#like he seems to like his grandma from the little we know and is defence of her when Don and Del suggested she may have spoken ill of their

[backjustforberena]

Love your thoughts on Rhaenys and her granddaughters. But what about the boys, for many she is hard with them and want nothing with them (based on the Drifmark episode). And if Luce was to inherit hide tide, why wasn't he sent to be ward by them, I mean, he knew almost nothing about it (tho he dies so doesn't matter now). Rhaenys knew the boys weren't Laenors, but I don't think she hates or neglect them, it was more a point of she was in pain for the lost of Laena and the girls needed her more.

When it comes to the relationship with the boys, I will always jump to Rhaenys's defence, simply because we don't know. I think, in the whole entire series, Rhaenys says one line of dialogue to both Jace and Luke, which is in Episode 10, when she goes to fetch them to bring to Rhaenyra once Rhaenyra has gone into labour. And they never reply to her. You can't base a whole idea of a relationship on that, whether it's loving or whether it's detached. It's impossible to draw a conclusion to any extreme.

Other than what we can glean from brief moments of interaction, we don't have much to go on whatsoever and whenever Rhaenys does have to talk about Driftmark's succession, she does it with politics in mind, not sentiment. We don't know how she feels about the boys as people because she's never said.

I think it'd be daft to say she's close with the boys. I'm not suggesting she's Grandma of the Year with them. She is certainly not as close to them as she is with the girls, but that's by circumstance rather than personal prejudice, I would say. For me, I agree with you: her focus just had to be elsewhere. It had to be on the girls, and that's as much the case in "Driftmark" where they are mourning their mother and then get physically attacked, as it is perhaps in "Lord of the Tides" where Rhaenys's power to protect them would be totally cut off in the event of Corlys's death and the protection would therefore lie with Rhaenyra and her family. The girls have some separation from that 'clan', I think it's fair to say, despite Daemon. That's why she suggests taking Baela and Rhaena to High Tide and not her grandsons who are direct claimants, in Episode 10. It's all about who needs her protection and who she can protect, realistically.

Thinking about "Driftmark" specifically, where she interacts with the boys:

The wake's establishing shot - she's talking to little Luke, I believe, one-to-one. We saw that in BTS where Eve was talking to the little actor and so that seems to be a deliberate bit of positioning (one day I will do a whole meta on the positioning of Rhaenys during the entire funeral/wake sequence).

When she goes to Rhaena and Baela, and Jace is there. This one was a weird one because I saw so many takes where people were saying she was ignoring Jace or even she was horrified that he had taken one of the girls's hand and didn't want him around them. I think that's wrong. I think it discounts what Jace is going through because he is grieving as well, for Harwin, and his mother has told him not to be obvious about it. He's also been told to go comfort his cousins as they are alone. Now Rhaenys is there and he turns away because he can not only leave his cousins now that their grandmother has turned up, but because he doesn't want Rhaenys to see him grieving. He wants to be alone. Her head movement there denotes surprise, not animosity, to me. But her focus returns to the girls because, as far as Rhaenys is concerned, Jace won't be overly sad at the funeral of an aunt he likely never met, whereas the girls are alone and grieving their mother.

The discussion with Corlys. Never, ever does she say anything personal against the boys. She even calls them Laenor's sons as it's going on. Her plan is one that would minimise the potential rumours over disinheriting Laenor (and I would stress it's disinheriting Laenor not the boys at this point in time) but Corlys is the one that makes it emotional, and the one that brings up the boys in the first place. She's grieving and pragmatic. They are in private, she could have sworn up and down like a sailor and called those boys every name under the son. She didn't. She's not a cruel woman. She just wants to protect her granddaughters, and their legacy, in the best way she knows. And that's all the information we're given.

The big hoo-hah in the Hall of Nine (I keep switching up ways to describe this whole scene)- RHAENYS PROTECTS THOSE BOYS. I will say no more. She doesn't check on the boys like she does the girls because the girls literally come running into her arms. Corlys does look to them, but he doesn't go to them and instead, just does a hero pose out of sheer bewilderment and no one rakes him over hot coals, do they? Then their mother comes in and that's that. But as soon as knives are out and conflicts are in play, Rhaenys grabs them, shields them, and only lets them away when they can go back to their mother as they would want to do.

I think it's perhaps disingenuous to say she wanted nothing to do with them.

Look, I can talk for ages on all of this and a lot of it, especially with the ward situation, is tricky because we don't get a lot of information. Would it have been helpful to ward Luke to Driftmark? Definitely. Though tricky, with Corlys being away. There are possibly some gender dynamics at play: how useful would it be to ward the future Lord of the Tides when the Lord of the Tides is absent etc etc?

Do I think it would have happened in the current scheme of things? Not a cat in hell's chance. And a lot of that isn't to do with Rhaenys, but to do with Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra keeps those boys close. She isolated herself on Dragonstone on purpose. I can't imagine her letting go of her "sweet boy", even if it's to Driftmark. Maybe even especially of Driftmark, given how wary she seems to be of Rhaenys in Episode 08. And how aware she is, now, of the rumours surrounding parentage. Honestly, I don't think Rhaenyra gave it any consideration.

By the end of the series, however, I think they show those boys as being equally important as Baela and Rhaena to Corlys and Rhaenys. The shot of her watching the boys (which she does for a few seconds) before calling out to them is reminiscent of her later watching Baela and Rhaena be drafted to the Painted Table. All four grandkids stand together at the end and Rhaenys smiles at them and actively listens to Jace's plan to send dragons. They are all her reasons to fight, just as much as Corlys's.

I will leave it to Season 02 to flesh out the relationship (and I really hope they do). But I see very little reason to assume that the relationship will be cold or antagonistic. From what I understand, they are just not as close in comparison to Baela and Rhaena. That's it.

And that's completely understandable given the political situation (of the Driftmark succession), the emotional situation (her protectiveness of Baela and Rhaena and the protectiveness of Rhaenyra towards her boys) and the practical situation (aka isolation that the parties have had to one another). But she always refers to them as Laenor's sons, both publically and privately. She claims them as her grandchildren. And she cites them specifically as a reason to stay and fight. I think she'll be just as hurt by Lucerys's death as Corlys.

[meteorjam]

Once again thinking about how Dean spent his entire childhood seperated from his parents and siblings for the most part and he basically ends up living with people who are almost strangers to him once his grandma dies and how much it must've been a relief to be able to make that step with the help of Pharm to get to know Don and Del better and to be a better big brother and to overall just feel like he has a proper place in his family. In this essay I'll-

[harrylilies]

The Royal Series | Pt. I

The Royal Series Masterlist

I posted this series in 2018 but in late 2019, my blog got hacked and I lost all my work. This is me reposting the written chapters of The Royal Series after crying to my husband after I lost it along with all my writing on here. Enjoy. x

It had been long since you had let your hair down for a night.

You longed for a lowkey life, although you knew that the royal protocols you had been following since you were a child were far too embedded in you – yet, you knew how to have your fun.

You found fun in your trips to get milk and cheese yourself, in the strolls you went on in the early morning, when you attended a friend’s wedding, when your oldest brother wasn’t Prince William who was close in line, but a protective brother whom you teased for being old, when your ginger brother, Harry, patted you on the back and helped you with the plans that would make your grandma, the Queen, not necessarily pleased, when you danced with your best friend, and,

when you listened to music; which explained where you were that moment.

The arena was lit, some people who passed by you walking past you without a care, probably thinking that a princess in a Harry Styles concert in Los Angeles was too far-fetched, while others stood stunned.

In your defence, you looked unsuspicious in your black merch hoodie and black jeans, your best friend, Farrah – whom you met at university –, beside you in a casual attire as well, but the two bulky men walking behind you and close in black suits and wireless earbuds did little to conceal you.

Reaching your seats, you grinned at your best friend as you sat. From your peripheral, you saw your two private guards looking around, standing in the aisle beside Farrah’s seat.

“Hey,” you grabbed their attention, pointing with your thumb behind your back at the empty seats, “Would you please sit?”

“Your Highness w-”

"Please, it's a command. Sit here, enjoy the show." You told the two guards who intently looked at you before giving a reluctant nod.

In your balcony seat, your eyes then fell on the stage in anticipation.

"Your Highness," You heard someone beside you, making you look.

A brunet man, no older than 32, stood with a polite and kind smile.

You smiled. "Are you Jeffery?" He nodded, beginning to politely bow his head a tad. You offered your hand with a wide grin, "Thank you for giving me seats in such a short notice, I’m really sorry for any inconvenience."

"Oh no, it really is a pleasure, your Highness." Jeff tipped is head.

"Just Y/N." You smiled, glancing at the stage as the opening act were saying their goodbyes. "He's coming out now, isn't he?"

"Yeah, yeah, he is. Have you been a fan for long?" Jeff asked as you both stood alongside each other, looking at the stage.

"Quite long actually. Since One Direction," You giggled, shrugging, "Always wanted to attend one of their concerts but only now have I been able to do so. Harry has a lovely voice. I have the album on a lot." You laughed, letting Jeff in on your secret, “But hey, keep that between us.” You joked.

Jeff chuckled, "Who would've guessed that the Princess of the United Kingdom is a Harry Styles fan?"

“Trust me, you’d be surprised.” Farrah said, joining in as the three of you laughed.

“I’ll be right there with the rest of the crew,” Jeff pointed at a different place where people from the crew stood, almost all of them looking at you. At you looking at them, they all turned in embarrassment which made you chuckle to yourself before looking at Jeff who had a bashful smile, “Sorry about that. It’s exciting.”

“It’s exciting for me, too.” You assured him.

“Well, please call me or have anyone to do so if you need anything, your H-” you gave him a look, “Y/N.”

“Thank you, Jeffrey.”

“No problem, Y/N.”

The lights flickered off, your heart fluttering in excitement as you stood up, beginning to cheer with the fans.

The notes of Ever Since New York started playing before the lights were on, making you finally see the man you had flown out to see.

In a blue floral suit, Harry stood with his guitar before he began singing, Farrah recording you as you dramatically sang along.

With every song, you and Farrah let loose; dancing together and screaming the lyrics, vibing with Harry and his band. Hell, you caught one of your guards bob his head to Only Angel before his colleague swatted his arm.

It didn't take long for more people to notice the presence of the English Princess and her famous best friend, some phones and flashes being directed your way but experiencing the excitement and utter euphoria of it all, you chose to ignore the attention.

You were captivated to say the least by his performance, posting stories to your private Instagram account, isthataladybug, of a 102 follower.

You knew that he was a cheeky person who enjoyed a nice chat, so him walking around with his mic and talking to fans wasn’t of any surprise, yet, you didn’t predict him addressing you.

"I would just like to greet someone incredibly special here tonight," Harry said through the mic as he wandered on stage before looking your way, "Hi!" He grinned, waving at you. "All well?"

With a grin and flushed cheeks, you nodded and gave him thumbs up.

With a dimpled smile, Harry tipped his head and gave you a curtesy which sent everyone in a frenzy and you and Farrah to laugh.

Farrah nudged you, making you turn to look at her. "We're meeting him, right?"

You shrugged, "Jeff said we will. Said Harry would have his head if we didn’t.”

To say you were disappointed when Harry said his goodbyes after finishing the setlist would be an understatement, although the fact that you were meeting him seemed to brighten you up a tad.

Backstage was chaotic.

Everyone was running around, wanting to be on their best behaviours and look like it for when the Princess came in, every person telling the other that Jeff was on his way to get you and your best friend and that in just a few, they would be seeing the Princess of the United Kingdom in the flesh.

Harry was no better, pacing around the room, making sure he looked decent and collected. Running his fingers through his hair, he turned to look at his band, “How do I look?”

“Like you’re not going to pass out in any second.” Sarah said sarcastically.

"Fuck, I'm so nervous." Harry laughed, wiping his sweaty palms on his suit trousers.

"So am I. Who would've thought that I'm going to meet the Princess of the United Kingdom? Someone better film this." Clare said before letting out a breath as the band stood in the dressing room.

"I-" Adam was cut off by a knock on the door.

They looked at each other with wide eyes before Harry cleared his throat, standing straighter. "Come in!"

Jeff came inside first, his figure hiding yours before he walked further inside and you and Farrah were then seen. The grin on your face was contagious.

Lined, with Harry at the end, you began to shake hands with the band.

"You were absolutely amazing!" You said as you shook their hands, one by one before reaching Harry.

Neither of you knew that the other was about to pass out from the nerves and excitement as you both smiled at each other.

"Thank you for the show. You're as good live as the studio version, if not better." You said.

Blushing at the comment, Harry softly shook your hand. "It's my honour, your Highness."

"Y/N," you corrected him, your hand still in his. "Just Y/N."

"Y/N," Harry repeated with a charming smile. "An honour, Y/N."

Being this close to him, you noticed how emerald Harry's eyes were. Raspberry pink lips and blushing cheeks, he was a sight for sore eyes.

It was cliché, anyone from the outside would say so, but have a 23-year-old Princess meet a 23-year-old artist whom she had been listening to for years and try not to make it cliché; hell, cliché or not, it was a meeting for the stories.

Farrah clearing her throat was what brought you out of your trance, making you remove your hand from Harry's.

"Well, we were actually going out for a drink if you want to join? Is that okay for you?" Sarah asked, “Oh my God, I just asked the Princess to grab a drink with us, I’m so sorry, your Highness.”

“Hey, no, no,” you quickly shook your head, “It’s fine,” you glanced at the guards and your best friend who gave you a nod, "I’d love to join if you’re all okay with Farrah and I joining. We wouldn’t want to interrupt any band-bonding time."

"Of course!" Harry grinned. "We're more than okay."

Telling you the lowkey bar – that served “amazing fries and boneless chicken wings” as Adam said – they were driving to, you exchanged “see you later’s” before you separated ways.

Right as you sat in the car, Farrah turned to face you, “What was that?”

In confusion, you looked at her, “What was what?”

“You and Harry fucking Styles! What was that?” She laughed excitedly, “Please make it happen.”

“Make what happen? You’re a lunatic!”

“You just pulled a Nicholas Sparks back there; ogling at each other, holding hands like yes, Mr. Darcy, I’d let you wed me.” She said dramatically, putting the back of her hand against her forehead.

“First of all, never do this again,” you cringed jokingly, “Second of all, what’s wrong with you? I have a conversation with a lad and suddenly I should get married to him?”

“He’s not just any lad, don’t discredit him like that.”

“Why don’t you go out with him then, Miss Farrah?” You teased her.

“Because I’m Muslim and it won’t work out, you know with our fa-”

“I was kidding.”

“I wasn’t when I said you pulled a Nicholas Sparks.”

“I should’ve brought Emma instead of you.” You let out a sigh.

“Imagine if she could’ve joined though. It would’ve been Emma and I against you.” Farrah poked your arm.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Arriving at the bar, you and Farrah entered, finding that it wasn’t at all crowded but quite the opposite. Very few people were inside, all seeming to mind their business as they ate and drank, a jukebox playing music to add to the atmosphere of the place.

Among the people, your eyes fell on the band you were meeting, Harry instantly standing and waving at you with a grin.

They had left you seats, although you knew your guards were going to stand as your shadows.

Sitting on the opposite seat from Harry, you were seated beside Sarah, the “discreet” excited expression she gave to Mitch not going unnoticed but you only smiled to yourself instead of commenting.

“This was your second show, wasn’t it?” You asked, all of them nodding and replying with confirmation, “Any idea what this tour will have for you?”

“So many headaches,” Hélène replied in her French accent with a chuckle, “So, so many headaches.”

“Brighten up,” Clare nudged the photographer jokingly, “It’s only the second night.”

“I feel like this tour would be a milestone in all of our lives,” Adam replied, seeming to avoid eye contact with you before he looked at his bandmates, “Literally all of us.”

“A-Are you okay?” Farrah asked him, causing Adam’s posture to relax as he laughed.

“I just don’t know if I should look at you,” he said as he looked at you, “What if it’s disrespectful? Illegal?”

“Oh my God, no,” you laughed as you shook your head, “I’m sitting at a bar in Los Angeles with you, Adam, that’s not exactly a Trooping the Colour.”

“When we first heard you were attending,” Harry began, “We all just sort of,” his eyes widened before he laughed, “You know what?” He turned to look at Adam, “That’s a milestone right there.”

“You speak too highly of me,” you rolled your eyes jokingly, “What about all of you? That album, tonight, you should give yourself more credit.”

“Makes sense that people love you so much.” Mitch said with a small smile.

“Not everyone loves her, excuse you,” Farrah joked, raising her hand up.

“Ah, bullshit.” You rolled your eyes, “You love me the most.”

“No?”

“That’s denial.”

Conversations seemed to flow naturally among everyone at the table, laughter being heard as well as a few claps from how hard one of you would be laughing.

It wasn’t until you realised that you hadn’t drank anything that you stood up, “I’m going to grab something to drink. Does anyone want anything?”

A chorus of “thank you’s” was heard, you fully knowing that they probably hadn’t bothered to even ask you to get them anything because of your title.

“I’ll bring these fries and wings for all of us you told me about.” You pointed at Adam.

“I’ll join you.” Harry said, standing from his place and approaching you before the both of you walked towards the bar.

“Sorry if they make you uncomfortable.” You mumbled to Harry as you both sat on stools.

“Who?”

“Sid and Andrew, the guards,” you replied, “They’re the sweetest actually.” You smiled at the men who stood at a safe distance away from you but nearby, both of them tipping their heads at you before they began looking around.

“No, of course not,” Harry shook his head, “I thought you’d have more with you honestly.”

You waved off, “No, two are enough. Daddy wanted me to walk around with 6 but,” you laughed, “God, no.”

Harry smiled before his smile turned into a smirk, “Did you just say Daddy?”

“Ye-Gross, stop! That’s my father!” You groaned, stuffing your face in your hands as Harry laughed, “How old are you, Styles? 14?”

“And a half actually.”

“Ha, ha.” You tried to stifle your smile as you looked up at him, “It’s Mummy and Daddy for us, excuse you.”

“It’s cute.” Harry smiled timidly.

“It was until you commented.” You teased him, giving him a shrug.

“I apologise, your Highness. Please, don’t behead me.” Dramatically, Harry put a hand to his heart.

“I’ll think about it.” You put both hands on the counter gracefully, placing one above the other as you turned away from him before the both of you laughed.

Neither of you had noticed that you hadn’t ordered yet, only remembering when the bartender came over to take your order.

After ordering, you were both quiet, listening to the music that sounded in the place, you swaying slightly in your seat as you looked around.

"Are you not scared?"

