#And patience with my very belated responses

[houserosaire]

Has your OC ever been told something that they consider particularly wise? Did they think so at the time? Or is it only with the benefit of hindsight that they see the truth of it?

One time Silvaineaux's older brother Seraphin told him to learn to appreciate small moments: The way an apple tastes, the warmth of the fire, the sound of someone's laughter. At the time he comprehended the words but he really did not understand what Seraphin was going on about. It did not take him very long out in the field fighting dragons before he got it. He thinks about it a lot sometimes, and he does try to remember to take a moment and soak in those good things when they come. But he also wonders a lot about what Seraphin was going through at the time that made him say it. He has never really been sure.

[infinitystoner]

First Light

AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: Vetrnætr (Winter Nights) is a time to welcome winter and honor the gods of old. But, on the first morning of festivities, the only thing Loki wants to celebrate is you.

Pairing: Prince!Loki x Female Reader

Word count: 2.4k

Tags/Content: Fluff, Praise, Smut (Fingering, Cunnilingus, Multiple Orgasms), Established Relationship, Pre-Thor (2011), Asgard AU

Rating: Explicit; 18+

Author’s note: A belated birthday gift to my amazing friend @loki-cees-all. You are the Goddess of Patience and Mercy and I appreciate you so very much! I hope this one lives up the hype. xx

It was easy to dismiss quiet mornings on Asgard in favor of boundless nights under the stars. But you never felt more content than when the first rays of daylight bathed the kingdom in a hazy glow. Beyond frost-kissed windows, the wind whispered a tale of winter’s early arrival, and you burrowed further under the protective arm curled around your shoulders. 

Waking before Loki was a rare occurrence, and you offered up a prayer of gratitude to the Norns when you realized your lover was still slumbering beside you.

He was a being of little sleep, often arguing those bestowed with divinity had more stamina than the average Æsir, therefore requiring less rest. You disagreed.

Well, somewhat disagreed. 

You pulled your lip between your teeth as you observed evidence of the prior evening’s chaotic activities: clothing and armor were strewn about the room, pillows and pelts haphazardly adorned the hearthside, and papers from Loki’s desk littered the floor, his bookshelves standing slightly askew. Even the bedposts seemed to be off-kilter. 

Loki absolutely had the stamina of a god.   

Still, he hadn’t been getting enough sleep lately. The past few weeks preparing for Vetrnætr had taken a toll on him. Loki had been responsible for coordinating the arrival of visiting dignitaries and nobility while also leading what he’d described to you as “lighthearted diplomatic discussions” with the royal council of Vanaheim. Queen Frigga, however, had confided that he was single-handedly responsible for not only fortifying Asgard’s long-held alliance between the Vanir and Æsir but also negotiating a new trade agreement between the neighboring realms. 

You carefully tilted your face upward, committing the splendor of him in this moment to memory. Swathes of amber light illuminated the rise and fall of his chest, mapping the gentle exhales through parted lips that assured you he was alive. That he was real. That he was yours.

Your family and fellow courtiers had thought you mad when you turned down the advances of several of the Allfather’s golden warriors. But it was when you refused Thor that you’d stirred up any true semblance of trouble. Then again, the elder Odinson had attempted to court at least half the eligible maidens of Asgard, so it wasn’t that scandalous.

What everyone didn’t know then was that your heart secretly belonged to another. And even now, years later, it was hard to comprehend that he returned your affections. But he did, and he made sure you’d never have reason to doubt him.

For so long, he had existed in the shadows of those around him. Only a sacred few saw his light shining through. And once he’d revealed the whole of himself to you, how could anyone else possibly compare?

True, he could be unpredictable and disruptive, but Loki approached everything in life with an unwavering sense of humble dedication. His fidelity was one of the things you loved most about him.

“My beautiful miracle.”

You’d only meant to think it—but hearing the whisper of affection fall from your lips seemed the perfect way to commence the day. Tracing patterns across the exposed skin of Loki’s abdomen, you studied the contours of his handsome face. Long lashes fluttered against high cheekbones as his eyes darted back and forth behind closed lids.

“What is it you dream of?” you whispered, gently placing a kiss on his sternum.

“A prince dreams of many things.”

His reply caused your heart to stutter within your chest. The trickster had been awake all along, basking in the warmth of your sentimentality like a cat soaking up the sun.

“I should’ve known you were only pretending to be asleep,” you pouted as he finally cracked open his eyes to peer down at you.

“Mmm, you should have,” he said as he wrapped his hand around yours, bringing it to his lips and tenderly pressing his lips to your fingertips. “But, I did have the most interesting dream. It’s worth hearing, I assure you.” 

Loki was nothing if not convincing, and you were curious.

“Go on then. I’m listening,” you replied with a playful roll of your eyes. 

Loki cleared his throat as he fluffed the pillow under his head. Stars above. He was as dramatic as he was mischievous.

“It was the final night of Vetrnætr and the kingdom was blanketed in snow. I was  tasked with riding into the forests alone,” he said, absentmindedly trailing his fingertips  down your arm as he spoke, “to defeat a great beast with my magick.” 

His voice was impossibly alluring, much like Loki himself. Soon, you were clinging to every word—mesmerized by the magnificent man beside you. 

“I found myself in the depths of wilderness—where no other soul had dared to tread before. I, of course, was quite brave in the face of this unknown danger.” 

“Fearless, some might say,” you offered. 

He hummed in agreement, his eyes sparking with amusement. “Finally, I reached my destination. But a horde of Bilgesnipes was blocking the creature I’d come to slay.”

“Oh?” you said apprehensively. He solemnly nodded. 

“So, I conjured a simple spell to vanquish them. Imagine my surprise when I realized they were not, in fact, angry Bilgesnipes but your dreadful snores plundering into my subconscious mind.”

Your brain stuttered—did he just? Bilgesnipes?! Loki smirked at the utterly bewildered expression on your face before mimicking the way you opened your mouth in shock. You’d walked right into his little trap and he was enjoying it far too much. 

“Loki Odinson! I do not snore.” 

You sounded less defiant than you hoped, and—in a bid to get him to renege the obvious lie—you wriggled out from under his arm and tossed a pillow at his stupid, handsome face. 

“I beg to differ.” Deep, mirthful laughter rumbled in Loki’s chest. “Now, wait a minute—”

Much to his dismay, you’d moved to the edge of the bed. As you gathered one of the fur blankets around your nude form, Loki propped himself up on his elbows, those stark green eyes focusing on you with an intensity that didn’t seem justified this early in the day.

“Darling, don’t go. I was only teasing.” He grabbed your wrist, and the coolness of his fingers against your flesh sent a thrill rippling through you. “Allow me to make it up to you.” 

The offer was tempting but, with Vetrnætr on the literal horizon, you had a never-ending list of obligations to attend to.

“You know we’re both expected at the first morning feast.”

“Yes, and that is still hours from now. Come back to bed.”

“It will take me hours to get ready for the celebrations.”

Loki clicked his tongue as you shimmied off the bed. “What a shame you don’t have a skillful sorcerer at your disposal.” 

“Such misfortune,” you quipped, fingers reaching to secure the fur around your shoulders. A curse left your lips as nothing but cold air enveloped you instead. Loki shot you a wink as a wisp of seiðr danced across his palm.

“You’re not playing fair.” 

“Where there are wolf’s ears, wolf’s teeth are near.” Dimples adorned the corners of his mouth as he grinned up at you. 

“And now you’re not making any sense!” 

“So come back to bed, little fox. Please. Help me make sense of things.” 

Three thoughts inhabited your mind in this moment: a persistent chill was quickly settling in your bones and Loki’s bed was impossibly warm; applying the ceremonial makeup you were expected to wear today would take at least an hour—and having Loki glamour it on would be terribly convenient; and, finally, you were absolute shit at denying him anything. And Loki knew it.

He stretched his long legs as he awaited your submission. The action caused the silk sheets to settle low around his waist. Shadows traversed the deep V of his Adonis belt like divine brushstrokes while sunbeams highlighted the devastating muscles of his godly physique. 

You never stood a chance. 

Your pulse quickened as you propped a knee on the mattress, giving him a coy smile. “Satisfied, your highness?”

Loki inhaled as he surveyed your figure. It was easy to assume he was memorizing the smooth curves and soft dips of your body. Every imperfection, dimple, scar—he’d studied and worshiped each precious part of you. But in truth, he knew the map of your body better than he knew the wilds of Asgard—how to expertly navigate your release, to intimately claim you as his time and time again.

“Not quite.” His eyes glinted with desire as he curled his hands around your waist, guiding you to settle against the pillows. You watched in awe as he pulled the sheets over the both of you, adjusting the layers of covers and pelts as he caged you in his arms. 

“Perfect.” It was no more than a whisper. But the sense of pride that thrummed through you must have been palpable, because Loki leaned down and brushed his mouth against yours. You barely had time to inhale before his tongue was swiping over your bottom lip and then moving against your own in eager, equal measure. He was heavy on top of you as he settled between your open legs—your collective arousal evident as your bodies seamlessly slotted together. It was exhilarating and grounding and you ached for him. When you dug your fingertips into the firm swell of his ass in a silent plea for more, he broke the kiss. 

“What is it, my love?” you asked, noticing a glimmer of tears swelling in his eyes as he pulled away from you. You cupped his cheek, and his gaze flitted across your face. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” Loki took in a deep, shuddering breath before kissing you once more. Sparks of white-hot heat ignited your skin as your heart hammered in your chest. Could he sense how wildly it was beating for him? “I’m so proud of you. You know that, right?” 

How could words ever truly express that the love you possessed defied explanation, transcended comprehension, and overwhelmed every fiber of your being? How could you adequately convey that his praise was your Valhalla?

You finally managed to say, “I know,” but your response melded into a moan as Loki’s lips made contact with your nipple, rolling its twin between his thumb and forefinger. 

“You’re so good to me.” 

“So good,” you echoed, arching into his touch as Loki’s hand skimmed your curves before dipping between your legs. 

He found you slick and ready for him, and he easily slid two fingers into your cunt, his palm pushing upwards against your swollen clit. Delicious pressure built in your hips with each skillful turn of his wrist and you greedily bucked into his hand, grasping at his biceps for leverage. 

You were quickly losing yourself to the adrenaline searing through you, igniting every nerve ending like a thousand meteors shooting across the night sky. Still, you knew Loki revelled in the euphoria of your unraveling just as much as you did. He yearned to hear your small whimpers of pleasure, to feel your hands on his body and your fingers twisting in his hair as you came undone at his touch. To be connected without reservation. 

He’d once confided in you that the reassurance of your touch sparked something within him comparable only to his seiðr—you had become just as much a part of him as the ancestral magick that flowed through his very veins. Imagining a reality without either was like envisioning a world without sunlight or stars. 

“Loki. Loki.” His name was witchcraft on your lips and his fingers deftly twisted inside you in response. When he slowed his movements, you clenched around him, desperately running your hands over the broad expanse of his shoulders. His skin was damp with sweat, his muscles quivering under your fingertips.

“And so eager. Gods, you’re gorgeous when you’re about to come apart.” 

When Loki was nestled between your thighs, worshiping your body as if you were the only thing in all the Nine, time stood still. You were teetering on the edge of sweet release—right where he wanted you. A frustrated noise caught in the back of your throat as he removed his fingers, your thighs trembling as your climax began to ebb. 

“Patience.” He spoke purposefully against your heated skin, as if reciting an invocation.

“Til árs ok friðar.” Loki paused, looking up at you with eyes so full of adoration you felt as though your heart would burst. He repeated the ancient phrase. “For a good year. And peace. That is my wish for you—for us—my love.”

You were completely lost under his spell. Your only tether to reality was Loki. His forearm heavy across your midriff. His tongue flat against your clit. 

“F-faen, I’m– please,” you slurred, your chest heaving with ragged, uneven pants. 

“That’s it,” Loki coaxed. “Come undone for me.”

At his words, the overwhelming tightness in your core snapped. Your orgasm ripped through your body—your mind clearing itself of every lingering thought. The wild beat of your heart became the soundtrack of your bliss and you sobbed as the tip of his regal nose rubbed against your sensitive clit. His tongue continued to lap at the warm center of your cunt as aftershocks rolled through you, your body involuntary jerking at the overstimulation.

“Too much…”

“One more, darling. If not for me, for Asgard.” A wicked grin spread across his face—his lips and chin glistening with your arousal—before he dipped his head back between your thighs. “Consider it a royal decree.”

It was pointless to argue with him, especially when he set his mind to something. You wound your fingers into his unkempt hair, and before long, you were curling up off the bed as you juddered under his touch for the second time.

“Thank you,” you said softly as you came down from your high. Loki pressed his forehead to yours.

“A final gesture of goodwill,” he murmured, the blunt tip of his cock nudging your entrance. 

“We’ll be late to breakfast. I- I dare not disgrace your good name, my prince,” you said, gasping into his mouth as he pushed deeper inside you. You didn’t care if you missed every single celebratory banquet this week. 

“I’m honored you think so highly of me, little wife.” You groaned in unison as he bottomed out with a swirl of his hips. “But it would not be the first time we’ve vexed the House of Odin thus. Nor the last, I hope.” 

[blackknight-100]

This fic is written for @ronika-writes-stuff , a very, very belated Happy Birthday to you <3

Bheema growled as they barreled through the dense undergrowth, stumbling across protruding vines. A few paces ahead, Arjuna danced in the rain, fleet and swift and beautiful.

“Angaraj!” he heard his brother call out, “do you not like the rain?”

Duryodhana exhaled noisily beside him. “Is it too much to hope he will slip and fall?”

Bheema agreed with the general sentiment; Arjuna’s antics were getting on his nerves. But damn him if he ever chose his homicidal cousin over his own brother.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” He sent Duryodhana a scowl for good measure.

“Actually, I would like an umbrella right now, and a sedan chair, but Arjuna shutting up is an acceptable alternative.”

Bheema called him a cuss word he would never dare pronounce in Yudhisthira’s earshot. His cousin burst out laughing in response.

Karna, who had abandoned any attempts at running, marched up to them. “Wait,” he said, catching Duryodhana by the arm and flapping his hand dangerously close to Bheema’s face. “Prince Sahadeva believes there is a cave close by.”

Bheema stopped, and Duryodhana did the same, leaning against a false ashoka. “Is this belief the result of some tangible evidence or is he doing his mind-manifestation thing again?”

“Oye!” Bheema scowled, swinging his mace up his shoulder, “I’m going to bash your head in.”

Duryodhana rolled his eyes but pushed himself off and Bheema stomped ahead of the sycophant and his king. He was ready to go home.

They marched the remaining hundred paces in silence. Sahadeva and Yudhisthira were huddling under an arched stone structure that once might have been a sprawling temple but was now reduced to a glorified rocky outcrop. Dushashana crouched beside them, close to Nakula. They were shaking their heads hard, fanning out their hair and sending sprays of water everywhere.

“What is wrong with you?” Karna demanded.

“I shook out more water than Nakula,” Dushashana told him proudly.

No, you did not.” Nakula thrust his head out into the rain again and started tossing his hair. “Look at this.”

Bheema rolled his eyes then noticed Yudhisthira taking a deep breath, clearly preparing some new lecture, and cast about for something to say before he began.

“I am hungry.”

Duryodhana stared at him. Arjuna started to laugh, “Are you ever not hungry?”

Bheema, who had blurted out the first thing on his mind in an attempt to distract Yudhisthira, blushed.

Karna hurried them all into the shelter. “It’s wet and cold,” he told Dushashana when the latter tried to drench his hair again. “You are going to forget about this match in half an hour. If you get sick, you will have to lay in bed for a week.”

“Oh, come on,” Dushashana grumbled, but complied.

Yudhisthira held out a hand to Arjuna. “Are you going to get some firewood?”

Bheema watched, a little bemused, as his brother bounded over a fallen log, and turned to Sahadeva. “Where is he going to find dry wood?”

Sahadeva shrugged and smiled. “Have patience brother. He will think of something.”

Bheema curled under the shade, huddling between his brothers. They watched in companionable silence as the rain slowed gradually, the pattering growing softer. Karna and Duryodhana had their heads together, murmuring in low voices. Once in a while there came distant whoops – Arjuna was certainly enjoying his duties.

Of course, because Yudhisthira could never let things be – he turned to Duryodhana and began, “So, how is the construction of the new quarters going?”

Karna jumped and Bheema smirked.

“Oh, pretty good. My mother is going to confirm the patterns on the balustrade today, and all the options look ravishing.” Duryodhana boasted.

“Oh,” Yudhisthira blinked, but was saved from thinking up an answer by Arjuna’s return. Their brother was dragging a dead stag behind him, grinning like he had won Draupadi’s swayamvar all over again.

“Where’s the firewood?” Dushashana asked.

“I forgot,” Arjuna told them.

“You forgot?”

Arjuna shrugged. “Okay, I did not want to. This was more fun.”

Yudhisthira rolled his eyes. Karna got up, stretched, and picked up Sahadeva’s axe, swinging it in his hands.

“No matter, Arjuna,” he said tauntingly, “I am sure you can eat raw flesh like a pisacha. For the rest of us, I will get you firewood.”

“Oi!” Bheema jumped up, clenching his fists, and narrowly avoided a head-on collision with the protruding rock. “You are just jumping to go, aren’t you? This is right up your lane.”

Karna snorted. “It is,” he said, “and you need better arguments if you want to defend your brother.”

And with that last piece of gratis advice, he was gone.

Bheema opened his mouth to continue, but Yudhisthira gave him a glare so stern he was compelled to roll his eyes and settle into sullen silence.

“We should get moving,” Nakula said, after a pregnant pause.

“Where are we?” Duryodhana demanded.

“Shouldn’t you know?” Bheema asked impatiently. “This forest is in your kingdom.”

“Look here-” Duryodhana began, but Yudhisthira intervened once more.

“It’s growing dark,” he pointed out, gesturing to where the patches of sunlight on the ground grew sparser and more diffused. “Maybe we should wait for the morning. We have food and we will soon have firewood. It is going to be safer.”

“It’s going to be boring,” Dushashana complained.

Arjuna shook his head. “I promised Draupadi we would not get in trouble. I vote for morning.”

“There are more of you,” Duryodhana grouched, but he must have agreed to it because he did not fuss anymore.

They fell into pairs – Duryodhana with his brother, the twins together, Bheema with Arjuna, and Yudhisthira the odd one out – and dispersed cautiously to gather materials to make camp.

They were hauling armfuls of underbrush to make their beds when Arjuna nodded behind him into the gloom. “Here he is.”

Karna emerged from the shadow of the trees, bundles of firewood on his shoulder. He took one look at the lumped beds, Yudhisthira’s half-skinned stag and flung the bundles into an untidy heap.

“Are these edible?” he asked Sahadeva, holding out his palm. Bheema spotted a bunch of herbs and some seeds.

Nakula peered over his brother’s shoulder and nodded. “Yes. Good job.”

In a rare moment of civility Karna nodded a vague thanks to the Pandava twins and started arranging the piles to build a fire.

Then, Dushashana ruined the moment (as he was wont to) by asking aloud, “Who is cooking?”

Yudhisthira looked up and offered, “Bheema perhaps?”

Bheema bristled, not because he did not want to cook, but because Yudhisthira had not even bothered to ask him if he was willing to burn a stag for eight people.

“I can’t cook very well,” he announced. “I think someone else had better do it.”

The others stared at him.

“What?” he asked defensively.

Duryodhana shook his head in amazement. “Who are you, and what have you done to Bheema?”

“You dumb thing,” Bheema sneered, “have you finally lost your sight as well as your brain.”

Dushashana rose beside them, but Duryodhana did not even take offence. He was still gaping at him.

“I don’t think,” Nakula began, “anyone expected to see the day when you refused to cook, Bhaiyya.”

Bheema sputtered, half in annoyance and half in betrayal, “Excuse you!”

There was a pregnant pause. Dushashana ventured cautiously, “So… what now?”

Bheema buckled under the pressure of several pairs of eyes and burst out, “Why don’t you do it?”

Karna, who had also stopped whatever he was doing to observe this playing out, stood up, sighed, and ruffled his hair. “Never mind, I’ll do it.”

This declaration was greeted with considerable suspicion by the rest of the group. Even Duryodhana, who had openly supported his then-commoner friend in front of the whole empire and his royal father, now blinked dubiously at him.

“What?” Karna asked, flinging out his arms. “I do know how to cook, you know.”

“I most certainly did not know that,” Dushashana muttered.

“Are you going to poison us?” Arjuna demanded.

Yudhisthira made a shushing sound, and Karna rolled his eyes hard enough to see the back of his head.

“If I decide to kill you, Arjuna,” the King of Anga enunciated slowly, “I will make sure I do it with a bow in my hands and a bow in yours.”

“Oh… um…” Yudhisthira looked taken aback. “Can we postpone all plans of homicide for a few prahars?”

“Sure,” Arjuna and Karna spoke at once.

“Then everything is settled?”

“I don’t want to eat his food,” Bheema told them.

There was a pause. Then Karna got up, swung the stag over his shoulder and glowered at Bheema.

“You know what? Stay hungry.”

With that, he was gone.

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

“You know,” Bheema heard Nakula say, “this wasn’t actually that bad.”

“You sound surprised,” Karna observed.

“Do I?”

Bheema turned around and tried to block out the conversation. Since he had remained firm on his decision and refused to eat, the others had ganged up on him and sent him up a tree to keep watch. He would feel betrayed by his brothers, but he was far too hungry to care.

He heard them eating, and the occasional polite compliment floated between breaks in stilted conversation.

After a while, Sahadeva called out to him, “Bhaiyya, we are done. Do you want me to keep watch now?”

“No,” Bheema called back, although he just wanted to shout, ‘go away.’ “I am not sleepy. I will call you.”

“Huh,” Sahadeva muttered. “Not hungry, not sleepy, refuses to come down from a wet branch – what has happened to you?”

Bheema did not deign to dignify that with an answer. Yudhisthira came by sometime later to inform him that Arjuna had made his bush-bed, but Bheema ignored him as well. All he wanted was food.

