to leave me alone? I couldn’t be sure. I reached over to my bedside table and opened the drawer. I started fumbling around searching for my watch. Once I grabbed hold of it I noticed a light begin to peak out from my closet door. It was different from the previous spirit’s light. This light appeared more like a warm and crackling fire. It danced quietly beneath the door as if it was beckoning me closer. I got up quietly, and tiptoed to the door. The moment I placed my hand on the doorknob, I heard a voice call out to me.

“Come in (Y/N),” the voice invited. I complied and opened the door.

When I looked inside it was no longer my closet. It opened up into a mirror copy of my bedroom. I looked behind me to find black nothingness, and quickly ran inside the room in front of me. I found that my room was greatly transformed from how I left it. Christmas lights were strung about the entire room, giving it a cheery glow. My desk and bedside table were covered in beautiful poinsettias, and a single mistletoe was hung just inside my door. Yet the thing that shocked me the most, was the comforting smell of pie and cookies that filled my room.

At my desk sat a joyful looking man in an evergreen bathrobe. Luckily, it was a nice bathrobe so nothing unseemly was exposed. He also wore a holly wreath on his head of dark brown curls. “Come in!” he exclaimed. “Come in and let’s have a chat!” I took a few steps towards him but wasn’t willing to go any closer. I didn’t want to travel anywhere else. My trip with the Ghost of Christmas Past was enough for me. The ghost in front of me seemed jovial, but looks can be deceiving so I kept my guard up. “I am the Ghost of Christmas Present, he said. “Come closer!” He waved me to approach him. Just like when my sister appeared to me, I went and sat on my bed across from my desk.

“So where are you going to take me? I’ve already visited enough memories. I learned that I haven’t been allowing myself to have any fun lately, let alone feel any happiness. Have you always been this joyful?” The spirit looked at me and stood up.

“Most certainly not. We all go through ups and downs in life. It took me many years of practice to discover how to be happy, even during the hard times. The most important thing I learned is to take care of your loved ones.” He answered my question about his demeanor, but ignored everything else. “Now come with me, we are not traveling far.” He stuck out his elbow and I linked my arm with his.

I followed him through my bedroom door, down the bunker hallway and into our main living space. We found Sam and Dean trying to set up a Christmas tree. I wasn’t sure where they got it but they had brought it in impressively quiet. Lights were already wrapped around the branches, and the Winchester’s were now placing ornaments on the tree. There was Christmas stuff spread all across the room. There was no way they planned this last minute. They must have been preparing this Christmas staycation for months.

“I’m going to grab us both a drink,” Sam huffed after placing a giant gold star on top of the tree.

“Alright” Dean replied, still focused on his work decorating the tree. The spirit lead me to the couch to sit down and watch.

Dean quickly went through the motions of decorating the tree. I knew Dean well enough to know that he should be enjoying this moment much more than he was. He seemed deeply troubled, probably thanks to our argument earlier. Sam came in a few minutes later with two glasses of eggnog.

“I made it extra strong for you.” Sam mentioned as he handed Dean his cup.

“Thanks” Dean replied, tapping Sam's glass with his before taking a sip. Sam got back to work, and began hanging garland around the room.

“Dean we need to talk about what happened today with (Y/N).” Sam suggested, looking over his shoulder at his brother.

“Sam I don’t even know anymore. We’ve been trying all year to find a way to help her, but nothing is working. It seems like every time we try, the more closed off she becomes.” With that Dean began to put the tree skirt down around the tree.

“True, but both you and I know that some of the burdens we carry take a long time to overcome. In the end family is what helped us through all of that. There’s got to be something we can do for her to at least help her start to feel better.” Sam was like a brother to me, but he didn’t know my mind like Dean did. He knew if anyone could tell what I was thinking it would be his older brother.

Dean sat down on the floor and meticulously placed presents around the tree. One in particular stood out to him. He picked up a thin, medium-length box off the table and weighed it in his hands. I watched as a single tear fell from his face. Once that happened Dean quickly set the present under the tree, wiped his face, and grabbed for his eggnog. I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Sam had been watching Dean from the corner of his eye.

“Dean…” Sam started, before Dean sharply cut him off.

“Sammy I don’t think she thinks of us at family anymore. The whole reason we planned this big Christmas is because years ago (Y/N) mentioned she wanted to stay home for Christmas one year. We haven’t been able to do that until now. It feels like it’s too late. I failed her.” Sam hung the last piece of garland and then joined Dean on the floor. Dean continued, “I am so scared of losing her….her leg is almost healed up enough that she can go hunting again. The look in her eyes lately scares me. I know she is going to throw herself into it too hard and get hurt again, or worse, killed.”