You turned to look at Harry, “Excuse me?”

“Are you not scared?” He repeated.

"Of what?” You asked.

"Being seen in here. The rumours. I mean my rumours I can take care of but royal rumours?" Harry shrugged.

“Why? Are you scared?” The tiny smirk that was your lips were drawn into didn’t go unnoticed by Harry, feeling his lips lift into one of his own just at the sight of yours.

Harry took a moment to drink you up; the vibe you gave off was nothing he imagined. The dainty, soft princess he saw on the screen ever since he was young wasn't who sat in front of him.

In front of him was a confident woman, fearless and ready to seize whatever risk thrown at her. A woman who refused to have her identity shaped up and formed by her family and what the world was trying to limit her to, all for a title.

That's why with a thumping heart and an amused smile, Harry replied; "No, Princess. I'm not scared."

[infiniteiram]

I Think You’re In My Seat.

a vds one shot. you can find more on my ao3.

( @ apolloswords )

feel free to comment/message me any suggestions for one shot ideas!

Unfortunately, the airlines messed up the seating arrangement and Jens is forced to sit on his own. Fortunately, someone else's seating arrangement was also messed up.

"Bad news," Moyo announced as Jens followed closely behind him. "They messed up our seats."

"What?" exclaimed Sander, giving the both of them a puzzled look. "How did they manage to do that?"

"The system completely messed up everyone's seats." Jens explained. "So, since we checked in late, we basically got the scraps. Which means, there is a very slim chance we're all stuck together." He reached over and flicked the back of Aaron's head. "I told you if you showered in the morning we would be late."

"I didn't expect you guys to show up so early." He groaned. "I wasn't even awake yet."

Jens snorted. "Well, you know we still had to take the train. Bottom line is, we can thank you for the shitty seats."

"But, not so shitty." Moyo added. He began to pass the new tickets around, the ones with the new seat number on them. "Robbe, Sander, we managed to snag you the last two seats together. Kind of at the front."

"You are a miracle worker." Sander laughed as he patted Moyo's shoulder. "What about you guys? Where are you guys sitting?"

"Jens has a window seat near the middle of the plane, I'm a few rows behind him and Aaron has a seat at the very back of the plane." Moyo continued on. "And no Aaron, we are not switching."

"Oh come on, it's going to take forever for me to get out. And I'm going to be near the bathrooms, I better not see Sander and Robbe going in at the same time."

Robbe blushed and hid his face into Sander's shoulder. "I don't think we're that promiscuous."

Sander only snorted. "Maybe it'll be revenge on Aaron for making us late."

"Hey, Moyo got you guys sitting together, why're you complaining?"

The rising teasing between his friends seemed to be getting louder, but Jens let their conversation fade around him. He was distracted by the bustle of the airport, people of all ages rushing around. The start of the summer months was probably a busy time for this place, and as much as he loved and adored Belgium, it felt nice to be headed somewhere else.

His eyes wandered among the crowd of people. Giggling kids with their decorated backpacks, business executives looking rather posh in their work attire with a cup of coffee in their hands and other older adults double-checking their bags for their passport and boarding passes. But his eyes only lead him somewhere else.

A few feet away were a group of three boys his age. One of them was leaned against the wall, his dark long curls giving contrast to his light brown skin. He was smiling at the guy to his right, who was sitting on top of a small carry-on luggage with a bright yellow backpack on. This boy also had dark hair, though it was cut short and just barely touched the tips of his ear, where a dangly earring hung. But the boy who really caught his attention was standing on an angle in front of them. From Jens' perspective, he could make out the sharpness of his jaw, the straight bridge of his nose and a small smile on his delicate pink lips. His light brown curls hung quite effortless in front of his face, and the denim jacket he had on fit his body nicely. Jens discreetly eyed him up and down, and felt a rush of adrenaline shoot through his body. He'd never been the type to admire strangers from afar, let alone be completely smitten over one.

But that was exactly what he was feeling right now.

His daydreaming was quickly interrupted by a sharp jab into his ribs. Wincing, he gave Aaron a glare.

"What was that for?"

"Moyo said you were staring too long. I asked what you were staring at and he told me just to ask you." Aaron responded rather innocently before shrugging his shoulders. "So what were you staring at?'

Feeling a blush rise to his cheeks, Jens bit his lip and pretended he had no idea what Aaron was talking about. "Nothing that concerns you." He mumbled out, looking down at his feet.

He heard Moyo snicker from his other side. "Aaron, I don't think you're going to have to worry about just Sander and Robbe sneaking off to the bathroom."

Now Jens elbowed Moyo's ribs. Not as harshly as Aaron did, but harsh enough. Moyo laughed and held up his hands in defence. Both Sander and Robbe raised their brows at him, before trying to sneakily turn around to figure out what Jens was eyeing at. Who Jens was eyeing at. When they came face to face with the other trio, they snickered to themselves as Jens gave them a side eye.

"Damn Jens," Robbe teased. "Three options?"

"One." He admitted, mumbling again. "But I'm not saying which one."

"You know what would be extremely lucky." Sander teased. "If you ended up sitting beside him."

Jens felt his face go a bit more red but scoffed, trying to play it cool. "It's better than sitting beside Aaron."

"Hey!" Aaron protested.

-

"Now boarding flight 2121." The intercom announced above them.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Robbe and Sander smile softly at each other. He had no idea what the sentiment meant, but judging by the way they looked at each other, it had something to do with their little love story. Jens tried not to feel the way his heart stung suddenly. He would never admit it, but he envied the way all his friends were very content in a relationship but he was not. For the most part, he never felt left out- just, rather lonely. Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he made sure both his passport and boarding pass were in his hand as he walked up to the flight information desk. The flight attendant smiled at him and ushered him off. Taking a deep breath, he trudged down the boarding bridge at a slower speed. He couldn't help but to also feel a tinge of disappointment. The boy in the denim jacket from earlier hadn't been sitting around their gate, and he hadn't seen him since him and his friends had wandered off twenty minutes ago. There was now exactly zero chance of scoring a seat beside him, even if his chances from before were still close to zero.

He felt Moyo slap his shoulder, which startled him a bit.

"See you in two hours." He remarked.

"I hope you seat mate is some old grandma who can't hear very well but insists on talking." Jens taunted playfully, as he found his seat. Slipping into the small aisle, he flopped down on the window seat and gave Moyo a handshake before he headed off.

"I hope I get a cute girl." Aaron remarked, as he slowly passed Jens' aisle.

Raising brow, Jens smirked. "How would Amber feel about that?"

"You're right. I hope I get the grandma." Aaron muttered while rolling his eyes.

Jens looked over the other seats as other passengers clambered about, stumbling into their seats or trying to put their carry on luggage up on the overhead storage. A few rows up stood Sander and Robbe, who waved at him before the settled into their seat. When he knew all of his friends were in their seats, he sighed heavily and placed his backpack underneath the seat above him. Tapping his fingers on the arm rest as he bounced his leg, he distracted the remaining minutes before takeoff by looking outside of his window.

Only to be interrupted less than two minutes after.

"I think you're in my seat." A voice with a slightly different accent announced.

Turning his head to face the person the voice belonged to, he felt his face heat up again.

It was the boy from earlier, the one in the denim jacket. Only this time, he was standing very close to Jens. He could now make out the silver rings on his finger, the way his jacket actually hung over more over his shoulders than he thought and the colour of his eyes. The vibrant blue that stared into his brown ones, its colour so bright that Jens didn't believe colour existed before this moment. Realizing he was probably gawking at him, Jens swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to conceal his mess of emotions.

"No? I'm pretty sure this is my seat."

The boy reached over, showing his boarding pass. Squinting a bit, Jens read the seat number and frowned.

"I think they double booked the seat." He stated, looking back up at the boy.

Shrugging, the boy just ran a hand through his curls and sat down. Jens was rather surprised at his chill and confident behaviour, which had him going through an even more internal mess of feelings.

Trying to avoid gazing at him for so long, Jens turned around and started biting the inner corner of his cheek. He suddenly felt very nervous that the boy was beside him now, and if he let his arm up on the armrest, there would be the slightest physical contact between them.

Coming down the aisle was the other two guys, the rest of his trio. The one with the dark curls wiggled his brows at him, only to be lightly smacked on the arm as he passed through. The other boy, the one with shorter hair and was now wearing sunglasses with red lenses, reached out to pinch his cheeks. The boy ducked swiftly and snorted, looking behind him as his friends sat down. Jens noticed that the other two were sitting in different aisles, just like him and the Broerrs.

"Did they fuck up your seats too?" Jens asked, attempting to make conversation.

"Yeah, clearly." He laughed lightly, before fully turning his head to face Jens. "I'm Lucas."

"Jens." He nodded before trying to give him a small smile. It wasn't that smiling at him was an issue, Jens just didn't want to make it so obvious that his slight crush was growing by the second.

Fortunately, Lucas smiled back. "Are you travelling alone?"

"No, my friends are scattered about as well. That's how I figured the airline must have also messed up your seats up as well."

Laughing lightly, Lucas shook his head, his curls gently moving about. "I figured they messed up after seeing someone else in my seat. I just hope I'm not stealing someone else's."

"I don't think so. I think you and your friends were the last ones to board. See? They're closing up the doors now."

Lucas wasn't as tall as Jens, so he couldn't see above the seats. He put his hands on the armrest and lifted himself up a bit. The slight brush of his fingers just barely grazing over Jens' hoodie sleeve was enough to send sparks through his body. The very slight contact had his face turning pink again, and he needed to calm down before Lucas noticed.

"You're right." He agreed, bringing himself back down. "To be honest, I thought they would close the plane before we got on. It's a miracle I'm here right now."

"Why's that?"

"My friend Jayden, he's back there with his red glasses, decided to be an idiot and lose his passport somewhere in the airport. We came from a connecting flight from Amsterdam, so at least it's not there."

"I get that, my friend Aaron also decided to be an idiot. He woke up late which lead us to checking in late, which lead us to shitty seats and being separated." Jens added, before biting his lip. "So, you're from Amsterdam?"

"Not quite. Utrecht, but the closest airport is Amsterdam. So, to get to Rome, we needed a connecting flight." He explained, before tilting his head a bit. "Are you from Brussels?"

"Not quite." Jens repeated, laughing a bit. "Antwerp. We're actually much closer to each other than we would've been."

"Yet we meet on a flight to another country." Lucas remarked, a glint sparkling in his blue eyes.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we will now begin the departure to Rome, Italy." An attendant called over the intercom.

The plane began to move beneath them and Jens double checked that his seatbelt was on. The attendants began to do the safety instructions in front of them, and Jens turned his head to look back out the window. After a few minutes, his instincts told him to look at Lucas, who hadn't said anything since the departing announcement.

Poor Lucas was squeezing his fists so hard that his knuckles were white and his face was drained of colour. The slight pink of his cheeks were gone and he was squeezing his eyes shut, taking in deep breathes to calm himself down. Jens widened his eyes, internally panicking as he had no idea what to do.

Reaching out slowly and slightly, he put a warm hand on top of one of Lucas' fists. The skin beneath his own was ice cold, and Lucas opened his eyes quickly, surprised to see that Jens was looking at him.

"Nervous flyer?" Jens asked lightly, but softly enough to be comforting.

He huffed out a nervous laugh. "Yeah, can you tell?"

"Just a little." He paused, unsure how to go about this. "Do you, uhh, do you maybe want to hold my hand?"

"May I?"

"Of course."

It took Lucas a second. But after feeling the plane begin to move faster as it lifted off the runway, he unclenched a fist and grabbed onto Jens' hand. His tight grip should have also cut off Jens' circulation, but Jens stayed calm. He let his thumb rub gently circles on top of Lucas' hand, trying to ease him a bit. After a few moments, he felt Lucas' grip loosen a bit, some warmth beneath their hands and Lucas' breathing being a little less restrained. Lucas' eyes were still closed, and Jens eyed him up and down, taking in the entire wonder of this boy.

This boy, who he realized, was holding his hand.

Of course, the intention was innocent. But Jens suddenly felt his heart race as he continued to let his touch calm Lucas down a bit. He couldn't believe he was holding his hand and if any of his friends knew, he would never hear the end of their teasing. When the plane was soaring through the sky at a steady pace, Lucas sighed heavily and fluttered his eyes open. After a few seconds in which he recollected himself, he turned to Jens and gave him a soft smile.

"Thanks, sorry, I didn't think I'd get so nervous. I was fine on my first flight, but to be fair I'm really tired. I didn't sleep much last night."

"It's okay." Jens smiled back, reassuring him. He noticed the way Lucas still hadn't let go of his hand, and he was just fine with that. "Do you always get nervous when you fly?"

"Mostly, yes. But not like, that bad. Except for now. I think I lost all feeling in my body."

"Probably helps if you actually sit by someone you know huh?" He joked.

Smiling a little wider, Lucas huffed out another nervous laugh. Though this time, it felt a bit lighter. "Yeah, but, it also helps to have someone like you to sit by."

"Someone like me?" Jens asked, unsure what the ambiguity of the statement meant.

Lucas only shrugged, giving him a grin before adding another rather vague statement. "Yeah, someone like you."

-

And for the second time today, Jens couldn't believe his luck. After about an hour into the flight, in where him and Lucas had quickly gotten comfortable with each other, Lucas had dozed off. Jens had recalled he was feeling a little tired, but as Lucas fell into a gentle slumber, his head slowly fell onto his shoulder. Lucas, being asleep, obviously didn't realize he had fallen asleep on his shoulder, but Jens couldn't help but feel so giddy. He didn't want to move however, because there was no way he was going to wake Lucas up and ruin this.

So, he aimlessly looked out the window and began to think. He couldn't help but feel like he had missed a chance with this boy when they parted ways after the next hour. But, he didn't know if it was too forward of him to ask for some kind of contact with him. To be fair, they had already held hands so the next natural step in this equation was to somehow get his number.

Feeling Lucas stir gently, he looked down at him. The light brown curls fell over his face gently and Jens could make out the small freckles over his nose and his eyelashes mimicking rays of sunlight as his beautiful blue eyes stayed hidden. Jens didn't know how someone could've been so beautiful, let alone be so close to him.

He truly felt like the luckiest person in the entire world.

"Sorry," Lucas mumbled, his eyes still closed. "I didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

Smiling down at him, Jens reached out to just squeeze his hand again. When they had let go of his hand, Jens tried to conceal his frown. So now, he used this as a gateway to have Lucas' hand back in his. He also liked how Lucas did't remove his head from his shoulder right away.

"It's okay. I don't mind."

He felt Lucas hum against his body, before letting out a loose giggle. "So, what are you heading to Rome for?"

"Just a trip, a quick one to start of the summer and what not. You?"

"The same." Lucas let his eyes look back up at Jens, and once again he was marvelled at the sight of them. "That's kind of a good coincidence."

"Or you know," Jens shrugged, looking away for a second. "Fate."

"Fate?"

"I mean, out of all the seats here, what were the chances you would be sitting by me? Or, let alone, having the same seat as me?"

Lucas grinned, the blue in his eyes clashing together as they became a mess of bright shades. "Seems just like a really good coincidence. Do you believe it that sort of stuff?"

"Fate?"

"Yeah."

For the second time, Jens repeated his shrug. "Sure, why not? It's kind of like, everything happens for a reason. What about you?"

"Do I believe in fate?"

"Yeah, or are you sticking to everything being a coincidence?"

"Mostly coincidence. Though, I am starting to think a little bit of all this might be fate?"

"Why's that?"

A familiar glint sparkled in Lucas' eyes again, as he let himself gaze at Jens above him. There was something knowing about the smile on his face, but Jens couldn't quite place his finger on it.

"I was going to fly out to Italy two weeks ago." Lucas began to say. "But Kes, my other friend here, had to renew his passport so we pushed our departure back. It kind of sucked at first, but not anymore."

"Sucks a little less?" Jens teased, biting the tip of his tongue between his teeth as he smiled widely.

"Definitely sucks a little less."

-

Both boys stood at the baggage claim. When Jens had gotten off the plane, all his friends had given him a suspicious look as the boy they had seen him admiring was suddenly following him. He had to give them credit for not saying much, as he didn't want to be embarrassed before he could even ask for his number. Aaron, and Lucas' two friends, Kes and Jayden, were still making their way towards the baggage claim. Sitting at the back of the plane was probably not idea, but it gave Jens some time with Lucas.

They got their luggage and Jens saw the other two guys, followed by Aaron, head over. Frowning slightly, he was sad to realize that Lucas and him would part ways and they would be nothing more than two random strangers who managed to sit beside each other on the plane. They weren't even from the same country, and he doubted that the universe would allow him to be this lucky again.

"Lucas!" The boy with red glasses called out, who Jens assumed was Jayden. "Who's your friend?"

"Jayden, Kes, this is Jens. Jens, meet Jayden and Kes." He introduced. "I told him I needed new friends who weren't idiots."

"Just friends?" Kes asked, raising his brows and for the first time, Lucas blushed so hard he turned pink. It made Jens smirk, amused at his reaction.

"Jens!" Aaron called out. "Who's your friend?"

Now it was time for Jens to introduce Lucas to the Broerrs. Turning around, he saw Moyo, Sander and Robbe heading towards him. When they reached him, they stood beside him, all three of them smiling widely as the smirked at the very small distance between him and Lucas.

Coughing awkwardly, Jens bounced his leg. "Luc, meet Moyo, Sander, Robbe and Aaron. Guys, meet Lucas. I met him on the plane."

"And you didn't go to the bathroom?" Aaron piped up and Jens reached behind Lucas and quickly swatted the back of Aaron's head. Aaron winced as the rest of the guys continued their smirking.

"So, where in Rome are you staying?" asked Robbe, and Jens was thankful for the opening normalcy of a new conversation.

"I forget the name, but it's like, a quick shuttle ride from here? Napoleon or something." Kes replied.

"No way?" Moyo exclaimed. "Napoleon Hotel Roma?"

"Uhm yes?" Lucas replied, furrowing his brows in confusion.

Moyo clapped Jens' chest, startling him with his excitement. "Dude, that's the one we're staying at! Did you not know that?"

"Honestly, the hotel didn't even come up in our conversation." Jens admitted.

"Well come on!" Jayden exclaimed, calling then out to follow him. "We can all head to the shuttle and get there together. How long are you guys staying in Rome for?"

"Two weeks." Sander responded, wiggling two of his fingers up.

"No way! So are we!" Kes said in surprise.

Jens looked at Lucas, who was still blushing and giggle beside him. The rest of the guys had started to follow Jayden's lead, but Jens let himself bask in Lucas' company for a few more seconds. Lucas looked up to meet his eyes, a happy grin plastered on his face.