Gradually the sounds of the camp quietened down, and the forest came alive. Moonbeams cut through the leaves like shards of glass, and crickets chirped in the night. Bheema heard the distant howl of jackals and shivered a little. His stomach growled.

Bheema looked over to their camp. His brothers lay sprawled over in various degrees of comfort – Nakula and Sahadeva were huddled together like newborn pups, and Arjuna had his head in a rather uncomfortable position on Yudhisthira’s arm. Karna and his cousins appeared asleep as well and Bheema gathered up the courage to venture closer.

The branches creaked and shuffled their leaves as he climbed down, but no one stirred. At the edge was a heap of banana leaves, and it was there that Bheema tiptoed.

Fate was not on his side, however, and when he parted them, he was disappointed to find a morsel of meat so lonely and small that he could not bring himself to eat it.

Someone coughed. Bheema jumped a foot in the air and spun around, heart pounding.

Karna had rolled on his side, watching him with glittering eyes. “Hungry?” he asked.

“No!” Bheema felt his face flame, and lowered his voice, “No, not at all.”

Bheema’s stomach chose that very moment to growl. The other man gave him an infuriating smirk, rolled over and stood up.

“Wait here,” Karna instructed, picking his quiver and bow, maneuvering around sleeping bodies, and disappearing into the forest.

Bheema sat there compliantly, feeling rather upset and a little foolish. He wondered if he should make off with the last piece, but the thought of Karna finding it missing was worse.

There was some rustling, and Karna reappeared, holding up an arrow with a dead rabbit skewered on it. Bheema was not faint-hearted by any means, but he had to turn away from the grisly sight. “What are you doing?” he asked, as Karna added wood to the fire and settled down to skin his kill.

“This is for you.” He held up a hand to forestall his protests. “Starvation is not rebellion; you just end up being miserable.”

“I was not rebelling,” Bheema sulked.

“Sure.”

For a while they sat together in silence – not particularly comfortable, but not hostile either, which was more than what could be said of their previous interactions. Karna cleaned the flesh and seasoned it with more leaves and mounted it over the fire.

Behind them, Duryodhana stirred. “I smell food.”

“It’s not for you.” Karna told him.

“Everything you make is for me,” Duryodhana drawled. “Wake up, Sahadeva, there is more food.”

Bheema expected Karna to take offence, but the other man only smiled, sighed, and handed Bheema the rabbit.

“Might as well get some more,” he clarified in answer to his questioning glance. “Something tells me everyone will be up now.”

And so they were. That night the eight of them feasted once more – with great teasing at Bheema’s expense, until he pointed out how everyone was gorging themselves on their second meal of the night. Afterwards, they lay on their backs in twos and threes, talking quietly.

When morning came, they began their long trek back home. Bheema threw Karna a smile when no one was looking and got a reserved nod in response. Then, Duryodhana turned to Yudhisthira, who was telling them about Indraprastha, and said, “When we get back, would you care for a game of dice?”

[existentially-yibo]

Happy Birthday rabbitcrimes!

In honor of my sweet roommate dedicating their latest fic to me I am memorializing the horrible platonic wangxian fic I wrote about us based on a dream I had about our lives together/our jobs -- they are Lan Wangji and I am Wei Wuxian in this fic, and also unfortunately in like everything that we do. I wrote this in like one hour and it is indeed supposed to be bad -- I swear I can write better than this. This fic was a part of a 24 page zine about us and how we are Platonic Wangxian. I had to modify the format of it to get it to post on tumblr so it somehow looks even MORE stupid, but yeah lol here she is. Happy belated Birthday @rabbitcrimes sorry for putting this on the internet 🐰🤡

                       PLATONIC WANGXIAN MODERN AU:

                            The One Thousand Dollar Day

Most days, Wei Wuxian wakes up later than Lan Wangji — unless he just hasn’t gone to sleep yet — particularly on days when they both work. These are objectively the worst days. Not only for the audacity that both of them have to work, but also because their work schedules overlap so that on these days, they inevitably miss each other. Lan Wangji leaves before Wei Wuxian wakes, Wei Wuxian leaves before Lan Wangji returns, Wei Wuxian finally returns after Lan Wangji has fallen asleep. It’s horrible. 

They may live together and are in constant communication both via their individual messages, messaging in the 4+ group chats they are both in, and the endless stream of pornographic content they share with each other on various media platforms; AND YET, when they  don’t see each other for 24 hours, it IS a tragedy akin to the fall of Lotus Pier. Wei Wuxian, often stuck in baby-girl mode is very clingy, and will send work selfies to ensure that Lan Wangji doesn’t forget what he looks like, and that he is a snacc.

On this, the day our story takes place, the day has thus far… sucked. Bitches in the bookstore are really trying Lan Wangji’s patience, which is un-fortchy not an uncommon occurrence. Lan Wangji, perfect boy that he is, is responsible for every single inch of that bookstore, including physically holding up the wall beams in his big strong hands so that the ceiling stays up while the silly little patrons walk around and talk about how they all go to art school. Lan Wangji has also read every book that has ever been written, and  still just smiles and nods when people ask him things like if he’s heard of the greatest book ever written: “Infinite Jest.”

Things are even worse for Wei Wuxian, as he has just rolled over in bed like a beached seal and remembered that he, a good person, ALSO has to go to work. The fact that they live in a four person household and only they go to work is honestly insane . And yet, EVERYDAY (insert quote about everyday meaning everyday) BOTH Toast and Juno stay home making no money and committing crimes. Double guilty!!

Alas, nothing to be done. Wei Wuxian, still in bed, finishes the fic he fell asleep reading last night, sending Lan Wangji screen shots of the parts that make him wants to pull his teeth out with his bare hands, and then gets up to feed his screaming son.

The two of them fall into their daily routine — Lan Wangji at the bookstore, Wei Wuxian prepping for a night at the club — all the while messaging back and forth. It’s comfortable, comforting, the easy stream of thoughts, jokes, and little updates they haven’t yet told each other. Though they are not snugglin’ in one of their beds, or screaming in their living room, they are together in the homey space they’ve made between their phones. Wei Wuxian pauses midway through putting in his extensions to smile at a message and respond to the very correct take that Lan Wangji has sent him about their blorbos, tagging on one of his overly used memes, and then goes back to his hair. His days are easier when they’re sprinkled with Lan Wangji like this. He takes a moment to collect himself and not go little bitch mode about how he has found a family and made a home.

By 4:00 P.M. Wei Wuxian has complained at least twelve times about going to work, every time Lan Wangji patiently and sincerely telling him that it is indeed not fair, cruel and unusual, frankly insane. He walks to the train blasting UNIQ and for the umpteenth time texts Lan Wangji “this song is so bad,” and then, “it does kinda bang tho.”

At work, he flirts with men to scam them out of money, living out the plot to started from the bottom / now I’m rich, except instead of murder it is acquisition of dollars (he is never sure if he is disappointed by the money over murder outcome). Lan Wangji finally gets home to their horrible children. On breaks, Wei Wuxian skips up to the locker room and checks his messages, there are memes and videos in a few of their shared group chats, and a photo sent by Lan Wangji of Juno curled up like a little angel on his bed. Wei Wuxian smiles, and hears himself getting called for stage. He heart reacts to the Juno pic and asks Lan Wangji how the rest of his day went.

The rest of the night goes by fast and busy, and Wei Wuxian doesn’t have time to check his phone. He twirls his hair and pretends to be interested when men tell him about bitcoin, or that they’re “not like other guys” because they “like to travel,” all the while thinking about gay porn.

On his way home, he reads a very pleased message from Lan Wangji that the store had a thousand dollar day, despite the season. Wei Wuxian beams for him. It’s 4:30 A.M. when he gets home and goes through his nightly routine: texting Lan Wangji as he’s coming in so he doesn’t worry, quietly closing his door to not wake him while he takes his make up off and makes ramen, then falls asleep as the sun comes up.

Later, Wei Wuxian wakes to the sound of the electric kettle. He picks up his purple felt Crown Royal bag and counts his cash from last night to the familiar sounds of Lan Wangji making tea in the kitchen, gently talking to Juno about getting her breakfast ready. Wei Wuxian’s face breaks out into a huge smile as he counts over a thousand dollars. Unable to contain his glee he enters into the kitchen, giving Lan Wangji a devilish look, which takes him by surprise and he laughs. Wei Wuxian loves walking into a room and making Lan Wangji laugh with just a face that makes mischief music play in their heads.

They fist bump over their shared thousand dollar days, and Wei Wuxian giddily brings out the cash so that he can show Lan Wangji the thick stack of hundreds and twenties. It’s Monday and they both have the day off. They’ll spend it reading quietly, or writing loudly, in the same room or separate rooms. It’s easy. Many things aren’t, but these days are.

“Let’s order Gorilla Sushi for dinner,” one of them thinks, as the other one says it out loud at the same time.

THE END!! 

[storyisnotover]

The Truth to Be Seen - F.W x female!Reader

A/N: Hello everyone. This story belongs to the 3.5k song fic challenge of @iliveiloveiwrite from months ago. I don't know if anyone was waiting for this but either way, thank you for your patience, especially you, Millie! Also, it's my very first fan fiction in English (which isn't my mother language) so if you see any mistakes please let me know so I can fix them! I'm aware it's a bit of a long fic, but I really hope you'll enjoy every bit of it. Song: Adam Hender - Don't Mind

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Female!Reader

Word count: 16k

Warnings: Angst (I guess...?)

Summary: (Y/N) and her best friend Fred are blind to each other's feelings till (Y/N) gets a ball invitation and jealousy takes control of the situation.

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When her feet touched the ground after a tiring practice, (Y/N) felt all her muscles being pulled to the ground by gravity. She loved flying. She loved quidditch too, just not as much as their captain Wood. Lately, he was making them spend all their afternoons in the quidditch pitch. Even cold weather and early sunsets of winter hadn’t been able to stop him.

Holding her broom in her hand (Y/N) started walking towards to changing rooms. She was one of the chasers, the leading position, in the Gryffindor team and she had no idea how she would be able to survive without quidditch. It was her way of escape from all the pressure that NEWTs put on her shoulders. During practices, (Y/N) could have laughs and plays with her best friends who were the beaters in the team, the Weasley twins.

She's been their third piece since the day she stepped into the compartment that they were sitting when they were all first-year students. Being a muggle-born with a chaotic family didn't help (Y/N) much on her first journey to Hogwarts until she met twins. They've become an instant tri. Even Lee Jordan was an outsider next to (Y/N). They were the ones that introduced (Y/N) to the wizarding world. It started with sweets that she had never seen before, then continued with small spells to masterpiece pranks that they planted on other students and teachers.

They were chosen for the quidditch team in their second year which only brought them closer. They started spending every day of the week together like they were glued to each other. Till their fourth year, nothing really changed. Things went smoothly and perfectly. They had lots of fun, spent nights talking next to the fireplace in the common room, planned pranks together, literally did everything as a trio. Little did they knew they were the most admired friend group of the Hogwarts until Harry, Hermione and Ron became friends. However, on their fourth year's Christmas holiday, (Y/N) finally gave in all of the twins’ insistences and spent the holiday at the Burrow with the whole Weasley family. During that holiday she finally hung with her best friends outside of school and she got her first Weasley jumper from Molly. To twins, as Fred put it into words, it was a belated gift since Harry Potter, Ron’s best friend got his Weasley jumper in his first year. It was also when Ginny, the youngest sibling of the Weasley family, and her roommate in the Burrow, planted ideas in (Y/N)'s mind about how Fred treated her differently. She had been aware that he was different than what he showed outside when it came to their group but she never spent much time questioning it. The outside Fred was the one who led the pranks and didn’t think much about the consequences while George seemed more sensitive. But in the group, things worked differently. While (Y/N) was worrying about what they would get as detention, Fred would be the one to calm her. He’d find the right things to say to put her bright smile back on her lips. Inside the group, Fred was the one who would turn red when (Y/N) complimented them before joining George as he simply joked around with her. They were both caring like she was their responsibility to protect but Fred was the one who would make sure she’s warm enough in freezing Hogwarts winters, or have her back instantly when a Slytherin bullies her using her “blood” against her. George knew all the changes in Fred’s behaviours when he’s around her from day one but for (Y/N), it took four years and a night-long chat with Ginny to realise the little things.

According to Ginny, Fred even spent his whole summer just to invent sticky shoes to use them getting into the girls’ dormitory. And no, he didn’t have any bad intentions. He just thought he would be able to carry her to bed when she falls asleep on his shoulder as they chat on the sofa by the fire.

After that Christmas, she was never able to look at her best friend the same way. Not that anything changed outside, but inside her, there was a huge storm. At first, she joked to Ginny about how Fred saw her as a sister. But she was cut off by her since Fred never treated his own sister that way. Still, every cell in her body fought the idea and refused to believe it. Every time he wrapped her scarf around her neck making sure her nose wasn’t cold, she blinked and looked away from him. (Y/N) indeed tried her hardest to ignore the idea of Fred being more than friends. But whatever she did to keep her mind off, they didn’t work. The little things started having huge effects. Initially, it was worrying about him more than usual when a bludger hit his stomach. Then, her heart began to race when he carried her bag or poked her nose after a teasing joke.

During the past two years, Fred continued doing little things. Every time he did, just like a snowball growing into a snowslide, they have gotten into her more till she knew she fell for her best friend head to toe. (Y/N) knew she loved him; however, she was also sure that her love was unrequited because if Fred liked her as she thought, he would have done something about it.

Eventually, (Y/N) found a way to bury her feelings away. She started acting like they didn’t exist even though she was hurt every time she saw him talking with another girl. Every year, twins got more popular. Their pranks become known by more students. They drew more attention to themselves. Being overwhelmed by the spotlight on the group, (Y/N) dedicated herself to her classes and Quidditch. Their friendship was still the same, all fun and sincere. What changed was wherever they went, they would hear girls giggling and watching twins with admiration, every time breaking (Y/N) more inside. Though, she knew it was hard to not love the twins. They were great in Quidditch, successful in their classes. Also they always knew how to make other people laugh. Other than being jealous in the depths of her heart unconsciously, (Y/N) was happy with her friends. She was proud of the achievements they made in their path to their dreams. She was only struggling in her heart where she kept all the storms locked away.

After falling for Fred, (Y/N) got closer with Ginny and Hermione and got distant from her roommates. Not that she hated them or not want to be friends with them, she still loved both Angelina and Alicia. But they were the members of the twins' fan club too. Therefore, (Y/N) chose to sit with the youngers during her food breaks.

She was quite pleased with her place. Ginny knew how to survive with the Weasley boys. Also, she was brilliant in Quidditch even though she wasn’t on the team yet. And Hermione was everything they said about her, really the most brilliant witch in her age, or generally in any age.

Once they started hanging more, (Y/N) thought she couldn't find a better group of girls to hang with, like she was in that girl gang she longed for. Although they had different schedules, they always found a way to sit on the table in the corner of the common room and gossiped about literally everything, at least while (Y/N) wasn't hanging with the twins. Also, girls were the only ones who knew about her feelings and her struggle. They were the ones who were sure Fred loved her back. But neither of them had the answer to why he was keeping his feelings to himself. Ginny kept saying Fred was only scared to be rejected. But to (Y/N), it was clear. He cared for her, just not the same way she did. She was okay with it. At least she tried her best to be okay. His present had to be enough for her. Until this year, it was enough too. She was handling her feelings well.

However, this year, Triwizard tournament was taking place in Hogwarts. Students from Ilvormorny and Durmstrang were all over the school. The Ilvormorny girls were beautiful enough to turn any heads, including the twins’. Hearing them talking about those girls only made (Y/N) more insecure about herself. Soon after the guest students arrived, the attention that twins gave to girls became mutual. They somehow ended up being more famous than they already were. Their jokes were in everyone’s mouth and each party they threw got more crowded. Every day, (Y/N) was getting asked about if the twins were single or had any date to take the ball. She only grunted out about how she wasn’t their assistant and walked off. Truth to be told, she didn’t know the answer herself. She was hoping for them to not have dates deep inside, though she also felt guilty to think that way.

As (Y/N) was walking to the changing room, she breathed out the cold air between her lips. Other than NEWTs, now she was worried about the Yule ball ahead of them. The practising dance was fun but finding a partner was giving her anxiety. She wasn’t asked by anyone yet and she was sensing that her options were limited. Although she wanted to go with Fred, she didn’t have the guts to ask it. To Hermione and Ginny, there was nothing more normal than asking her best friend. But in (Y/N)’s eyes, it would only be as obvious as confessing him. She was almost sure that she would do something silly to reveal her feelings if they become dance partners. Also, she did not have an answer if he wanted to know why she chose himself, instead of his brother.

She grunted herself. She wasn’t sure which situation would hurt more, dancing with Fred and being close to him as only his friend or watching him dance with another girl.

As her thoughts were running around in her head while she walked, (Y/N) heard her name being called out with a thick Scottish accent. She stopped walking and turned around. She looked at the owner of the voice which she knew was her captain.

“Aye, (Y/N).” Oliver caught her as he was running out of breath. His cheeks were red from running after her. When she looked at him with her brows raised in curiosity, redness on his cheeks spread to his ears.

“Is everything okay, Oliver?” she searched his embarassed face for any sign to help her understand what was happening. Even though they were in the same team for five years, she never shared many things with him. No one really shared anything with Oliver other than Quidditch. He was always busy with game and never let anyone distract him from it. Since it was his final year, he was extra crazy about the practices. He hated the fact that Triwizard tournament keeping the pitch busy in practice hours.

As he stood there nervous, scratching the back of his head, (Y/N) knew something was up. The first thought that came to her mind was that he was kicking her out of the team. Even though she knew that wouldn’t be the case, it was a worrying option.

She chuckled, trying to defuse the tension. “Another hour of practice?”

A small smile appeared in Oliver’s lips. He shook his head to sides. “No, the team would kill me if I wanted that. We don’t need it anyway. Aye, wanted to ask something different actually. More… personal.”

This time, (Y/N) was surprised. She never thought Oliver Wood would have something personal to ask her. She waited in silence for him to breathe out and start talking.

"I was thinking... I mean, I was just curious. If you- you would like to go to ball with me? If you don’t have a date already of course." he asked under his breath. His eyes were too scared to look into hers. Instead, they wandered on the wet grass under his shoes.

It took a few moments for (Y/N) to understand what he was saying. At that time, Oliver hung there quietly. He never knew he could be this nervous about anything other than Quidditch. He didn't try to push an answer out of her, nor made any sound. He just stood there and waited for her to process.

At first, (Y/N) thought she heard wrong. In her head, the possibility of Oliver being interested in her was below zero. But there he was, biting his bottom lip as he waited for her answer. She looked at him for few more seconds, trying to understand if he was serious about it. She searched for words in her mind but her mind felt blank. The insecure voices in her head whispered that it would be a prank. Though, the sincere look in his eyes triggered something inside her. It wasn't the butterflies that Fred gave her. However, (Y/N) felt warm by the attention. It wasn't like she didn't have a crush on Oliver before. Because when she first got into the team, she was obsessed with him. He was older, strong and ambitious. Not the mention he was both cute and handsome at the same time. But that was almost four years ago.

"Oliver..." but she couldn't find the right words to continue. She wasn't sure how to finish her sentence.

Right then, for a quick moment, her eyes caught Fred on the other side of the pitch, as he joked in a flirty way with an Ilvormorny girl. Her heart ached enough to make her feel sick. She closed her eyes. For the first time in a long while, she acted without thinking. Her voice changed from a quiet, unsure tone to a higher, more confident one.

"Actually yeah, I would love that." She smiled at him.

Once he understood what she said, his face lightened up. He looked at her with bright eyes and a big smile on his lips. (Y/N) never could’ve thought she would see him this happy after they won the quidditch cup last year.

"Aye, great! Would you like to hang out this weekend? You know, to get to know each other more?" He asked with a small doubt in his face. He was afraid of pushing his luck too hard. But instead, she chuckled at him and nodded, saying yes.

"I will be free after breakfast this Saturday, if you're okay with a noon date in Three Broomstick?" She was surprised by her boldness, though she knew she needed to get through her comfort zone to move on. Wasn't in Gryffindor for no reason, she thought to herself.

Oliver's smile grew on his face. His eyes shone with tiny sparkles. "Alright then, it's a noon date on Saturday. I'll see you in the common room too."

(Y/N) shook her head as he walked to the changing room with fast steps. She watched him till he disappeared behind the curtains outside of the pitch.

She wasn't sure if she was doing the right thing. A part of her felt guilty, playing with his feelings and not caring about her own. But the other part of her felt excited. She was 17, she never had this type of attention on her. She was always the best friend material. She never thought she would be the dating material. Also, it was Oliver Wood for Merlin's sake! He could probably get any girl he wanted.

Because she was so caught up to her thoughts, (Y/N) didn’t realise the twins beside her. George spoke up as they were watching their captain disappear.

“Oi! Did Oliver just spoke to you?” he said with a surprised voice. Then continued in a lower tone more suspiciously. “I didn’t know you two were friends.”

(Y/N) turned to her friends and shrugged her shoulders. “We weren’t friends really. He just asked me out for this Saturday.”

Fred raised his brows in response to her. His face lost all the happy, playful mimics that it had a few minutes ago. As he spoke, his voice sounded way more aggressive than he planned. “Why would Oliver ask you out? What does he want?”

When (Y/N) processed the words that came out of his mouth, she felt her blood boiling in her veins. It was surprising how quick her body was responding anything Fred does or says. Her brain felt numb with a dizzy feeling. Her hands froze even though her palms were sweaty. Her mouth opened in shock but before she could say anything, George smacked his twin on the shoulder. Unfortunately, his effort was useless because it took Fred too long to understand how mean he was.

(Y/N) fought with the tears on her eyes. She opened her mouth once again. Yet, no words left her lips. She just stared at Fred with pure disappointment in her eyes. It was then when Fred realised what he had done. His voice dropped.

“(Y/N) … I didn’t mean that way.” He whispered in between his breaths. He took one step towards her as she pulled back. She knew she had to leave before her tears start running down on her cheeks.