“Yeah you two are similar in that way.” Sam said raising his eyebrows before taking a sip of his eggnog. Dean looked at him annoyed.

“Very funny Sam.” Dean grunted.

“Listen Dean you and (Y/N) are more alike than you want to admit.” Dean rolled his eyes at this. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Sam laughed. “But on a serious note, if anyone can pull her out of a funk, it’s you.”

“I hope so,” Dean placed the last gift under the tree. “I don’t know what I would do without her…” Dean mentioned before standing up and chugging the rest of his eggnog. Sam stood up, but he left his eggnog on the table. Sam grabbed Dean into a bear hug, surprising Dean at first, but eventually Dean joined in.

“She’ll come around Dean.” Sam reassured, patting Dean’s back. The embrace was short but sweet. Sam let go first and started to clean up.

“Will you be alright if I head to bed?” Dean asked.

“Sure thing, I’ve still got to finish my eggnog. Rest up. We’ll hatch up a new game plan tomorrow.”

“Merry Christmas Sammy”

“Merry Christmas Dean.”

I watched Dean for as long as I could before he disappeared down the hallway. Then I turned and watched Sam slowly sip his eggnog as he inspected all the decorating they did. The ghost got up off the couch and offered me his arm again.

“It’s time to go” He instructed. Once I took hold of arm we traveled even faster than I had with the Ghost of Christmas Past. We first landed in a familiar town, Sioux Falls.

Not only were we in Sioux Falls, but we landed in front of Jody’s house. The ghost led me inside to find Jody sitting in her living room, staring at her Christmas tree. She picked up her phone and dialed a number. The phone rang twice before someone picked it up.

“Hey Donna….Yes I’m ready for Christmas….supposedly they’re all in bed….are you still coming over tomorrow?” I couldn’t hear Donna’s replies but from what Jody was saying I had a pretty good idea of what they were discussing. Then they caught me off guard when Jody said, “Did you get a call from Dean today?” I didn’t know Dean called Jody and possibly Donna. “Yeah we definitely need to have her out her for a girls’ day. She’s been working herself way too hard.” The conversation lasted a few minutes more before Jody wished Donna a Merry Christmas and ended the call.

The ghost then led me outside away from Jody’s house. I felt strange. My heart was being exposed to all sorts of pain this evening. However, the strangest part of the evening wasn’t the pain. For the first time in a year, I was feeling something lighter and brighter. Hope. Even though I felt bad for causing my loved ones heartache, listening to them with the assistance of these spirits, was somehow helping my shoulders feel less heavy. I realized that I had some important people in my life who truly cared for me. It was time for me to start spending more time with them so that I could support them in the way they support me.

The spirit continued to take me to familiar and unfamiliar places. He showed me all kinds of families preparing for the holidays. Many of them were putting their insecurities, disappointments, and sadness aside so that they could make memories with their loved ones. These visits filled my heart continually with joy and sorrow. The more we saw, the more I thought about how I spent my year, and what I could do to improve upon it.

We finally arrived back at the bunker, if you could call it that. We were technically in the woods next to the bunker. The spirit looked at me with his jolly eyes. “Balance is the key to everything. Don’t allow work and pain to overcome your life. You have plenty to give and plenty to receive. Listen to your heart, for it will tell you what is right.”

“How can I make sure I do this?” I inquired.

“The answer can be found with you. This whole time you’ve been hiding from who and what you are. Embrace that and you will find the answer.” He finished speaking as a large gust of wind came blowing through. I closed my eyes and shivered. When I opened my eyes again the Ghost of Christmas Present was gone. I was now alone in the chill and fog of the woods. The words of my sister echoed again in my mind.

“If you do not listen to them, you will never be able to overcome the challenges that lie ahead.” Once that line ran through my head I felt a chill on the back of my neck. I turned slowly to see a large figure in a black cloak. I could not tell what or who it was, due to the dense shadows of the forest. It glided across the ground until it was standing across from me, face to face.

TAGS: @spnfamily-j2​

[7deadlycinderellas]

The Maiden of the Sea, 4/5

Ao3 link

When the girls are four and a half years old, Sansa manages to find the time to take a ship from White Harbour for a visit. 

Ely, the girls’ nurse, looks confused. 

“If your sister’s Queen in the North, why do you live all the way down here? Should I do my hair fancy or something?”

Arya shakes her head. Ely’s sixteen year old with crinkly red hair and a face full of freckles. She doesn’t generally go for fancy, which is good when your job is keeping track of a pair of very active children.

“If she makes a single comment about your hair, I’ll pull hers.”