"So, is your opinion still changing?" Jens asked, wiggling his brows.

"What?"

"Do you still think this is a big coincidence?"

"A little bit." Lucas shrugged, his grin growing wider as he took in the way Jens was looking down and smiling at him. "But, I think I'd like to think that this is definitely fate."

"And I'm pretty sure that's exactly it."

"So is this fate Jens? Were we meant to meet right here, right now?"

"I think that's what was supposed to happen. I was meant to meet someone like you."

"Someone like me?"

"Someone like you."

And with that, they followed their friends towards the airport shuttle. Jens didn't know what the rest of the trip, the rest of the summer, meant for him, but that was okay. Because when he looked down, he smiled as Lucas shyly slipped his hand into his and intertwined their fingers together. Lucas pretended he hadn't reached out for him, but Jens felt his hand squeeze against his as he repeated the circular motions with his thumb on top of his hand. They didn't have to say anything, but it was clear they were thinking the exact same thing.

Maybe everything did happen for a reason.

[writesowhatnext]

and I’ve been thinking about it lately // george weasley

Summary: friends // it was easy to be friends with george weasley

Request: nee

A/N: once again!!! I used Y/L/N which is last name :) this is part 2 of the fic I just posted!!!! obviously?? anyways I loved this

Reader: female, Slytherin

Warnings: swearing

enemies // friends // lovers // epilogue

“Looks like we’re partners,” George said, sliding into the seat next to yours and grinning. He felt a little nervous given your turbulent history, but it seemed that you were about to surprise him, as you always managed to.

“Just my luck,” you retorted, your voice lacking its usual amount of bite despite your scowl.

He smirked at your tone, surprised at much he enjoyed your new-found acquaintanceship.

“Can’t believe you got paired up with that loser, Weasley,” Malfoy said to you from behind, leaning over his desk so his annoyingly pompous voice carried. “Which one are you again?”

Before George could open his mouth and put the little git in his place, he was beaten to the punch.

“And why are you talking to me, Malfoy?” you said slowly, not even looking at him as you opened your textbook. You smiled slightly at his angry muttering and the scrape of his chair on the floor.

When you looked at George, only to see him making smug faces at Malfoy before turning to you and smirking, you rolled your eyes, still finding his ability to rile your feathers disturbingly uncanny.

“You can do the uses-“

“Why?” he said loudly, returning your scowl as you glared at him.

“Because I told you to.”

“And so, what? I should just do it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, in that case, your highness.”

You shot him a dark look and he opened his mouth to continue your bickering when a dark figure loomed behind you.

“Mr Weasley, Ms Y/L/N.” Snape’s voice cut through the silence of the room. “Do you find squabbling like children in my class to be a good use of your time?”

Following Snape’s little scolding, you tried desperately to avoid his wrath for the rest of the lesson. This was a goal that proved harder than initially anticipated given the nature of the boy sitting next to you. Halfway through the lesson, you found yourself biting your nails, trying to figure out the purpose of adding Eye of Newt when George caught your eye. He winked and you glowered in return, but he could see the upward curve of your lips and considered himself once again pleasantly surprised. 

He could barely contain his laughter, though, when around ten minutes later you stuck your tongue out at him when you caught him looking around the room for a distraction. It was strange, you though, to be so light-hearted with him; not bad though, not at all.

He snickered until he felt Snape’s eyes on him and immediately ducked his head, not eager to receive another detention after the last Thursday night he spent polishing trophies. The idea of George getting in trouble made you smirk, though, and you looked over to tease him only to see Snape’s sour expression. 

Your eyes widened as you quickly looked down again and pursed your lips tightly. You both watched him walk in front of your desk slowly, gliding past you, the weight of his gaze heavy on your shoulders. George snorted and you kicked him under the table, finding it almost impossible to contain your own laughter with Snape watching you so closely.

The man himself, like a dark shadow, loomed over your bench and reluctantly, you both looked up. Snape’s eyes flickered from yours to George’s slowly, suspiciously. As you both waited silently for the inevitable punishment, you couldn’t help your amusement brewing and you cursed George and his stupidity for always somehow making you laugh.

“Class…” Snape drawled, his dark gaze never leaving your faces. “Dismissed.”

You concealed your laughter until you got outside the room where you immediately burst into giggles. You shoved George lamely with your hand, shaking your head.

“You are the worst!” you insisted, huffing as he grinned. You scoffed, biting your lip.

Both you and George stared at each other for a moment, your combined breathing the only sound in the hallway as your laughter died down. The air turned thick rather quickly and wading through the awkward silence, you remembered that you really ought to get to your next class. You made to leave, not wanting to extend the odd tension for any longer when George stopped you, his hand on your arm. You stiffened under his touch and he lifted his palm quicker than you’d thought possible. Your insides churned.

“Defence Against the Dark Arts, right?” he said, his eyebrows raised, an oddly guarded look in his eye.

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously.

“…Yes.”

“Oh, brilliant,” he said, throwing his arm over your shoulder and ushering you in the right direction. “We can walk there together.”

You grunted and pushed him off indelicately, shooting him a deadpan look when he grinned. You urged yourself to be normal - whatever that was.

“Joyous,” you said so dryly he barked a loud laugh, a laugh that made you forget how weird you’d felt only minutes before. You were glad to return to more familiar territory.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like me,” he said glibly, hoping that you couldn’t tell how unsure he was about the idea. Why did he even care if you liked him? He barely even liked you a week ago. You rolled your eyes again and he swallowed against the tightness of his throat.

“I assure you, there’s no pretence involved whatsoever.”

Either he didn’t have a witty response or just chose to ignore you, but he only hummed as you both wandered to the third floor.

Professor Lupin, you discovered quickly, was thankfully nothing like Professors Quirrell or Lockhart; that was in the sense that he actually seemed somewhat competent at his job. You were quite enjoying the lesson until he introduced the boggart, something that you definitely did not want to face, especially not in a room full of people that you didn’t know, didn’t like and George, who you were unsure about where he sat in that particular Venn diagram. With a poorly concealed rush, you joined the back of the queue that curled around the room as Fred and George, ever the showmen joined the front.

You expected George’s worst fear to be something stupid; something like clowns or people not laughing at his dumb jokes. What you did not expect was to see the boggart turn into George himself; how you could tell the difference between him and Fred was not something you dared to question. The boggart was holding a white rose and stood there in a suit, the type you’d never believe that George would ever wear, and as he faced it, he gulped. You frowned, something about the whole thing piquing your interest. Maybe George Weasley wasn’t everything you thought he was.

“Riddikulus!” he shouted, watching with wide eyes as the boggart’s white rose crumbled into dozens of pieces, each hitting the ground with a sharp thud. Its face morphed into Filch’s and suddenly the whole classroom was alive with laughter at the sight of Filch attempting to find footing on a floor of marbles. Finding you across the class, pleased to see a faint smirk on your lips, George winked. You scoffed, shaking your head. Maybe George Weasley was exactly what you thought he was.

“Pretty impressive, eh?” he said cockily as he walked over. The rest of the class shrieked in laughter as another fear turned into something hilarious, but you weren’t paying attention.

“You’re an imbecile.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“Most definitely.”

“I dare you to do something better,” he said, his competitive streak showing. He watched, though, with intrigue, as your face turned pale and your expression uncomfortable.

“I don’t have to prove anything to you,” you snapped, perhaps too harshly. He glowered, dozens of cruel retorts collecting on his tongue before he stopped, noticing the way your fingers pulled nervously at your sleeve and your eyes darted around the room.

For the first time since knowing you, George realised that you were actually scared of something and despite how much he loved to irritate you, your fearful expression didn’t sit well with him at all.

“Did you hear that Neville turned his into Snape wearing his grandma’s clothes?” he said, his stare far too obvious for his tone to be so casual. He tried, though, and you almost appreciated his attempt to be subtle as he avoided mentioning your conversational hand grenade. He watched confusion, and then recognition, flash over your features.

“I can’t believe Longbottom’s boggart was Snape,” you scoffed, crossing your arms tightly. George frowned, opening his mouth to defend him. Whilst he and Neville weren’t the best of friends, George wasn’t a fan of people teasing him, especially Slytherins. From all he knew about you, he could only expect mockery to tumble lazily from your lips.

“Neville’s-“

“How psychotic do you have to be for a kid to fear you like that?”

George’s mouth dried up a little and for the first time in a long time, he was rendered speechless. His eyes trailed over your scowling face.

“I’ll say,” he said softly, watching you closely to gauge your reaction. “I figured you’d like Snape; being a Slytherin and all.”

You made a face. “He’s a bully. Fantastic wizard, mind, but an awful person.”

George mused on your words for a moment. He didn’t really know what to say, but he was saved by the point of Fred’s wand and the sight of a younger, screaming Ron Weasley legging it away from a gigantic spider. You exhaled out of your nose as Fred came over, clapping his brother on the shoulder.

“That was brilliant, mate,” George said to his brother, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“What did you think Y/N?” Fred asked, flicking his hair over his shoulder. “Am I a comedic genius or what?”

“I think I’ll have to go with ‘or what’ on that one,” you hummed, smiling at their stupidly dramatic reactions.

Much to your surprise, it wasn’t just the twins that you’d come to tolerate.  As you walked over to the Gryffindor table, your fingers drumming against your leg, you thought about how, against all odds, you’d developed a very unexpected friendship with Hermione Granger. Hours of polite co-existing at the library managed to do that to a person.

“Oi, Granger,” you said, stopping behind Ron, ignoring the way his face soured when he saw you. “Do you have that book I leant you on muggle war history?”

“Oh,” she exclaimed, throwing her hand to her chest before she rifled through her bag and handed over a thick hardback. “Yes, here, thank you.”

You nodded at her before turning to walk away, catching Harry’s eye in the process. You circled back, an amused smirk working its way onto your lips.

“Saw you flying that hippogriff earlier, Potter. Must say, I’m quite impressed. Especially after what it did to Malfoy’s arm.”

“Uh,” he said, not quite sure where to look. “Thanks, Y/N.”

“Ooh,” George said, sitting down next to Harry as Fred sat opposite him.

“Has someone got a crush?” Fred asked, goading you with his teasing tone.

“Someone’s about to get crushed,” you replied happily, your overly cheerful voice sending the twins into hysterics.

You pursed your lips, but the amused smile on your face didn’t escape Hermione’s keen eye.

“Excited for quidditch tomorrow then, Y/N?” George said with a cocky grin. “We’re gonna absolutely decimate the Hufflepuffs.”

“Like that’s hard,” Fred added, nodding his head.

“As much as I would love to see you two do absolutely nothing for a few hours,” you smirked as their expressions wilted. “I have no interest in torturing myself watching a game I can’t play.”

“Why can’t you play?” Harry asked, a confused frown knitting his brows together.

“Flint banned me for three matches; says it’ll ‘help remind me where my loyalties should lie’. Smug bastard.”

You rolled your eyes, remembering the dumb look on his face and the haughtiness of his tone.

“What? He’s not letting you play because of that enchanted bludger last year? But you were only helping Harry!” Hermione said, her voice indignant.

“I think that’s the issue, Hermione,” Harry said almost guiltily.

“Well, that’s hardly fair, is it?” Ron said, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them. He winced as he prepared himself for your reaction, quite surprised really when you only shrugged and kissed your teeth.

“Not to worry, he’ll put me back in after the Ravenclaw match,” you insisted, the clock on the wall catching your eye. “I’m irreplaceable.”

You winked at Ron as you walked backwards, finding it best not to be late for Snape’s study session given your recent antics with George. Your laughter followed you out the hall as you left Ron blushing bright pink in your wake.

There was a large possibility that you might have lied. Or perhaps you just hadn’t made up your mind yet. It really didn’t matter though because Potter sure was lucky that you’d dragged yourself to see the match in the end. You obviously hadn’t anticipated him falling so hard so fast, but given that you’d been lurking by the players’ entrance to the pitch to get the best view of the game, you were by far the first to reach him when he hit the ground with a resounding thud.

You perched on the bed opposite him, sitting on the railing and hoping that Madam Pomfrey was too occupied with the injured Hufflepuffs to scold you.

“He looks a bit peaky,” Ron said, leaning over Harry who, admittedly, did look rather pale. “Doesn’t he?”

You cursed yourself for being so worried about Harry Potter, of all people, but despite your best intentions, you had a soft spot for the kid and you reasoned that anybody falling out of the sky would’ve earnt exactly the same response.

“Peaky?” George scoffed, looking at his little brother.

“I’d expect,” Fred snorted.

“He fell over a hundred feet.”

“Yeah, Ron. Let’s walk you off the Astronomy Tower.”

“See what you look like.”

You rolled your eyes. They really were idiots.

“Probably a darn sight better than he usually does,” Harry said, his voice croaky. You snorted, leaning forward to get a better look at Hogwarts’ resident skydiver. George glanced at you, grinning at the noise you’d made as he moved to sit by Harry.

“You gave us a right good scare there, mate,” he said, shaking his head. Despite your oath to never do so, you had to agree with him. Harry’s eyes flicked from George to the twigs that were left of his broomstick nestled in Ron’s arms, and then finally to you.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, frowning.

You chuckled as you stood up and made towards the bed, walking past Longbottom, who edged away away from you nervously.

“Just checking you’re still alive, Potter,” you said lazily, catching George’s eye as you turned to leave.

“She helped bring you in,” he said, looking at you for a moment before bringing his attention back to Harry.

“Seems like she’s your guardian angel on that quidditch pitch,” Fred joked, his laughter echoing down the corridor as you took a leisurely stroll back to the dungeon.

You didn’t see Fred or George for a while after that which was worrying, to say the least; if not only because that meant that they were planning something. You managed to muster a smile for Harry in the hallway one time, figuring he needed it with all the rumours going around about Sirius Black being his godfather. It probably came out like more of a grimace, you mused. 

It felt normal, though, to return to your life before your truce with George Weasley; back to your normal friends and normal problems that didn’t involve teenagers falling from the sky. Disappointingly, with your friends busy revising for the upcoming Transfiguration test, a test you knew that you’d ace, you almost convinced yourself to ditch Hogsmeade for the day. However, something about the fresh snow on the ground or the idea of Christmas just around the corner swayed you and you found yourself huddled in your coat, rushing through the halls of Hogwarts.

The last people you expected (or wanted) to see were Fred and George, walking through the quad with matching woolly hats and coats. You debated it for a moment. You could just ignore them, but no doubt they’d notice you shadowing them at some point. And you were friends now, right? 

The thought struck you with less distaste than you imagined it would and it seemed, at that point, that your mind was made up.

“Aren’t you two supposed to be at Hogsmeade?” you shouted, quirking an eyebrow at them as they turned around, waiting for you to catch up.

“Couldn’t we ask you the same thing?” George said, grinning cheekily.

“I was just leaving, actually.”

“Oh, splendid,” Fred said, his tone mocking. “We absolutely have to go together, then.”

“If we must,” you said, the perfect picture of resignation.

“You know you love us, Y/N,” George said, elbowing you in the ribs.

“I’ll pretend that’s true for your own sake.”

“You see that, George?” Fred asked, pointing at his brother as you walked between them. “And they say Slytherin’s aren’t kind.”

You couldn’t help the smile that lifted your cheeks.

It was unfortunate, really, because you couldn’t shake that smile for the rest of the day. Against your better judgement, you joined the twins in the Three Broomsticks, laughing and joking over pints of butterbeer. If anybody asked, the whole experience was deplorable, but in reality, you were actually enjoying yourself. So much so that you didn’t even notice the stares you were getting from across the pub.

“Can you believe that?” Seamus asked, jerking a thumb at you. “Did you ever think the bloody Weasley twins would be friends with a Slytherin?”

Dean shook his head, snickering into his glass. “No chance, mate.”

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[tsarisfanfiction]

Long Way From Home: Chapter 14

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Scott, Tracy Family

Forgot to post this last night, whoops, but in my defence I am absolutely drowning under uni work at the moment, so I’m quite surprised I even had the energy to proof read and post tonight...

<<<Chapter 13

The table was already piled high with steaming food when they entered the room, but Scott’s attention was more taken by the man sat at the head. Not-Dad caught his eye and gestured to the seat at his right.  Scott hadn’t planned to sit near the man if he could help it, but it appeared the patriarch had other ideas.

Swallowing down his reluctance, he crossed the floor, greeting Mrs Tracy, who was attempting to set the table even as Tin-Tin tried to persuade her gently to take her own seat, and took the offered chair.

Steely grey eyes swept up and down his outfit, and Not-Dad’s mouth settled into a thin line, but much to Scott’s relief he didn’t comment.  Not directly, at least.

“I see you had a successful trip,” he said.  Scott shrugged.

“Fashion here’s different,” he said, glancing over as the rest of the family took their seats, Other-Virgil slipping in before Other-Kyrano finished bringing the food over to the table.  “As you’ve no doubt noticed.”

“That I have,” Not-Dad agreed.  “At least no-one outside of this organisation will be seeing you, so now you have your own clothes I suppose you can dress as you wish.”  He still sounded somewhat dubious about it, but Scott would take what he could get.

“Those were my thoughts, too, Father,” Other-Scott joined in, from where he was sat a little way down the table between Other-Virgil and Mrs Tracy. “He might as well be comfortable while he’s here.”

“Indeed,” Not-Dad said.  “I have informed some trusted friends of your predicament in the hopes of increasing our chances of getting you home, and locating anyone else who may have come through. I am sure their names will be familiar to you; as I recall, you mentioned a ‘Lady P’ earlier?”

Had he?  Scott didn’t remember everything that he’d said to the man, but that seemed likely enough. He nodded.

“I assume that refers to our London agent, Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward,” Not-Dad continued.  “She has been made aware and intends to visit in the near future.”

Scott felt a flash of frustration that things were being organised over his head – or behind his back, maybe – but buried it deep with the reminder that here, he wasn’t Commander.  He wasn’t anything, except someone in need of rescuing, and this man next to him was the man in charge of the organisation trying to get him home.

“Yeah, we have a Lady Penelope,” he confirmed.  “And Parker?”

“A fine butler,” Not-Dad agreed.

Scott nodded awkwardly, a little unsure at the way Not-Dad’s first description for him was ‘butler’.  It wasn’t inaccurate, but to him, Parker was so much more than just Lady Penelope’s butler, and he wasn’t sure if that was a relationship that had carried over.

Lady Penelope and Parker had been invaluable after the Zero-X, after all.