(Y/N) answered him before she turned her back and walked away. Her voice was quiet but the emotions it had were clear. “Thanks for the support, Fred. It was good to know that someone must want something from me to date me.”

She nodded shortly to the other twin then turned her face away as she quickened her steps. Once she knew she was out of their reach, (Y/N) stopped holding back her tears. In only few seconds, her face was covered with the wetness of the drops. When she reached to changing room, she packed her things and didn’t bother changing into her uniform. To keep her sobs under control, she bit her bottom lip. The last thing she wanted was one of the girls in the team hearing her crying.

(Y/N) stopped for a moment. She rested her head on the lockers cold metal. She had to pull herself together before leaving the changing room to avoid drawing any attention on herself. “Stupid. Weasley.” She whispered to herself under her breath. After waiting for a little while longer in silence, she wiped the tears on her cheeks and took a couple of deep breaths. Once she was calm enough, she took her things and paced her way to the castle.

Knowing that her appetite was gone, (Y/N) skipped her dinner. Instead, she spent the rest of her afternoon in the library. Since she was going to be occupied on Saturday with the date, she had to do her planned work earlier than she thought. Until Madam Pince told her and few other students to go back to their dormitories, she didn’t realise how late it was. She packed all her books into her bag and left the library. As (Y/N) walked to Gryffindor tower, she thought of sneaking into the kitchen to find some snacks. Even though it was a regular thing they did, she never tried sneaking in there without the twins by her side before. The idea of getting caught to Flitch gave her shivers, thus she ignored the growling on her stomach and kept walking. Her septs were quick. Because of cold weather and early sunsets, most of the students spent their time inside the castle. Especially with the guest students, small parties in the great hall became very popular. That’s why when (Y/N) entered the common room through the portrait hole, she wasn’t surprised to see a quiet room with only a couple of students. The fireplace was on, giving the room a warm, cosy atmosphere. It was always a welcoming feeling, coming to the common room after a cold day. As (Y/N) searched the room quickly, the first person she saw was Hermione. Then she saw Ginny on the opposite side of the table. They seemed to have an intense discussion because it took them a while to realise (Y/N) was back.

She walked to the table, taking big steps and sat on the third chair between them. The girls hushed for a moment. From their quiet looks and the eye contacts (Y/N) knew they already found out.

“Okay... How much do you know?” She said with a little smile on her face.

The girls kept quiet for a little bit longer and looked at each other. (Y/N) wasn’t sure if they were happy or disappointed. In a way, they were both. Ginny had a little smirk on her face while Hermione seemed more worried.

Ginny spoke first. “Oliver, huh? How did that happen?”

(Y/N) put her head on her hands on the table and looked at her friends.

“I truly have no idea. He came up to me after the practice and asked if we could go to the ball together. Bloody hell. He was really cute.” She said with a slight blush on her cheeks.

This time Hermione joined the conversation. Her voice sounded unsure compared to Ginny. “That’s really sweet (Y/N). I am happy for you, really. But… What about Fred? He seemed upset when they were telling about you.”

As her smile faded from her face, (Y/N) closed her eyes. She spent ages to forget about her broken heart. Yet, it was all coming back to her. “Well, Hermione. Fred thinks Oliver must want something to date me. I’m quoting his words, ‘why would Oliver ask you out’. So, I really don’t want to speak or think about Fred right now.”

Ginny gently placed her hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder. “Was that why you skipped dinner? They did tell you were ‘dating’ Oliver but they skipped the part where Fred ruined everything. I’m sorry (Y/N), really.”

(Y/N) sat up on her chair and shrugged her shoulders. “What are you apologising for? You’re not responsible for his behaviour Gin.”

After talking about how it went with Oliver, the conversation shifted to how girls got their dates to the ball and some other gossips they heard over dinner. They kept talking till students started to come back from the party in the great hall. It was already late for students. No one was really bothering staying in the common room and went straight to their dormitories. When the twins got through the portrait hole, the common room was empty other than the girls who had already moved to the couch in front of the fireplace. They were all sleepy but none of them wanted to go to bed. As they were the only ones in the room, they were able to talk freely. Their silly conversations about this and that in the cosy room were impossible to stop. However, when twins approached them, the chill air in the room sparked with tension. George and Hermione made eye contact when the twins stood beside them. But (Y/N) was busy ignoring the twins from the moment she saw them by watching the fire. She only turned to her friends when they stood up.

“Come on Ginny. We should go to bed.” Said Hermione, standing in front of Ginny.

As they headed to the stairs George followed them, leaving Fred and (Y/N) behind. Fred quietly sat next to her. He took out a packed cauldron cake from his jacket’s pocket. Without saying a word, he put the cake between them. Even though she was starving (and they were her favourites), (Y/N) kept herself from reaching the cake. Instead, they both watched the flames quietly. The cracking from the woods was the only sound that filled the room.

“I really am sorry, (Y/N).” Whispered Fred breaking the silence. He turned to face her, trying to see her reaction.

“I know I messed up but believe me, I am very happy for you. And of course, Oliver would ask you out. Bloody hell! I don’t know why anyone wouldn’t ask you out.” He shut his mouth suddenly. (Y/N) didn’t see, but his cheeks were almost as red as the flames that lighted his face. For a moment, he thought he shared too much. He got scared that the friendship he was trying to save would slip away between his hands because of his feelings.

Before saying anything, (Y/N) waited a little longer. She was still fighting with her tears inside. She wanted to shout at him for not asking her himself. But deep inside, she knew it would be only a waste. He wasn’t sharing the same feelings with her. He was just a friend and that was all, nothing more. Even though her heart was aching, she swallowed the lump in her throat and sent her tears back. She put a small smile on her lips as she reached to the cake.

“Thank you for your apology, Freddie. And for the cake too, you found my favourite.”

With his nickname in her lips, Fred was relieved. He knew he wasn’t where he wanted to be. He wanted more than this. But once again, he accepted his place. He moved his hips closer to her, pulling her to himself as their usual sitting position, although it was cuddling for anyone other than them.

“So… When is your date?” he spoke with a soft voice, a tiny broken smile on his lips.

Then they talked for as long as they could keep their eyes open. There were two broken hearts with two incomplete souls on the couch. Even though it was crystal clear to everyone around them, they were blind to each other. They were so stuck with the ideas they believed in their minds; they couldn’t see the truth in front of their nose.

When the morning light came through the windows of the common room, the fire in the fireplace was already out. It wasn’t the first time (Y/N) and Fred fell asleep on the couch. That’s why when George woke up to see his brother’s bed empty, he wasn’t surprised. He just went downstairs and found them cuddled on the couch. He sighed to view. It was unbelievable how two people could love each other this much and not even realise. Then he softly shook his brother.

Fred woke up feeling (Y/N)’s head on his chest. He gently pushed the strands of her hair away from her face and watched her quietly. Before he woke her George whispered.

“Please tell me you told her.”Fred looked up at his twin. His eyes were filled with sorrow. He simply shook his head saying no. When he answered his twin, his voice was so low, even he heard himself hardly. “She has a date, George. This Saturday. With Oliver.” He sighed and pulled a face. “How can I even compete with Oliver?”

George rolled his eyes in response. “You don’t compete with Oliver, you git. You just tell her you’re an option too. The rest is always up to her. C’mon. Wake her before we’re late.”

When Fred shook (Y/N) gently, she opened her eyes slowly. Before moving, she stayed on his chest for a while. One side of her was still trying to wake up but the other side was just using the time to listen to Fred’s heartbeats. Then she pulled herself up and searched the empty common room.

“Morning sunshine.” George chuckled like the sad conversation didn’t even happen few seconds ago.

(Y/N) wasn’t quite the morning person. That’s why, she only looked at her friend with a poker face before saying anything.

“What time is it George?” asked, then, before he could answer she continued, realising her quidditch jumper. “Uh. Merlin’s beard. I should change before class.”

She gathered her things in a hurry and left to her dormitory. When she was climbing up the stairs, she shouted to her friends to save her some breakfast.

Rest of their day went according to the schedule. They had breakfast, took their classes as always. Then they had dance practice in their lunch break. The only nice thing about the practices was there weren’t any partners. Everything in it happened randomly, which allowed them to dance with everyone. After the practice, there were more classes and study sessions till it was dinner time. Only then, (Y/N) realised the day went differently for her and her friends. Because when she sat next to Ginny and Hermione, she was welcomed with a worried look, rather than the usual greetings.

She only tilted her head to side, trying to understand what has happened. “What is it? Am I dying? Quick reminder: I’m not the one who’s friends with Harry Potter.”

Hermione sent Ginny a sharp look and a fake cough. The tension between them finally gotten into (Y/N) too. She put her fork down on the table and watched her friends struggle.

“What happened?” her tone changed this time. Her eyes followed Ginny’s eyes, looking across the table. Her heart squeezed when she saw her roommates there. They were chuckling as Angelina showed Alicia a parchment. (Y/N)’s eyes found Hermione again. Her brain was working at a speed that she didn’t know was possible. The puzzle pieces in front of her pointed to one picture but she was trying her hardest to not believe it. Not her. In every other possibility, not my roommate, she hoped.

Hermione spoke in a low voice. “Fred asked today. In the study session this afternoon. I wanted to tell you…” then her voice dropped. She would have told if Ron hadn’t pissed her off.

As (Y/N) felt her blood boiling in her veins, she breathed deeply. She didn’t know how to react. She didn’t know if she was even allowed to react. She gently closed her eyes. For a brief moment, she felt her tears building up. It was only this morning she was on his chest. They spent nearly all day together. The only separate time they had, he was asking her roommate out. She fought with the tears and opened her eyes.

“Well. That’s good for them. I hope they’ll have fun.” She said with a dry voice. Even saying those words hurt every cell in her body. What was she going to do when they were talking about it in the room?

“Are you really okay, (Y/N)?” asked Hermione.

(Y/N) simply nodded, already continuing her dinner. “I’m just excited to hang with Oliver.”

Ginny seemed like she didn’t believe her friend.

“You know, I really don’t think Fred likes her (Y/N). I’m pretty sure he only asked her as a friend.”

(Y/N) kept acting like she didn’t care. She told how he could do whatever he wanted. He could take the ball anyone he wanted in any way he wanted. Even (Y/N) didn’t believe a word she said but she tried her hardest to convince her friends.

When she finally left the great hall, the twins were still absent in the table. (Y/N) considered herself lucky to not see them since she didn’t know how she would react. She just went to her room, packed her books and went to the study hall. Her plan was clear, studying until bedtime. That way she could bury her thoughts and feelings between the pages.

Because she was implementing her plan well, she didn’t realise the opposite chair being pulled. Only after a while, she lifted her head from the books she had been reading and saw her company.

She could expect many people to sit with her as she studied, but she definitely didn’t expect Oliver Wood. She had been caught off guard and couldn’t hide her surprise.

“Oh. Oliver. What are you doing here?”

Her voice came out in a high pitch, giving her away. Once she realised that she sounded more shocked than she wanted, her cheeks turned red. Oliver only giggled quietly.

“I’m sorry I sat without asking. You seemed so focused; I didn’t want to interrupt.”

When (Y/N) realised she didn’t know how long he’s been there, she felt more heat on her cheeks. Her hand went to her hair, tucking the strand behind her ear.

“I guess that’s a habit from my childhood. You know, to avoid the noises around.”

Oliver nodded slowly. “I guess I get distracted quite easily unless it’s about Quidditch.”

When (Y/N) giggled in response, a small smirk shaped on his lips. The enthusiasm filled his heart in a way that he couldn’t help his words. “I didn’t know other people could do that.”

(Y/N) looked up at him, raising her brows. Her eyes were confused. “What do you mean?”

He simply shrugged his shoulders. “I never really saw you laughing other than when you’re with the Weasleys.”

Many things in that sentence confused (Y/N)’s head. She was surprised by the fact that Oliver was paying attention to her the whole time. But also, she was surprised that she gave that impression to outside. It’s not like people never called her cold and distanced. But no one really brought the twins into it. Instead of accepting the obvious, she tried to joke.

“I’m sure that’s not true, Oliver. I’m a very cheerful person. Ask Snape.”

They both giggled, drawing more attention from the students around them, shushing them to be quiet. Oliver watched her with sparkles in his eyes. Her red cheeks, bright (Y/E/C) eyes, the smile that could light up the whole universe… She had no idea how beautiful she was and Oliver couldn’t believe that. Even knowing that he was the one who put that smile on her lips made him dizzy.

“Well, I believe you. But I’m also happy that Weasleys tell all their jokes with good timing and make you laugh. You have a beautiful laugh.”

Once he realised that he shared too much, his ears turned red as well as (Y/N)’s cheeks. For two Gryffindors sitting together, there was no bravery in the table. They shared an awkward silence. Then Oliver did what he knew best, brought Quidditch up. They spent some more time chatting before going back to studying. To (Y/N), it was surprising how his presence felt comfortable and casual. They never spent time other than Quidditch practices. Yet, there he was, scowling at his homework as he worked quietly. (Y/N) watched him in between her readings, not knowing he has realised. She never paid much attention to him in the last three years. That’s why when she explored the view in front of her, she felt fascinated. Oliver had always been one of the unreachable boys. He cared about nothing but Quidditch. His face was filled with soft features. His eyes were warm brown reminding (Y/N) of hot chocolate. His lips were closed in a line, especially when he was this focused. His hair looked incredibly soft and shiny under the light of the candles above them. (Y/N) felt bad for never realising how handsome he had become.

Even though Oliver felt her gaze on himself, he didn’t let her know. He only enjoyed her attention. His heart never felt this lifted. He didn’t even know feeling like this was possible. Until it was too late, they took turns on watching each other secretly. They both knew but neither of them said anything. And when it was time to get back to Gryffindor tower, Oliver reached out to her gently, asking to carry her books. At first, (Y/N) felt weird as she handed her books to him. They weren’t an official “thing” yet. She wasn’t even sure if they would be a thing. Other than that, the only person who carried her things was Fred. It wasn’t even George. Pushing her thoughts to the side, she snuggled in her jacket tighter as they walked to the Gryffindor tower. The corridors were mostly quiet and dark. Which made (Y/N) glad that she had Oliver with her. She walked closer to him unconsciously. His tall figure was indeed reassuring. Till they arrived to the portrait in the entrance, they walked and talked in small voices. The conversation flowed naturally without pushing it forward. They talked about everything, including things other than Quidditch.

At some point, they even got confused with the castle they were in for years and took the long way to their corridor. That’s why when they were finally in the Common room, it was dead silent. The fire was already out. And everyone seemed to be gone to their rooms. (Y/N) realised how she didn’t want to go up to her room, though she knew she didn’t have any other option. When she was with Oliver, it was easy to erase her thoughts.

As they reached the staircase, (Y/N) stood there for a moment before turning to Oliver to get her books. She had a slight, blushed smile on her lips.

“Thank you for keeping me company. I know I’m not the funniest person to be around especially when I’m studying.”

Oliver only looked at her with a surprised face. He knew he didn’t rather be anywhere else.

“Whoever made you think that way, they’re the biggest idiots. I couldn’t have more fun studying. And nothing I studied was about Quidditch! For Godric’s sake! Can you even believe that?”

They chuckled together in silence. Oliver gave her books back to her. Before they separated, they stood there. They were only staring at each other with silly smiles on their faces. (Y/N) was happy. Yes, her stomach didn’t wrinkle up from the butterflies, nor her body shiver with the excitement like it did with Fred. But she knew she was happy.

(Y/N) spent a few more seconds before reaching up Oliver’s cheek on her tiptoes. She landed a soft kiss on his cheek, making his blush visible even through the darkness of the room. Her lips barely touched his cheek. Yet, it was enough to make Oliver the happiest human alive.

(Y/N) had no idea about her effect on the boy. As she pulled back, she wasn’t sure if she had done anything wrong or uncomfortable. But instead, she saw Oliver’s smile. His lips spread across his face, his eyes holding the stars within. His gaze made (Y/N) get blushed too. With heat on her cheeks, she took her eyes off of him and searched the stone floor. She mumbled something about getting back to her room and gave him a little smile with a quick wave before climbing up the stairs.

Oliver stood there for a little longer. He knew he was the happiest he could ever be. Little did he know she wasn’t her happiest. Deep inside, he felt that the person who completed his soul wasn’t actually a part of it. His heart ached with the feeling, knowing that her smile wasn’t the brightest with him. But he chose to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in his gut for that moment. Instead, he climbed the stairs going to his room, thinking about the feeling her lips left on his cheek.

The next day went quicker than expected. Before they knew, they were finished with the week’s last classes and were free for the weekend. Even though the day went by fast with classes, it was slower when they were out. During the classes, it was easier to ignore Fred for (Y/N). She was only waving at them as she sat next to some other Hufflepuff girl that she knew. With being busy with classes, the twins didn’t seem to care much about her being away. Fred simply thought she needed to focus. But to George, it was more obvious. He could see the way she stared at Fred before giving Angelina a sneak peek. He knew asking Angelina was a bad idea from the start. He tried his hardest to convince Fred that it was a bad idea too. But his stupid twin hadn’t been bothered to listen.

After the potions class, they were all free for the weekend. Which meant there were less than 24 hours till (Y/N)’s date with Oliver. She was excited about it but she was more nervous about getting away from Fred. That’s why after the class, she packed her bag in a hurry and left the classroom. It was then Fred realised she wasn’t really trying to focus on the silly Amortentia potion they were learning about.

As she rushed out of the room, Fred watched her leaving with a lost face.

“Oi, Georgie. You know what’s wrong with her?”

George simply shrugged his shoulders to his brother. And continued packing his stuff. He spoke with a weary tone.

“I told you, you shouldn’t have asked Angelina.”

Fred got more confused than before.

“What does it have to do with this now? Everyone knows we’re going as friends. I mean I had to ask someone eventually. She’s going with Oliver anyways.”

George looked at his twin wondering how he could be this stupid.

“Maybe she doesn’t know that, Freddie. Also, don’t bring Oliver into this. It’s not like you asked her and got rejected.”

In response, Fred shook his head to sides. His eyes looked tired. To his point of view, he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He fixed his stupid behaviour, supported his best friend’s relationship even though it hurt him in the deepest parts of his heart. He had no idea what he could do more.

“I just don’t understand George. Why would she be bothered with me going with Angelina?”

Getting tired of the conversation, George only stared at his twin. He couldn’t pick the right words to tell if they even existed. When he finally spoke, his voice was abstracted.

“Maybe you really are too late to speak to her Freddie.”

Of course, George knew it wasn’t right. But the last piece of hope in him told it would finally make Fred make a move. As he turned to face Fred, he saw the purest form of agony. It wasn’t easy seeing his twin this way. Knowing that it was his own stupidity that causing the pain made the situation even sadder. For the first time, George thought about getting involved. He had waited all these years for two of them to figure it out themselves. Not pushing or forcing anything, just letting them have more time alone. But it was obvious, the things were getting out of hand. More people were getting involved which only meant more hearts could be broken. George couldn’t even imagine the Quidditch practices if the things got more complicated. Even though he wasn’t sure what he could do yet, he knew they needed help from outside.

There must be a way for cupid to work, thought George to himself as he walked with Fred.

After they left the classroom, they hung with Lee in the great hall. Even for Lee, it was weird not having (Y/N) around. He knew the love interest between his friends but he preferred staying outside of the story. Though, everyone, including Snape knew the relation between them. Only Fred and (Y/N) were unaware.

When they finally united with (Y/N), it was dinner time. She came to the great hall with Hermione and Ginny. The moment she stepped in; Fred’s face lit up. Initially, she couldn’t find the strength to sit next to them. However, after a short time, she gave up and moved her seat, knowing she missed her friends. For a while, she sat there in silence and ate her dinner. Only listening to George and Lee as they discussed what would be the next challenge of the tournament. She was trying her hardest to keep her eyes away from Fred to prevent any eye contact. After spending all day with different people, she could finally find the courage to sit in front of him with a straight face. But this wasn’t enough for Fred. Instead of joining the discussion, he kept quiet searching the girl’s face for a clue. At that point, he was sucker for the smallest hint he could find. He knew he had to fix this, but first, he had to figure out what was wrong. Her face shouldn't have been shaded with sadness. She deserved all the stars and light the universe could offer. And all Fred wanted was to bring the light back to her face, if only he knew how.

He watched her eating her food for a bit longer. He finally tried to talk but none of the words seemed right. Eventually, he chose the wrong ones without knowing. He even put extra effort to sound excited.

“Oi. Are you excited for the big day?”

(Y/N) lifted her head from her plate and looked at Fred. She was so lost in her thoughts she didn’t understand what he was saying. Fred tried to laugh but since George and Lee were watching them quietly, the silence made it awkward.

“I’m saying are you excited to go on a date with your boyfriend?”

At that moment, they all watched colours fading from (Y/N)’s face. Her eyes clouded. To Fred, her reaction was unknown. Although he could clearly see the emotions in her eyes, he couldn’t put the pieces together. On the other hand, for George and Lee, it was like watching the Titanic sinking all over again. (Y/N) cleared her throat to find her voice again.

“Well. I am excited to hang with Oliver, but contrary to what you think, he’s not my boyfriend.”

A tiny spark of hope shone in Fred’s eyes. He managed to pull himself together in time but all of his friends had already realised it.

“Didn’t he walk with you from the study hall last night? Hogwarts is small, word spreads easily here.”

The anger rose towards (Y/N)’s head as her cheeks turned to a deep red. It wasn’t like when she was all happy and blushed. It was like, she could murder Fred right there, right then, with bare hands. She breathed loudly.

“You, of all people, Fred Weasley would know that walking someone as a friend is possible. You don’t have to be in a relationship.”

Fred turned red. Her reaction was so sudden, so unexpected. George and Lee seemed to enjoy the show but Fred felt like he was sinking under water at a steady pace. All the cells in his body were screaming for oxygen. He was hurt in a way that he didn’t know was possible. He didn’t understand the anger she had nor the fire shooting from her eyes. He only stared at her, not caring about the awkward silence.