Not that she really plans on being childish to Sansa. She has missed her terribly. Her letters have been a bit cryptic, and part of Arya is anxious to see her sister’s reaction to her current life. 

“Just try and make sure the girls are clean, and please try and stop them from pinching each other too much.”

Ely nods, and Arya leaves, knowing the twins are in capable hands. Ely has six siblings and can wrangle even the fastest toddler. 

She then goes to retrieve Gendry from their solar. He’s at the table with his head in his hands. 

Arya reaches out and tugs him by them. 

“Come on, it’s time. They announced the arrival at the gate five minutes ago.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

Ely meets them in the courtyard, dragging a child by each hand. Lyra and Lysa are both in neat dresses, their hair tied in ribbons. Lysa fidgets, while Lyra quietly drops Ely’s hand to cling to her father’s. 

The ride from Weeping Town isn’t very long, and by the time the riders enter, Sansa is still immaculate upon her mount. 

She looks diminished, without her northern furs, but no less regal than Arya remembers. Her gown is a deep gray damask, the bodice with an overlay of black lace, making her complexion look even paler. 

Gendry had reluctantly put on his best leathers and a doublet of dark blue. It lets him maintain some dignity, even if he must look his station.

Arya had asked the seamstress in Weeping Town who had made her wedding clothes to make her a few similar ones out of linen or wool. They’re easier to care for, but beautifully embroidered, and excellent for when Arya wants to impress someone, or needs to make an impression.

Lysa’s still fidgeting, so Arya grabs her and hoists her up into her arms as the Queen in the North dismounts her horse and is welcomed 

With a squirming child in her arms, Arya manages a curtsy even worse than the ones from her childhood.

“Your grace,” she greets her, with a heavy note of sarcasm in her voice. 

A smile bursts onto Sansa’s face, and Arya finds herself filling up with glee.

Lyra looks up from where she holds her father’s hand and asks, in her quiet, even voice. 

“Are you really a queen?”

Lysa pauses her squirming to add,

“If you’re a queen, where’s your crown?”

That makes Sansa smile. “I am indeed, I am queen of all of the North. And I left my crown at home, I thought it might fall off when I was on the boat.”

Lysa looks disappointed, but stays quiet, so Arya gestures over her shoulder. 

“Come on, it’s dinner time anyway.”

Dinner is fancier than Arya would have liked, but Merope insisted that she wouldn’t have a queen going back home speaking modestly of her cooking. 

Sansa watches quietly as Lysa and Lyra get up and look expectantly at their mother.

“Go ahead, but stay in the yard,” Arya tells them, and they vacate the Round Hall. 

She hears Sansa quietly ask Gendry, “How do you tell them apart?”

Gendry nods at the bits of twine they wear tied as bracelets around their wrists. 

“Lyra wears hers on her right arm, Lysa on her left. You can remember because Lyra has an ‘r’ in it.”

“And after knowing them a little while, you don’t really need it,” Arya adds. 

After the meal is done, Sansa asks her to see her to the Godswood.  

They pass Lysa and Lyra playing at swords with wooden sticks. Tris sits off to one side, and Arya suddenly hears him say,  

“Why do I have to be the princess?”

“Cause you have the prettiest hair.”

“I wanna be the dragon.’

Arya snorts. Tris does have very pretty hair, thick and blonde and curly. And even though they’re not a month apart, both girls are taller than him already.

They’ve just passed into the Godswood when Sansa suddenly says, 

“Seeing them before, I could have sworn it was me and you.”

Arya smiles and laughs. 

“They do fight like cats and dogs. But that aside, they’re not really much like us at all.”

They’ve reached the pool, and Arya gestures for Sansa to sit down next to her. It’s sunny somehow, even this late in the day, and it’s like the rare quiet afternoons when they were young. 

She tells Sansa about how Lysa spoke first of the twins, and how after, it seemed like Lyra was mostly content with letting her sister do the talking. How Lysa announced to all of them a few weeks ago that she planned to run away and become a mummer. 

“And Lyra seems quiet, but that’s not always accurate. A few moons ago one of the guard’s sons called Tris a dirty bastard. Lyra lashed out and grabbed him by the arm and squeezed, and wouldn’t let him go until he said he was sorry. I saw the boy after, she left bruises on him.”

That was definitely one of the signs that Lyra was closer to following after her father rather than Arya, no matter what Gendry said.

Sansa’s looking at her funny,

“What?”

“You’re happy.”

Arya feels a noise escape her throat. Hearing it put so simply is strange, foreign. 

“I am, truly.”

Sansa looks away and tilts her face up towards the sun. 