Scott cut that train of thought off out of habit before it could spiral too far.  The last thing he needed to do was start crying about Dad while sat next to his doppelgänger in another universe.

He was saved from any further awkward conversation by Other-Kyrano announcing that the dinner was ready and inviting them to help themselves.

“Thank you, Kyrano,” Not-Dad said, before picking up a platter of carved meat and offering it to Scott.  For his part, Scott was looking at the large, homemade spread and trying not to drool at the prospect of edible food.

“Thanks,” he said, helping himself to a few slices.  That appeared to be the cue for everyone else to tuck in, and Scott found himself part of a full dining table for the first time in a long time.  Other-John was absent, of course, no doubt squirrelled away on Thunderbird Five eating rehydrated food, and it was obvious that this Tracy family, too, had lost their mom, but with the Kyranos and even Other-Brains apparently resurfacing when he hadn’t been looking, not to mention Not-Dad, it felt like the sort of meal Scott hadn’t been able to have in eight years, and had thought he’d never have again.

He took a large bite of the food to stop his rising emotions overflowing. Other-Alan, sitting opposite him, shot him an unimpressed look but thankfully seemed too busy listening to Tin-Tin next to him to comment.

“Magnificent as always, Kyrano,” Not-Dad announced after a few moments, which seemed to be the cue for the rest of the family to interject with their own praise.  Scott was more than happy to join in, which got several pairs of eyes on him, seeming like they were gauging how genuine he was.  Only Tin-Tin had a knowing, and slightly sad, smile on her face.

“Say,” Other-Alan cut in, “how does this compare to what you normally eat? Our Kyrano’s the better cook, isn’t he?”

It was a loaded question, and Scott narrowed his eyes at him.

“Alan, that’s enough of that,” Not-Dad said.  “There’s to be no comparison of which universe is ‘better’, you hear me?”

“Yes, Father,” Other-Alan frowned.  “But I can’t be the only one that wants to know what he really thinks of the food.”

“Alan!” Other-Scott added in, but Scott shrugged.

“It’s the best homemade meal I’ve had in years,” he said honestly, nodding at Other-Kyrano, who seemed flustered at the praise.  “None of us can cook half as well back home.”

“Not even your Kyrano?” Other-Alan pressed, despite the sharp snap of his name from Not-Dad.

“Alan,” Tin-Tin interjected gently, putting a hand on his arm.  He ignored her, too, and light blue eyes pinned Scott where he sat.

Scott took another mouthful of the mouth-wateringly good food and swallowed it before answering.

“Kyrano hasn’t lived with us for years,” he said simply.  “It’s just the four of us – five when John’s down – with Grandma, Brains and Kayo – she’s our Tin-Tin – on the island.”

There was silence, and he took the chance to help himself to more of the food on the central platters.  It really was good, and if he was eating, he could at least pretend he wasn’t the focus of several varyingly sympathetic looks.

“Where did he go, if you don’t mind my asking, sir?”  It was Other-Kyrano who asked, and Scott tried not to react to being called sir.

He shrugged again.  “None of us know,” he admitted between mouthfuls.  “He retired and vanished.  Kayo tries to get in contact with him every now and then, but as far as I know she’s never been successful.”

Scott could feel the elephant in the room, the question on all their tongues even though none of them – not even the otherwise abrasive Other-Alan – wanted to be the one to say it.  He sighed and speared a section of meat with his fork, knowing that the question wouldn’t go away until he addressed it.

“Yes,” he said, “it was just after we lost Dad.”  He shoved the fork into his mouth and chewed aggressively on the meat, staring down at his plate rather than facing anyone at the table. A hand landed on his right shoulder, presumably belonging to Other-Gordon, who was sat immediately next to him, but no-one said anything in response.

After a moment, Not-Dad cleared his throat.  “Brains, how are you doing with the research?” he asked.

“O-oh!”  The scientist jumped, clearly not expecting to be addressed, and Scott sent him a mental apology for being the reason he was suddenly the centre of attention even though he was impatient for updates on that front, too.  “I, uh, have gathered a-all the data I, uh, can detect from, uh, Thunderbird One’s hangar w-where Scott, uh, appeared,” Other-Brains said, putting his cutlery down as he spoke.  “There appears to be a-an, uh, anomaly of some sort in the, uh, atmospheric r-readings but I, uh, haven’t b-been able to, uh, isolate the c-cause yet.”

“But wouldn’t the cause be the collision that brought him through?” Other-Virgil asked.

“T-that would be the, uh, logical assumption,” Other-Brains agreed, “but, I’d, uh, like some m-more data before I, uh, conclude that for, uh, certain.”

Scott was caught with a mouth full of vegetables when bespectacled eyes found him from the other end of the table, where Other-Brains was sitting between Tin-Tin and Other-Kyrano.  “I, uh, would like to run some, uh, samples from you to, uh, isolate the a-anomaly from your, uh, home u-universe,” the scientist continued.

Scott swallowed the food.  “Whatever you need,” he agreed eagerly.  Maybe a little desperately.  “Just say when you want them.”

“I’ll, uh, let you know,” Other-Brains promised.  It wasn’t ideally the answer Scott was looking for – a definitive time would have been nice – but it was something and he nodded in acknowledgement.

That seemed to be the cue for the hubbub of conversation to start up again. Scott stayed out of it, content to eat and listen, and at the head of the table, Not-Dad seemed likewise content to listen to what his sons were saying as they started talking about what seemed to be normal, everyday things.  Scott had the context for none of it and was unsurprisingly completely at a loss as to what any of them were talking about.

Tin-Tin and Mrs Tracy seemed to be holding a conversation about fashion and something that sounded like Pennylon, which Scott assumed was a brand or something, while the brothers engaged in some apparently long-standing banter, although he definitely heard billiards and bet in the hubbub.

Nothing was said about International Rescue, and Scott wondered if that was because he was there, even though he’d sat in on one of their debriefs, or if this family also had a ban on talking business over meals.  It was probably the latter.

“Gordon,” Not-Dad said suddenly, cutting into the conversation.  “What’s this about a bet I hear?”

The son in question grinned, and further down the table, Other-Scott rolled his eyes.

“It’s not a real one, Father,” Other-Gordon said.  “But with Scott here wanting clothes that our Scott wouldn’t normally buy, we had to come up with a reason for his sudden change in taste.”

“So he claimed I bet he couldn’t beat the whole family at billiards,” Other-Scott added.  “A bet that I apparently lost, with those clothes as my forfeit.”

Not-Dad chuckled, startling Scott, who hadn’t heard anything except stern patriarch from the man since he’d first met him.  Suddenly he seemed a lot more like Dad, and a lump formed in his throat.  Scott hurried to put another mouthful of food in his mouth to have a reason for his need to swallow.

“He did, did he?” the older man said.  “How many times have you played him so far today?”

“I stopped counting after twelve,” Other-Scott said.

“I see,” Not-Dad mused.  “And how many times has he won?”  Even Scott could tell he knew what the answer was going to be before it was uttered, but Other-Scott said it anyway.

“Not even once.”

“Maybe we should play chess after dinner instead,” Other-Gordon suggested. His brother laughed.

“But chess wasn’t the bet, was it, Gordon?”

“I think you’ve made your point,” the ginger sulked.

“I’m glad you think so,” Other-Scott said sunnily.  “Maybe that’ll teach you to make outlandish claims.”

“I didn’t see you making any suggestions to the contrary,” Other-Gordon pointed out.  Sat between them, Other-Virgil’s head was swivelling like an umpire at a tennis match. Conversation across the rest of the table had died down, leaving the two of them the only ones talking.

Two brothers sniping at each other was familiar, and Scott buried himself in the delicious food to try and distract himself from the fact that at home, it would be his brothers sniping at each other, and he might even be involved himself.

No-one seemed to notice his retreat from the conversation, or at least had the manners not to comment on it if they did, and he kept quiet for the rest of the main course.

Dessert passed in much the same manner, with Grandma presenting a gigantic chocolate gateau piled high with fresh strawberries and cream.  The entire table fell upon it with gusto, Scott very much included.  The ones he picked up from Paris, while the best of professional baking, just weren’t the same as homemade.

“So,” Not-Dad said, once the plates were all licked clean and Other-Kyrano and Mrs Tracy were bustling around in the kitchen, having cleared the crockery.  Tin-Tin had also got up to help them, but none of the others had moved, so Scott took the cue to stay where he was.  “What do you boys have planned for the evening?”

“I’ll be continuing with drawing Scott’s brothers,” Other-Virgil said.

“Drawing his brothers?” Not-Dad asked, and he nodded.

“They don’t look identical to us,” Other-Gordon chipped in, “so Virgil’s working with Scott to get portraits together for our reference.”

“I see,” Not-Dad said, and Scott found himself being regarded by the man again. “I’d like to see those once they’re completed.”

“Yes, Father,” Other-Virgil agreed.

“He won’t let any of us see them yet,” Other-Gordon complained.

“I told you,” the artist said, yet again.  “Once they’re coloured, and not one moment before.”

A steaming cup of coffee appeared in front of Scott, and he glanced up to see Tin-Tin smiling at him.  Not wanting to interrupt the conversation now going on between Not-Dad and his sons about the portraits Other-Virgil was working on, he nodded at her in thanks.

Similar cups were finding their way in front of everyone at the table, and Scott assumed a post-meal coffee was part of the routine here.  Once everyone was served, Tin-Tin, Other-Kyrano and Mrs Tracy returned to the table with their own drinks and a platter of home-baked cookies.

Tasting the coffee, Scott was pleased to discover Tin-Tin had clearly remembered how he liked it from earlier.  The proffered cookies were just as delicious as the cake had been, and by the time they’d finished drinking and eating, Scott was feeling pleasantly full.

He was going to have to make sure he went for his morning run, especially if this was always how they ate here.

“Are you ready to carry on with the portraits?” Other-Virgil asked him after all the cups on the table had been drained dry and the hubbub of conversation had faded away, and he made his way to his feet.

“Sure,” he answered.  “Lead the way.”

Other-Virgil’s room was full of frosted glass panels, or so it seemed as Scott followed him inside.  Books, on what appeared to be a variety of subjects from art techniques and historic artists to music to what Scott assumed were engineering manuals, lined alcoves in the wall opposite the bed.  They were familiar in topic, if not in the particular titles, to the sorts of things he was used to finding in his Virgil’s room.

“Why don’t you pull up a chair?” Other-Virgil invited, nodding at a wooden chair sitting innocuously in the corner as he perched himself on his bed. The sketchbook from earlier had had the respective pages neatly torn out, and Scott caught a glimpse of John’s sketch taped to a large board.  Various colouring pencils surrounded the artist where he sat, and Scott obediently retrieved the chair in question to put it down next to the bed so he could see what Other-Virgil was doing.

“What do you want to start with?” he asked, looking at the greyscale picture of his brother and trying to imagine it coloured in.  As John was the last brother he’d seen – albeit holographically – before ending up in the wrong universe, it was almost painfully easy to bring him to mind.

“Well, we might as well start with the skin,” Other-Virgil said.  “Darker or paler than you?”

That was a good reference point to start with, Scott figured.  “Paler,” he replied.  “Quite a bit paler.  He’s ginger and lives in space most of the time, so he doesn’t get much sun.”

Other-Virgil hummed thoughtfully, fingers dancing over a selection of pencils but not actually selecting one to start.  “Do you remember our John well enough to know which one’s darker or paler?” he asked.

“I can’t say I was paying much attention to that,” Scott admitted, wracking his brain to remember how pale Other-John had been.  “Mine’s maybe a little paler?”

Other-Virgil nodded and finally selected a pencil.  “Say,” he began as he started lightly colouring.  “When you say he’s in space most of the time – don’t you fellas have a rotation for Thunderbird Five?”

“A rotation?”  Scott tried to imagine telling John he had to share his ‘bird with someone else on a regular basis – someone who wasn’t EOS – and failed miserably.  John would probably lock down Thunderbird Five and refuse entry to anyone if Scott so much as breathed a notion about sharing space monitor duty regularly.  “No, John’s up there most of the year.  He’s happiest there, so it works out.”

“But aren’t there health detriments to staying in space for so long?” Other-Virgil asked, and Scott winced.

“A few,” he admitted, “but we’ve done what we can with our technology to minimise them, and it’s not unusual for John to come down for a few days if we’re quiet.  We can route the calls straight to Tracy Island if necessary, although the signal isn’t as good and we’re more liable to miss things.”  He frowned thoughtfully.  “You guys have a rotation?”

Other-Virgil nodded as he set down the pencil he was using and selected another one.  Scott peered at the canvas; John’s sketch did look remarkably pale, but the pencil Other-Virgil had selected seemed slightly darker so maybe he planned to layer it up. “John and Alan switch every month, or near enough,” he explained.  Scott recalled Other-Alan’s surprising agreement to Other-John’s declaration that he wanted telemetry – it made a lot more sense now.  “But John tends to do slightly longer spells than Alan, and very rarely Scott takes a turn if one of them can’t.”

Scott couldn’t imagine sitting up in Thunderbird Five for an entire month, on space monitor duty.  He’d done short spells of a couple of days, and that was more than enough for him.

“How does this look so far?” Other-Virgil asked after a few more moments, putting his pencil down and turning the board until Scott could look at it properly.  “Too pale?”

Scott peered at it again, but without the vibrant hair or piercing eyes, judging the skin colour was a lot harder than he’d expected it to be.

“Maybe a little?” he offered, a bit uncertainly.

“How about we move on to his hair for now?” Other-Virgil suggested.  “You say he’s ginger?”

Scott nodded.  “Very striking,” he confirmed.  “Brighter than your Gordon’s.”

Other-Virgil selected a pencil and made some firm strokes across the curl above John’s forehead.  “Like this?”

“Something like that, yeah,” Scott confirmed, watching the almost orange pencil continue to follow the sweep of John’s hair.  Other-Virgil nodded in acknowledgement, and settled in to keep colouring the hair.  He didn’t seem to have any difficulty with the colour; Scott didn’t have to make any corrections, only a couple of confirmations when asked, during the entire process.

Then it was time for his eyes, and this particular little brother of his had never had the easiest eyes to describe, not helped by the fact that Scott saw them through a blue-tinted hologram far more frequently than he actually saw them in person.

“Blue turquoise or green turquoise?” Other-Virgil asked after his initial attempt, and Scott hesitated.  They always looked almost blue in the hologram, but then the hologram itself was blue, so…

“Green?” he hedged.  “Maybe?”

Other-Virgil seemed slightly amused at his inability to remember the exact colour, if the uptick to his lips was any indication, but dutifully selected a few pencils in the blue-green area, as best Scott could tell, and started adding in flecks to the irises.

Seeing his brother come to life from the paper as Other-Virgil added more and more detail with the pencils brought that lump back in his throat, which Scott swallowed around in the hopes of pushing it down before Other-Virgil looked up and noticed.

No such luck, apparently, as brown eyes glanced up at him and gained a sympathetically concerned look.

“Are you okay?” Other-Virgil asked, setting the pencil and board down and twisting to look at him properly.

“I’m fine,” Scott insisted, but he could tell Other-Virgil wasn’t convinced in the slightest.

“You know,” he said gently, “we don’t have to do this all now.”

It was very reminiscent of Other-Gordon’s attitude during their shopping trip, and Scott slouched back on the chair.

“You need to know who you’re looking out for,” he pointed out.  “We’ve already established I can’t describe them well enough, so this is the only way we’ve got.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Other-Virgil allowed, “but that doesn’t mean you have to push yourself so hard.”

“They’re my brothers,” Scott snapped back, harsher than he intended. “If they’re somehow here-”

“I understand,” Other-Virgil interjected.  Startled at the interruption, Scott’s mouth clicked shut. “Gordon’s right; you’re just like our Scott, and we know how overprotective over us he gets.”  A hand landed on his shoulder, and those deep brown eyes searched his.  For what, Scott wasn’t sure.  “If your brothers are somehow here, we will find them.  John’s already listening out, and I’m sure your brothers are smart enough to get themselves somewhere where they can be easily found by the right people.  What we’re doing will help, I agree, but if they’re here, it’s not what will find them.”

Scott grit his jaw.

“I have to do something,” he said.  A measure of desperation bled through into his voice.

“Look after yourself,” Other-Virgil told him, not unkindly. “That’s what your brothers will want.” Scott looked up at him, startled, and Other-Virgil held his gaze steadily.  “I’m sure that, if you’re like Scott, I must be like your brother, too,” he continued.  “Look after yourself.  Let us help you.”

His hair was different, but his eyes were just the same.

Other-Gordon had said the same thing.  Scott wondered if he was in for a similar speech from all of them at one point or another.

“I have to do this,” he said, leaning forwards and gesturing at the still-uncoloured sketches of his three youngest brothers.  “I have to.”

Other-Virgil surveyed him for a moment, but must have seen something in his face, because he nodded and pulled his hand back.

“I understand,” he said.  “So, would you say we’re done with your John?”  He picked up the coloured picture and showed it to Scott.

It was definitely John.  The sketch had caught his likeness perfectly, but with the addition of the colours, it was really him.

“Yeah,” he said, around that lump that seemed determined to appear in his throat at any reminder of his brothers.  “That’s him.”

Other-Virgil took a moment to look at the finished drawing, and Scott wondered what he was thinking.  Whatever thoughts were running through his head, though, he didn’t say them and after a moment set the image aside.  It was Virgil’s sketch that he prepped next.

It had to be weird, Scott thought as they started the same process again, for the brown-haired man to know he was colouring in a version of himself from another universe – that hopefully, if Scott really was the only one to have fallen through, he would never meet.  Still, Other-Virgil seemed well enough up to the challenge, even if he raised an eyebrow upon Scott’s confirmation that yes, Virgil’s hair was black and not just a very dark brown.

The eyes, at least, were slightly easier.  Unlike with Other-John and John, where the former he’d only seen through various sized screens and hadn’t been able to get any real gauge on the exact shade of his eyes, Other-Virgil – as well as Other-Gordon and Other-Alan – had the exact same eyes as Scott’s own brothers.

Other-Virgil, entirely understandably in Scott’s opinion, spent several minutes studying the finished drawing once Scott proclaimed it accurate, but just as with John’s portrait, kept his opinions to himself.

It was dark outside Other-Virgil’s bedroom window by the time all of the sketches were coloured.  Instinctively, Scott looked at his wrist for the time, only to be stymied by the analogue dial he’d yet to get anyone to explain to him.

“It’s getting late,” Other-Virgil commented, seemingly only just noticing how dark it was even though he’d turned the lights on about halfway through colouring Alan’s.  “Should we show the fellas now or in the morning?”