George eased the tension by changing the subject to a new prank they were planning on. The chat continued from that. However, both Fred and (Y/N) kept quiet. The silence between them remained even when they went to the common room, joining the other members of their group. As they sat by the fire, Fred was in the armchair on his own. (Y/N) was sitting next to George, her head on his shoulder. Only the two of them kept their mouth shut, staying outside of the group conversation. The rest of the group chatted, laughed for hours. They even had a small brainstorm about how Harry can handle the next task. She found it hard to believe that it was only yesterday morning that she had woken up on his chest on that couch. At that moment, it felt like decades ago.

After spending hours there, they finally went to their rooms. To (Y/N) it was hard to go back to the room where she would see Angelina and feel everything all over again. As she climbed the stairs, she tried to keep her focus on tomorrow. She didn’t know what to wear though she had never been the type of girl who would prepare clothes before. She knew she’d find something suitable in the morning.

As (Y/N) arrived her room, her roommates were chatting. Angelina looked her with a sincere smile which only made (Y/N) feel worse. She couldn’t even be mad at her friend. Angelina was kind and sweet. Yes, they grew apart in years. But that didn’t mean she was a bad person nor changed the many years of support Angelina gave her.

“Hey (Y/N)! It’s impossible to catch you these days.”

(Y/N) put a forced smile on her face. She knew her friend didn’t deserve to be the target of the anger she was holding inside.

“I guess I was a bit busy lately. Had to spend extra time on studies.”

While talking, (Y/N) started changing into her pyjamas. All she wanted was skipping the chitchat as quick as possible and get in the bed. However, Angelina seemed to be in a chatty mood.

“I heard you were studying with Oliver yesterday. Girl! I’m so glad he finally opened up. Ah! Don’t tell me you never realised the way he looked at you at the practices. I even forgot how long it has been! At some point, I was even convinced he put extra practice hours just to see you.”

Being shocked with the things she’s hearing (Y/N) looked at Angelina.

“Did you guys know about it? All this time?”

Angelina rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders. Instead, Alicia responded.

“I mean it’s not like we knew. But you know, it was very obvious. Only you don’t see the attention you have.”

The bitter in her speech was impossible to let slip by. However, (Y/N) did her best and rolled her eyes as she got under the duvets.

“I’m pretty sure it’s the only attention I have, Alicia.”

After saying goodnight to her friends, (Y/N) closed her curtains and tried to fall asleep. At first, it was hard with all the chatting and giggling her friends made but soon enough she managed to drift into sleep.

The next morning, (Y/N) woke up with a rush. She still wasn’t over the argument she had with Fred but a tiny part in her was excited to hang with Oliver. After picking up her clothes, she headed to the great hall. She had breakfast with Hermione as the rest of the group was still absent.

When Oliver walked into the great hall, (Y/N) was almost finished with her breakfast. She smiled and waved at him as he walked the distance in few big steps. He sat next to them before bringing his hand front from his back, holding a small (Y/Favourite Plant) in his hand. With the sight of the flower, (Y/N)’s lips opened. She whispered not knowing what to say.

“Oliver… How did you find this in this snow?”

Pleased with the reaction he received; Oliver chuckled.

“I do have friends outside of Gryffindor, you know. I just asked for a small favour from a Hufflepuff friend. Did you… like it?”

(Y/N) picked the flower from his hand and looked at him.

“Of course, I liked it! Ah. How did you even know (Y/Favourite Plant) is my favourite plant?”

Oliver scratched the back of his neck as his cheeks blushed slightly.

“I may sound like a creep but, I listen to everything you tell around me. I know how you get excited when you see them on the side of the pitch.”

This time (Y/N) blushed. She sent a peep to Hermione who was watching them with an admiring smile. It was nice to see her friend be happy after hurting for years. The way Oliver treated her was nothing less than she deserved. However, it was hard to ignore the difference. To Hermione, it was crystal clear. Her eyes didn’t shine like she was with Fred. Her smile didn’t reach the sides of her eyes. She was happy just because she knew she should be.

They talked about what they would do once they’re in Hogsmeade till (Y/N) finished her breakfast. Oliver seemed chill and chatty. He even managed to include Hermione in the conversation. After (Y/N) finished her breakfast, they headed out, leaving Hermione with Ron and Harry.

They were walking through the halls towards the exit for Hogsmeade when they came across the twins. George smiled as he greeted them but Fred only ground his teeth. His discomfort was so obvious that it didn’t slip Oliver’s attention. The sweet greenish tones in Fred’s eyes turned to darker brown. He gave the couple a simple, slight nod as they approached. Even when they were having small talk, Fred didn’t bother to change his expression. His lips were sealed as he tried his hardest to avoid eye contact. It was obvious that his tense silence affected (Y/N) too. Her smile slowly faded when Oliver and George talked about the next Quidditch practice. She distanced herself more from the twins and stood closer to Oliver. It wasn’t a conscious move. However, everyone but her realised her body language. Oliver was smart enough to feel the awkward situation between Fred and her, that’s why he placed his hand on her back gently while trying to sum up the conversation. His intention was only calming her but his unexpected touch gave (Y/N) uncomfortable chills. Fred’s gaze moved to Oliver’s arm, shooting fire without holding back. Yes, Fred knew he was taking her on a real date. It wasn’t a surprise so, him holding her back shouldn’t have been either. But seeing it all in front of him was different. It required acceptance. He had to admit that he missed his chance and it was obvious that Fred wasn’t even close to that point yet. His heart was fighting with the view his eyes were seeing.

He knew he was going to hate the way he was acting once his mind was back in his head. But there, the only thing he could focus on was Oliver’s hand on (Y/N)’s back. His stomach was sick like he was hit by a bludger. His brain felt like he stuffed all the fireworks in it. There was a constant, loud buzzing sound in his ears. His mouth was dry as a desert. Even after (Y/N) and Oliver left, he didn’t turn back to normal himself. It was as if his soul was gone with the couple, leaving his body as an empty shell. There wasn’t an inch in his brain that wasn’t thinking about (Y/N). All of his thoughts were filled with possible scenarios that could happen in her date with Oliver.The troubling thing is, it wasn’t only him that lost focus. As they walked to Hogsmeade, (Y/N) became quieter too. Despite all the efforts Oliver put in, no jokes nor subject brought the brightest smile back to her lips. The feeling in Oliver’s gut was back, this time with a strong voice in the back of this head. Deep down he knew what he was supposed to do, but it was tearing him into pieces to do it.

At first, they walked around the small village. They checked few shops, talked about the weather and some other things. The random subjects with slow walk helped (Y/N) to feel better. Though she was still not the cheerful, excited girl Oliver saw in the great hall that morning. She was moony as if her mind was somewhere else. After spending a good hour and a half walking on the snow, enjoying the sun despite the cold weather they decided to sit in the Three Broomstick.

The place was filled with students as they walked in. As they sat, they were grateful to find a table close to the fireplace. Even though it was noisy, it had a comfortable side too. They got their butterbeer and kept chatting for a while longer before Oliver finally got enough courage to bring the subject to twins. Because he was scared to say anything that would upset her, he gently tested the water first.

“So uhm… You and Weasley’s been friends since the first year, aye?”

(Y/N) looked surprised with the unexpected change in the subject. Her smile didn’t entirely disappear but Oliver could see the mood swing in her eyes when she nodded.

“I met them on the train. I was very nervous to be a witch you know. They kind of welcomed me into the wizarding world and made me accept the fact that I am a witch.”

She paused for a moment and shrugged her shoulders before continuing.

“My parents didn’t really handle it well when I got my Hogwarts letter. Was bit of a shock I guess.”

Oliver gave her a warm smile.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I really can’t imagine the situation. But just so you know, you are a great witch. And I’m glad the twins were helping. I think for a long while you were the only person that can tell them apart which is still a mystery for me.”

(Y/N) giggled at Oliver’s speech. The awkward tension of the subject was scary for him that he tried to ease it with a fast talk that only made his accent thicker.

“I never really thought about it. I mean, now it’s so easy because I can clearly see their different physical features. I guess their eyes and the way they smile are the main differences. Also, the way they smell is quite different. I guess they use different perfumes. Fred smells more like… Fresh ocean weather with a warm grassy scent while George smells more like… I dunno? Forest maybe.”

She shrugged her shoulders and ordered another butterbeer with a cauldron cake. Oliver only watched her as she was ordering. He was trying to enjoy the last moments of the date of his dreams. He was hurting, but mostly he was mad at himself. What he was seeing then was so clear and obvious that he didn’t know how he couldn’t see it before. He cleared his throat to prepare his heart for further minutes.

“You know, I was really surprised when you accepted my invite.”

He paused to gather all the courage he had before finishing his sentence.

“I thought you would go with Fred.”

When Oliver was finished, he watched her smile disappear from her lips slowly. (Y/N) looked at Oliver like she was trying to understand the words that came out of his mouth.

"Why would you think that?"

As she spoke, her voice was dry. Her tone was distant and cold. Even though he knew he had to do it, Oliver ached to see her this way.

"You know... everyone was expecting that. I mean I'm pretty sure half of the school sees you as a couple."

When Oliver stopped talking, he couldn't bring himself to look at (Y/N)'s face. From her silence, he knew she wasn't feeling any better than himself. But to Oliver, it wasn't about being with her. It was all about making her happy, with or without him. He loved the way she smiled, not caring about anyone around her. He loved the twinkle in her eyes. If bringing those lights meant her being with Fred, then it was how it was going to be.

As her silence continued, Oliver tried to talk more. Not sure if he was picking the right words.

"Look (Y/N). I really like you. But... Merlin's beard! Don't you realise the way you look at Fred? Or the way he watches you? I really thought I could get a chance when Percy said you weren’t actually together. But (Y/N), I don't think I can fill his place in your heart. And I'm pretty sure no one really can fill your place in his either."

When silence sat between them, emotions rushed like a roller coaster in (Y/N)'s eyes. She didn't understand where all this came from. She didn't understand what Oliver was saying nor why he was saying them. Her eyes blurred with the tears she had been holding since her argument with Fred. As everything added onto each other, weighing on her chest, she didn't make any sound. She simply sat there, not trying to stop her tears anymore.

"I...”

(Y/N) opened her mouth but the words weren’t there to come out. Her gaze dropped to the table and the cauldron cake on it caught her attention. Series of moments passed in her eyes, all including Fred and the cauldron cakes. The top moment was only two days ago when he put the cake next to her on the sofa. She lifted her head to face Oliver again. Her brain was running a marathon trying to understand what was happening. The only scenario that she didn’t believe was Oliver being right about Fred. She knew for sure, in her mind, that Fred didn’t like her the way Oliver claimed. Before she spoke, she had to wait for a moment to make sure her voice was back.

“I don’t understand Oliver. Why are you doing this? Is this… a prank? To get back at twins? Did you plan it all before?”

Her voice lowered with every question she asked. She sounded cracky as if every word was poisonous in her mouth. She was hurt and hearing it in her voice gave Oliver a sharp pain in his heart. He knew he hurt the only person he was deadly scared to hurt. Her eyes reminded him of a glass shattering into pieces. Oliver shook his head to the sides. He understood why she was thinking like that. She had the right to think that way. Even Oliver himself didn’t know what he was doing. Giving up on the girl he loved for ages, especially on a date that he finally got… He must have been out of his mind to do that. But no. As hard as it seemed, it was actually quite simple and easy. He didn’t need to be with her. He needed her to be happy and that was what mattered to Oliver.

“What? No. Of course, no. The only plan I had for today was to make you happy. You really have no idea how much I like you (Y/N). It took me years to find enough courage to ask you out and I guess I was so caught up with my own feelings that I didn’t pay enough attention to yours or the reason of the light in your eyes. I only focused on the way they shine when you smiled. I didn’t realise you were smiling at only one person with those eyes. How I wish it could be me. I would even drop Quidditch for it for Merlin’s sake (Y/N).”

Oliver paused for a brief moment. He swallowed the lump growing on his throat as his eyes searched the table before going up to (Y/N)’s face again. He continued with a lower tone.

“I’d understand if you hate me right now and don’t want to come to the ball with me. I still want to go with you. I would always want to go with you. But I had to tell those (Y/N). Please don’t hate me for that. Your happiness is the only thing I can truly care about and I can see the way you are with me. And I think deep down you know it too. You’re not complete (Y/N). I don’t know what happened between you two, to cause the tension you had this morning. But don’t tell me you didn’t realise the mood that put you in. I can see your mind being away, you’re distracted. And I bet Fred isn’t in any better condition. You are only hurting each other this way, trying to fight against what you have. Bloody hell. I’ll hate myself for doing this but you really should talk to Fred, (Y/N).”

Oliver shut his mouth. He felt the rush in his veins, knowing that he was trying his hardest for her. However, a heavy feeling covered his heart. He knew once he was back on school grounds, he was going to dedicate himself to a tiring, hard practice. Or, he was going to his dorm and cry his guts out under the covers.

Once the silence became unbearable, he took his courage to speak again.

“Would you… still, go to the ball with me (Y/N)?”

(Y/N) couldn’t look at Oliver’s eyes. Her eyes were still fixed on the cauldron cake. She spent as much as time she could before speaking. First, she wiped the tears off of her cheeks using her sleeves. Then she gave a slight nod to him. Even though she didn’t believe the things he said about Fred, she knew the rest of his speech was true and sincere.

“Yeah, I guess we could still go as friends and no, I don’t hate you, Oliver. I just, don’t know what to say.”

Hearing her saying those in a less broken tone relieved Oliver. His lips shaped a small, sweet smile. It was hard to understand even for him, that he loved her enough to be okay with being only friends with her. And then, he understood Fred too, to some extent. The only, and huge difference was Fred had everything he wanted; he just somehow didn’t know.

The rest of their “date” went quieter with Oliver trying to cheer (Y/N) up. It didn’t work much but he was able to steal one or two small giggles from her. When they finally got back to the school grounds, (Y/N) was feeling overwhelmed. All the things Oliver said was running in her mind nonstop. A tiny piece of her heart wanted to believe the possibility of Fred liking her more than just friends. But her logical side kept arguing against the idea. If he liked her, he would have done something. Meanwhile, she totally ignored the truth of Oliver liking her because she didn’t know what she would do about it. The insecure voice in her head screamed that no one would be liking her this much. Yet, there Oliver was, walking aside her till Gryffindor tower even after knowing her feelings for Fred.

After he had dropped (Y/N) to Gryffindor common room, Oliver headed to the quidditch pitch. He didn’t know the correct words to describe his feelings. Deep inside he was already regretting his decision. He wanted to be able to be more selfish more than anything. After all these years, he had the date of his dreams. But he gave up on it with his own hands. As the thoughts were rushing in his mind, he arrived at the pitch. His movements were so out of consciousness like he was on autopilot. He didn’t even realise when he took off his jacket and got his broomstick.

For a while, Oliver only threw the quaffle around to get all of his emotions out. Everyone was busy with ball preparations and partying which allowed him to be alone on the pitch. But his silent moments didn’t take long and an angry Fred came into the pitch with furious steps. As he called for Oliver, Oliver stopped flying and looked down. Before he landed, he took a deep breath. The Saturday was going beyond his imagination.

The second Oliver’s feet touched the ground, Fred walked towards him. His face was the same colour as his hair. His eyes seemed darker than ever. His jaw was tight and red from grinding his teeth. When Fred punched Oliver as he approached him, Oliver couldn’t even get the chance to take his broomstick in his hand. He stumbled with the unexpected strike and he groaned in pain, holding his nose. His hand searched for his wand in his pocket but it was in the changing room with his jacket. Realising that he doesn’t have another choice, he pushed Fred away from himself. He wiped the blood running from his nose.

“Bloody hell, Weasley.”

Fred looked at him as fire shooting from his eyes. Oliver never knew Fred could be this angry. The twins were always fun and cheerful. Even in most annoying situations, they would find something to say to cheer up the people. They never got mad or angry like this, not even when they got the worst detentions. That’s why having them on the team was always nice. They were both good at quidditch and keeping the team up.

Fred breathed furiously.

“What did you do to her?”

Oliver tried his best to keep calm and stared at Fred quietly. It was interesting how someone could be this blind when they wanted. He bent and got his broomstick from the floor wondering where George could be to deal with Fred instead of himself. He spoke with the calmest voice he could have in that situation. Still, his tone was weary.

“Are you really that stupid Fred? Can’t you see why she is upset?”

The confusion in Fred’s expression led to more anger. The redness in his jaw spread to his ears. Fred was losing the track of the subject and deep down, he knew it. But he didn’t take a step back. He only tried his best to hide it.

“You can’t hurt her like this Oliver. I won’t let that.”

Oliver gave him a wry smile as he shook his head. The pain in his nose had started to become unbearable. Though, he ignored the pain giving him a headache since the pain sinking in his heart was bigger.

“Do you seriously believe that I am the one who made her upset? Bloody hell Fred. I am doing everything that I can for her. Every. Thing. I even gave up on her. Because you, stupid, are the only person that can make her happy. Damn it, Fred.”

Oliver’s louder voice dropped. His eyes searched the floor as his stomach squeezed. His head felt dizzy as if his heart wasn’t pumping enough blood to his body. He never planned to get this attached to a girl. The only plan he had was playing quidditch for the rest of his life but he felt like the only permanent thing was a pain in his heart.

“You have everything I long for, Fred. You have her heart. It’s you who makes her stars shine. For real. Don’t you realise the way she looks at you as if you own the galaxies? You better realise your place in her eyes Fred because I think you did hurt her enough. Or else you may lose your place.”

The redness in Fred’s face slowly faded as Oliver’s words echoed in his brain. The words reached him, every sentence sank deeper and deeper but their meanings were lost as if they were in a different language. They were telling an impossible story. A story that Fred couldn’t even imagine in his wildest dreams. It didn’t seem real that Fred could have the power on her enough to upset her. He knew he could make her happy but it wasn’t special for him. She was the kind of person that would see the beauty in things and she’d be happy automatically once she saw that.

Fred shook his head to the sides, trying to get rid of all thoughts in his head. He seemed like he was detached from the real world and was lost in his own. Oliver kept quiet as he watched Fred. It was hard to see how a simple thing can affect people this harshly. In the end, besides all the love drama, Fred was his friend too, his teammate. For Oliver, it was saddening to see his friend this way, drowning in agony. Fred took few small steps back. He wasn’t even looking at Oliver anymore. His voice was low as if he was talking to himself.

“No. No, it can’t be me. How can I hurt her like that? She doesn’t even…”

Fred couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence. Instead, he turned back and started running to the castle. The war inside of him has gotten too big for him to control anymore. He wasn’t sure who won or if there was any winner. He felt lost, hollow. He wasn’t usually the type of guy to cry in public areas. Not that he believed in “men don’t cry” but it was for keeping everyone happy. He and George had a reputation to live up to. That’s why they never really gave themselves the chance to show what’s inside of them. They kept being all about the cheer and pranks but never pain and cry. Though, as his steps paced to the castle, tears started blurring his sight, not caring anyone around. He didn’t even know where his feet were taking him. He didn’t know who he could go to. There was only one place he wanted to be but he was scared to death to face (Y/N). Facing her meant risking everything. He would risk the most beautiful person in his life, the friendship they spent six years building, her trust in him, and most important of all, her happiness.

As his steps brought him to their secret place in the country yard, he let his body fell on to the cold stone floor. He leaned his back against the wall and let all the feelings out as his tears ran down his cheeks. At that point, the love he had for her became overwhelming for him. His knees felt tired and shaky. His chest was heavy from the weight of all the things. He has loved her since their first year. It hadn’t started at first sight. There wasn’t a magical movie moment where there were fireworks in his head to let him know he fell for her. It all happened slowly, yet so sudden. First, he was amazed by the sparkles in her eyes when they introduced her to the wizarding world. Then before he knew it, he was chasing Charlie to learn new things to show her. He started feeling caterpillars crawling in his stomach as she widened her eyes with surprise, a big smile on her face when he taught her something new. She became the source of his happiness. Every day, Fred learned a new layer of her past, her personality. And with every layer, he fell deeper for her. Everything she hated or ashamed of herself became the description of perfection for Fred. Before he could help himself, he had fallen for her more than he could ever imagine. The caterpillars turned into butterflies flying all around in his stomach. His soul got attached to (Y/N)’s in a way that no words could explain nor any brain could understand. They were made from the same star, if only they could see each other’s lights.

Fred held his head in his hands. His sobs were silent but the screams he held inside could have shaken the world. Just when he thought he could tell her about his feelings in their second year, (Y/N) had a crush on Oliver, the cool Chaser boy everyone admired. Then Oliver became captain and every insecure cell in Fred’s body screamed how he wasn’t enough for her. He listened (Y/N) spoke about Oliver every single day for months. After that, Fred learned to be happy as her friend. As long as he was around her, he was happy with his life. He made sure (Y/N) was warm enough in freezing winters, or when she needed a shoulder to sleep on. He carried her bag, walked her to classes. He did everything in his power to make sure she was happy and safe meanwhile he watched the curtains of his bed at night, not knowing how to move on. He didn’t even want to move on. He became self-sufficient with his feelings. He learned how to love her in his own world. To his knowledge, only George knew about his feelings. However, to the whole Hogwarts, they were the star-crossed lovers waiting to be united. (Y/N) was the one who knew twins were individual even when their mum saw them as one. And Fred was the only one who could bring the light into (Y/N)’s world. Everyone knew those. Everyone except them.

Fred didn’t know how long he sat there crying. But when George finally came, his sobs were almost done and his eyes were drier. George sat next to him quietly. At first, he waited patiently while thinking whether his plan would work or blow everything out.

“You do know you gotta do something, right Freddie?”

Fred nodded without giving any answers. After a long pause, he spoke with a shaky voice that George wasn’t used to hearing.

“There’s just too much to risk George. I know what all of you are saying. But at the end of the day, I know her probably better than everyone and I think if she liked me, I would know. And this is only one side of the situation. I mean… Let’s say she likes me back and we’re together, what if it doesn’t work out? What if she gets disappointed by boyfriend-Fred and then it will be too awkward to go back to being friends. I can’t bear losing her forever.”