“I wonder what Mother and Father would think. That after all these years...that I would be the sole ruler of Winterfell, running an independent North, and you would be happily married with children.”

“We each got what the other wanted.”

They both chuckle, because they know it’s only superficially true. 

“I didn’t know what to think...you left so suddenly before, and then three years later I get a letter that you’re marrying a man that I thought you barely knew.”

Arya smiles. Explaining everything in letters had been a daunting task. Explaining that she’d chosen to come back to Westeros. Explaining that she was marrying, that she was marrying the same man she’d taken to bed before the Long Night. Explaining that she had, in fact, known him for years. 

“Everyday’s different,” Arya muses, “But I adjust. I come and go, like the tides.”

She pauses before her next words, 

“What about you Sansa, are you happy?”

Sansa chuckles, 

“I wonder if anyone has ever asked a queen that question before...my home is safe, my people are safe. I know where everyone left in my family is, and that they are alive. That’s more than I could have hoped for for most of my girlhood. Of course...there’s still the question of the future.”

She takes a glance at Arya, and she feels it cut like it often did when the two were children.

“I suppose it isn’t the best time to bring up the question of succession.”

Arya sticks up her nose at the question. No it is not the right time. As much as it pleased her that thanks to one of Bran’s rulings, she no longer had to pay heed to anyone giving them condolences and asking when they were trying again for a boy.

“I don’t even remember which one came out first. I can’t answer questions about which one will inherit before they can even write their names.”

It��s also unspoken that neither her nor Gendry will be mentioning the word betrothal until they’re old enough to say if they want it for themselves.

“Why are you heading to King’s Landing so early? The next small council meeting isn’t until early next year?”

She has been wondering. Gendry and her have to make the journey too, but they had been planning to take this long go round of the Stormlands proper for a while, and Sansa showing up right before they’re set to leave seemed fortuitous. 

Sansa sighs, 

“I spend so much time wondering about Bran. About how he even ended up where he is...and I just wish I could be there for him more.”

Arya suddenly wonders if Bran has confided in Sansa half of what he has in her. She did have the dream where he was a porpoise after all, as bizarre as it had been. 

“I’m sure it will be good for him to see you again,” she assures Sansa. She then stands. 

“I best be getting off to bed.”

“I think I’ll stay out here for a while.”

Arya nods, 

“You can get to the guest rooms alright?”

Sansa nods in understanding, and Arya leaves the Godswood. 

She bumps into Ely on her way back to her chambers. 

“Both girls are in bed milady, if not asleep. Too excited.”

Arya nods, she’ll check in on them in a minute.

“Are you Ely? Excited?”

The younger girl nods. 

“I’ve never been more than a mile or two from Weeping Town before! It will be like going on an adventure.”

They really lucked out finding her, Arya, thinks, as she creeps quiet as a mouse to peek in on her daughters. 

It had surprised her and Gendry when they had offered to get them seperate beds, that they hadn’t wanted them. Arya remembers hating sharing a bed with Sansa when they were small, and had thought Lyra and Lysa would be the same.

But no matter how they were at each other’s throats throughout the day, at night they would curl up together in their little bed. Right now they were both on their bellies, Lyra’s arm slung over Lysa’s head and Lysa tucked into her side. 

Though Arya suspects they’re just pretending to be asleep, she shuts their door and leaves. 

Gendry’s already stretched out on the bed when she comes in and begins changing for bed. 

“Everyone ready to go in the morning?”

Arya nods, 

“Why exactly are we going towards Bronzegate first? Tarth is closer.”

Arya laughs at the petulance in his tone. 

“Because we like Tarth, it will make getting through all the other houses and keeps easier if we get to go there at the end.”

Gendry rolls back the covers to let her slip in. When she’s settled, he leans over and starts planting kisses on her chin. 

When his hands make for the ties at the top of her small clothes, she hates having to stop him. 

“Moon’s blood remember? Day or two left.”

Gendry actually pouts. 

“Never thought you of all people would be squeamish about that.”

“I’m not squeamish,” That’s putting it mildly, the first time she’d gotten her moon’s blood after the twins were born, she’d dragged him out of bed in the middle of the night, gone to the Godswood, gone on all fours and told him to make her howl at the moon.

“I just don’t want to make a mess someone else has to clean up. And Sansa’s still in the Godswood.”

When she notes his lip is still stuck out, so she lets her hands drift downward. 

“Want me to take care of you?”

Gendry pushes her hand away and starts working at his own laces. 

“S’okay, I can do it. I’ll pay you back on the road. All those bushes and caves and little groups of trees…”

“All there to district Lysa and Lyra from their unknowing quest to remain only children.”