“Might as well do it now, if they’re still up,” Scott shrugged.  “What is the time, anyway?”

“Aren’t you wearing Scott’s watch?” Other-Virgil asked, and Scott sighed.

“Yeah, but I can’t read it,” he admitted.  “We haven’t used this system in half a century back home.”

“Do you want me to talk you through it now?” Other-Virgil offered, setting the drawings aside and leaning forwards.  “It shouldn’t be too complicated for you, I shouldn’t think.”

Scott glanced down at the dial, taunting him with numbers and spokes he couldn’t quite decipher.  “That would help,” he admitted, extending his wrist.  “So, what am I looking at here?”

Other-Virgil shuffled closer and caught his forearm to steady it.  “Well, each point on the edge of the face are the hours, with twelve at the top, followed by one on the immediate right,” he said, pointing at the points in question.  Scott nodded.  “The shorter hand is the hour hand, and it points at the hour.  If it’s pointing between numbers, like it is right now” – it was between the nine and the ten markers – “the hour is the one it’s passed. That makes it nine, here.”  Scott nodded again.

“The other hands,” he started, assuming all of the long thin spokes coming from the centre had the same term.  “Minutes and seconds?”

“That’s correct,” Other-Virgil confirmed.  “The wider, slower, hand is the minutes.  Each hour point is five minutes apart for the minute hand, starting from the top of the dial.”

Scott did a quick count.  The minute hand was lurking down by the seven hour point, so that meant, “it’s nine thirty-five?”

“That’s right,” Other-Virgil told him.  “But we normally say twenty-five to ten.  Once it’s past the half hour, we say ‘to’ the hour, rather than ‘past’ the hour.”

That was unnecessarily complicated, in Scott’s opinion.  “I’ll try to remember that,” he said out loud, watching the third, slender, hand move around.  That was presumably the second hand.  “Seconds are counted the same way as minutes?”

“They are, yes,” he was told, Other-Virgil looking quite pleased.  “I didn’t think you’d have any trouble with it. Say, what do you fellas use?”  He let go of Scott’s wrist.

“Numbers,” Scott shrugged, letting his hand fall back into his lap. “Computers update the time every second or minute, depending on the clock, so we just have to read out the numbers.”

“Computers do that?” Other-Virgil asked.  Scott found himself surprisingly relieved that the other man seemed to at least know what a computer was.  “That sounds very complicated for something as simple as keeping time.”

Scott shrugged.  “It’s simple enough for us to use,” he said.

“Well, I suppose it’s what you’re used to,” Other-Virgil commented.  “The other fellas should still be up, so we can show them the portraits of your brothers now.”  Scott watched him gather up the four drawings and made his own way to his feet, putting the chair back in the corner where it had been earlier.

Chapter 15>>>

[omgrachwrites]

The Book of Love - Chapter One

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Ravenclaw!Reader

Summary: After a breakup leaves you heartbroken and miserable, things start to change for the better when you begin exchanging notes in a library book with a mystery boy.

Warnings: lil bit of angst, fluff, lil bit of swearing, Sirius being the best friend ever, Remus being adorable

Words: 2362

Disclaimer: This gif doesn’t belong to me!

A/N: This is for @hp-imagines-07 writing challenge so I hope you all enjoy! I wanted to add more friendship in this to go along with the romance which is why the first part of this chapter focuses on Sirius’ and Y/N’s friendship so I hope that’s okay! Please let me know what you think and if you would like to be tagged, I love you all! xxx

Chapter One

The beautiful summer’s day had started out perfectly, you and your family were staying at your grandmother’s estate over the summer holiday. Your grandmother owned a good few acres of land, meaning that you could have your space if you needed it. That morning you had been mesmerized by the way that the sun rose in the sky, all pink and beautiful, casting a blush of magic over all the land, as far as the eye could see.

Though, that beauty and wonder all seemed to be distant memories now as you stared at the front page of The Daily Prophet like you had been doing for the last few hours. Rage and sadness filled your chest like an inferno. What had you done to deserve this? Blinking away angry tears, you ripped off the front page of the newspaper that read, ‘Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black announce their surprise engagement,’ and you crumpled it up into a ball as you stalked across the lush green lawn.

You finally let out a deep breath, one that you hadn’t realised you had been holding in as you leaned against the white marquee and you tried to concentrate on the sweet smell of the honeysuckle and the cheerful song of the lark. You were startled when you heard a loud crack from across the lawn and you glanced up to see it was your childhood best friend and he was walking towards you with a look of sympathy on his face. Sighing you quickly wiped your eyes, you didn’t want or need his sympathy and you certainly didn’t want him to see you cry.

“What the hell are you doing here Sirius?” you asked, your tone was sharp and defensive as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

An expression of polite surprise flitted its way across his features before his face was transformed with a smirk, “well, you see, I knew you were staying here so I apparated, took my test early you know,” you gave him a sharp look and he sighed, holding his hands up in defence, “I came to see if you were okay. Considering my cousin is now engaged to your ex-boyfriend,” he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

You sighed as you smiled at him gratefully and you rested your head against his chest, “at least I know why he dumped me at the start of summer,” you shrugged, you had been staring at that front page for hours and you now felt quite numb, “I should have known something was wrong but I guess he wanted to know what it was like to go out with someone who was never good enough for him.”

Sirius tutted at your words and he shook his head incredously at you, “how can you think that way Y/N? You were way too good for that slime ball.”

You giggled at your friend’s words and smiled at him before you closed your eyes and basked in the warm sunshine, “honestly, I’m more annoyed that Narcissa would do this to me, I mean, I know that we weren’t best friends but we were at least friends.”

Sirius’ fingers toyed with the ends of your hair, “you know that you can hang around with me and my friends anytime you want don’t you? Lily and Alice really like you and I know they would love it if another girl joined our group. My friends like you for some crazy unknown reason,” he joked and you pushed at his shoulder, shooting him a death glare.

“Shut it! Otherwise, I’ll hex you and damage that pretty face; I’m a delight to be around,” you smirked, “but really, thank you Sirius. I really do appreciate it but I don’t want to impose.”

Sirius frowned at your words before he shook his head, “Y/N, you’re my best friend, don’t tell James that I just said that,” he chuckled, “you could never impose.”

You felt a sudden wash of affection for Sirius as you beamed and gave him a quick hug, “thank you,” you mumbled against his chest before pulling away, “so how are you?”

Sirius grinned as he shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “I’m good, really I am now that I don’t live with my mum and dad anymore.”

You nodded understandingly, you knew just how much heartache and torture that he’d endured in that dark house, “you never have to go back there Sirius. Now,” you smiled, clapping your hands, “do you want to stay for dinner?” you asked as you walked up towards the house.

“Ah yes, my ulterior motive for coming to see you,” he smirked, throwing his arm around your shoulders, “as long as your grandmother doesn’t try and set us up again.”

You made a face at his words and you gagged, it was true enough that Sirius had devastatingly good looks but there had only ever been friendship between the two of you and you both liked it that way, “no offense but you’re like my brother.”

“I completely agree and besides if I made a move on you, Remus would never forgive me.”

You weren’t looking at Sirius but you could just hear the smirk in his voice. You frowned and cocked your head to the side as you thought of the handsome boy with the tousled hair and the stars in his eyes. Remus was one of Sirius’ best friends but you had never seen him as anything more than that, he was an absolute sweetheart though. Besides, after Lucius you didn’t really want to jump into anything with anyone just yet, it wouldn’t be fair to anyone. Though, you did crave the romance.

“You’re so full of shit!” you laughed loudly and pushed him so hard that he stumbled. It was a relief when you walked into the cool house that was alive with so many amazing smells. Sirius sniffed the air with a look of appreciation, “we have a guest over for dinner guys!” you grinned as you pulled Sirius into the kitchen.

He hung back sheepishly, looking uncharacteristically shy but your mother beamed when she saw him, “it’s so lovely to see you Sirius!” she enveloped him into a warm hug and you noticed that Sirius returned the hug just as tight. You all knew that he hadn’t had a lot of motherly hugs.

“Good to see you again son,” your father smiled, the edges of his eyes crinkling as he shook Sirius’ hand.

“Thank you so much for having me,” Sirius grinned.

Your grandmother had been watching this whole interaction with a wicked smirk on her face, “yes welcome Sirius, and please make yourself at home. Who knows, you two might be coming up here alone in years to come.”

Groaning internally, you rolled your eyes and exchanged an amused look with Sirius, “we’re just friends Grandma.”

Your grandmother shrugged, “you can’t crush an old woman’s dream my dear,” she smiled at the both of you before she resume cooking.

Dinner that evening was a joyful occasion; it always was when you were staying with your grandmother. There was lots of laughter and beaming smiles, the only downside was the fact that your parents wouldn’t let you or Sirius try any of the Fire Whiskey. But you were sure that when you got back to school, Sirius would work his charm on the barmaid in The Three Broomsticks and you were be able to procure some.

Ever since you and Sirius were children your parents always treated Sirius with warmth and they had always made him feel like part of the family, and for that you were very grateful. After dessert you gave Sirius a hug as he stood on the doorstep, “I’ll see you at school, thank you for coming to see if I was okay.”

Sirius grinned as he smoothed your hair down, “you’re very welcome, I know that you’d do the same for me, thank you for having me around for dinner,” he hesitated, “think about what I said about Remus, not for me but for yourself. You deserve happiness Y/N and Remus is a great guy.”

You smiled lightly at him, “goodnight Sirius.”

Sirius nodded in understanding but you couldn’t miss the look of disappointment on his face as he turned to leave. You didn’t want to tell Sirius that you weren’t looking to get caught up with anyone. You had always been hopeless in love, perhaps that was why you craved the romance, you craved every part of it like something out of a fairy tale. Though, unbeknownst to you, fate worked in mysterious ways.

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

Remus had sorely missed this, he had missed the hustle and bustle of the magical world, there were hundreds of magical children filling up the platform and he noticed that most of them seemed to be in little huddled groups. There were all whispering about something and they were all looking in the same direction. With a raised eyebrow Remus’ hazel eyes followed their gaze but he didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. He finally found his friends and greeted them with a grin as they began to walk the length of the platform.

“I think that Y/N is going to be hanging round with us more this year,” Sirius said and almost instantly Remus felt heat travel up from his toes and settled on his cheeks, his whole body felt hot and his insides had turned to mush. He had had a crush on Y/N since their third year but he’d never really worked up the courage to talk to her properly.

Lily let out a sigh of relief as she combed her fingers through her long red hair, “that’s great, I really like Y/N. Don’t you Remus?” Lily smirked over at him and he glared back at her, his cheeks felt like they were on fire.

“Yeah o-of course I like her. How come she’ll be spending more time with us?”                    

James raised an eyebrow as he leaned over Sirius to look at Remus, “you did see the newspaper right?”

Remus sighed as he nodded, “yeah I saw it,” the guy she had been dating last term was now engaged to someone who used to be her friend. He couldn’t imagine how sad and angry she felt.

“You’re so full of shit Malfoy; I can’t believe you’d do this!” Remus glanced up as he heard the angry voice and he saw Y/N talking to Lucius Malfoy.

She looked beautiful – but so sad – as she shook her head, turning away from Lucius, still looking over her shoulder at him. She walked right into Remus’ chest and she gasped as she dropped her book on the tarmac. Remus smiled and reached out his hands to steady her.

“Remus, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I should have been,” she flushed and looked up at him with a small smile.

Remus grinned as he shook his head, “honestly, don’t worry about it Y/N,” he bent down to pick her book up and he smiled when he saw the front cover, “The Fellowship of the Ring? The Lord of the Rings is my favourite book series,” he chuckled as he held out her book.

“Thank you,” Y/N smiled as she took the book from him, “it was difficult to get into but I really like it so far,” she smiled with a nod. Her smile was so beautiful that for once, Remus was lost for words and all he could do was smile back.

“So, Y/N. Do you want to sit with us?” Y/N’s eyes tore away from Remus’ face as she looked at Lily who looked very excited. She looked like Christmas had come early.

“That would be amazing, thank you Lily,” she flushed and Lily took her hand in hers, smiling at her.

“You’re welcome; Alice and I could really use another girl in our group. We are overrun by testosterone,” Lily smirked over at her boyfriend who gasped and looked scandalized.

“How dare you?” Frank, Alice’s boyfriend gasped playfully, making everyone laugh as they boarded the train.

Peter groaned quietly as he folded his arms, “please don’t spend hours talking about shopping and boys or whatever. I don’t think that I could take it.”

Remus sighed and closed his eyes, massaging his temples as he took in Peter’s clumsy words. He knew that Peter had the tendency to word vomit when he was nervous but it didn’t make this any less embarrassing.

All three girls gave Peter a hard look before Alice spoke up, “is that seriously what you think girls talk about?”

“Jeez, Pete,” Sirius chuckled, trying to relieve some of the tension as they all found an empty compartment.

For the first couple of hours the compartment was impossibly noisy as the friends played Exploding Snap. Y/N’s fingers brushed against Remus’ as they both reached for a card at the same time. At her touch, goose bumps erupted on Remus’ arms, when Y/N smiled at him gently he had to wonder if she felt it too.

Soon enough, the game grew boring and the compartment grew quiet as the train started to travel through wilder parts of the country. Sirius, James and Peter were concocting a new prank while Lily and Alice were talking about their next Hogsmeade trip and Frank was snoring loudly in the corner. Y/N seemed to be engrossed in her book and Remus took this time to watch her, he watched the shadows that her thick eyelashes made on her cheeks and he watched the way her lips moved silently as she read the words on the page.

Almost as if she could feel Remus’ eyes on her, she glanced up to meet his eyes and raised her eyebrow with the ghost of a smirk on her face. Remus’ heart plummeted in his chest, feeling caught out, all he could do was manage a small smile. Y/N smiled back before going back to her book and Remus let out a slow breath. It was then that he made the decision to be brave and try to get to know her this year.

------------------------------------ 

@smiithys @hp-imagines-07 @pregnant-piggy @reylo-hope @unexpectedurl @siriusblackspam​

[narisjournal-blog]

A Way With Words

Fandom: Cobra Kai

Pairings: Samantha Larusso x Robby Keene, Robby Keene x Miguel Diaz (platonic)

Word Count: 3490

Warnings: sexting

Notes: So in this fic Sam and Robby are together, and there are some strong Kiaz vibes. I’ve made it platonic, but it could get dirtier. I’m not comfortable posting that, though as they are underage.  Please let me know what you think, I’m needy.

This would take place in season 2 after the Lawrusso double date, imagining that Sam and Robby didn’t go to the party and the shit didnt hit the fan. Thanks for reading x

A Way with Words

Robby stood at the door to Jonny’s place taking in what lay before him. His father had clearly attempted to clean but there wasn’t much you could do when so much was ingrained. The couch was old and stained, the walls an off-white that made it feel darker, and there was a constant musty smell that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. At least he had got rid of all the empty beer bottles, Robby thought.

‘I know it’s not much, not compared to the Larussos,’ Johnny said, a hint of shame in his voice. ‘But it’s home. It’s safe. You know you’re welcome any time.’

Robby sighed as the door closed behind him.

‘How long do I have to stay here?’ He asked.

He looked round and he knew from the look in Johnny’s eyes that he had hurt him.

Johnny shook his head, resigning himself to the abuse he probably deserved.

‘Just a couple days. While The Larussos are away.’

Robby gave a wry smile. ‘They don’t trust me with their daughter.’

‘Definitely not,’ Johnny laughed.

Robby rolled his eyes.

‘Oh come on, like you weren’t gonna make a move the second her parents left?’

After a beat, Robby shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

Johnny gave him a slap on the back.

‘Come on, you can suffer a few days with your old man. I think you’ll find a lot more freedom here.

‘Where shall I put my things?’

‘Right through here,’ Johnny said, leading him to the small spare room.

‘I’ll be through there. Make yourself at home.’

He left and Robby slumped down on the bed.

This is a good thing, he told himself with his head in his hands. He’s trying. That’s more than he ever has before.

He had been really resistant to the idea when His father and Mr Larusso had finally sat down to talk and come to an agreement that Robby could stay with his Dad while the family were away. Even Johnny agreed it was better for Robby to live with the Larussos for the time being because he really didn’t have that much to offer in terms of comfort or luxury.

Robby had felt disappointed that he wouldn’t get to spend the time with Sam. It was so rare they got any time alone and he had thought maybe things might heat up a little while her parents were away.

Apparently Mr Larusso was well versed in teenage boy thinking.

He started to unpack his bag when there was a knock at the front door.

‘Carmen?’ Johnny’s voice said.

‘Johnny, I’m so sorry to do this, I know it’s a lot but it’s an emergency.’ She sounded upset. Carmen? Robby thought, trying to think if he knew her.

‘Hey hey, slow down,’ Johnny said. Robby continued unpacking clothes, thinking nothing of it.

‘Are you ok? What happened?’

‘It’s my mother. She collapsed and they don’t know what’s going on, they think she may have had a heart attack. She’s in hospital out of town and’ Johnny cut her off.

‘Yaya? Oh my God I’m so sorry.’

‘Can Miggy stay here for tonight so I can be with her? Please?’

Miggy? Who the hell was... and then it dawned on him.

Miguel.

Instantly Robby’s fists clenched and he rose to his feet.

Why did he think it would be any different? He started throwing his clothes back into his bag haphazardly.

‘I uh...’ Johnny’s voice continued, sounding uncomfortable. ‘I kinda have Robby...’

‘Please, Johnny. We’ve got no-one else.’

‘Mom, come on. I’ll be fine on my own.’ Miguel’s voice.

Carmen snipped at him in rapid Spanish, then quickly switched back to English.

‘He’ll be no trouble, and I’ll pay you for food,’ she added.

‘You don’t have to do that, I...’

Robby knew what was coming. ‘Yeah, sure he can stay. I’ll just have to talk to Robby, since you guys aren’t exactly best of friends.’

‘I don’t want any trouble,’ Miguel mumbled.

Robby slammed his fist into the wall and instantly regretted it as pain shot through his whole wrist.

He sat back on the bed nursing his hand.Swirling around with the anger, he could feel the hurt and the disappointment tightening his throat. His eyes burned and he shook his head to try and control it.

Why did he ever believe it could be any different?

There was a knock at the bedroom door. He stood, throwing his bag back over his shoulder.

The door opened. Johnny looked so awkward, it was pathetic. Like he was trying to pretend the decision was hard.

‘Robby, you probably heard. Miguel’s-‘

Robby cut him off.