He buried his head in his hands once his sentence was finished. His uneven breaths were painful to listen for George. Especially when he thought he finally found a way to make them confess their feelings to each other.

“Ah, come on Freddie. Have at least half of the self-esteem you show outside. You gotta start believing in the love you have and have faith.”

Fred looked at his twin with unbelieving eyes.

“Please George. For once be serious. Who are we when we’re separate? Or without pranks? Even our mum doesn’t tell who is who. We aren’t like Charlie or Bill. How come she could be happy with only me?”

Between his talk, George quietly whispered “thank Merlin, we’re definitely not like Percy either.” Then giggled at his joke which only received a deadly look from his twin.

“Honestly Fred, you are overthinking right now. Do you know who never ever mistaken when separating us? (Y/N). She never failed to see us. From day one, she knew I was deadly handsome compared to you.”

This time Fred’s lips formed a tiny smirk with his brother’s random comments.

“No Freddie, I mean it. I am pretty sure we can’t confuse her no matter what we do to switch places. But also, I am pretty sure…”

Before continuing, he took a small bottle out of his pocket. It contained a glimmery liquid inside.

“This Amortentia potion would give your results, even when it’s on me.”

Fred looked at him with empty eyes. He seemed like he had lost the track of the subject.

“So, what now? You’ll make her drink it? Am I that desperate?”

George shook his head.

“No, Fred. She will only smell it on me. Without knowing what she’s smelling. I’m pretty sure she won’t be smelling my scent from it.”

Despite Fred’s unsure look, George sounded determined and hopeful.

“I know we had some crazy ideas this year, especially with that age line. But we have to try this one Freddie. You’ll finally know you are both suffering for nothing. Besides, you won’t be really doing anything. Just stay away with our extendable ear so you’ll hear her reaction.”

Their plan was pretty simple. Yet, Fred had no faith in it. In fact, he was only scared of possible answers. What if she described Oliver? Or any cool guy that he can’t even come close to? Was there even a possibility of her not smelling anyone?

As Fred pulled himself together, they got up and headed to the common room. Before finding his twin crying in the country yard, George had planned the whole thing in his head with the help of Hermione and Ginny. He knew they were sitting in the common room, facing away from the portrait hole. That’s why when they arrived in the common room, Fred stayed right after the portrait where George walked inside, both sharing one part of the extended ears.

After walking through the entrance, George saw girls sitting on the couch. There weren’t many people in the common room which made the situation even better. He removed the potion bottle’s cork as he approached them. To him, the potion smelled like nothing, it was as blank as water. But he was sure both Hermione and Ginny smelled different things as they made the potion.

Once he reached enough distance, he stopped and waved the bottle around to make sure (Y/N) could smell. It seemed like it worked because (Y/N) stopped his sentence and turned around suddenly, putting George in a tough situation as he tried to hide the bottle.

Her angry facial expression smoothened when she recognized the person.

“Oh, Georgie. I thought you were Fred. Do you know where he is? Did you know he punched Oliver?”

With the surprising information, George forgot about his plan for a second.

“He did what now?”

But before letting her explain the rest of the story, he remembered his purpose and changed the subject.

“Wait, why did you think I was Fred? You didn’t even see me. Godric’s sake! (Y/N), do you have eyes behind your back? That joke got scarier after Quirrel.”

Confusing her with word games, George knew his plan has worked. (Y/N)’s face looked troubled.

“Well, I thought I smelled his perfume, you know, he has that fresh ocean scent always. I think I still smell it, is he around? He has to explain his behaviour.”

George smiled and looked at the girls with a slight head nod. Both Hermione and Ginny seemed more relieved. It was what everyone was expecting and it seemed like it was finally happening. After that, neither of them could deny the truth standing right in front of them.

“Not close enough for you to smell him, I’m sure. Girls, can I escort you to study hall for something?”

As girls left with George, (Y/N) stayed behind, not knowing what was happening around her. Her friends left so suddenly that she couldn’t even ask questions. She only sat there watching the fire, her head troubled with thoughts. She was disappointed in Fred for punching Oliver. Why did he even do it? First, he was speaking nonsense, then he was beating him.

(Y/N) snuggled the cardigan on her. The common room wasn’t as crowded as it usually was. It was rather quiet, warm and cosy. It was only herself she didn’t feel comfortable with. She didn’t know what to do or what to think. She didn’t even know what to tell Fred. She was angry but the real reason behind her anger wasn’t Fred punching Oliver. She was mad at him for putting her into this position, without talking or understanding. She was mad because she didn’t understand the reason for the punch.

Her eyes watched the movements of flames in quiet for a while longer. She was in her small bubble when there was chaos around her. Students were rushing around for the party afternoon as the common room got emptier by the minute. Fred didn’t show up till he knew the room would be empty enough for a comfortable conversation. He waited by the portrait hole, standing all alone. When George and the girls passed him to leave the common room, they gave him a slight nod. It was their way to say “we knew it”.

When Fred first heard her, smelling his scent, he couldn’t believe it. His brain searched for a way out. The butterflies on his stomach flew out from his chest. If wizards could fly without a broom, that would be the moment he figured it out. All of his senses became more open. He didn’t know what to do or what he can say. He was just in shock, knowing that the potion that gave (Y/N)’s smell, did the same for her. All these years, he was scared to lose her because of his feelings but she was feeling the same.

After waiting a couple more minutes, Fred took all the courage he had to prepare himself for every possible outcome. After that he found out, he knew he had no choice as running away or acting like it didn’t happen. It was one of those things that once you knew, you knew. There was no going back.

As he approached (Y/N)’s sitting silhouette on the couch he took a deep breath. When she turned to face the person who actually owned the smell, her eyes looked red and swollen. Seeing her this sad shocked Fred with a sharp pain in his chest. When she spoke, her voice was disappointed and cracky.

“Fred… Why did you do it?”

Before he could say anything, he shook his head. His voice was only a little louder than a whisper.

“You… smelled me.”

The words left his lips but his ears couldn’t believe what they were hearing. Saying it out loud made his heart skip few beats.

“You’re here Fred. Of course, I smelled you. Why did you hit Oliver?”

“No (Y/N). You smelled me from that bloody potion.”

(Y/N) looked at him with empty eyes. Her mind and her thoughts were messy. She felt as if she lost the track of events in her life. Things were happening and she was simply tired from running around, trying to catch up.

“Is this a prank, Fred? Cause if it is, I don’t have the energy to deal with it.”

Her voice increased as she kept talking. The common room was almost empty and the few people left there wasn’t even paying attention to the couple.

“You can’t just talk nonsense then act as nothing happened, Fred. You can’t hit a person just because you wanted to. Bloody hell, Fred. What are you trying to do?”

The conversation between them slowly heated up till it became a tense argument. When Fred answered, his voice was no longer low. Instead, he was speaking up just like (Y/N). The things they held inside was kept secret for so long that now, they were pouring like a volcano.

“What am I trying to do? Pardon me, (Y/N) but I’m not the one who went on a date with someone that I don’t even like.”

“Who I date is none of your business Fred. It’s not like I asked your roommate to be my date. I only accepted the invitation.”

Fred gritted his teeth with anger pieces in him.

“I didn’t ask her to be my date. I only asked her to be my dance partner. Don’t turn this on me. I never doubted my feelings. But you… You smelled me (Y/N).”

(Y/N) stood up to face Fred at a closer level. The fire from the fireplace was dancing with shadows on her face. Yet, the redness on her cheeks was visible.

“What is it with you and the smell?”

Fred closed his eyes for a brief moment and took a deep breath. It was unbelievable how she could pick the words that didn’t matter and be totally deaf to the most important ones. He felt that he finally understood what George had been saying about being blind to each other.

“You smelled me, (Y/N). It was George who carried the Amortentia but you thought it was me. And do you know what I smell from that potion? You. The old books you carry around. The lotion that you put on your hair. The quidditch field in spring with (Y/Favourite Flower). Because it’s you who I love (Y/N). It’s always been you.”

When Fred stopped talking, all the noise in the common room faded as if every being in the castle was waiting for that moment. Their eyes were locked. With the words out of his mouth, Fred felt the biggest relief of his life. The weights on his chest were lifted. Even though his stomach was crawling inside, making his organs shift with fear of rejection, he felt the soft comfort of knowing that it was him who she loved. And knowing that fact required taking action, whether it ends good or bad.

As they stood there in the common room, fire cracking next to them, with only a few people inside, they saw each other differently. (Y/N) was still quiet, processing the words she just heard. She couldn’t find the courage to break eye contact. She searched the depths of her best friend’s eyes. She looked for a bit of humour. Or any other explanation than truth. But even being blind to what’s in front of you had limits. Once the truth was out, there was no way to not see it. And she saw the truth. She saw the emotions through his eyes. The sincereness from the shape of his brows. He was there; all open, all true.

For a quick moment, (Y/N) searched her mind to find the words to say. She had dreamt this moment millionth of times but none of the scenes felt this great yet, this complex. The owner of her heart was standing right in front of her, offering not only his friendship but his heart too. Then, she did something that she wanted to do for years but never thought she would be able to do it. When all the words and letters seemed not enough, she leaned towards Fred, reaching above the sofa and pulled him closer. The touch of their lips was soft, yet so strong. If it was a movie, that would be the moment where fireworks set off. As she slowly pulled herself away from his lips, she rested her forehead against his. Even though the kiss was small and short, they were breathless from the relief of the moment. Ignoring the truth had been requiring more effort than they had realised and now that it was gone, both of their hearts were floating in their chest.

They stood there for a while longer, only enjoying the moment and each other’s company. The rest of the night, just like the following ones, gone by the fire as they were finally cuddling like they were supposed to be. They got to know each other better than before. The stars finally aligned and George never let anyone forgot that it was his plan to make this possible.

[thewritewolf]

Breaking the Ice

Summary: The gang's plan to spend a week in an Alpine lodge hits a snag when, unbeknownst to Alya and Nino, Marinette and Adrien find out each other's identities. Now it's up to Alya, the power of love, and a freak snowstorm to push past the awkwardness and break the ice.

Hello and welcome to this very special birthday fic that has been three months or so in the making! Sadly Over's birthday came right at the height of me being swamped with the monthly prompts. But I got there eventually! Happy (very) belated birthday, @overworkedunderwhelmed!

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

The kilometers rolled past, putting them farther and farther away from their homes in Paris. Despite the promise of a cozy cabin in the Alpine woods waiting for them in the not-so-distant future, the mood in the car wasn’t the full and bubbling excitement that Alya had hoped for.

Most of the conversation had been driven by her and Nino, whether it be jamming out to his mix tapes or just talking about recent events. Not that there was much conversation going on right now - a four hour long car ride was enough to take it out of anyone. But for the entire car ride Alya was grinding her teeth at Adrien and Marinette’s seemingly stubborn refusal to talk to each other.

It had been almost a month since everything changed, their last weeks before they graduated from lycee and were set out into the great wide world. For the last year they’d been planning this - going out to Nino’s uncle’s cabin and spending a week hanging out. Just like old times, in case life conspired to keep them apart. After all, while they had resolved to stay in touch and meet regularly, who could really say for sure when they were all going to different universities?

Marinette had even gotten over her insecurity and babbling around Adrien! They had become great friends over the years, but then… something happened and they were back to square one. Except now it was even worse because not only was Marinette a mess, so was Adrien! They could barely make eye contact before looking away, blushing like school kids. Which they technically weren’t any more!

It was disgustingly cute, but also incredibly frustrating. Alya had thought that she had put all of this stuff behind her years ago, even if she was always hoping they’d still end up getting together.

Smiling mirthlessly, Alya stared ahead as the cabin rolled into view. It had been a while since she’d meddled in Marinette’s love life, but it seemed that if they were going back to their old ways, so should she. A plan began to come together…

Hopefully the weather would cooperate.

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

Nino watched the girls head inside with the bare essentials, leaving him and Adrien out here to get the rest while they got everything turned on. He turned around in his seat to look at Adrien as he stretched in the back.

“So, how are you feelin’ from that long ride, bro?”

“Not too hot. And not just because of the time in the car,” Adrien said with a shiver. “I knew it was going to be cold, but still.”

Nino snorted. “Well, maybe getting up off your rich kid butt and helping me out here will warm you up.”

“If you say so, my oh so worldly best bro.” The two of them chuckled as Adrien got out of the car.

While they were only staying there for a week, they packed plenty so that they wouldn’t need to make any unnecessary trips to the nearby town. It was good in theory but it did mean that it took multiple trips to get all the suitcases and bags and coolers.

Plenty of time to chat up his best bud.

“So what’s up with you, dude?” Nino picked up a suitcase for each hand. “Decided on what you’re going to university for yet?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Adrien said, rolling his eyes. “Father still wants me to go into business.”

“Yeah but I didn’t ask what daddio wanted, did I?”

Adrien sighed. “I’m not entirely sure. I like the idea of becoming a teacher.”

“You’ve tots got the patience for it.” Nino grinned. “You’re almost as chill a dude as I am.”

“As long as someone doesn’t try to mess with your playlists or take over the radio.”

“Driver alone gets that kinda power dude,” Nino said, a solemn air to his words. “You can’t just let anyone go messin’ with that stuff.”

“Uh huh.” Adrien smirked and hefted a cooler by himself. The dude was stronger than he looked. Maybe all that modeling came with some perks besides the obvious? “My other plan is maybe just…” Adrien seemed a little embarrassed. “...starting a flower shop.”

“...A flower shop?”

“Or something like that! Just a little business of my own that has nothing to do with fashion. Where people can’t say that I was only put there because of my father’s connections or whatever.”

“Flowers, huh?” Nino tapped at his chin, smiling. “Lemme guess - does this have something to do with a certain pigtailed friend of ours?”

“I- That’s not- No!”

“How are you two doing anyway, bro? Me and Al have been supes curious about what went down between you two.”

“What about that movie script you were working on?” Adrien said. “You were pretty far along the last time we talked about it. Did you work out the last few kinks yet?”

Nino could recognize such an obvious change of topic when he saw one, but he didn’t have the single-minded drive of his girlfriend and let it slide without comment. Besides, he could use Adrien’s help in talking out some of the more difficult parts of the movie’s plot.

An hour later, just as they’d finished bringing in their stuff and Nino got a good sense of how he wanted his story to go, he looked up at the sky and frowned when he saw the dark clouds and the flurry of snowflakes already coming down.

Nino closed the garage with the car in it and was thankful that they had already brought in plenty of firewood along with the suitcases. It looked like tonight was going to get chilly.

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

The four of them had already arrived fairly late into the day, so by the time they had gotten settled in, the sun was beginning to sink over the horizon. The light was made even dimmer by the snowstorm raging outside, its chill only barely pushed back by the roaring fireplace that they were huddled around.

There were two loveseats in the cabin and when Alya and Nino had taken one, that naturally left the other for him and Marinette. Each pair wrapped up in blankets to keep the cold out and to keep the shared warmth in.

Of course, they had more than fire to keep themselves warm, Adrien thought as he nonchalantly glanced to his side, toward the woman that was always at his side. Even if he hadn’t known just how true that was until a month ago. Was it good fortune that had made this partner and love interest one of his closest friends outside the mask? Or was it terrible luck, since they had barely managed to spare two sentences for each other ever since they found out?

Adrien was almost sure that there was a conversation going on, but for the life of him he couldn’t hear it over his pounding heart. Sitting there still as a statue, he was hoping that no one would notice his current state of distress, praying that he could make it through this week in one piece.

His prayers were immediately not answered since Marinette was slowly but inevitably closing the distance between them. Was it because of the cold? Or was there something else at play here? Either way, his lack of a response - or, at least, him not stopping her - seemed to give her courage as she got ever closer.

Which would be enough for his poor heart to handle on its own if it weren’t for the fact that once she was about as close as she could get without sitting on his lap, the back of her hand brushed against the back of his. It was enough to make his heart skip a beat. He redoubled his efforts to pay attention to the conversation just as it seemed to be ending.

Nino yawned and stretched, raising his arms above the warm confines of his blanket as he did so.

“Well, dudes, looks like I’m gonna pack it in for tonight. All that driving really took it outta me.”

“I’ll probably head to bed too,” Alya said. “The faster I’m under a warm set of sheets, the better.”

“Right. So we’ll be heading to our room now.”

Adrien had a sinking feeling with how they said that and he realized that there was one critical question he had never gotten around to asking during all the time that they had been planning this trip:

“Where is my room?”

“Oh, don’t worry, you and M will have the room just down the hall from us!” ALya said with a grin, her head poking around the corner just before disappearing behind it. “Nighty night!” She shouted once she was out of view.

Adrien’s mouth went dry and he stared at the roaring fireplace for a long moment before turning to look at Marinette, who seemed equally scandalized. With an apologetic shrug and a half grin, he stood up on shaky legs and made his way toward their apparently shared room.

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

Marinette wasn’t sure how much time had passed, since they had awkwardly crawled into bed and rolled over onto their sides, facing away from each other. The room was quiet except for the muffled sounds of the fire in the other room and the howling winds of the snowstorm outside. Darkness had long since crept in, leaving the room a mess of dark shapes and shadows that moved ever so slightly thanks to the faint, flickering light of the fire coming out from below the bottom of their door. Even with her eyes adjusted to the dark, she couldn’t see much beyond a few inches in front of her face.

The quiet left her plenty of time to think. Did she move too fast by getting so close to him in front of the fire? She was still a little mad at Alya for trying to force things along like always. She and Adrien were just… going through something right now. They’d get there in their own time!

...Then again, it had already been a month without any progress. Maybe Alya had handed her a golden opportunity. Was he even still awake? Marinette was the stage of tired where she could feel the exhaustion but knew she would never be able to sleep. Least of all with Adrien right there.

With nothing else to do, she decided to take a chance and roll over. It seemed that the years of fighting alongside one another had put them in sync since he rolled over at exactly the same time. They suddenly found themselves face to face, so close that she could feel his warm breath on her.

“Hey,” she said, sounding lame to her own ears.

“Hey, he said back.

Marinette bit her lip and tried to find the right words to say. Her thoughts were all mixed up and she struggled to make the first move.

“I love you,” Adrien blurted out. His cheeks blushed so fiercely she could almost believe they were glowing. It certainly helped her see him in a new light.

Her eyes soften and she smiles. She scoots closer to him.

“I love you too.”

Slowly and hesitantly, fearful that the spell might be broken and this would all prove just a dream, she leaned forward the final few centimeters between them and pressed her lips to his.

Outside, the storm raged on. But inside, cuddled close together through the night, they stayed warm.

[purplesurveys]

1262

o1. With which one of your friends do you spend the most time? With which friend do you spend the least amount of time? Would you like to change this in any way? I don’t really get to...spend time with my friends, in that sense. For very obvious reasons. But I talk to Angela and Reena the most. Andi and I talk a lot too, but not everyday. 

Among my friends, I probably talk to my college group the least these days, but that’s mostly because 2/3 of them are pursuing law school, and the 1/3 have jobs and are as busy as I am. We’re still as tight as ever and our group chat becomes active at least once a week.

o2. What four states in the USA would you most like to visit? Which four countries would you most like to visit? States: Illinois, Louisiana, New York, Utah. Countries: Malta, Switzerland, Thailand, South Korea.

o3. If you have one, how often do you watch your favorite television show? How long has this show been your favorite? I’m not a big TV person, tbh. The closest thing to my favorite would be Friends, which I rewatch at least one episode of once a month though I used to watch it FAR more often than that, hahaha. I think I first hooked to it...I wanna say 2018?Or 2019. Sometime in between those years. o4. Would it bother you if your boyfriend hugged other females (think hypothetically if you don’t have one)? Why or why not? No. He’s allowed to have girl friends. The only reason it bothered me when it was Gabie was because we were both aware that her guy friends were genuinely into her. I never channeled my annoyance towards her though; I was definitely more pissed off at those guys for not learning how to back off when needed.

o5. If you had snow-days as a kid, how did you spend them? Do you like the snow, in general? We don’t have snow, but our equivalent would be days off school because of a typhoon. Anyway, I just spent them lounging around and mostly watching stuff on YouTube. In college I was a bit more diligent and would use the extra time to catch up on readings.

o6. Do you know anyone who does hard drugs? Would you ever befriend someone that did? Not that I am aware of. I probably wouldn’t befriend someone who did if we weren’t already close, because there’s no telling what kind of influence they would be on me.

o7. When was the last time that you were afraid for your life? Did this incident change you in any way? When I was really sick back in May. Not really, I just wanted to recover as quickly as possible.

o8. Do you enjoy taking pictures? Is it just for fun, or do you make an attempt at actual photography? I didn’t then, but it’s something I’m trying to do more often now. I’ve realized I have very few souvenirs from the last few years because I barely took photos then, so it sucks not being able to revisit memories and ending up forgetting others completely. I definitely don’t plan to take it so far as taking photography lessons; taking pictures from my own perspective and in my own style suffices.

o9. Have you ever had low self-esteem? How is your self-esteem now? Yeah, sure. I had a recent phase of it because of the breakup, but I’ve recovered from it. My self-esteem is a lot healthier and more stable these days.

o1o. When you see someone sickly-thin, what is your first thought? Nothing for the most part, but I would obviously be concerned if that person was starting to show worrying signs of malnutrition. Idrk what you mean by sickly-thin.

o11. Do hospitals make you nervous? Why or why not? Do you have any bad hospital experiences? Not really, only because I’ve rarely had to go there.

o12. What did you dress up as the last time you went Trick-or-Treating? Who went with you? I went as Sofie, my old best friend from high school.

o13. What is one thing you miss most from your childhood? What do you miss the least? The part about having less responsibilities and more time to just have fun and do whatever I want. But I didn’t really have a picture-perfect childhood either, so my list of things I don’t miss for sure trumps the list of stuff I do miss.

o14. What would be the biggest challenge involved in raising a child at your age? How to send them to a good school because I don’t make nearly enough to afford tuition for another person.

o15. If you happened to get pregnant before you were ready for children, how would you cope? Do you think your parents would support you and help you out? I don’t know, honestly; and the thought kind of scares me. I know my parents wouldn’t provide support whatsoever, so I’d have to claw my way to find it from other people who would be willing. I’d probably need to take an extra job to earn enough money to support us both.

o16. Have you ever had unprotected sex? What would you tell a young teen thinking about having unprotected sex? Yeah, but I was also with a girl, so...idk. I don’t have a lot of sexual experience either so I dunno what sort of advice to tell a teen other than ‘don’t do it,’ lmao.

o17. What are some gender double-standards anger you? All of them. < Yes.

o18. Other than the usual qualities (honesty, respect, etc), what are some attributes you want your BF/GF to possess? Patience in the sense that I tend to be sensitive, so if they crack a joke that I ended up getting hurt or offended by, or if I get triggered by something minor that would otherwise be normal for anyone else, I hope they are patient enough to ride the wave out with me. I didn’t experience that with my past partner, and was often told to just stop being sensitive.

o19. Do you still talk to the first person you ever dated? If not, would you want to? Why or why not? No, because doing so is detrimental to my well-being.

o2o. Five years ago, what was the most important thing in your life? How about the most important person? My relationship, barf. Gabie, another barf.