Gendry laughs as he takes his cock in hand. Arya curls up under his other arm, nose pressed in his neck, inhaling the hint of smoke still on his skin. She likes watching him do this, especially when she can turn her head and try and see what he sees. She loves stroking his hair and sucking his ear lobe and running her fingers over the taut muscles in his chest and stomach as he works himself over. 

He comes in a spurt across his stomach and Arya retrieves a rag from the basin to wipe him off. 

“Try and focus on this,” she tells him, “Instead of the days and days of horse riding and listening to old lords talk about themselves that are ahead of us.”

The next morning, both parties pack up their horses and take off down the road. Sansa’s group splits off and takes the Kingsroad on it’s way to King’s Landing. She stops to hug Arya at the fork in the road, and the twins wave and yell out behind her until the party is well out of the line of sight.

The foal that Selwyn had sent for the twins as a baby is now a squat, gray mare named Thistle. She moved at a placid pace regardless of whether she was unburdened, carrying one twin, two, or both and Ely, though both the twins did their best to be good enough on her back to not need Ely plunking herself behind them to make them behave.

Arya giggles to herself whenever she sees Gendry bouncing uncomfortably in his saddle. All the years, he still rides like a green boy. 

The first night they’re eating supper after setting up camp, Lysa comes up to the two of them and asks, 

“Why do we have to go to all these places?”

Arya smiles, and puts her piece of bread down in her mug of broth. She pulls Lysa into her lap. Both girls are tall for their age, but slender, and Lysa’s head nearly hits her mother’s chin. 

“All of the houses in this land are sworn to me and your father. They serve us, and we have to keep them safe. It’s our responsibility, and someday, it will be yours or your sister’s. So you have to know the land, know it’s people.”

Gendry lets her talk, nodding along with her answer. 

Her answer seems to satisfy Lysa, so Arya lets her mind wander. She spies out of the corner of her eye Lyra sneak up and offer Gendry a flower she picked, and she feels her heart twinge. 

It doesn’t take long to reach Bronzegate, seat of House Buckler. 

The castle rises out of a crag, somehow seeming much more imposing than Storm’s End. Both of the girls are struck dumb by it. Gendry just takes a look, sighs, and says, 

“I’d forgotten how big a pain it was to get up there.”

Bronzegate, and by extension, Lord Ralph Buckler, are exactly what Arya has come to expect from highborns. Gracious, proper, and exacting in their manners. 

And so ungodly boring. 

Lysa and Lyra are both in awe of the grandness of the keep. Storm’s End, after years of neglect, has been left rather modest by comparison. The two of them, and Ely, get to be led around and told the history of the whole keep. 

Whereas the Lord and Lady of all of the Stormlands get to be bored out of their skulls, sitting in too-soft chairs around a too-big table while the near elderly Lord Buckler goes on and on about the going-ons of all of his extended family members who still remain in the area of Bronzegate, who’s gotten married, who’s been knighted. And he’s got a lot of them. 

It’s no wonder that by the second day of these discussions, Arya begins slipping one foot out of her boot during and starts running her toes up one of Gendry’s legs. 

(“You.” he says, punctuating his sentence with a hard kiss, “Are a goddamn horrible tease.”

He’s got her pressed up against a column in an dark, empty hallway after they’ve been left to their own devices. He’s already got one hand down her breeches, and she’s not exactly seeing the downside.

“Oh don’t pretend like you were listening in the first place,” Arya replies, as she wiggles and tries to help him get her breeches unlaced.)

And so the next time, her hand wanders straight for his lap instead. 

It’s halfway through the third day that Gendry finally snaps, and tells Lord Buckler to ride through the village and show him exactly how the tax cuts that had been put in over five years ago were working out. 

After a moment, Lord Buckler nods, and calls for someone to have his horse saddled. Gendry ends up quite pleased by what he sees, farmers who can keep their homes in good upkeep, and a village where everyone seems to have an occupation.

“See?” Arya tells him later that night, “Sometimes it’s better to just get straight to the point.”

She speaks with confidence, but Arya leaves Bronzegate feeling like the same wild, out of place child that she spent most of her childhood as. 

The area on this side of the Stormlands doesn’t have much, just a lot of villages with big swaths of empty land between them. Low hills and sharp peaks, without even very many trees. The journey through this is uninteresting. 

“I thought it would be more like after we escaped Harranhal. Like freedom” Gendry admits one night, in their tent. 

“It was just us and Hot Pie then though, we didn’t have all these people or responsibilities. “

Namely, the two young girls sleeping spread out right next to their parents. The two of them are having a grand time on the journey. Every day there are trees to climb, caves to dig into, a new animal they’ve never seen, and endless stories from nearly all of the men, as the guards from Storm’s End came from all over the Stormlands. 