‘Yeah I heard. I should’ve known.’

He flexed his hand to see if the pain was easing but it throbbed once again and he winced.

‘Are you ok?’ Johnny nodded to Robby’s hand.

‘Yeah I’m just peachy,’ he retorted.

‘Did you punch a wall?’

Robby didn’t answer.

‘Oh for God’s sake.’

‘Yeah well I should have known it was stupid to think I was your priority for once when you just jump at the chance to help your favourite son,’ Robby said.

Johnny scoffed. ‘Oh will you quit being such a baby. The guy’s going through a hard time, would you just put your hate to the side for one night and be a civilised human being?’

‘Whatever, I’m going back to the Larussos,’ Robby said and made to barge past Johnny.

He forgot just how strong and stubborn his father could be. Johnny grabbed his arm and shoved him back into the room. He stumbled backwards and then found his balance to pull his fist back.

‘The hell you are. What, you just give up? This is your problem Robby, you make it so hard. I know I haven’t been perfect but I’m trying, ok? Any time I try to do right by you, to be there for you or whatever, it’s like you’re just waiting for me to fuck it up and then you shut me out again.’

‘What am I supposed to do? I can’t rely on you,’ he said.

‘Come on just take a second to calm down. Find your centre or whatever that bullshit is that Larusso is teaching you.’

Robby had been caught off guard with a blow he never expected from his father. And he was right, he did need to calm down. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing.

He could feel his body calming and he hated that his father was right.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Johnny’s pleading face. Robby felt his defences ease.

‘I guess I’m just disappointed, Dad.’

Johnny’s eyes fell to the floor.

‘I get that, you have every right to be. But I can’t turn him away at a time like this, Robby. It’s the right thing to do. Deep down you know it.’

Robby sat back on the bed, resigned.

‘No fighting, alright?’ Johnny added, pointing at Robby.

‘But I-‘ Robby began to protest but he got cut off.

‘No fighting. My house, my rules.’ Robby exhaled.

‘I’m gonna go see if he’s alright,’

Johnny added then left.

Robby flopped back on the bed and ran his hands through his hair. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to see a text from Sam.

‘How’s it going?’

He wrote back. ‘Not great. Your ex is staying too.’

Almost right away she was ringing him.

‘Miguel is staying with you?’ She asked sounding perplexed.

‘Yeah. Weird right?’

‘How come? Like was it planned, did your dad know?’

‘No, it’s an emergency. His grandma is in hospital.’

‘yaya? Shit...This is going to be really hard for him.’

Of course she would sympathise with Migue, he thought rolling his eyes.

‘Do you think you can be nice to him?’

‘I’m not an asshole Sam.‘

‘No but your defences are up when you’re around your dad and Miguel. You know I’m right.’

Robby sighed. She was right. After what seemed like a long silence, he spoke again.

‘Ok. Tell me how.’

‘Just try and empathise, Robby. I know it’s hard because it’s him, but just try and think about what he’s going through. ‘

Robby sighed.

‘For me?’ She added in that way she knew would make him melt.

‘Sure.’

‘I miss you’ she added, changing the subject swiftly. ‘I was kinda hoping we might get some alone time this weekend.’

‘Me too.’

‘It’s no fun all alone in this big empty house. I miss kissing you.’ Sam’s voice was soft, playful but almost shy.

‘Maybe I can come over tomorrow?’ Robby posed.

‘I can’t stop thinking about all the things we could do if you were here.’

Robby, heart pounding, drew breath to ask for more detail, but he was interrupted .

‘Robby?’ He heard Johnny shout. Then a knock at the door before it pushed open.

‘I’m getting pizza, do you want some?’

Robby sighed. ‘Sam, I gotta go. Text me. I wanna know.’

He hung up.

‘Uh yeah, I’ll go for pizza.

‘Pepperoni?’

‘Sounds good.’

‘Ok, well can you come out here and keep Miguel company while I’m gone? He’s pretty down.’

Robby couldn’t stop himself rolling his eyes. He stood and headed out the door nonetheless.

‘Is he crying?’ He asked with disdain.

Johnny slapped the back of his head on his way past.

‘Don’t be a dick,’ was all he said.

‘Ow!’ Robby rubbed his head, shocked at his father’s response.

‘Back soon,’ Johnny added as he left and closed the front door behind him.

Robby stood at the far side of the room trying to compose himself.

He looked across at Miguel, who was sat on the couch staring in the vague direction of the TV, although it wasn’t on. The boy looked so vulnerable, brown eyes wide with sadness.

Robby approached him.

‘Hey you know you’re supposed to turn it on first, right?’ He said.

Miguel seemed to snap out of some daydream and gave a faintly sarcastic smile.

‘You’re funny,’ he muttered. There was a long pause before Robby spoke again. He was surprised to realise he actually felt nervous.

‘Hey, you want a beer?’ Robby asked.

Miguel furrowed his brow in confusion. ‘We’re not...’ Robby raised an eyebrow.

‘Sure,’ Miguel shrugged, not wishing to argue.

Robby went to the refrigerator and grabbed two of Johnny’s Coors Banquets, looking around for a bottle opener. He opened them both and handed one to Miguel, who took it cautiously. ‘Are you sure? Won’t Sensei be pissed?’

‘Not at you,’ Robby said pointing the bottle to Miguel and sitting on the couch next to him. ‘You can get away with anything right now. I’m using you as a human shield. To your Grandma,’ He added, taking a big swig.

Miguel sighed, raised his bottle and said ‘to Yaya,’ then drank. He pulled a face at the taste and Robby laughed.

‘Yeah it’s shit.’

‘Why are you drinking it then?’

‘Because I can,’ Robby shrugged, taking another big swig.

They drank in silence for a while until Robby knocked back the last of his beer and stood to put the bottle on the table.

He didn’t realise his phone had slid out of his pocket - the shorts he was wearing were tight and had terrible pockets. He always managed to lose his phone when he wore them.

Robby was looking through the cupboards to see if there was anything decent to eat when he heard Miguel exclaim.

‘Woah, dude. You should really lock your screen.’

Robby whipped round to find Miguel holding his phone and reading something.

‘Hey!’ He yelled. ‘Give that back.’ He volted over the back of the couch to try and catch Miguel in a headlock so he could grab his phone back but Miguel was too fast and on his feet before Robby landed.

‘I miss your lips against mine,’ Miguel read, mocking in his tone. ‘I’ve been thinking about the way-’ Robby had grabbed him and pushed him to the wall but Miguel still managed to hold his phone out of reach and finish reading.

‘About the way you pressed me against the wall when you kissed me. I wish we hadn’t got interrupted.’ He laughed but relented and let Robby snatch his phone back. Robby considered punching him in the stomach for good measure, but thought better of it.

He opened the message from Sam and read through it again.

‘That’s private,’ he said, cheeks flushing against his will.

‘Well you certainly made an impression on Sam,’ Miguel added.

Robby was trying to think of some retort, but his mind was still half on what Sam had said.

‘You shouldn’t have read that,’ he said, glaring at Miguel.

‘Ok, I’m sorry. Come on I’m not trying to start anything... it was just there. I need something to take my mind off things anyway.’

‘And my private conversations are what you chose?’

Robby read the message again. He didn’t know where to go with that. He tried to think of what to say back to her but kept drawing a blank. He’d never been that good with words.

‘Are you ok?’ Miguel asked, actually sounding like he meant it.

‘Yeah. I just...’

Robby looked up and saw Miguel was staring at him, so he looked away quickly. He wished it wasn’t Miguel that was here right now. He really didn’t want to mess this up with Sam.

‘Look I’m sorry, but you don’t need to be embarrassed.’ Miguel continued to watch Robby. ‘Are you gonna reply?’

‘What? No that’s none of your business! I’m not talking about this. Just keep out of it ok?’

Robby stormed back to his room and slammed the door.

Miguel rolled his eyes and sighed, taking another drink of the awful beer. He had thought they were getting somewhere, but Robby was just so highly strung it was impossible.

He was trying to work out if he should feel jealous when Robby’s door opened again slowly. Miguel looked round and Robby stood half in half out staring at his phone still.

He looked up.

‘Should I reply?’ He asked.

‘Dude, yes. You have to reply. You can’t leave her hanging like that.’

Robby bit his lip, thinking.

‘What... what though?’

He walked back over to sit beside Miguel again.

‘Just tell her what you want.’

Robby looked up at Miguel, doubt in his eyes.

‘Look, if you were with her right now, what would you do?’

Robby shifted uncomfortably.

‘You do know what to do, right?’

‘Oh fuck off,’ Robby retorted. ‘It’s just not the same. Like, if I was with her, it would just happen. I get a read off her energy, you know?’

Miguel laughed. ‘You are so Miyagi-do.’

‘Just help me ok? What do I say?’ Robby pleaded.

‘Pick up where she left off.’

Robby’s thumbs hovered over the keyboard but nothing came.

Miguel sighed and held his hand out for the phone.

‘What are you crazy? I’m not giving you my phone again.’

‘Look I’m not gonna send anything, I’ll just start you off, ok? Come on. I have a way with words.’

‘Oh like you have a tonne of experience or something?’ Robby scoffed.

‘No, I just...’ he sighed. ‘I read a lot of fanfiction. Don’t,’ he added when Robby laughed. ‘You can learn a lot from fanfiction. Come on.’

Reluctantly, Robby handed over his phone.

He watched over Miguel’s shoulder as he typed and laughed in disbelief at the explicit picture Miguel was painting with his words.

‘Oh my god,’ he said. ‘I can’t send that.’

Miguel didn’t answer while he concentrated.

‘Ok I’ve changed my mind. Give me my phone back. That’s straight up porn, there’s no way I’m sending that.’ Robby tried to grab his phone but Miguel instinctively dodged and held it out of reach again while he finished typing.

‘No come on I said I changed my mind,’ Robby tried again, grabbing Miguel this time and shoving him to the floor, straddling him with his arm across his chest to hold him down.

Miguel gasped and looked at Robby with guilty eyes.

‘What?’ Robby asked, not catching on. Miguel looked down at Robby’s phone, the message bar now empty. It had sent.

‘Fuck,’ Robby said, grabbing his phone back but not letting Miguel up. ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’

‘I’m sorry, you knocked me. I didn’t mean to - I’m sorry,’ Miguel garbled, flinching away but also trying not to laugh.

Robby pressed his arm into Miguel’s chest harder, which made him cough. The cough turned to laughter and Robby wasn’t sure why but he ended up laughing too. It was so absurd and he didn’t know what else to do.

That was when the front door opened and Johnny came in.

Robby realised he still had Miguel pinned and quickly let him go.

‘Were you guys... fighting?’ Johnny asked, not sure what he had walked in on.

‘We we’re just messing around,’ Robby said quickly, glancing at Miguel who was brushing himself off and standing up.

Johnny narrowed his eyes looking from one boy to the other. ‘Whatever. Come give me a hand with this Robby,’ He added and handed him the pile of pizzas.

Robby looked again at his phone, still in shock at what had just happened, gave another glance back to Miguel who was trying not to laugh again. He shoved it in his pocket, and put the pizzas on the table.

Johnny was at the fridge.

‘Did you drink my beer?’ He asked.

‘Sorry sensei,’ Miguel said quickly. ‘It was my idea. I needed something to take my mind off Yaya.’

Johnny looked at them both again, suspecting there was some kind of conspiring happening.

‘Alright...’ he said, looking from one boy to the other. ‘Just nobody tell Carmen alright, I don’t wanna be on her bad side.’

He grabbed a beer, opened it and threw himself onto the couch.

‘You guys wanna watch a movie?’

Robby handed a pizza box to Miguel, grabbed the other two then leaned in as he walked past.

‘He’s totally trying to bang your Mom,’ he muttered, grinning.

***

The three of them had settled into the film and the pizza, all crammed onto that couch. Robby and Miguel had spent half the time pushing each other and complaining that the other was taking up too much space.

Robby felt his phone buzz in his pocket and instantly remembered what had happened. He shared a worried glance with Miguel, who also felt it buzz.

He pulled his phone out to look. It was from Sam, of course.

‘Robby that was hot,’ was all she said. Then the three dots appeared to show she was writing back.

Robby tapped Miguel’s leg, although he was already reading it. They grinned at each other. Miguel shrugged as if to say ‘I told you.’

After a few minutes her message came through. Robby didn’t even try to hide it from Miguel now. His heart raced as he read through her words, telling him what she wanted. Miguel exclaimed and tried to pretend he was coughing so Johnny wouldn’t catch on.

Robby shifted awkwardly. Part of him wanted to go to his room and be alone, but then he also still needed help. The cursor blinked at him.

Miguel, who was now leaning quite heavily into him to see what he was writing, held his hand out. Robby gave him his phone with no hesitation this time.

‘If I was there with you now I would...’ he typed then handed it back.

Robby sighed. He started typing something out as Miguel reached over and grabbed a couple of slices of pizza. He held one out to Robby.

Robby took it absently. He was staring at the screen again.

He looked up helplessly at Miguel. Miguel nodded encouragement and Robby added more to his text.

‘What are you boys doing ?’ Johnny asked, noticing their focus had shifted.

‘Homework,’ Robby said quickly.

‘Group chat,’ Miguel said at the same time.

After a beat, Miguel clarified. ‘It’s a study group chat.’

Johnny shrugged it off. He didn’t believe them but they weren’t fighting so he honestly didn’t care.

Robby sent his message after a nod from Miguel. He left his phone unlocked on his knee and they both stared at the TV while they waited.

After several minutes, a picture flashed up on Robby’s phone. Sam had sent a selfie in her underwear.

Robby gasped and grabbed his phone quickly and locked it, but not before Miguel had seen.

Miguel just gave him an approving slap on the back.

Robby cleared his throat.

‘Yeah I’m gonna get a shower,’ he said, standing up a swiftly and leaving the room.

‘Is he alright?’ Johnny sighed.

Miguel grinned in that knowing way of his.

‘He’s fine, trust me. He’s just really excited about this homework.’

***

If anyone wants to be tagged in future writes then let me know.

[gumnut-logic]

One of my favs

Definitely an Allie night tonight (except for that very alluring photo of Virg earlier, and the incident with the mullet :D). I has no new fic to share due to the evilness of work, so here be a repost of an Allie fic I wrote for @ak47stylegirl​ during Fandomversary 2019.

Despite not being a Virgil focussed fic, it has become one of my favs.

-o-o-o-

Freckles

This was going to suck.

Alan taxied Tracy Two into her hangar and groaned. Thunderbird Two was up on her struts, over module four, obviously undergoing a maintenance cycle. Virgil would be on the floor and he had no hope of avoiding his brother.

Not going to stop him from trying though.

Post flight, a grab of his bags and he was sneaking.

Stealth Tracy. He could do it.

First things first, locate Virgil.

From where he was standing there was no sight of him.

“Hey, Alan. Good trip?”

He jumped and dropped his bags. “Hell, Gordon, give a guy a heart attack.”

His fish brother raised his hands in defence. “Well, excuse me. Next time I’ll send you a morse code welcome from the other side of the Island so I don’t disturb you.”

Alan let out a sigh. “Okay, I’m sorry. Great to see you, too.”

And Gordon was staring at him. “Are you hiding?”

“Gor-“

“What happened to your face?” And his sunnies were ripped off his nose. “Ho, ha, this is gonna be great.”

He grabbed his glasses from his brother and shoved them back on his face. “Shut up, Gordon.”

“Does Virgil know?”

“No, and I’m trying to keep it that way, so shut up.”

His brother grinned at him and held out a hand. “For a price.”

“Price? What price?”

“Help me flush Four’s sanitary systems.”

“Aw, god, Gordon, no! I’m not cleaning up your shit.”

“Heh, then I’m going to go get Virg and have a discussion about your face.”

“Gordon, please.”

“Nope, sanitary flushing or embarrassed blushing.”

“You suck.” He glared at his brother. “I’m going to remember this. Next time Scott is after you, don’t bother coming to me for help.”

For the briefest of moments, Gordon’s eyes widened before he regained his composure. “We’ll see about that. Have fun with Virgil.” The aquanaut wandered off.

Aaargh, Gordon could be such a...

Something clattered on the concrete on the far side of the hangar. Alan shrunk into Tracy Two’s shadow.

Okay. Let’s do this.

Grabbing his bags he slipped along the edge of the hangar until he reached the module train. Creeping around the far side of module six, he peered out the around its backend.

Virgil was hanging from Two’s thruster assembly, head buried in a hatch.

Okay, he might just be able to manage this.

Stepping lightly as possible, he crept past his brother towards the elevator.

“Hey, Alan, welcome back.”

Damn.

“Uh, hey, Virg.” He refused to look up and just waved casually, his heart beating like crazy. Maybe those several metres up in the air would save him.

“Did you have a good time.”

“Had a blast. Brandon sure knows how to throw a party.”

“So I heard.”

Heard? “Uh, I’m a bit tired I’m just going to go upstairs and unpack.”

“See you at dinner.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, and Alan.”

“Yeah?”

“Nice sunnies.”

He almost looked up. Almost.

“Uh, thanks. See you later.”

Not if he could help it.

He beelined for the elevator. One annoying brother avoided...mostly...one more to go.

The elevator was blessedly cool and he leant against the silvery wall while the car carried him up to the residential levels. God, he hoped he could make it to his rooms. He felt hot and just ugh.

The elevator stopped just short of his destination.

Damn.

The doors opened and he held his breath.

Brains and Max entered and the ride resumed.

“Max, honestly, I d-do not know w-what you were thinking.”

The robot sputtered at his creator, beeping madly.

“But that was G-Gordon. You h-have an entire d-directive listing regarding his behaviour. Y-you know not to do everyth-thing he asks.”

Another impertinent beep.

“That is exactly why you h-have an entire d-directive listing!”

Apparently they hadn’t even noticed he was there.

The elevator slowed at his level and he made a point of edging around Brains. Max beeped at him, but Brains had fallen silent, chin on hand, elbow on wrist, as if posing for a sculptor.

Alan didn’t care, he just wanted out of there and  threw himself around the corner.

Straight into Scott.

“Woah! Allie, welcome back! Hey steady there.” He wouldn’t admit it, but despite what he knew was about to happen and the suffering that would follow, it was good to see his eldest brother.

And kinda nice to be held by him too.

“What’s with the sunglasses?” He could almost count it down in his head. He looked up at those mirror image blue eyes and let his shoulders drop. This was so gonna suck. “Alan? What’s wrong with your face?”

His brother held both of his shoulders and peered at him. A moment and one hand gently peeled off the sunglasses. “Oh my god, Alan. What were you thinking?”