21. How would you describe your sexuality? Have you ever wondered whether or not you might be homo/bisexual? I’ve stopped caring about it. I say asexual to people just so I have an answer to say.

o22. Do you think that homosexual couples should be able to raise or adopt children? Why or why not? Yeah...because I don’t see why they can’t be granted that right?

o23. Think of your worst fear. What would you do if you were confronted with it right now? Hyperventilate.

o24. If you were to become a vegetarian, what meat-product would you miss the most? Have you ever been or wanted to be a vegetarian? Chicken wings or sandwiches. I’ve thought about it before, yes. It’s too expensive a lifestyle where I live, though.

o25. Do you think that someone’s sexuality is something that they can control? No.

o26. What do you like most about your favorite animal? They’re very friendly and always down to play. :)

o27. What is your favorite way to eat your favorite food? How often do you eat your favorite food item? Eating burgers by hand is always the best. I have one maybe once a month.

o28. What is something you are craving? Will this craving be satisfied? KFC’S DOUBLE DOWN. I’ll get one next week, when I get my next pay lol. The rest of my budget this week is already allotted for my mom’s birthday/JK’s belated birthday dinner tomorrow.

o29. What is the largest number of texts you have sent in a day? Do you often text this much? Ooooh, I dunno. Maybe around 200-300 in a day? My ex and I primarily communicated through text whenever we weren’t physically together, which was often as we were both students in different schools.

o3o. Do you like the holiday season? Why or why not? What could be better about it? Some parts of it I like, some parts of it I don’t. The latter mostly stems from insecurities I will feel from seeing other families on social media, who always seem to be having a better and fancier time than I am. It’s why I usually deactivate during Christmas so I don’t get to see posts that can affect my disposition.

[marjansmarwani]

I used to be an only son 

Characters: TK Strand, Judd Ryder, Carlos Reyes, Grace Ryder 

Word Count: 3595

[Read on Ao3]

Summary: When Judd starts asking questions about Carlos’s favorite color, TK is confused. Judd has decided he doesn’t know enough about Carlos and his questions are driving TK crazy. When Judd mentions his revelation to Grace, she suggests having TK and Carlos over for dinner. 

This is the latest installment of my TK and Judd brothers collection, but it is also a belated birthday fic for @bellakitse. Stef has been wonderful and supportive since the day I started writing for this fandom and I will forever be in awe of her talent and the fact that she actually likes my work. The least I can do is write her something fluffy with some TK and Judd content. Happy belated Stef!! 💕

----------

I used to be an only son

“Why don’t we know Carlos?”

The question, from Judd as they packed up the equipment at the end of a call surprised TK. He froze in the act of rolling up the hose and looked at Judd incredulously. 

“What do you mean you don’t know him? You know him! He’s always around.”

“Yeah,” Judd allowed, “but I don’t feel like I know him, know him. Like, what’s his favorite color? What are his parent’s names? You know, that kind of stuff.” 

Now TK was looking a little suspicious, “Why do you need to know my boyfriend’s favorite color?” he asked skeptically.

“I don’t, it was just an example.” 

“An example of what, exactly?” 

“Of the fact that we don’t know him! I mean, he’s important to you and you’re my family, so I feel like I should know more about him!” 

The look TK was giving Judd now was much softer, “That’s actually very sweet,” he allowed, a small smile spreading across his lips. 

Judd scoffed, throwing a glove at him, “Don’t get sappy on me now kid, we’ve got work to do.” 

“You started it,” TK griped, but continued rolling up the hose. 

The conversation didn’t end there though, of course. As soon as they got back to the firehouse, Judd started again. 

“All I’m saying,” he declared defensively as TK glared at him across the table, “is that we don’t know him and I think that’s a little weird. I mean, you spend more time with him than just about anyone else, shouldn’t we at least know a little bit about him?” 

“What, are you jealous Judd?” TK sniped back, having lost patience with this conversation long ago. 

“Yeah man, you are being a little intense about this,” Paul noted as he scooped more pasta onto his plate. 

“I’m not allowed to be concerned?” Judd demanded incredulously.

Marjan shrugged, “when there is cause to be concerned absolutely, but I can’t really see any as of right now.”

“No cause...how would we know?! What do we really know about Carlos Reyes?”

A new voice sounded from the engine bay as the paramedic crew walked into the kitchen, fresh off their latest call, “What do you want to know about Carlos, and why?” Michelle asked as she grabbed a plate from the counter and began to scoop some pasta onto it. 

TK groaned, but Judd carried on undaunted: “I was just saying that I don’t feel like we know enough about Carlos, considering how close he is with TK and all.” 

Michelle peered over at TK with a questioning eyebrow raised. “Please make it stop,” he pleaded with her. A small smile spread across her face as she joined them at the table. “I can field your Carlos questions,” she volunteered, “what do you want to know?” 

TK glared at her, “Traitor.” She shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. 

Judd wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, “What’s his favorite color?” 

TK put his head on the table with a dramatic groan. 

“Why do you all hate me?” he whined, voice muffled against the table. Paul patted him sympathetically on the shoulder while Judd and Michelle continued to chat. 

--------

It had been the bell that had saved TK in the end when Judd and Michelle’s conversation was cut short by the sounding of the siren. When the remainder of the shift turned out to be too busy for the conversation to continue, he couldn’t say that he was too upset. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the next shift came in and TK and the others were free to leave. 

He headed right to Carlos’s house, trying not to think about everything Judd had said. He let himself in, dropped his bag, kicked off his shoes, and headed into the house. “Carlos?” he called as he walked. 

“In here!” Carlos’s familiar voice called. TK followed the sound into the living room where he found Carlos on the couch with a book open. “Hey babe,” he said with a smile as TK drew closer, “how was work?” 

“Ugh,” was all TK said before collapsing onto the couch and burying his head into Carlos’s shoulder. 

Carlos raised an eyebrow, “That bad, huh? Rough calls?”

TK raised his head just long enough to meet Carlos’s gaze, “Not really. There were a lot of them, but nothing major.”

“Dare I ask what brought this on then?” Carlos asked with a significant look towards TK’s position, though the person in question failed to notice as his head was once again buried in Carlos’s shoulder.

“Judd,” TK said, the exasperation in his voice evident even with his face pressed against Carlos. 

Carlos bit back a smile, “And what did Judd have to say today?” 

“He kept asking me why they ‘don’t know you’. What is that even supposed to mean? Of course, they know you - not knowing your favorite color isn’t going to change anything.” 

Carlos had a distinct feeling that he was missing at least half the story. “Did Judd say why he thought it was an issue?” 

TK lifted his head up to shake it, “He just kept saying because we spent so much time together he - and the rest of the team - should be able to know you better. But the rest of the team doesn’t have a problem with it; it’s just Judd!” 

He glanced at Carlos, hoping to find validation in his face but when he found a thoughtful look instead, he groaned. 

“Don’t tell me you agree with him!” 

Carlos shook his head and chuckled, “No, not exactly. I was just thinking about how much I appreciate the fact that you have people in your life who care enough to get worked up about these things. Judd is just trying to protect you; he just wants you to be safe and happy. You know that, right?” 

TK deflated and flopped back into the couch, “Yeah,” he said glumly, “I do. Still, he acts like I’m a little kid instead of an adult fully capable of making my own choices. 

Carlos leaned over to where TK now rested against the back of the couch and planted a kiss on the top of his head. “Judd knows that, but it’s not going to stop him from being worried. That’s a good thing - it shows that he cares.” 

TK leaned back into Carlos’s embrace with a sigh, “I know you’re right, but it’s still annoying.” 

Carlos barked out a laugh, “Welcome to the world of siblings, only child.” 

TK swatted at him, “You know Michelle started spilling all your secrets, right?” he retorted. 

Carlos shrugged, “I accepted that I have no say in what Michelle Blake does many years ago. Life is easier when you just accept that.” 

--------

Judd let himself in their front door and was welcomed by the smell of Grace’s cooking. He smiled as he slipped his bag from his shoulder and headed into the kitchen, coming to a halt behind his wife as he slid his arms around her waist from behind. He leaned down to press a kiss against the side of her neck. She smiled and reached up a hand to cup his cheek as she turned to face him. 

“Well hello husband, how was work?” 

Judd waved a dismissive hand, “It was fine, but nothing compared to coming home and seeing you.” 

Grace laughed lightly, leaning forward to press a kiss against his jaw, “All these years and still a charmer. What am I going to do with you, Judson Ryder?” 

“Whatever you want.” 

She grinned coyly, “remind me of that after dinner.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

With one more kiss, she pulled herself out of his embrace and turned back to the stove where a pot of chili was simmering. Judd leaned against the counter next to her. “How was work for you today?” he asked.

She shrugged, “the usual really, nothing too crazy. What about you? Did you guys end up responding to that six-car pile-up?” 

Judd nodded, “We did. It thankfully wasn’t that bad - could have been a lot worse. Everyone walked away from it.”

“Thank God for that,” Grace said as she dipped a spoon into the chili to taste it. She considered before handing the spoon to Judd, “can you taste this? I feel like it needs something.” 

Judd obliged, taking a taste and making a sound of contentment, “Tastes perfect to me.” 

“You always say that.” 

“That’s because it always is!” 

“You’re no help,” Grace declared, but a smile was playing at her lips, “why don’t you get out some bowls and we’ll dig into this ‘perfect chili’ then?” 

Judd happily obliged. A few minutes later they were seated at their table chatting over their bowls of chili. Judd had recently returned to his topic of the day: Carlos Reyes.

“Don’t you think it’s strange that we don’t know anything about him?”

Grace shrugged, “I think we know the important things: he’s a good person and he cares about TK. Everything else is just extra and will come, with time.” 

“It just feels weird.” 

“Judd, have you considered that maybe you don’t know all that much because they’re still in the early stages of their relationship and are taking this time to get to know each other?” 

Judd faltered a bit, “I guess so. I still don’t think I like it. I just...I worry about him. I know I shouldn’t, but I do. He’s been through a lot; I don’t want to see him get crushed.” 

There was silence as Grace considered her response. “Then maybe you should tell him that. Right now he has no idea where your heart is in this, he doesn’t know why you’re so invested,” she said gently. 

Judd studied his chili as he spoke again, “You’re right,” he replied, “but I still feel like I need to get to know Carlos better. I just need to know that TK is in good hands.”

“Then instead of harassing the poor boy, why don’t we have them both over for dinner? I feel like it might be more effective than your firehouse interrogations.” 

Judd perked up, a smile spreading across his face, “Have I ever told you that you are a genius, Grace Ryder?” 

“It may have come up before, but it never hurts to hear it.” 

“Well, you are a genius, and I love you.” 

Grace smiled at him, “you’re sweet, but if we’re going to have people over for dinner we have work to do, so finish your chili.” 

----------

“Carlos, relax. It’s going to be fine.” 

Carlos looked up at the house before them with trepidation, “then why do I feel like I’m about to face the firing squad?” 

TK frowned at him, “I really don’t know. It’s just Grace and Judd, you know them! It’ll be fine.” 

“I know that I know them, but this feels different somehow.” 

TK turned in his seat to face him, “Different how?” 

Carlos shook his head miserably, “Like meeting your parents all over again, but worse. I love your dad, but he doesn’t exactly pull off intimidation well. Judd on the other hand…” 

TK scoffed and placed a comforting hand on Carlos’s knee, “Please, like Grace would let him do anything foolish.”

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

“Judson Ryder, you are not going to do anything foolish.” 

Judd made an indignant sound but Grace held up a finger, “I mean it, Judd. They are guests in our home, and Carlos is a nice boy that cares about TK. We don’t need any of this macho-man intimidation bullshit, thank you very much.” 

Judd grumbled and Grace raised an eyebrow, “Don’t you want TK to be happy? Because Carlos makes him happy. We’ve all seen it.” Judd deflated and she smiled at him, “I know your heart is in the right place my love, but TK doesn’t need you to be that. You wanted to get to know Carlos, then get to know Carlos. And that’s a lot easier to do when you’re not glowering at him.” 

“I love how we can have an entire conversation and I don’t even get a word in,” Judd griped, though the smile playing at his lips gave him away. Grace rolled her eyes at him, but any retort was cut off by the sound of the doorbell echoing through the house. They crossed to the front door and Grace pulled it open to reveal TK and Carlos standing on the front stoop, a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers in Carlos’s arms.

Grace gestured for them to enter, reaching out to pull TK into a hug as he entered. “I feel like I hardly see you anymore TK Strand,” she said reproachfully. 

TK chuckled into her shoulder, “Sorry Grace, I’ve just been busy between work and...other stuff.” 

“Mhm,” Grace said dryly as they pulled apart, “Well when ‘other stuff’ looks as good as he does, I guess I have to give you a pass.” She turned her gaze to Carlos then, still standing in the doorway. She took a step forward and pulled him into a hug as well. “It’s good to see you, Carlos.” 

Carlos returned the hug, “It’s good to see you too Grace,” he said as they pulled apart, “these are for you.” He held out the bottle of wine and bouquet of flowers he had brought. 

She smiled at him as she took them. “You’re a gem Carlos Reyes.” 

He returned her smile before his gaze traveled past her to Judd, who was clapping TK in the shoulder. Their gazes met and they studied each other for a moment before Judd stuck out his hand, “Carlos, it’s good to see you.”

Carlos grasped his hand, “You too, Judd.” 

There was silence again as TK and Grace glance at each other, TK’s eyebrows raised and Grace’s expression exasperated. She shook her head then and crossed to Judd, laying a hand on his shoulder, “Let’s eat, shall we?”

——————

“Grace, this is amazing. Is that tarragon on this?” 

Grace nodded, smiling at Carlos, “it is. I know dill is typical for salmon, but I just like the tarragon better. Has a bit more of a zing.” 

Carlos nodded enthusiastically, “It does. I hadn’t thought of trying that, but I’m going to be doing it from now on.” 

TK laughed lightly, “I’ll have no complaints about that. It really is good, Grace.” 

“Thank you, dear. So, am I correct I’m guessing that Carlos does most of the cooking?” 

Both TK and Carlos nodded. “He tries,” Carlos allowed, “but…”

“But the last time I tried I almost burned down Carlos’s kitchen, so we’re taking a break from that for a while,” TK finished. 

Judd laughed, “What, you don’t get enough of that at work?”

“Apparently not,” Carlos said drily as TK smiled sheepishly. 

“Maybe you guys should consider having him practice at work - at least you’d be better equipped to handle it there,” Carlos said to Judd, who chuckled. 

“I’ll talk to Strickland, but I make no promises. Besides he’s the best damn dish boy we’ve ever had you know, I’d hate to lose out on that.” 

TK rolled his eyes, “I’m right here you know,” he reminded them. 

Carlos nodded, “We know, you’re meant to hear it.” 

Judd chuckled again and TK shook his head. He sat back and watched the conversation flow. He watched Judd and Carlos banter across the table with a soft smile. He may have given Carlos a hard time about his nerves, but the truth was he had been a little nervous about tonight as well. He liked Carlos a lot; he may even love him. It mattered to him that he and Judd got along. Judd’s opinion mattered to him, too. Sometimes he marveled at the fact that he had found such solid relationships in such a short time since his move to Austin, but the fact was that he had and now he just wanted all these people who were so important to him to get along. Really, was that too much to ask?

Dinner passed without incident, but there was a tension evident just below the surface. TK knew that Grace sensed it too. When she asked him to go to the kitchen with her to get dessert out, he nodded and followed only allowing himself a solitary glance over his shoulder to where Judd and Carlos now sat in strained silence. 

As he and Grace moved through the kitchen, he couldn’t help but glance back at the doorway, wondering what was happening beyond the threshold. 

“Worrying at the door won’t change anything,” Grace chided lightly as she pulled out a stack of dessert plates. 

TK sighed, “I know, but I don’t think I can help it.” 

Grace shook her head, “Our boys maybe both be stubborn and just a bit hard-headed, but they’re not fools. They know how important this is to you, and they both want what’s best for you. That’s where they’ll find their common ground. From there, maybe they’ll realize just how much alike they are.” 

TK paused in the act of gathering forks from the drawer Grace had indicated, “They are, aren’t they?” 

“Fortunately or unfortunately, They may not always have the same approach or temperament, but they both care so deeply, and love so thoroughly. I’m happy for you TK; there’s nothing in the world quite like being loved like that.” 

TK smiled down at the silverware draw in an attempt to hide the blush he knew was creeping up his cheeks. “It is quite something, isn’t it?” he said softly. 

He shut the drawer and crossed over to where Grace had the pie and the plates on a tray. When he drew closer, she looked him in the eyes.

“It’s going to be alright you know, this thing with Judd and Carlos? Judd is just worried, but he’ll see what we all see.”

TK nodded, “I know,” he replied, voice strong and confident,  “I never doubted it.” 

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

There was silence in the dining room after TK and Grace left for the kitchen. Judd and Carlos studied each other, each holding the other’s gaze. It was Carlos who finally broke the silence. 

“You do realize trying to intimidate me won’t work, right Judd? Just say what you want to say.” 

Judd nodded, “I don’t know what you know about TK’s past - and it’s not my place to tell you - but I know that he had been through a lot. He has survived a lot to get to this point, and he’s still healing. It’s not that I don’t think he can take care of himself, lord knows he can and has, but I don’t want to see him have to.”

“And you want to know you can trust me to not hurt him,” Carlos finished. 

“That about sums it up,” Judd agrees. 

“Then I think you should know the most important fact about me: I care about TK Strand far too much to ever hurt him. And I think you knew that already Judd, otherwise we would have had this conversation a long time ago.” 

Judd shrugged, “I’m not TK’s keeper - he doesn’t need my permission to do anything or see anyone. I’m just looking to find out more about you, so I can make my own conclusions. I just want to know more about the person my little brother is trusting his heart with.”

There was silence again that stretched for several long moments before Carlos spoke again, voice softer, “I’m glad he has you looking out for him Judd.” 

Judd shrugged, “he’s my brother.” He said it matter of factly; as if it should be obvious. Carlos nodded. 

“Still,” he continued, “I appreciate it and I know he does too, even if he doesn’t always show it. But if it makes you feel better, I suppose you can ask a few questions.” 

Judd grinned, “Then tell me, Carlos, what is your favorite color?” 

--------

It was late when they fell into bed that night stuffed with Grace’s cooking and the warmth of good conversation with friends. 

“Have I mentioned yet how happy I am that neither of us has to get up early tomorrow?” TK asked. 

Carlos laughed lightly as he rolled closer to TK, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him closer, “You may have, once or twice.” 

“Well I am,” TK reiterated, “Nothing in the world sounds better than spending a morning in bed with you. Especially after all that food we ate.” 

“I thought we were going to roll out of there,” Carlos agreed.

TK’s answering laugh was light and it made Carlos’s heart swell. He pulled him closer, burying his head into the crook of TK’s neck. “That was nice,” he said eventually, “it was nice to spend time with them, to get to know them a little better.” 

“The fact that Judd didn’t pummel you like you were worried he might probably doesn’t hurt either.” 

“I did not think he was going to do that,” Carlos muttered defensively, “but I’m still glad we got to talk things out.” 

TK rolled over to face him. He reached out a hand and ran it down Carlos’s arm. He held Carlos’s gaze for a moment before looking down at the space between them. 

“Did you realize when you came up to me in that bar that you’d be in for this level of crazy family?” he asked softly. 

Carlos kissed him lightly on the forehead before leaning back into his pillow, “not in the slightest, but you’re worth it.” 

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

[Read on Ao3]

[royalcordelia]

This Bed of Recall and Recollections (1/1)

Summary: Most of the time, it’s convenient to have your husband as your doctor, except for the times he condemns you bedrest. A very pregnant Anne decides to open her chest of old memories to pass her bedrest time. (A future shirbert drabble). 

Notes: Happy belated holidays @cresmix​! Here’s a little somethin’ somethin’ for you because you and your kind heart deserve it. This was a request that @shirberts-sherbert came up with, so thank you for the idea. (Also y’all follow me because I write well, not because I photoshop well, but I gave it 110%. Even if it does look a lil funky lmao). 

***

Anne knew there were bright sides to her current situation. The bed was impossibly soft underneath her, but stiff enough to support her weight against the headboard. She didn’t have to wear shoes in bed, either - an added plus. Just the thought of jamming her swollen toes into her dainty slippers as she had during the past several months had her cringing. 

You were given your imagination for times like these, she scolded herself. There are plenty of lovely things about being on bedrest. Why, I’ve had time to read all the books on my list, and then some! A bitter voice in the back of her mind reminded her that she’d read all the books on her list already - twice, some of them three times! Gilbert promised to bring home some new reading material soon, but he’d been so busy at his medical practice, that she’d long since stopped asking if he bore her any surprises. 