Even if it also came with the discovery that quiet, good natured Lyra was as voracious a climber as her uncle Bran had been as a child. Great, now both of them had the abilities to give their parents heart attacks. 

They reach the foothills of the red mountains, and with them, they pass the ruins of Summerhall. 

Even Lysa grows quiet, seeing the ruins of the huge, burned castle, with the wild trying it’s best to grow over the corpse. Arya hears Ely’s whispering voice telling the girls the story of the Tragedy at Summerhall, and feels her chest ache, the darkness sneaking in with the memories of Harrenhal.  

Arya swears she can smell it burning, seeing the ruins. She can smell the fire and the ash and the clouds of smoke and heard the screaming-

“We should do something with it,” Gendry says gruffly, “It’s no good to anyone sitting there empty, and letting the stories of ghosts grow around it won’t do any good either.”

Arya nods. He’s right. Sitting empty, it could provide shelter to an army attempting to march on them, or on the Reach, or even King’s Landing. He’s right, but as they ride away, the darkness does not entirely recede. 

They make it to Blackhaven, seat of House Dondarrion. Arya feels her mind perk up. Their relationship had been complicated, but both her and Gendry still held some respect for the late Lightning Lord. 

In comparison to some of the keeps they’ve seen, it’s quite small and modest, though the bottomless moat does make one contemplate their own mortality, and any bandits from the mountains would have a very difficult time making it. 

And while the current holders of the seat are not like Beric at all, they do at least seem to share in Gendry and Arya’s grief. Of course, this happens in the midst of another long, dull discussion of court gossip, over another stupidly fancy table. 

Also unfortunately, the cousin who is currently the heir of Blackhaven, is seemingly also fond of having a certain sort of female company in his keep. 

Arya isn’t jealous when she sees the woman with the rich, red gown and the carefully curled hair lean rather obviously over Gendry’s chair and whisper in his ear. She knows he’s just embarrassed, even before she sees his face turn bright red, but seven hells if it doesn’t annoy her. 

Later that night, she flops onto the obnoxiously fancy bed in Blackhaven’s guest chambers, turns to Gendry while he’s still undressing and asks, 

“You sure you’re never going to get bored of me and start going off with painted whores?”

There’s a note of surprise on his face when he looks at her, and a bit of hurt that Arya feels come at her heart. She’s fishing for his words of affection, of commitement, and she knows it, but sometimes she needs to make him talk. 

He doesn’t say a thing before laying down beside her on the bed and pulling her over onto his chest. 

“Surprised you couldn’t hear her, how loud she was whispering bout ‘I’ll do that thing your wife would never’...”

Arya snorts despite herself. 

“Wouldn’t be specific either would she?”

He pushes a bit of her hair out of her face. 

“Wanted to draw me in with whatever I answered that with. Want to know something I learned the first time I trudged around this whole damn place?”

“That you hate highborn twats who have never lifted a sword against an enemy, yet have a thousand of them?”

He pauses. He’s used close to those exact words before. 

“Yes. But also, most highborn men I’ve met? They don’t like their wives. Not to say exactly, that they never found them attractive, or even loved them. They don’t like them.”

Arya frowns. She’s never quite heard it put that way. 

“Like, even if I suffered some horribly disfiguring accident that left me with no cock...or hands, or lips...you’d still want me around right?”

Arya frowns even harder, 

“How did you manage that one?”

Gendry rolls his eyes, 

“Just imagine it OK?”

She stops and thinks. She really can’t imagine not having him around. It makes every tiny part of her hurt. She even feels a tear threaten to drop. 

“Fine, I get it.”

Gendry rolls her over and kisses her neck and her shoulder, and lower. When he gets to her belly, he tells her,

“So quit worrying about me, whores, and their vaguely defined bedroom activities.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just, this whole trip ended up just making me feel insecure.”

Gendry snorts as his fingers begin to work at her smallclothes. 

“It’s not just you. Everyone we’ve met on this trip seems to want to do nothing more than talk about my father. About how great he was to hunt or feast with when they were younger, how great a warror he was. They never mention how shit a husband or a king he was.”

Arya is suddenly seized by the realization that what she’s just asked might have made it worse. She stills under him and reaches to pull him back up so she can look him in the face.

“You’re not your father. I’ve met him remember? He was old and fat, and while those can happen to the best of us, he also didn’t care about anyone anymore. Not his queen, or his oldest friend, or his subjects. That isn’t you. 

Anytime you need to be reminded of that, come find me and I’ll find a way.” 