He let out a sigh. So busted. Who was he kidding. This was inevitable. “I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

“That much is very clear. You are going to the infirmary now.”

“Aw, Scott it isn’t that bad.”

“You have blisters, Alan!”

“I have?” He hadn’t really looked in a mirror since he left the Gold Coast. Brandon, of course, had laughed at him. It hadn’t seemed that serious. A bit of sunburn was all.

That’s what you get when you party all day in the Australian sun and forget your sunscreen.

Though come to think of it, he was feeling rather hot.

“Virgil, drop everything and meet me in the infirmary.”

“Aw, not Virg, really?”

Scott wrapped an arm around Alan’s shoulders and started to herd him towards the elevator. “He is the most qualified.”

“But it is only sunburn.”

The elevator doors closed behind them.

“Alan, you know I know you know all the symptoms of exposure, so don’t even bother.”

The arm around his shoulders was very gentle.

Virgil was standing in front of the elevator as the doors opened. How the hell he had gotten there so fast...but the expression on his second oldest brother’s face told him everything.

He hadn’t managed to sneak past at all. Virgil had been following him.

Nice sunnies indeed.

Virgil approached quietly, not saying a thing. One large finger reached up under Alan’s chin and tilted his head up gently. The medic sighed and a worried frown creased his brow.

But he didn’t say anything.

Virgil let him go and led them out of the elevator and into the infirmary.

Alan climbed onto the bed as directed and waited for the lambasting. After all, he knew he had been an idiot, and deserved every word.

“Where else?” Brown eyes were looking at him in concern.

“What?” Damn, he was hot.

“Where else did you get burnt.

“Oh, arms, hands, feet...and maybe my hair? Feels like my hair is on fire.”

“C’mon, lay down.” Scott was suddenly shoving a pillow under his head. The pillow was lovely and cool. His shoes were gently taken off and that was a relief in itself.

Virgil took his temperature and frowned even more. A glass of something was handed to him and he was told to drink. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was obviously something medical. It was cool on his throat.

Grandma appeared and as with everything Grandma, it was fussing, hugs and, well,...love.

“Did Brandon know you were burnt this badly?” Something pricked his hand and he discovered Virgil had stuck him with an IV bag. Was that really necessary?

Gordon barrelled in. “Hey, Brandon has you on his vlog!” His brother held up his phone and all the family turned to watch.

And Alan saw himself for the first time.

Sunburn panda.

Omigod.

Very sunburnt panda.

In front of twenty odd million viewers.

“Thunderbird Five.” It was Commander Tracy who spoke.

His middle brother blinked into existence beside the bed. “What can I...Alan? What the hell?!”

“John, hack the Bear’s feed. I want those images gone.” John’s turquoise eyes lingered on Alan for a moment, before narrowing on the feed spouting from Gordon’s phone.

His voice was almost menacing in reply. “FAB.”

He blinked out.

Twenty seconds later, the Bear feed went offline. Rather abruptly.

Gordon was staring at Alan. “Allie, what the hell did you do to yourself?” Obviously the hangar had been dark enough to conceal at least a little of his colouring. “Blisters?”

Virgil was hovering with some kind of medicated cream in his hands. The next moment was absolute bliss as his brother applied the ever so cool, numbing wonderment to his face. He literally sagged into the bed.

“I was so, so stupid.”

“Yes, you were.” Virgil’s voice was a reassuring rumble. “But at least we know you won’t do it again.”

“No, no I won’t.”

John blinked in again and Alan found himself surrounded by his family. As Virgil started applying the cream to his feet, Alan suddenly wondered why he had been trying to hide from these people. Sure there would be nagging, perhaps some laughter and good natured ribbing, but...

Grandma reached over and draped a damp cloth over his hair. “Feeling a bit better, dear?”

“Yes, Grandma.” It was only a bit of sunburn, but... “Thank you, guys.”

“Don’t do it again.” Scott, as always worried.

“Look after yourself better, Alan.” Virgil, always caring.

“Don’t make me keep an extra eye on you.” John, always watching.

“A panda! I’ve always wanted to see a panda!” Gordon, always loving.

Grandma gently brushed a stray hair off his forehead. “Rest, honey.” Always Mom.

His family.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[tracybirds]

Don’t talk to me about timelines XD lockdown 3.0 was an unpleasant surprise but it did give me some fun fodder to play with. Missing from this were the stream of Valentines to Covid that spread around my section of NZ social media XD I was tempted to make Scott write some, but alas it didn’t fit. Obviously plenty has been fudged, it’s definitely not meant to be taken too seriously and more allows me to collect together some of the mixed emotions of getting a five hour countdown to lockdown D: That was not fun lol like far out, and we had to prepped for remote learning by 9am the next day. Scott is not allowed to complain further in his swanky apartment and no job XDD

In all seriousness, this is Scott’s story for FabFiveFeb2021, hosted by the ever lovely @gumnut-logic (Happy Birthday! still the right day in Aus, I didn’t miss it right :0 either way *hugs*** and I hope it was a nice day :DD)

Prompt used was “Are you kidding?” - it really resonated on Sunday evening ahaha (okay I will stop rambling in my defense it’s post midnight and I have feverishly pummelled this out in a couple of hours, it had been itching at me all day.... I missed that feeling :DDD)

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

Scott was International Rescue through and through, but in the murky waters of the central business district, he thrived.

It was a closed meeting, stretching into the long shadowy hours of the evening. Legal advisors quibbled over clauses while Scott exchanged pleasantries with the company representatives, talking up his local ties to New Zealand’s City of Sails.

“My Dad taught me to sail, right out there in the harbour, you know.”

A casual remark but carefully designed to make himself seem approachable and down-to-earth, just another “one of the guys”. His associate had also sailed once, a national representative in his youth, although time and his new habit of lunch meetings had left those days long in the past.

Personal connections made more money than the lawyers in the background ever could, and Scott prided himself on the homegrown touch.

“Mine too,” said the jovial, middle aged man. “Although I reckon it wasn’t near as pretty a yacht as yours. I’ve read up on you as well, you know.”

Scott laughed, clapping the man on the shoulder.

“Len, I knew we’d get on. What do you say to dinner? This has been going on for far too long.”

“I know a great place that keeps a table reserved for me. Even on Valentine’s.”

“I’m flattered.” He nodded to Van Zyl briefly before addressing the small crowd.

“Ladies, gentlemen. You’ve done some good work, and it’s been a long one. We’ll leave it here for the night and reconfer in the morning.”

He acknowledged the tired smiles and leaned back and listened as the chatter evolved from the dry intricacies of patent law into cheery conversation of dinner plans and family time ahead.

He turned and looked out at the city, lights starting to turn on in the early evening light. The sun wouldn’t set for another half hour or so and he wanted to make the most of what they had left in the day.

So did the rest of the Auckland population it seemed. Cars were flooding into the area, people starting to stream into office buildings.

“So, Federal Street?”

“Len, what’s going on down there?” he asked, jabbing a finger down at the street below.

“Sorry?”

He and Len watched, dumbfounded as the office buildings lit up one by one, lights turning on and off again mere minutes later.

“Mr Tracy! Mr Van Zyl!”

“Charlotte, what is it? What’s happening?”

“Oh, Scott, I mean, Mr Tracy, sorry sir.”

“Charlotte. Take a breath,” commanded Scott, letting the authority of Thunderbird One bleed into his voice. “Tell us what’s happened.”

Charlotte shook her head, her hand creeping up over her mouth. She handed him her tablet.

“It’s a civil defence lockdown, effective midnight.”

A cold dread crept up Scott’s spine.

“Tonight?!”

Len pulled out a comm beside him and started dialling. The person on the other end picked up at the first ring, and dimly Scott could hear her calm, measured voice transmitted through the device.

“Can I help?” he asked, still staring at the stark words on the page.

“I… uh... help? Sir?”

“With the civil defence response, with the company, I don’t know!” He looked up, desperation in his eyes. “What can I do to help?”

Charlotte shook her head, pressing her lips together tightly.

“Mr Tracy, we have an isolation response in place, at your father’s request. Leave the board to organise the company, you need to get home and…”

“No.”

Charlotte’s voice pitched up a near octave.

“Sir, I must insist…”

“There are lockdown protocols on the island as well,” snapped Scott. “I can’t just go home, risk my family, my Grandma.”

She shook her head again.

“You can’t help here. They’ve done it before. It’s Level Three, people will be able to collect gear tomorrow if needed, we’re set up for remote offices and the last thing people need is you dilly-dallying in the top office.”

A loud shrieking alarm pierced through her final words and Scott flinched at the sound.

Len yelped next to him, dropping his comm with a curse.

“Damn emergency alerts, don’t they know the whole country has heard by now? Why do they just SHUT UP!” he bellowed at the still beeping comm. “It’s so unnecessary, the first time we went under, I thought we were about to evacuate for a volcanic eruption. Staying home, it’s hardly an emergency.”

Charlotte did little to hide her scorn, but Scott smothered a smile as he read through the full message.

“Okay, fine,” he said at last. “I can bunker down at the apartment for a few days.”

“Weeks, I’d be prepping for,” interrupted Len. “Hard to say of course, but they keep extending them.”

“You know why we do it,” said Charlotte, coolly.

He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I have to pretend it’s a holiday like everyone else seems to do.”

“Well, there never was any rest for the wicked, they say,” quipped Scott.

Len barked a sudden laugh.

“You’re alright, Tracy. Shame about how this ended, I’d have liked a bite with you.”

“Well, there’s always next time. Maybe we’ll find time for a shared celebration after all this.”

“My treat, Tracy, my treat,” he said with a chuckle. “Take care now.”

Scott nodded a farewell and turned back to Charlotte.

“You’re going to be fine?”

“I’ll go stay with my Mum,” she said, easily. “She doesn’t like to be in her house alone, and I can’t say I blame her. Holotech’s just not the same as being there, you know?”

“I certainly do,” said Scott, thinking of his brothers, hundreds of kilometres away. “Thank you, Charlotte, I’ll be seeing you.”

“Good luck, Scott.”

***

The downtown apartment was a mere fifteen minute walk from Tracy Tower, but with Charlotte’s words echoing in the back of his mind, the thought of potentially weeks stuck in an incredibly well furnished, yet incredibly unstocked apartment plaguing him, he opted to swing past the local supermarket. Located at the heart of the city, it was never quiet at the best of times but this was unlike anything Scott had ever seen.

The tension in the packed shop was thick as the throng that filled it. Over half the customers were already wearing masks, glaring suspiciously at those who had gone without and Scott self-consciously tugged his rain jacket higher.

Essentials, he thought wildly, just eggs and milk and bread and….

There was no bread. No flour either and the confectionary aisle was already looking sparse. He grabbed a few chocolate bars and threw them in the basket.

“Excuse me,” he said, waving down a frantic and wild-eyed shop assistant. “Do you have any bread out back?”

“No way man, haven’t you heard? Lockdown hits in like three hours, people are going mental.”

“But I don’t have any food at home, I was meant to be flying back tomorrow morning.”

The shop assistant, Ariki as his name badge proclaimed him, grimaced in sympathy.

“That’s hard luck that is. You don’t live in Auckland?”

“No, I don’t. But I won’t be able to get home now either.”

He nodded, like he’d heard it before.

“You’re thinking this is like last year, aren’t you?”

“I, uh, yes.”

“Right,” said Ariki, still nodding along with him. “Right, well it’s not quite the same so don’t stress out. Look, you can still get takeaways this time, we’ll be restocked tomorrow and all the real crazies–” he nodded towards a pair who were arguing over what looked like the last can of baked beans, “–yeah, they’ll be tucked up at home, refusing to take a step outside, it’ll be sweet as.”

Scott stared at him, then looked over at the line snaking through the frozen food aisle, between the meat and dairy and coiling up in the sad looking and so-called fresh produce.

The two chocolate bars and eggs he’s managed to grab hardly seemed worth it at all.

“I can put those back if you want.”

“Yeah,” said Scott, dazedly. “Yeah, thanks that’s be great.”

Ariki smirked a little.

“We’re reopening at seven, yeah? I’ll see you then.”

“Thanks again,” called Scott as he hurried from the shop.

The rain that had been threatening its arrival all weekend was starting to appear, and Scott hurried home, ducking his head down and shoving his hands in his pockets. He knew there’d be enough food for at least his dinner tonight and Ariki was right, he could sort the rest in the morning.

A swipe of his keycard, and he shut out the world with a muffled slam of the door and a sigh.

He shucked off his rain jacket, not bothering to hang it up, and trudged into the kitchen. It wasn’t like there’d be anyone around to complain for a while and he was starving. Lunch, the little afternoon tea nibbles they’d provided, even his last coffee felt like it had been drunken in another life.

Dinner, then finally he’d call home.

He didn’t doubt they already knew what was happening, was probably wondering why he hadn’t called, but none of them had even been swept up in the chaos of lockdown preparations.

He stared blankly in front of the fridge, the cold, bluish light illuminating him in the dark room. The sun had fully set by now, and the last vestiges of twilight had given way to the true, deep night with the onset of rainfall.

His carefully defrosting steak wasn’t on the shelf, and he looked around him in confusion, wondering if he’d accidentally left the meat out on the bench. He was hungry enough that he didn’t think he’d care and his stomach was well practiced at digesting the indigestible, bug and all.

On the kitchen counter was a neat pile: a plate, used utensils and cooking equipment all stacked together, waiting to be washed.

Scott blinked.

“Oh, hey, Scott,” called Gordon’s cheerful voice from behind him.

Scott whirled around, gaping at his younger brother, suddenly in their New Zealand apartment and not where he ought to have been – namely a thousand odd kilometres north east of the kitchen they were standing in.

“Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“You,” Scott shouted, jabbing a finger towards Gordon. “You ate my dinner!”

“Oh, crap.”

Gordon bolted a split second before Scott charged at him, yelling wildly with all his might.

“Scott, I’m sorry, it was – shit, I mean – come on, it was past nine, I thought you’d been out, and I, oh damn, I, Scott, damn it, I’m not dressed.”

“I don’t care, you ate my food, have you seen the grocery stores? It’s absolute chaos, you traitor, you can go out and get me something, put some pants on and move.”

Gordon yelped as he dove over the couch.

“Okay, I can see there’s been some errors in judgement here,” said Gordon, panting. “I’m sorry, Scott, I really am.”

Scott glared.

“Not good enough.” He paused, eyeing Gordon as he cowered behind the sofa. “What are you even doing here?”

“Uh, excuse me?”

“Here. What are you doing in Auckland?”

“Happy birthday to me too, love you bro, congrats on surviving another year.”

“You came to Auckland for your birthday?”

“Yeah.” Gordon sat up cautiously. “Couldn’t exactly see Penny, and it’s not like there’s many other places that will let us in.”

“I thought we counted as a US territory.”

“John cleared it with someone, I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Didn’t want to be stuck at home for my birthday. And look how that turned out.”

He did look extraordinarily sorry for himself.

Scott sighed, and reached out a hand.

“Go get some damn pants on,” he grumbled. “And go look for Virgil’s emergency snacks, I know he stores them everywhere.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“I mean it, don’t you dare come back unless you bring me food.”

Gordon snorted.

“Sure, wouldn’t want to provoke the wrath of a starving Scooter.”

Scott jerked his body towards Gordon, and smirked as he bolted up the stairs towards the bedrooms, before sinking down into the cushions and closing his eyes.

The comm beeped gently, a stark contrast from the blaring alert from earlier.

“Hey,” he said, opening an eye as Virgil was projected in front of him.

“Tell me you’re not–”

“Oh, I am.”

“Gordon too?”

“Yep.”

“Damn.”

“Tell me about it.”

They were both quiet for few seconds, thinking about how rapidly the world had seemed to shift around them.

“I suppose it’s only for a few days,” began Virgil, but Scott was already shaking his head.

“We gotta do the full two weeks. After that, we ought to be able to clear an exit with the harbourmaster and the coast guard, even if it’s not over, but we can’t come back earlier. The only reason we could move freely before without our helmets is because–”

“Preaching to the choir, Scott. I get it.”

“You gonna be alright without us?”

Virgil shrugged. “Rescues are down what with more people staying at home. Alan and I can handle the small change, and Kayo’s been itching for some POD practice recently. We’ll manage. Besides, you’re the one stuck with Gordon.”

“Hey!”

“Food,” growled Scott and Gordon threw a muesli bar and a tube of M&Ms at him.

“Is that mine?”

“Gordon ate my dinner and the shops were out of everything,” grumbled Scott. “Blame him.”

“It’s my birthday, I don’t deserve this.”

“Cry me a river.”

“Alright, don’t kill each other before the two weeks is up. John’s already organised a betting pool, don’t give him the satisfaction of winning again, he’ll be insufferable.”

“Oh, he’s on,” said Gordon, grinning. “Tell him I put fifty bucks on Scott tipping me out of bed or off the couch by the end of the week.”

“Got it.”

“You can’t bet against us,” said Scott, mumbling around the chocolate. “I thought you were on my side.”

“You tried to murder me over a steak.”

“The jury would have never convicted.”

“Okay, I can see you two are going to have a fun time,” said Virgil, loudly over their bickering. “See you in two weeks.”

He didn’t wait for a response. After all, two weeks was a smidge outside even his patience.

[confusedhalfofthetime]

What about number 15. “I’m too sober for this.” “You don’t even drink.” “Maybe I should start.” sorry, keep you busy I know 😊.

Don’t ever apologize for sending me asks! I love it and I had so much fun writing this one. Let me know if you liked it x

Plot: Y/N needs to attend a family event and, surprise surprise, the Master is gonna have to pretend to be her boyfriend. 

Prompts: “I’m too sober for this” “You don’t even drink” “Maybe I should start”.

Warning: none, cuteness overload

You were totally, absolutely panicking. No, scratch that, you were going nuts.

Your steps echoed in the silence of the TARDIS as you paced the floor of the control room, picking at your lips anxiously.

-What the hell are you doing?! - 

The Master walked in with an exasperated look.

-I'm trying to work, you know? - 

He had been all around the TARDIS trying to fix a few leaks or something like that. You didn't even know a time-travelling space ship could have leaks but they sounded dangerous.

-I'm sorry, I'm sorry- you apologized without stopping your nervous walk.

The Master looked at you asking himself why the hell did he think bringing a human into his ship would be a good idea. He eventually gave in and asked you. -What's bothering you so much? -

You kept moving like a caged animal. 

-It's...you wouldn't understand- you stated waving him off.

-Y/N, I'm a thousand years old Time Lord, I think I can handle it- he said rolling his eyes impatiently.