Now there’s a bright side worth thanking the Lord for, she decided. Not every woman, exhausted with the many weights of pregnancy, got to have her husband as her doctor. Anne argued that Gilbert was better attuned to her symptoms than any of his patients. Perks of sharing a bed with him, she supposed. There was no husband around with more compassion and love for his ever-glowing wife, even with the unpleasant oddities it brought to their relationship. 

But it also meant that when her blood pressure had spiked to dangerous heights, Gilbert had said with very firm stringency that Anne S. C. Blythe - Queen of Conquering Obstacles and Goddess of Fortitude - was condemned to bedrest. At least until the new member of the house arrived. When the decree had been made, Anne was wise enough not to argue. 

“Every time a man speaks like he’s got a sour cranberry on his tongue, it means he means business,” said Susan, their beloved housekeeper, to Mrs. Doctor Dear later that night. “And that you may tie to.” 

Anne knew her husband better than that, though. Gilbert’s word, of course, did mean business, but she knew that a tiny part of him still held onto a poisonous drop of guilt. Susan might have claimed to know the Doctor better than most, but Anne was the one that Gilbert laid his head upon, weeping into her chest that it was his fault their first baby had died. If I had just paid better attention...There must have been something I missed. How could I? My own daughter? Not even Anne’s softest touches through his hair or the honesty of her own unnecessary forgiveness could take away all of his remorse. When she’d informed him of their second chance, he’d been even more attentive than he’d been the first time. 

Thus, Anne was growing into a prisoner in her own bed. Her loving, caring husband, her jailor. 

With a sigh, Anne turned her gaze toward the window. Her soul sighed. It was golden hour, the most beloved time of day, when the PEI sun took a few moments out of its busy day to say hello to her. It always looked so sweet over the garden, the early spring buds glistening as if they had been touched by Midas himself. Against the bedposts, Anne tried to imagine the soft moss underneath her fingers or the richness of the soil of her flowers, but the mental image fell flat. 

Her window, though...Her window was only a few feet away from the bed. If she could just take a glimpse at the garden, maybe her heart wouldn’t feel so starved. 

The coolness of the floor felt wonderful underneath her heat swollen feet. With a careful hand behind supporting her back, Anne gently rose up for the first time in days. Her vision swirled, but she ignored the momentary vertigo and began to creep forward with astonishing stealth. If Susan heard her up on her feet, there’d be hell to pay, especially when Gilbert got home. Just as Anne was able to take a self-indulgent glance at her garden, a familiar voice broke through the bird-song silence. 

“Sweetheart, what on earth are you doing up?” 

Anne jolted, and she staggered like a drunken fool for balance. Gilbert was at her side before she could see him fly over to her, one hand in hers to keep her steady, the other against her back. She could sense a scolding on the tip of his tongue, but he bit his lips against it as he guided her back to bed. Settling at the edge of the bed together, Gilbert rubbed her knuckles with a tender touch. 

He could’ve begun his love-driven admonishment, but instead, he said, “A parcel came from Green Gables today. I stopped in town to pick it up.” 

Just the mention of home was enough for some of the weight on her shoulders to dissipate. Her gaze drifted from the wrapped box at the end of the bed back up to the hazel warmth of Gilbert’s eyes. He gave her his daily “ I’m home” kiss and helped her shift back into her perch on the bed against the headboard. 

“I know that bedrest isn’t the most stimulating activity in the world, so I asked Marilla to send this,” Gilbert continued, placing the parcel in her lap. 

“What is it?” Anne asked, though she had already started tearing the brown paper away. She gasped when she found the wooden box underneath, fingers grazing over the grained smoothness. “It’s the box I kept when we were in college.” 

“I remembered you had a memory box, but you never told me what was in it. I hoped whatever was inside, it could be enough to convince you to sit in bed.”

Anne lifted the lid away and the contents of box overflowed onto her lap. 

“It’s so full because I kept every single letter you sent me over four years. But there’s some sketches from when I asked Cole to teach me how to draw. Oh, and look, a few pictures too.” 

Gilbert settled at her side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“If it’s every letter I sent you in college, that’s more reading than all of the Jane Austen books put together. We better start now if we want to finish by the time our new gentleman arrives.” 

Right on time, Susan rapped against the door with her elbow, a tray of tea and biscuits in her hands. 

“I put the tea on the stove as soon as the doctor came home. These are the last of the biscuits you like, Mrs. Doctor, but I’m baking more tomorrow. And there’s a piece of my cherry pie for you, Dr. Dear.” 

Anne grabbed Susan’s hand before she could walk away, and pressed a firm kiss to it. 

“You’re a blessing untold, Susan, thank you.” 

When they were alone again, Anne grabbed the first thing she could find: a letter. The bluish hue of the envelope and the familiar scrawl told her what she already knew. This letter had been one of the later ones she’d received during their fourth year of college. The blue envelopes had been Gilbert’s way of trying out professional stationary, and each letter was monogrammed at the top with the initials GJB. As for the nearly illegible scrawl of her name and address, that was a bad habit he’d picked up from his medical professors. 

“When did I send that one?” he asked, peeking over from his own reading. 

“The April of 1904. I remember it without even needing to check.” 

It took a moment, but Gilbert suddenly remembered what the letter said. He could picture exactly what his desk and room looked like the day he wrote it with the clarity of a photograph. Long lost in fireplace ash, there were several burned attempts that had come before the finished product that Anne know held in her hands. 

“This is a question I had every intention of asking in person, but I find my patience has evaporated with the months our of separation,” Anne read softly. “Say that there was a velvet pouch in my pocket. Say that it contained a peridot ring that my mother once bore on her own hand. (Breathe, darling, I’m not proposing over correspondence. What I mean to ask is - ) Would you find yourself open to the idea of wearing it in the foreseeable future? If there was a fellow who had a question to ask - a plead, a beg really - would you be ready to answer the next time you saw him?” 

The ring of his tender descriptions now rested on Anne’s hand, a little tight with her swollen fingers, but still glistening and lovely just the same. Gilbert took the hand and pressed a kiss to the stone that his father had chosen for his mother, the same stone that was a perfect green on his redheaded wife.

“Do you remember what I replied?” she asked, nuzzling her cheek against his touch. 

“Not exactly,” Gilbert admitted with a fond smile. “I think as soon as I read your response, my entire brain stopped functioning and I all but floated around Toronto for the next month.” 

Her shoulders shook against him as she chuckled. 

“What’s that you’re looking at?” Gilbert revealed the journal that had been placed in his lap. Its leather was the same color as Anne’s girlhood horse, Belle and was tied around the middle with a strap. “Ah, the proof of my stint with art.” 

“You were genuinely talented!” Gilbert argued. To prove his point, he flipped open the sketchbook to one of the middle pages. “This one is my favorite.” 

Of course it was, she thought with an amused smirk. He had skipped over the pages where she’d sketched pink carnations - briefly wondering if he recognized they were the ones he’d brought her during one of his visits - and focused on the page where Anne had drawn one of the Blythe-Lacroix apples. 

“Anne Blythe, Gilbert S. C. Blythe…” he read with interest. “If I didn’t know better, Mrs. Blythe, I’d say you were in love with me!” 

“Oh, be quiet. If I didn’t doodle my feelings like an infatuated schoolgirl, I’d have dropped out of Queen’s and transferred to Toronto.” 

“You wouldn’t have found arguments from me,” Gilbert said with a shrug. 

Anne nudged him with her elbow, but kept flipping through the box with interest. Mostly, she found letters. To his delight, it seemed that not a single one had been lost over time. Each one was a treasure, and she’d treated them as such. Some of his more romantic ones appeared to have more wear, as if she’d found them in her hours of loneliness and reread the words in his voice. There were tear smudges, small rips in the corners, memories of smiles, and residual pining that never actually went away. Some of Gilbert’s later letters admitted the way he’d desired her, craved her touch and counted the days before he could love her in the ways he was meant to as a man. It made Anne glad that Marilla had always respected her privacy. If Rachel Lynde had read those letters and found Gilbert Blythe longing to kiss the soft skin of Anne’s breast, she likely would’ve shipped the young girl to France or England herself. 

Lost in her amusement, Anne almost didn’t hear Gilbert sigh beside her. He held an old photograph in his hands, one that she groaned at the sight of. She’d sat for several portraits during her lifetime, but never before did she feel as unattractive as she did in the one he held.

“I ought to have just thrown that in the fire,” she commented. He gaped at her in surprise. 

“What do you mean? Why have I never seen this one?!” he exclaimed. His eyes roved over the picture, and suddenly he felt like the eighteen-year-old boy losing his breath at the sight of her. In the portrait, Anne wore a demure, neutral smile on her lips and wine red blossoms behind her ear. And her hair ...Gilbert suspected that if Aphrodite or Hera were really out there, they envied the ocean waves of her auburn hair. “Anne, this is breathtaking.” 

Anne paused before finally answering in a rush. “I originally planned to send it to you because you’d been asking for one, and I know how much you like my red hair so I asked the man to hand color for me.” 

“I think he did a fine job!” Gilbert added, still confused. 

“He did a fine job commenting on my hair, too,” Anne stated bitterly. “He said he never saw such salmon hair in all his years. Salmon, Gilbert. There was no way I could send the picture after that.”

Gilbert laughed heartily at this, shaking his head at the stubborn rage of his beautiful, impeccable wife. 

“Well, darling, what’s mine is yours, and what’s yours…” He snatched the picture from her hands and stuffed it inside his jacket pocket. “Is mine! I’ll be holding onto this in my own memory box.” 

Anne might’ve argued, but he rose from the bed with a kiss to her forehead. In any other circumstances, she would have followed him until she could reclaim what was hers, but that would’ve involved rising like Christ from her bed. If she owed her husband anything after all the years he’d stayed loyal through her stubbornness and her flares of anger, it was to heed his word and remain in bed. 

Still, with him gone, she missed his warmth and wondered if she might convince him to sit beside her just a little longer.

“You need to eat, my love,” he concluded. “I’m going to go help Susan with dinner. Drink some tea, alright? You need to be sure you’re drinking enough fluids.” 

“I’m hydrating for two, I know.” 

Right before he disappeared out of the room, he let his eyes linger on her - the loveliness of her white bed gown, the sunlight on her hair, the loving glint in her warm blue gaze. He could taste the words on the tip of his tongue, hundreds of I love yous that he could mutter with all the breath in his lungs. Instead, he exhaled a shaky breath and said, “Let me know if you find anything else of interest.” 

Anne nodded with a smile, finally looking the most comfortable she’d been in days. She reached back down to the very bottom of the box and pulled out the oldest letter she it contained. 

“My Anne, I cannot think of a more wonderful way to start a letter…”

[sheriff-caitlyn]

She has spent a few days catching up on things. Her gifts should have arrived by now, belated Heartseekers’ Day gifts around the world. To Bilgewater, Ionia, Noxus, Bandle City, Demacia, Shurima, and to all the places inbetween. Couriers for the city, clockwork birds for locations a little further out. To her friends, and comrages, and acquaintances, and even to those who meant more. Pragma, Philia, Storge, Agape. She does what she can, with whiskey and sugared treats and thoughtful gifts and handwritten cards.

But now she is staring at her telephone, and bracing herself for a difficult phonecall. She has to make it soon, before Vi comes back from break. It has to be done now.

“This will not go well,” she reminds herself. Speaking aloud to an empty office. “This will go very poorly.” She nods, confirmed in her belief, then picks up the receiver and dials. The rotary wheel hisses and clicks with each turn. It takes a while for the signal to be made, and she listens to a dead line become live, to the hum and crackle, as the connection is made through wires that connect Piltover to Demacia.

They call it magic, and yet petricite doesn’t keep it out. That must make electricity and clockwork entirely demonic, then. It’s the only logical explanation.

“Hall of High Justice. State your name and your purpose.”

Caitlyn sits up taller in her chair, bracing herself. “Sheriff Caitlyn Huxley, of Piltover, wishing to speak to the person in charge. It involves a case --”

“Hold.” There is a grudging, “Please,” added as an afterthought.

She presses her mouth in a thin line. Her fingers drum against the desk.

It is an unconscionably-rude amount of time later before the call is continued. “Justicar Weatherby. To what do we owe this conversation, Sheriff Huxley?”

“As I explained to the secretary,” she says, brisk and politely cheery, “I am calling about a case which concerns Demacia.”

“Oh? What is it this time?”

She notes with amusement the confrontational tone. It sounds familiar. “I have recently received a card from the criminal known as C. As you may recall, the last time this thief set foot on Demacian soil, a rather priceless heirloom was stolen from the --”

“And as you may recall, the last time you were here you failed to prevent the theft or to apprehend or even identify the thief in question.”

She has a book on her desk, something retrieved with foresight from the bookshelf ahead of time. She takes the moment to open it, to scan the index page, and then to flip over to the appropriate entry. Her copy of the Demacian Noble Registry was a few years out of date, and she had not bothered to chase up a more updated copy since Demacia had chosen to end the alliance with Piltover, but the name alone should suffice.

“Yes,” she says, as she does so, “I am aware. And that is why I am contacting you first.”

And there it was. Weatherby. She checks the extended family tree, and - what an entirely expected find - the man is related to Farrer. First cousins. Small wonder there is no co-operation here, given how Piltover’s Finest had departed Demacia. Nothing helps a grudge fester quite like time.

She continues, “Considering the thief has had such a long time to prepare himself, I have reason to --”

“Huxley.”

Caitlyn rolls her eyes and mouths ‘I don’t care’.

“I don’t care,” Justicar Weatherby says, in time with the sheriff’s own lips. “You have proven yourself to be inefficient, and even incapable, of dealing with this thief in the past.”

Maybe she should have waited for Vi. This was tremendously entertaining. “Good sir, there is no need --”

“And now you expect me to believe that this C character has returned out of the blue? Now, of all times? A terrific coincidence.”

So there have been problems in Demacia, have there? What a fascinating thing to learn. “Justicar Weatherby, I must insist --”

It seems a habit of his to interrupt her. “Either this is a ploy to earn your way out of disgrace, or to deflect your personal failings onto others as you have done before. Either way, Piltovian, it will not be tolerated."

“I am contacting you because you are about to have your vaults emptied,” she says, stiffly. “I am here to offer my services in preventing this from occurring --”

“Your services are not required.”

“Marvellous,” she says, her tone shifting to chilly. “I shall make sure the king knows you will be taking full responsibility for this theft. You know how to contact me if you should wish for more details of the upcoming robbery.”

A sudden spike of panic over the bluster. “Now, hold on a moment --”

“Good day to you.” She taps the top of the rotary, and the signal is cut. 

And for a moment, she sits in silence.

“It did not go well,” she says, eventually. “It went very poorly.” She taps her fingers on her desk, considers the family tree that linked Weatherby and Farrer, then closed the book.

Her personal hexphone is in the desk drawer. She pulls it out, and dials a number. It takes a moment for it to be connected. She introduces herself. She waits, with a little more patience, for the phone to be handed over. Eventually, she hears a different voice answer.

“Sheriff.” Tired, but warm. “It has been some time since we spoke.”

“Indeed it has, sire.” She exhales quietly. “My condolences to you, on the passing of your father, and I wish you the best of fortunes in your new role.”

“Thank you.” The man on the other end of the line heaves a sigh. “My time is short, I am afraid. But it must be urgent, and you must have been frustrated by the proper channels, or you would not have reached out to me directly.”

“Indeed. Apologies that there is little time for pleasantries. But he is back, sire. The criminal C has left me a card. He intends to target Demacia.”

His voice goes steely. “When? Where?”

She fills him in as best she is able. Short answers, no words wasted, no time theorising. His questions in return are brusque, blunt, but the demands are not unreasonable. At least, not until the end.

“When will you arrive?”

“I won’t be, sire.”

“... Ms Huxley?”

“I imagine I’ll be held up at the border.”

“I can make arrangements for that not to be a problem.”

She smiles on her end of the call. “I appreciate that, sire, I do, but I honestly imagine I will be held up at the border for an unconscionable amount of time.”

He is silent for a moment. “You are taking a significant risk with a Demacian heirloom.”

“Yes, sire.” Her smile fades. “I know.” She takes a slow deep breath. “I understand that this may be too great an ask. But I must not be allowed to cross into Demacia.”

“You have a plan.” 

“I do, sire. I do.”

[dragonologist-phd]

How about Parting Words Regret for Desta?

finally finished this prompt from my @badthingshappenbingo from forever ago!! Hooray for belated angst! XD

(AO3)

Blessings are rare things in the Living Lands.

Elayne should know; she has resided here, amongst the hills and forests and monsters, for over a century. Her soul has been molded by this harsh place, has been made strong enough to provide strength and guidance to those who would seek to serve Galawain. She stands tall as the High Priestess of the Seeker God’s temple, and though life here can be brutal, she has never asked for anything else.

She never asked to be a mother.

But Galawain does not act according to the whims of mortals. Elayne still remembers the day he delivered Desta to the temple. So young, yet obviously touched by the Seeker God’s power, carrying his essence of wilderness in her veins. The timing is fortuitous; Elayne is not quite past her prime, but she will not live forever. Someone must be trained to take her place.

That, she believes, is why this child has been brought to her. And it is never wise to turn away a blessing from Galawain.

 Elayne is tending to the altar in the main temple hall when Desta finds her. That alone is enough to tell her something is wrong; Desta has only grown more and more stubborn as of late, and rarely consents to entering the main hall of her own volition.

But she is here now- not in her temple robes but in plain traveling gear, with a bag thrown over her shoulder and an obstinate look on her face, and Elayne knows what it is she wants before she even says a word.

Still, she stays silent and continues her work of tending to the altar. The statue of Galawain that overlooks the hall is carved from oak found deep in the Lands, his visage fierce and wise. Elayne inspects the warps of the wood, checking for signs of aging, letting the seconds tick past as Desta stands behind her.

Under normal circumstances, the child is hardly shy of speaking her mind. If Elayne hadn’t already guess the purpose of this visit, Desta’s hesitation would tell her all she needs to know.

At last, Desta finds her voice, and her simple statement falls softly against the temple walls. “I’m leaving.”

Only then does Elayne stop in her work to face Desta. “Are you?” She makes no effort to hide the disapproval in her voice. She and Desta have had conversations like this before; the girl knows exactly why this is a bad idea. “And where, exactly, are you going?”

Desta falters for a moment, adjusting her grip on the bag nervously. “I don’t know,” she admits. “But I can’t stay here. Isn’t that obvious by now?”

“Not at all. This is where you belong.”

“No, it isn’t.” Desta’s voice cracks slightly as she repeats the same argument she’s tried to make a hundred times.

Elayne’s tone, in contrast, is steady as ever. “Galawain brought you here-”

“If Galawain brought me here on purpose he has a twisted sense of humor,” Desta snaps, although she deflates slightly when Elayne fixes her with a stern glare. “I’m sorry, but…you know as well I do this is hopeless. I’m never going to be a priestess like you.”

Elayne’s expression softens slightly, and she takes a step forward to rest a hand on Desta’s shoulder. “You are still young. I know things have not been these past few years. But you must not give up. You could be capable of great things here.”

Desta’s mouth tightens, and she crosses her arms in a sulky gesture. “You’ve let others leave.”

“As missionaries. They go to act as priests and spread Galawain’s message.” Try as she might to have patience, Elayne cannot stop the exasperation from seeping into her voice. “You cannot even recite a proper passage from the Book of the Hunt, nor have you made any progress with your magic lessons.”

“Because I don’t want to be priestess!” Desta exclaims, pulling away from Elayne’s touch. “Why is that so hard to understand? I don’t want anything to do with Galawain!”

“Enough.” Desta’s protestations are one thing when made in her own chambers, but in front of Galawain’s altar they are another entirely. “This discussion is over. You are staying here until I decide you are ready to leave, and for now I say you are not ready.”

Elayne expects Desta to leave then, to run off and hide in the gardens until nightfall. That is how many of their previous arguments have ended. But this time, Desta stands her ground, clenching her bag tightly to her side, and begins reciting. “Galawain’s greatest desire for us is that prey becomes predator, mewling babes grow into strong hunters, and the lost find their own enlightenment.”

The words are spoken through a clenched jaw, as if every statement is painful, but when she’s done Desta tilts her head up defiantly. “That’s a ‘proper passage’ from the Book of the Hunt, isn’t it? Kith should find their own enlightenment. So why won’t you let me find mine?”

“Because I know it is not true enlightenment you seek. You seek to flee from your duties, to renounce a life blessed by the gods- and for what?” Elayne’s knuckles tighten at her sides as she thinks about the world outside this temple- a world Desta is most certainly not prepared for, despite Elayne’s attempts at teaching. “You are not a healer, you are not a hunter. You are a dreamer who likes to grow flowers. The Living Lands will devour a child like you.”

Desta flinches, but she does not back down. “I’m not a child. I just believe there are better things out there than this constant talk of fighting and competition and forcing people to either be predator or prey!” Her brow furrows, and her eyes fill with that bright passion that Elayne always thought came straight from Galawain. She still thinks that, no matter how ironic it may seem in the moment.

But never before has Elayne seen those eyes filled with such anger. Desta takes a step back from Elayne and says, “Besides, you don’t know how strong I am. I don’t think you’ve ever really known me at all.”

Elayne scowls at the child before her- although looking at her now, she must admit that Desta is not a child any longer. Still so young, and foolish, and naïve. But not a child. Suddenly Elayne feels very tired, and she lets out a long sigh as she lets her gaze drift back to the statue of Galawain.

“I thought you were a blessing, when you first came here,” she says softly. “A sign from the Seeker himself.”

“I know. I’m sure I’m quite the disappointment to you both.”

Her words hang in the air for a long moment. Elayne has the feeling Desta is expecting some sort of response, but what does the priestess have left to give? She has taught the girl, raised her, tried to give her a life here. She has tried to impress upon her Galawain’s finest gift, more precious than any of Hylea’s pretty songs or the sunbeams of Eothas – survival.

And Desta has never wanted any of it. She would rather hold tightly to her rosy-colored view of the world, no matter how much pain it will cause her in the end.

Elayne contemplates the imposing, unyielding face of her god and thinks, So be it.

“If you must go, then go,” she says quietly, her eyes still on the statue. “But remember I tried to stop you. Your death will not be on my conscience.”