Gendry lifts himself up on his elbows to look at her. 

“Shall we get revenge on them all by fucking loudly on their fancy bed?”

Arya pauses, in thought. She then moves to stand up. 

“I have a better idea. Lets sneak out and go fuck on their stupid fancy table instead.”

A slow smile erupts on Gendry’s face, and he stands and grabs her hand to pull her up.

“See what I mean? Seven hells, I like having you around so much.” 

Things get easier when they leave Blackhaven and head for the coast. Arya can tell where they are before they can even see it- she can smell the salt on the air, suddenly stronger. 

It brings her joy. She hadn’t realized how much the sea had become part of her, as much a part as the snow and forests of the north were.

And not just her. 

When the first bit of the ocean comes into view, Lysa and Lyra immediately drop their quarrel over who’s taller (Ely had even brought over a book to show them they were exactly the same height right now). Lyra climbs onto a rock to peer into the water and prepare to dive if the water is deep enough. Lysa simply bellows and rushes into the choppy waves at the coastline. 

They’ve both got Tully fish in their blood, Arya muses, that and they’ve lived by the water their entire lives. 

There are more stops to be had along the coast of the Sea of Dorne, but getting through them is easier on both Gendry and Arya. Ely takes Lysa and Lyra out to swim most days, in waters that far are calmer than Shipbreaker’s Bay is for most of the year. Arya joins them when she can, floating on her back and gazing up at the thick fog that lays over the sea. 

One night when they’re staying in an inn to talk with an emissary from Estermont (so they would not have to make the journey by boat, and Gendry tells her because the keep is in rather poor shape from storms), the sky is somehow perfectly clear. Before bed, Ely touches Arya’s arm and tells her, 

“You should come with us milady, there’s nothing in the world like nightswimming.”

The moon is huge and full, and Arya even manages to convince Gendry to strip to his undershirt and braies and wade in with them. 

Arya finds a large rock and lays down upon it, Gendry soon joining her as Ely teaches Lysa to float on her back while Lyra splashes around. 

“I miss being at sea. If, instead of letting you marry me when I came back I had just kidnapped you and thrown you on my boat, would you have come?”

Gendry stills. 

“So long as it wasn’t the kind of boat I would have to row.”

That’s a good answer. She waits before asking the next. 

“What if I’d asked you before I left Westeros? If i’d asked you to give up the noble life to join me at sea?”

Gendry rolls on his side.

“You didn’t though. I don’t think it’s worth it to get stuck on ifs. We’re here now.”

She smiles and kisses him slowly, once, twice. 

“Where do we still have to stop after this?”

“Rain House. That’s not too bad. The Wylde’s are all loud and fun. Then, hopefully finding an excuse to avoid Griffin’s Roost, then Tarth, then back home.”

She listens with one ear to Ely telling the twins about how the stars and moon that they see in the sky are the same the world over. The sea is too, Arya thinks. All the lakes and rivers that feed into the ocean, that all eventually join the same water. 

The sea here is the same as the sea at Storm’s End, and White Harbour and King’s Landing, and even all the way to Braavos. She’d sailed, learned that if you go off in one direction long enough, you’ll end up right back in the same spot. It’s a nice thought, that if Bran was in the Red Keep looking at the harbour, or Sansa staring off while she sailed from Winterfell, were looking at it now, then they were all looking at the same thing. 

It’s a nice thought, she thinks, for a near perfect night.

[capnmarvell]

Here is a whole thought dump from me after seeing Frozen 2 tonight

(Mind you, I am not a “super fan” as a lot of people on tumblr are, I’m simply a fan of Disney and animation so I’m not interested in arguing over all this lol)

A big factor of seeing this movie was the animation. I had honestly forgotten about Frozen for a hot minute over the years, and when the first trailer dropped a few months ago I was completely stunned by that opening shot. The shot alone sold me to see it for the animation, I didn’t do too much digging into the plot.

I did see the spoilers a few weeks ago, and I wasn’t too excited about it all. I don’t expect Disney to actually do something so big as to openly have Elsa be a lesbian, they don’t want to risk that money from Christian homophobe parents. But I did expect something...more...storywise.

Look, animation was stunning. The details were great. I wish I was talented enough to go to school for animation because wow. This movie was stunning to me. I still love that water scene with Elsa, and the scene with Anna during “The Next Right Thing” was also another favorite in animation.

I enjoyed the songs, as well. I really liked “The Next Right Thing” and “Lost in The Woods.” I would have liked a duet between Kristoff and Anna, as it’s still odd we have a duet between the actual villain and Anna in the first one, but nothing for the actual love interests in either film.