Desta is quiet after that, and for a moment Elayne thinks she is reconsidering her plan. But then she turns, and without another word leaves Elayne alone in the temple.

Elayne stays in the temple for a long while that night, her head bowed before Galawain’s statue. She wonders, for the first time, if his decision to put Desta in her life was not a blessing, but a challenge.

If it is, it is one she has failed.

[shockapella-sweet]

hello, sorry to bother you but, i have two things to say/ask, 1) happy new year!!! i wish you all the best wishes for you!!! 2) i'd like to ask you what your thoughts for a mk11 modern au, more specifically, about what careers would they have as modern aus? it doesn't need to be a fic, it can be headcanon, i'm just curious what would they do as mdoern regular humans (sorry i don't know if this has been asked before :x) :))

Happy belated New Year, Nonny, and thank you so very much; I hope your year will go wonderfully for you and be filled with happiness! :D Sorry for the epically late response to your ask, as I’ve been moving house (which has been a hectic process), so thank you for your patience.

Gosh, I’ve never been asked this before, so it took me a while to sit and think about this. I suppose an MK11 AU depends on what the characters do for a living in the real world. I can imagine charries like Kitana and Kotal Kahn being in the political field and potentially being at odds with each other, while others like the Kombat Kids and their parents work in everyday jobs while contending with their own personal issues.

Here’s some potential occupations that they could take up:

Raiden: Billionaire philanthropist/museum curator who’s close with Kitana’s family, practically raised Liu Kang, etc.

Fujin: Environmental activist who’s involved in the sustainable energy business, specifically solar wind farms.

Sonya Blade: US military officer (of course).Johnny Cage: Actor (duh).Cassie Cage: A toss-up between joining the military like her mother, or becoming a vlogger/social media influencer. I can also picture her making vlogs centred around her military life, doing challenges with her friends or her dad, etc.Jax Briggs: Something in technology or in the automobile/aircraft industry, before he retires to become a farmer.

Jacqui Briggs: Pilot (commercial or private or air force).

Takeda: Information technology, ie. web development, programmer, hardware specialist, etc.

Kenshi: A psychologist who can solve everyone’s problems but his own. >3

Kung Jin: Lawyer who specialises in human rights cases, or a state diplomat (because he’s got a mind and mouth for those sort of things).

Liu Kang: I feel like teaching would be up Liu-liu’s alley. At a school or as a Wushu instructor, I can’t decide, but expect him to teach youngsters who look up to him.

Kung Lao: Either something along the same lines as Liu Kang, or dabbling in historic preservation (similar to Nightwolf).

Kitana: Politician who comes from a well-known family.

Kotal Kahn: I can see him as someone who’s in the pharmaceutical field, or as a doctor (who specialises in cardiology), before he decides to take up politics.

Sub-Zero: Lecturer at a university who specialises in political science and/or Chinese studies; or a political analyst, or an anthropologist. OR, if you want to go the coffee shop!AU route, he manages the Lin Kuei speciality tea store.

Scorpion: Also a lecturer at a university along the same lines as Subby (but specialising in Japanese studies instead), or something like a social worker who works with rehabilitating kids and adults.

Kano: Your neighbourhood nightclub kingpin who happens to run a casino, a dodgy underground fight club, and a weapons/drug cartel all at the same time.

Erron Black: Unemployed stripper. Helped his daddy run a ranch/farm as a kid before taking it over himself. Or, he runs/owns a distillery that specialises in whiskey and spirits.

Stryker: Cop (duh times two).

Kabal: Reformed criminal-turned-cop + Stryker’s partner.  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

D’Vorah: Entomologist, because it’s D’Vorah.

Tremor: Geologist, or someone who works in the mining sector. Also runs the Johnny Cage fan club.

Shao Kahn: Donald Trump on steroids Gross-as-hell politician.

Shang Tsung: His adviser with his own plots and plans.

Kollector: Shao Kahn’s taxman. Literally. I bet SK is the CEO of some tax organisation, and Kollector’s his spokesperson or spin doctor who commits fraud on the daily.

Geras: Big boy has his own gym or self-defence school, because DAMN. Or he manages a library or archival office with Kronika, I don’t know.

That’s all I can think of at the moment, Nonny. I’m still trying to think what could suit Smoke, Jade, Reptile, Ermac, Mileena, etc, without going for the obvious like reptile expert or bodyguard. Otherwise, I’m sure a decent MK11 AU could be made from my suggestions. ^3^

[shih-coulda-had-it]

49: “I’m really drunk, please help me” w sorahiko (2/2 of that one anon’s request)

“Shūzenji,” slurs Sorahiko into his phone. He leans heavily against the sticky wooden table, and slaps Saru on the back. The Monk Hero grunts his acknowledgment, and flags the bartender for more whiskey. Eh, it’s all going on Saru’s tab; the night out has been a belated birthday present for Sorahiko. “Shūzenji, you there?”

“Yes?” She sounds irritable. “What the hell are you calling me for? It’s one-thirty at night, I just got off my shift.”

“I’m…” He searches for the words. “I’m drunk.”

Recovery Girl doesn’t have to speak for her disapproval to come through the phone. Her silence is heavy with it, and Sorahiko endures it with all the lazy patience he is miraculously endowed with after three glasses of sharp, pale golden Suntory liquor. Eventually, she says, “I’m not going to use my Quirk to restore your liver or your sobriety, you lush.”

“I wasn’t going to ask.”

“I’m not paying for your cab either,” she adds mercilessly. “Did you already ask Nana? Is that why you’re calling me? Did she hang up on you?” Unspoken: like you deserve.

Sorahiko pulls a face, and he reaches over and scrubs his hand across Saru’s sniggering expression. He ignores the protests and the sputtering and the—well, no, he can’t ignore the disgusting feeling of Saru licking his palm. “You bastard—not you, Shūzenji, sorry. Um. Please don’t tell Nana I’m drunk, she’ll get mad.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

“She’s pregnant,” says Sorahiko bewilderedly, even though he’s had three months to digest this. “She can’t have alcohol.”

“... And?”

“And if she knows I’m drinking without her, she’ll get mad!”

Shūzenji sighs, long and low. “Why are you calling me, Torino?”

He hesitates. “You won’t tell her, will you?” he checks. At the impatient ‘no, now for fuck’s sakes, tell me before I really do ask Nana to track your pager,’ Sorahiko confesses, “I’m really drunk, please help me.”

“Define ‘really drunk.’”

Sorahiko considers his refilled glass. He flattens his tongue against the roof of his mouth and assesses the dryness, the dehydration. His surroundings are definitely a little hazy, and Saru’s looking more and more like a cuddle buddy than a drinking buddy. Also, the man’s scalp is shining like a lightbulb. “I might pass out.”

“Oh my God,” says Shūzenji. “Who are you drinking with?”

“Monk Kong.”

“Oh my God,” she repeats. “Where are you, what did you drink?” He rattles off an address, hedges on the specific alcohol. “Don’t beat around the bush, I’m coming over, and you might as well tell me before I suss it out. Which hard liquor?”

He balks. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you’re awful at holding your alcohol, and you’re forgetting that I bore witness to all of your and Nana’s experiments.”

“I have to finish this glass,” he says loudly, “so Kong can pay the tab. Bye, Shūzenji.”

Then he hangs up. Saru squints at him. Just to prove something, Sorahiko glares and drains the glass. He’s not too certain what happens between then and when Shūzenji picks him up, but Saru had been sporting a red handprint, and the bridge of Sorahiko’s nose feels tender and tingly, which means Shūzenji used her Quirk on him and didn’t return him to sobriety.

Also, they’re in a taxi.

“Am I paying?” he slurs into her shoulder.

“Hm,” says Shūzenji, and she leans down and starts rummaging through his bomber jacket’s pockets. He stares blearily at the twin buns and the decorative syringes stabbing through the hair like devil horns, and then he grunts because she’s elbowed him in order to investigate the opposite side.

“And you’re a doctor,” he complains.

“An exhausted one,” she agrees, and there’s his wallet in her slim hand. Shūzenji flips it open and plucks out what’s probably the appropriate amount of bills, then she tucks the leather fold back.

“How close are we?”

“Oh, very,” she says.

“Hmm,” he says, and slouches further into the car seat, tucking his chin down and closing his eyes. “I’m still drunk.”

Shūzenji snorts. “I’m not surprised. Kong showed me the tab.” She pokes his tender nose; he turns his face away and mumbles a curse. “You’re only twenty-eight, you idiot. There’s no reason for you to be wasting your liver so early.”

“Not wasting.”

“You certainly weren’t celebrating.”

“I’m tired,” Sorahiko whines. “Stop nagging at me.”

“‘Stop nagging at me,’” she mimics, pitching her voice higher than normal. She clicks her tongue when he lolls his head against her shoulder, butting against the sharp jut of it with a bullish determination. “Close your eyes, I’m turning on my pager.”

Obediently, he does so. Colors bloom behind his eyelids.

“Who’re you texting?”

“My girlfriend.”

“Oh.” Sorahiko screws up his face. “The one with the white wings? Boxy glasses? Congratulations. I think Nana and I sent you a gift basket a month ago.”

“You did,” Shūzenji says, and her inscrutable tone hints at amusement and an incoming reprimand. “It was very kind, and I applaud whoever’s idea it was to hire a calligrapher to write the message. Were you the one who stacked it with microwavable taiyaki? As an ‘afterglow snack’?”

“Yes,” he says smugly. “Was I right?”

Shūzenji exhales. “Wow. I suddenly have no regrets.” The taxi trundles to a stop, and Shūzenji gets out first, circles around and hauls Sorahiko to his feet. “Hi, can you give me five minutes? I’ll pay for the extra time.” The driver is agreeable, he can hear that much. He struggles to keep his balance as she tugs him forward, and his eyes are fixated on making sure each step connects to the cement path.

Suddenly they’re at a stop.

Suddenly, there’s a golden light. Sorahiko makes a “Buh?” noise, and blinks up to see Shimura fucking Nana’s concerned eyes, and her husband standing behind with that same expression.

“Shūzenji Chiyo,” he says, betrayed. “This isn’t my apartment.”

Shūzenji shoves him forward. “Nana-chan, your responsibility now, you’re welcome, Torino, bye!”

[itracing]

Porsche Supercup Series Revs Up Again

The enforced timeout from racing is over: On 5 July 2020, the Porsche Mobil1 Supercup makes a belated start to the season at the Red Bull Ring in Spielberg, Austria. And the program is packed: Eight races within less than ten weeks make up the calendar of the one-make cup featuring 485 hp Porsche 911 GT3 Cup racing cars. 

As always, all races are held as support to the FIA Formula One World Championship. After a second round in Spielberg one week later, teams head to Budapest followed by two consecutive race weekends at Silverstone before travelling to Barcelona (Spain) and on to Spa-Francorchamps (Belgium). The finale is contested at Monza (Italy) on the first weekend in September. Each weekend features a 30-minute sprint race. To prepare for the most compact season in the history of the Porsche Mobil 1 Supercup, official tests will be held at the Red Bull Ring on 23-24 June 2020. Porsche also fields a VIP vehicle at selected rounds of the 2020 season.

Porsche Mobil 1 Supercup 2020 calendar:

5 July - Red Bull Ring, Spielberg (Austria)

12 July - Red Bull Ring, Spielberg (Austria)

19 July - Hungaroring, Budapest (Hungary)

2 August - Silverstone (Great Britain)

9 August - Silverstone (Great Britain)

16 August - Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya, Barcelona (Spain)

30 August - Spa-Francorchamps (Belgium)

6 September - Autodromo Nazionale Monza (Italy)

“Along with Formula 1, we are trailblazers within Europe with our return to the racetracks. This exceptional situation entails a high degree of responsibility. The health measures required to protect everyone involved pose a major challenge, but we have meticulously prepared for them,” says Oliver Schwab, Project Manager of the Porsche Mobil 1 Supercup. “I’m looking forward to a shortened but extremely gripping season. As originally planned, the calendar includes eight races. Despite the difficult situation, the grid line-up is just as strong as in previous years. The sporting value of the Porsche Mobil 1 Supercup is still high.”

The two Porsche Juniors for the 2020 season are the New Zealander Jaxon Evans (BWT Lechner Racing) and Ayhancan Güven (Martinet by Alméras) from Turkey. “It’s been almost eight months since I last drove the Porsche 911 GT3 Cup in Mexico City,” says Evans, who now enters his second season as a Porsche Junior. “The waiting time has really tested my patience. Words can’t describe how eager I am to finally get into a racing car again. I reckon the 2020 season will be pretty hectic, but I’ve already had a year in the Porsche Mobil 1 Supercup. Now I’m driving for another team, but I know all the racetracks so I’m feeling very confident.”

“Over the past months, I’ve been contesting virtual races on a simulator. That was huge fun and great practice,” says Güven, for whom 2020 is his first season as a Porsche Junior. “But now, I can’t wait to drive a real Porsche on a real Grand Prix circuit. The races come in quick succession. I’m anticipating ten weeks of intense pressure. There’ll be no time for recovery or if need be, a mental reboot.”

[waroftwowolves]

The big ick.

Strange title, I know but its better than 'the plague days'.

I owe quite a few responses to folk in rp, as well as asks and discord rp's. Just giving a heads up I'll be doing them soon. What sent me to hospital new years eve is finally leaving and I'm getting my feet back under me and my energy back. This also means I'll have energy to be able to be in game again and be able to sit up at the laptop.

Thank you for your patience through all this and to those who sent well wishes and a very happy, slightly belated new years to everyone! May 2020 treat you right.

-Lochlan (who is going back to bed)

[fyeahwonderbat]

Keyword #4

Theme: Tension Rating: PG / T Word Count: 1,808 words NOTE: I imagined Tonia Sotiropoulou as the face claim for this chapter, but feel free to imagine whomever you’d like!

Diana didn’t know how to greet the witch she had been sent to meet. A cluster of fireflies floated around the head of the woman in the cell and, in a state of shock after stepping through Zatanna’s portal, the only thing she could think to do was remain silent. The witch snickered, the lines of her face caught in the shadows that the fireflies couldn’t reach. “And who might you two be?” 

Taking a step forward, Diana decided to take charge of the conversation and oblige the witch first. “I am Diana, daughter of Hippolyta, queen of the Amazons.”

“What!?” screeched the woman as she leapt out of her corner. “You can’t be… A daughter to the queen? You lie!”

“You know my mother?” Diana rebutted her accusation with a question of her own. 

The woman’s voice felt much like a snake slithering around her, the echo of the cell giving her a haunting awareness of the danger both she and Bruce were currently in. There had been no other way to enter the Underworld, and it might have landed them in the lap of one of her mother’s enemies. “Know her? She tried to save me from this hell I’m living in. If I had only listened, I wouldn't have had to endure being overtaken by that sow, Persephone!”

Hearing that description provided Diana with all of the necessary clues she needed to identify the witch-- no, the goddess before her. With belated excitement, she blurted out the name she knew belonged to her, “Hecate!?”

“Who?” Bruce whispered from behind her.

However, her attention belonged to the goddess of witchcraft whom she’d always wanted to meet, ever since she was a little girl. Slowly but surely, she watched the horde of fireflies float towards her in an almost ghostly way. Their weakened glow began to reveal the unruly curls of hair that curtained her beautiful face, yet a pair of striking eyes peered through the messy strands with evident scrutiny. “How do you know my name?”

“My mother told me about you. She told me how you were betrothed to Hades, how she dressed you for your wedding in her chambers and walked you through the gate to the Underworld, how--”

“It must be you!” gushed Hecate as she flew around her with unbridled glee before reaching out to grab both of her hands. The imprisoned deity looked incredibly honored to meet her. “I was unaware that Hippolyta had a child! It’s such an honour to meet you, my darling girl. Oh, you’re so beautiful.” 

The way that Hecate showed her affection felt incredibly nostalgic for the Amazon who once grew up on an island of Greek women. Hand holding and pet names were luxuries she hadn’t realized she missed until that very moment, in a rock-made cave in the depths of the Underworld. She savoured the sincerity for a moment longer before reminding herself that they were only in hell for a particular reason. “As are you. Had I known--”

“You expected anything less?” scoffed Hecate, amused by her courtesy. “My magic may be restricted in this gods-forsaken place, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself.”

“Which explains why you summoned us here, to help you escape.” Came the cold voice of the Batman from over Diana’s shoulder, sarcastic as ever. It was just as embarrassing as it was infuriating for her to hear her companion address a goddess in such a cold fashion. Despite the poor lighting of the cell, she made sure to glare at the Dark Knight as if he could see her fury like a beacon of rage in the darkness. 

She felt Hecate’s hands slip away from hers while she giggled fiendishly. “I see. Well, I can tell you have the same taste in men as your mother.” 

“We’re here to stop Hades,” Diana specified in order to bypass any small talk as she cautiously observed the way Hecate drifted towards Bruce. “We were hunting these demons that we believe he is creating, and it led us to you.”

There was a heavy pause after she finished speaking. With her back to Diana, she couldn’t make out which emotion the goddess was presenting. However, knowing Bruce as well as she did, she noticed the way his frown lifted into a solid straight line which could only mean that he was witnessing a rather solemn expression on her face. So moved was he, that he spoke to her with the respect he owed her from the very beginning when he asked, “Why did you bring us here?”

That question pulled the goddess out of her daze and helped her to regain her plucky attitude, much to Diana’s delight. With a renewed focus, Hecate justified her actions, “Because I’ve been meditating for months now trying to find a mind powerful enough to help me escape from this cell and your witch sent me you two. Honestly, who is this man, Diana?”

Trying to stifle her amusement, she replied, “This is Batman. He is a very successful detective, as well as a warrior.”

“Hmph, I guess I shouldn’t expect the standard of human intelligence to be the same as the gods.” 

Her eccentricities had officially worn out Bruce’s patience. In that deep bellow that even resonated inside of the centuries old Amazon, he brushed past her taunting and pressed the witch who could turn him into a literal bat for an immediate answer, “Do you know what the hell is going on down here at all?”

“Hecate,” Diana called to her in the hopes of distracting her from exacting her wrath on the tactless man. “Tell me: how are you even alive?”

The question shocked the goddess like a bolt of lightning, as if she had inherited her father’s power over electricity. “What do you mean by that?” Hecate inquired, seemingly stunned.

“I was led to believe that all of the gods died in their battle against Ares.” Diana replied.

Her answer made the goddess recoil with much less dignity than she most likely would have wanted. “When was this?”

“Long before I killed him.” Was her sharp response. 

Again, Hecate took a moment before answering her. This time, the air in the cell became heavy as her voice grew deeper. “When was this war?”

Judging by the determination she heard in that once cheery voice, Diana feared for the worst. She remembered that Hecate claimed to be searching for someone to free her months on end, but it was becoming increasingly more obvious that her sentence wasn’t as small as she once thought. “Many millennia ago.”

The truth managed to make the world stand still. One by one, the fireflies around her head shriveled up like autumn leaves and fell to the ground, dead. As the only source of light began to wither away, Diana braced herself for whatever sort of reaction Hecate would have, and she heard the way Bruce’s boots dragged along the stony ground as he did the same. As the pitch-black darkness surrounded them, they could do nothing more than wait for her to react to the news of her stolen time.

“AAAUUUGGGHHH!” Hecate screamed at the ceiling with all of her might. “I’ve been here for all that time!? HADEEESSSS!” 

The screech of her cry was so strong, it forced Diana to slap her hands over her ears as a meager attempt to protect her from the sound. Her head began to throb from the pressure of her voice to the point that it hurt to open her eyes. Nevertheless, she did her best to squint in order to see if she could spy Hecate and grab a hold of her. If she could shake some sense into the wailing goddess.

Until she spotted the reverberating columns that acted as the stone-made blockade that kept them all trapped inside of the cell.

Diana watched them rattle under the influence of Hecate’s voice, and it dawned on her that the goddess of witchcraft should have been able to spring free from Hades’ captivity. However, she realized in that moment that it might have required the skill of an Olympian god to dismantle the prison made by another Olympian god.

Though her head was splitting the instant she released her ear, Diana dropped her hand onto the hilt of her sword and gripped it tight. Her feet stomped their way over to the thin pillars with a murderous look in her eyes. Leaning into her desperation to escape the pain in her head, she swung her blade at the shaking stone-made bars and watched them shatter against the sharp edge of steel. It took only one swipe at them to destroy what felt to her as seven columns. The vibrations on her sound made the metal sing and it somehow outlasted the yells of a disgruntled witch.

When Hecate swallowed her rage along with a deep, deep breath of air, she muttered, “Y-You… You did it. You broke through the cell.”

“We did.” Diana pointed out happily. 

But to her dismay, her relief about being free was short lived when she heard the sound of galloping coming from somewhere in the distance. The unmistakable sprinting of a horde was growing louder and louder, filling her heard with absolute dread. The monsters were coming, there was no doubt about it, and they were intending to decimate the lot of them. 

“Hecate,” Diana had a request to make, even though it sounded much more like a command. “Can you transport Batman out of here?” “What!?” Bruce growled. “No!”

“Gladly.” Was the goddess’ reply a second before she snapped her fingers. Diana could have sworn she heard Bruce attempt to argue his case, however, all she truly heard was a phantom-like wail immediately after. 

She knew he would be furious with her, and rightfully so. This had been his mission from the start and she had given him - for lack of a better word - hell for tackling something much bigger than himself without a structured plan. He told her just minutes ago that he trusted no one and Diana imagined that she had officially shattered his trust in her. Nevertheless, she couldn’t guarantee that Bruce would survive the horde of self-mutilating demons that were charging at them.

And she refused to allow him to take the chance.

She removed her shield from her back and prepared herself for battle. “Let’s go find Hades.” 

Giggling like a child in a candy store, Hecate’s eerie amusement managed to fuel her with confidence as she sang in her ear, “Now those are some magic words.”

Diana had to believe her.

If the goddess of witchcraft commended her willpower as spellbinding, then it must be true.

Yes, and if she completed his mission, surely Bruce would have no choice but to forgive her.