But I just keep going back to the actual plot in my head.

Now, I could understand Elsa’s apprehension with being Queen, since we’ve seen her apprehensive about it in the first film. However, that was solely because she was hiding her powers. We see at the end of the first Frozen she is more confident in herself now that her powers aren’t a secret, therefore she becomes a better Queen, a better Ruler.

Suddenly, in Frozen 2, Elsa seems enticed by the idea of Freedom and Exploring, as the Calling she hears is pulling her into another adventure. She’s never given any real indication in the first film that she wants adventure, that she wants to explore. Honestly, I would expect Anna to want the freedom and to travel and see the world after she’s been forced inside the Castle most of her life without any real reason.

I liked the hijinks of Kristoff trying to propose to Anna, I thought it was a sweet storyline. However, I could have done without the comedy of the “Torn Music Video Style” animation with his “Lost in The Woods” song. If it had been done with more realism, similar to Anna’s “The Next Right Thing” it would have been a nice parallel. Instead I just kind of cringed the entire time. I enjoyed his song, but damn was it just a big cringe-fest. Lots of people laughed in the theatre, but his song wasn’t funny to me. And the comedy really misses the mark of his song regarding his feelings for Anna and the situation he’s in. Great song, but poor choice to make it funny for the audience. ( I get it’s a kids movie and you gotta keep the kids attention, but it’s a disservice to Kristoff and the song).

With Elsa’s journey, I really felt like they didn’t actually tell us anything. They just kind of...explain Elsa’s powers as a gift from the forest spirits because Iduna saved Agnarr. and Then Elsa and Anna are basically the 5th spirit of the forest? Because they’re the bridge that connects magic and humans?

Is it just me, or is that just...not satisfying at all? The explanation of her powers is solely because Iduna saved Agnarr and got the two of them out of the forest before the spirits locked everyone in?

Not only that, but there weren’t any real consequences. Elsa “drowned” and froze, and was able to warn Anna in her final moment, but once the day was saved, Elsa was brought back to life.

Like, Disney has done some dark shit before. It REALLY would have impressed me if they had actually kept Elsa dead, and have her be “brought back” as an ACTUAL spirit - the 5th spirit of the forest. They could have Elsa come back for one final goodbye to Anna after the dam breaks, like in the movie, and perhaps the movie ends with Anna telling her own children the magical story of Elsa, Snow Queen of Arendelle and spirit of the forest.

But of course Disney needs a happy ending, and Elsa alive, for merchandise and the potential Frozen shorts and possible third movie - anything for the money.

Not to mention how meta the movie was too. It just kept...bringing up the first movie and that moment with Olaf explaining the whole first movie in the forest. Or Elsa cringing when she was reliving all those moments from the first movie and she walked past the ice sculpture of her singing “Let it Go.”

Now look, in a perfect world we would have a gotten a movie with a much better origin story of Elsa’s powers, and perhaps some flirting with Elsa and Honeymaren (I can see it), and Elsa is still Queen because she does make a good Queen, and Anna and Kristoff get married and maybe Elsa names their first born as her next heir or something.

I think Anna will make a great Queen too, but Elsa just deciding to fuck off into the woods all of a sudden didn’t make much sense. The logic just...wasn’t there or it just wasn’t enough.

I think it’s realistic, though, to separate the sisters. I’ve seen people say they were angry about the two not being together after all these years apart, but I mean...? Idk the idea from hardcore fans that I’ve seen defending the idea of two grown siblings NEEDING to be stuck at the hip in their adulthood isn’t realistic to me.

I think perhaps it was definitely the plan to have Elsa die, since it really did seem like it was going that way. But I remember reading the other day that they apparently changed up the ending or something after some test screenings, so perhaps that’s why it gives off that feeling.

I absolutely don’t want Elsa to die. I enjoy her character, and I headcanon her as a lesbian too and love that kind of representation, but with the story they gave us in Frozen 2, the stakes would have felt much higher if she - and Olaf too - really did die. I personally, would have liked an altered story with an actual villain (their grandfather started all the drama of this story, but I honestly do miss the old fashioned Disney with hero vs. villain) and better story of Elsa’s powers, and Disney actually taking some strong choices with it.

This movie was very safe, and very weak storywise.

The songs and animation were good.

I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if Disney milked the Frozen money maker by doing a third film, but I doubt they’d actually do anything big with that one either.

Overall, it was mostly pleasing to the eye (I’m still cringing at the “Lost in The Woods” montage) but the story was weak, but not surprising with how safe Disney tends to play it.

I’ll give it a 6.5/10, mostly because that animation is really pretty.