You bit your lips. -It's my family- 

The Master signalled you to keep going.

-My parents called. They want me home for their anniversary-

-And? -

You sighed. -And I sort of...told them I was away...for a holiday...with my boyfriend-

The Master processed the information.

-...you're right there's nothing of this I understand-

You groaned in frustration. 

-They expect me to bring him with me tonight-

The Master blinked a few times, then he started laughing.

-Shut up!- you exclaimed covering your face with your hands. 

-No, I'm flattered, really-

To be fair, you and the Master were...partners. Kinda. You didn't exactly know how to define your relationship. You kissed sometimes, mainly when one of you was excited about something and you had sex rather often. The Master could be very sweet but you couldn't really picture him as anyone's boyfriend. Mainly because he would label it as something stupid and human, which usually were synonymous in his vocabulary. But you were fine with what you had, he was special to you and you knew you were special to him, even if he would never admit it.

-I'm screwed- you said collapsing on the counter.

-Just lie to them, say he was busy doing...human...stuff-

You raised your hands in the air. -I can't! They'll know it's not true, they already have their suspicions and they'll think I made the trip up just to stay away from them or maybe that I was abducted by aliens or something-

-To be fair, you kinda were-

You glanced at him with loath. -You're so useless-

-What else do you expect me to do? -

Suddenly, an idea made your eyes light up. You looked at the Master with a mischievous smile.

-What? -

You kept staring at him in silence.

-What?? Y/N what's...oh no-

Your eyes became pleading.

-No way, uh uh-

-Pleeeaase-

The Master turned around and started walking out of the room, still muttering how he would never agree to your crazy plan.

-I agree with your crazy plans all the time! -you bit back.

-This is different-

-No, it's not, it's just for one night- you managed to get in front of him and block his path.

-One night, nothing more-

-Y/N I'm no good with...- he gestured toward you. 

-Humans? Families? -

-Both-

You rolled your eyes. -You'll just have to make up a story about your fake job and your fake life, it's nothing you haven't done before-

His teeth started nibbling at his bottom lip. You could tell he was considering it.

-It might actually be fun- you tried.

-Do I get to kill any of your relatives? -

-No! -

-Then how much fun can it be! -

You took a deep breath.

-Okay, what about this. I promise I will make it up to you- 

The Master seemed interested.

-How? -

-However you want- you took a step closer, the implications clear in your voice.

The Master looked down at your lips, then he groaned.

-Fine! -

-Yes! - you exclaimed and kissed his cheek. -You are the best! - 

You hopped away, not hearing the Master whispering: -I'm gonna regret this-

Your parents' house had always been such a cosy place and you found it hadn't changed at all. You had missed it, in a sense. 

Your family was numerous so the small living room and the kitchen were already filled with people when you arrived.

The Master kept fixing his tie nervously while you rang the bell.

-Calm down-

-Don't tell me to calm down, I'm gonna be in a house full of humans and I won't even be able to compress a few of them into ants and stomp on...-

-Mum! -

Your mother squeezed you tightly, cooing about how much she had missed you.

-Oh, you must be Y/N's boyfriend...-

-Sacha, it's so nice to meet you-

You glanced at him as he pleasantly smiled and shook your mother's hand. You had seen him do this many times but you still couldn't figure out how a murderous aline could transform in such a lovely human being.

-The pleasure is all mine. Now, come in-

You were greeted by the whole family, hugging you and patting you on the shoulder as you introduced them to your boyfriend. The Master's facade never crumbled, not even for a second, no matter how intrusive your father's questions were.

-And where do you work? -

-I'm a risk analyst here in London- he said eating his food. You were sitting beside him, feeling a little tense. You trusted him, but you hoped your exuberant family wouldn't make him lose his cool.

-It's so nice to see our little Y/N finally finding someone! She's always been such a lonely kid-

-Mum...- you said through gritted teeth. The Master smiled at you with a soft look in his eyes. You knew once you were back in the TARDIS, you would never see the end of it.

-And now look at her! She's practically got heart eyes-

-Mum! -

The Master laughed. He was having way too much fun.

-So tell us, how did you meet? -

You looked at each other. You hoped he had a good story.

-We met during a workshop. A colleague introduced us and we hit it off pretty quickly. I knew she was special right away- he said.

You looked at him with a half-smile.

-So I asked her out for a coffee and then for dinner and then a movie and...here we are-

-Aw, how sweet- chipped one of your aunts. -We were starting to think little Y/N would remain all by herself forever, but luckily she found you-

-She'd be fine all by herself- he said in your defence. -She's a tough one- 

You were starting to like this.

After lunch, everybody moved either to the garden or to the living room. For a while, you lost the Master as you helped your mum with the dishes and talked about how happy you were with your boyfriend and how incredible your trip had been. Oh, if she only knew.

Once you moved to the living room, you were met by a scene you never thought could present to you.

The Master was being tackled by your little cousins who seemed to be having the time of their life climbing on his shoulders as he pretended to be some sort of monster. 

-Oh, no, I'm being defeated! - you heard him exclaim.

He was...surprisingly good with kids. You didn't expect that and you found yourself smiling at the sight, thinking that no one can pretend that well.

-Look at you, you're practically drooling- 

Your cousin Joyce was looking at you with a knowing smile on her lips. 

-No, I'm not-

-Oh, come on, he's your boyfriend, it's only normal- she said looking at him playing with the kids. -He's good uh? -

-Yeah- you said keeping that stupid smile on your face.

-Do you think you'll have kids of your own one day? I mean, you two seem pretty serious- 

You shook your head. -Nah, he's...not really the type-

-I wouldn't say so- she said glancing at them once again. 

Now the Master was finally up on his feet and the kids were running out to play. He looked tired but strangely happy. He saw you looking at him and smiled at you. You waved at him, but before he could walk toward you, your grandma stopped him and started talking. You tried not to laugh at the scene. A dangerous Time Lord was now having a conversation with an eighty-something-year-old woman. That was gonna be good.

Unfortunately, your cousin dragged you away, eager to know every "spicy detail" about your love life.

After about an hour, you and the Master were finally able to talk in peace. 

You were near the buffet when he leaned against the table with a dramatic sigh. Aand he was back.

-You're alive- you told him eating a chip.

-Surprisingly. How long have we been here? If we don't leave soon I'm gonna regenerate-

You smiled amusedly.

-You're doing great-

-Your grandmother is incredibly long-winded-

-She's 84-

-And I'm two thousand years old, so? She's practically a child to me-

-...weird- you said. -What did you even talk about? -

-She started rambling about how cute of a child you were and suddenly we were talking about her prosthetic hip-

You laughed soundly. -Oh, I can't believe I missed that! -

He glanced at you and you stopped. -Sorry- you said.

He sighed nervously. -I'm too sober for this-

You frowned. -You don't even drink-

-Well, maybe I should start! - 

You gave him a glass of wine and he took a sip.

-Disgusting- he said squinting his eyes.

You smiled. 

-You were pretty cute back there with my cousins-

The Master straightened his back.

-They were attacking me-

-Mh, you were playing with them-

-I was defending myself, those things are vicious-

-I should have brought a camera, I didn't know I would witness something like that-

-You're such a little brat-

You shrugged. -It's a gift, what can you do? -

-I have a few ideas in mind-

As much as you liked the turn the conversation was taking, you were interrupted again. 

The rest of the day went by pretty nicely if you had to be honest. You liked seeing your family again but mainly seeing the Master having to interact with them and you had to admit, he had been pretty amazing.

Once you were back in the TARDIS, the Master let himself fall on the closest chair. 

-That went well-

-It was the most exhausting experience of my entire life and that's saying something- he said.

You went to sit on his lap.

-Yes it was, but you were great- you said kissing him.

-Thank you- you added. -That meant a lot-

The Master looked at you seriously. 

-Don't mention it. But know that next time you'll have to find someone else to play your boyfriend-

-You wouldn't let anyone else do that- you teased.

-And that, my dear, is true- he said kissing you again. 

[horrible-monstrosity]

mothermom 3 is a baaad animine

part 1: fuck these characters I thought the bit about not being able to go through a certain way because there's ants (that the player can't see) you wouldn't want to trample was going to introduce a theme of kindness and gentleness, but the game sure... tramples that early on by having your oh-so-kindhearted-and-mournable mother trample the fuck out of a sentient talking mole cricket to death right the fuck afterwards. Like, you were just talking to and playfighting with that mole mere seconds ago, and now it's thoughtlessly and meaninglessly dead, and it's supposed to be funny. And then you're supposed to forget all about it when mom dead because care and have emotions for this characters you've barely known for like one minute worth of interactions dragged out over like an hour. ok Then after bumbling along being a hollow little bag of nothing for like ten hours Lucas suddenly proves himself a detestable little cunt by just straight up stealing something he's told was a precious item, a yo-yo belonging to Porky's friend. Because, like... fuck Porky, I guess, in this geame franchise about love and heart and healing there's just this one fat kid we're all supposed to just disregard and piss and shit on and detest by default for no fucking reason just because the game narrative said so. Porky's existence was pretty weird already in Earthbound- he's apparently being abused by his fat parents, and aside from being a bit snotty and show-offy, he does at least make sure his little brother gets home safely at the beginning. He just seems like someone who needs a friend, which... actually makes Ness look like an asshole in retrospect for not just giving him some kind of help. It was kind of fine in that game because he was just a minor character, but making him some supervillain in the next game just because he was some dumpy abused kid is just... what the fuck. But anyway, whenever the plot expects us to care about Loocus and his dumb dead mom I just think about things like the yo-yo and the mole cricket and I lose all empathy. These people are assholes. You're trying to make sympathetic victims out of assholes and an asshole out of a sympathetic victim. Get your meaningless fucking sunflowers the fuck off my screen you bitch fuck

And then on the other hand there's Duster. The character who's absolutely the most deserving of empathy out of all these cunts and we're supposed to see him reembracing his shitty old life as something he should be really happy about. Like for one thing, the entire plot where he reenters the cast is stupid and makes no sense. When we hear he's at the club playing with the band, I could think of a lot of reasons for it- he could be laying low to protect the egg (seeing as how Tamzilly got pozzed and going back there would accomplish nothing), he could have just decided to fuck off and do something he actually enjoyed rather than go back to his shitty asshole dad, he could have somehow ended up far far away from the town and joined the band to make his way back home travelling with them/earn a living so he could get back. But no, before we even get to see him and see how he's acting Strong Female McDerpa Character tells us that he most definitely has amnesia. Because, like, why would he ever give up on his jackass dad and that braindead town otherwise? And then we meet him and it's exactly what we were unceremonously told it was, how rivetting. Then for some reason he decides that if he's really who you say he is he needs to... give up his life as a band member entirely to get the egg back. Can't just come with you to get the egg or until the adventure's over, nooo he needs to abandon his new life forever and ever and just go get fucked and fuck himself. fuck. let my man play guitar and also that "thiefs but good somehow because derp" shit is retarded and I hate it

Finally there's Girl Character who I refuse to even remember the name of because she's... nothing. Even her being kinda cunty about how she's sTrOnG and nOt lIkE ThoSe OthEr gIrlS is just bland. The other girls from the past two games were cute and girly and still credit to team with their strong psychic powers, why the fuck is she like this?

part 2: i've stopped giving a fuck about making this into parts fuck you What the fuck is the story of this game? You spend hours dicking around with a fucking timeskip and a ghost mansion or some shit and the game randomly namedrops the needles at some point, and then... the six or seventh chapter is just titled GUYS THE NEEDLES ARE ACTUALLY REALLY IMPORTANT YOU GUYS. Six or seven fucking chapters in, and we've barely gotten to anything resembling a coherent plot. What the fuck have we been doing up until this point again? Why the fuck do we even need the dragon needles plot anyway? Just have the main cast move from one pigmeng plot to another with things like the thunder tower, slowly working their way up the chain of command until they reach the final boss and his ultimate plan. You don't need to introduce an entire plot worth of fucking shit a third of the way into the game you fucking fuckers

The themes are a fucking dumpsterfire. Just plop some fucktarded work bad money bad bullshit in there and call it a day... Evil monkey man could have given that fucktard anything and got him to hide it in the well and it would have caused a ruckus when he came back and stole it. He could have convinced him to hide his grandma's ashes in the well- would the takeaway from that have been that honoring the dead bad? That's how fucking flat it is. If anything it just comes off as if the people of Tamzilly are just a bunch of mindkilled retards with no defence against humanity's own nature aside from shutting themselves off from the outside world entirely- the slightest contact with normal human interactions like money or having to contribute to society for a living, they all self-destruct. It's not le capitalism that made the old people home bad, it's whoever the fuck actually built it... which, if the outside world weren't basically strawmanned with the le evil pigmans and monkey abuser guy, would have been Tamzilly themselves. Which, because the strawmanning is so unbelievably absurd, makes it seem like Tazmilly is just a retarded place that somehow managed to make the old people's home this bad on their own or some shit I don't know I just can't buy it

Speaking of empathy, the game somehow manages to make the Pig Heil guys endearing even while they're actively working on the thunder tower that's cooking the dumbass town residents. Are they supposed to be abusing the electric catfish when they're cutely telling the things to hang in there and do their best? When Lucas got a jerb hustling the golems around and they managed to make it like a positive thing (the pigmangs encourage you, seemingly pay a decent wage, and even the doggo enjoys running on the treadmill once he gets into it), I thought there was going to be a tweest or at least some nuance, but the absurdity of the nice ol' piglins in the evil tower just makes it seem like it's just entirely unintentional, by writers who just have no idea what the fuck they're doing. The generic braindead modern-bad messaging and the generic brainless funny-characters-ha-ha sides of the writing clash horribly and somehow manage to mangle each other even worse than they already were.

The whimsicality is fucking dead. It's just all so forced and one-note... or, very consistently two-note in every single thing, because absolutely every single monster you meet is just two things funny stuck together. The first two games could glide smoothly between fighting enraged possessed zoo animals and weirdo people, weirdo fucking blended monsters that don't look like anything in particular, and then just sometimes the taxis that're used for decoration on roads will veer off course and engage you in battle. It's simultaneously wildly unpredictable and smoothly cohesive. And it's wonderful. But M3 is just... it leans over, shoves a megaphone down your throat and loudly informs you that "the PIGMEN have FUSED the THINGS toGETHER" and proceeds to beat you over the head with "this thing is THAT thing and THAT thing" over and over again. It's forced, mechanical, hamfisted and just not whimsical at all. And it's not just because the pigmengs aren't Giiigigigigiyasass (which could have been fixed by having them harness traces of Gig's power if that was the problem anyway), because it extends to absolutely everything- the ghosts at the mansion for example are just all absolutely fucking nothing. Like the main big bad boss is just "he's GHOST who THROWS FURNITURE and is BEETHOVEN and plays BEETHOVEN MUSIC". Because Beethoven is old thing therefore old mansion and ghosts, geddit? How fucking pathetic. Oh there's another thing, the weird aliens/conspiracy bent the first two games had is gone entirely. That's something that really helped it feel so wild yet at the same time cohesive... Actually, the game also seems to have done away with the surprise overworld sprite encounters like the aforementioned taxis. ... No wait that's right, they blew their load in the first levels with the rock lizards, which were fucking boring.

The dialogue fucking sucks. just fucking drags the fuck on endlessly for fucking ever to say barely anything, and barely anything you need to actually hear. Did Earthbound ever stop you to inform you that the TAXIS are AFFECTED by GIGUDUGDSAS like you couldn't figure that out yourself? No, they say Gigi's affected shit in a couple sentences near the beginning and let the rest of it speak for itself, pretty much. It's hard to give exact examples because I can't fucking remember any of this shit because it just slides right off my brain like ducks off of water, it's so bland and pointless. The sparrows drone on endlessly with worthless tutorial shit and then take an entire extra sentence to chirp at you and remind you that it's talking animals oh wow wacky!!!!!!! And when Duster decides he really is what you say he is he stands there going "ME IS DUSTER" over and over again like he's fucking Bimpson. You don't have anything interesting to say about finally figuring out who you really are? Okay... There's multiple fucking scenes of slow-scrolling walls of fucking text telling you absolutely nothng you don't already know except that the writers are wanking the fuck off over their own dumbass writing where in Earthbound there was like one scene of this towards the end that really just set up the emotions of the final sequences and underlined how far you'd come and shit and was a good moment of reflection and shit.

I also find it exceptionally intersting that all the people in Tazmilly before the timeskip have names and unique appearances, but anyone who only shows up after is just some generic design called "Man" or "Woman" or what have you. It feels weirdly dehumanizing towards outsiders.

This game fucking feels like the writers just fucking dumped a bunch of absolute shit down like they expected everyone to just eat it up, either because of the success of the previous games or because of the emotional manipulation the plot is laced with. The characters are all either detestable cunts or desperately need to be airlifted out into a better game pronto. And it's unsettlingly... modern in what's wrong with it. The capitalism-bad-tradition-good-mindkill-yourself messaging, the spunky female character(tm) who rubs it in your face how strongk she is (and who keeps talking even when you're controlling her while the other characters all become silent protagonists)... even the weirdly random spite towards characters the narrative has decided aren't "deserving" enough, or characters only being allowed to handle said spite and retain sympathy by cucking to it completely (Duster)... I suppose that's just a sign that these sorts of writing problems and hangups are older than that and have just become more popular/visible in recent times, but it's still really fucking weird to see.

I feel like I should be concerned that the team behind the Earthbound series also started Gamefreak and created Pokemon, though since the split obviously happened before Mo 3 I don't know how much overlap there is between staff members there specifically... seeing as how these exact same sort of writing problems have started to rear their heads in the Pokemon franchise, starting weakly in gen 6 (cough zinnia cough abandoned ship plotline cough) and absolutely fucking exploding in 7 (cough LILLIE COUHG FUCKING TAPUS COUGH AGAG V HIC CUFGH VOMIT AAGHK); I haven't yet fully witnessed gen 8 but everything I've seen of it so far looks no better, except there's no shill character (Marnie is just kinda... there), just suffering. But that's all for another post.

welp time to go watch the remainder of the game until my brain rots off

[lorei-writes]

Cubs

Storm

Masamune x MC Modern AU Family AU Slight Angst Other stories happening within the same AU: Little Tiger , Mommy, we have a problem , Not Alone 

[Lorei from the future: whoaa I never realised I haven’t written a single Masamune oneshot in the entire May 2020]

Content Warnings: flashbacks, anxiety

Some things cannot be either foreseen nor prevented. Yet, Masamune never thought it would end like that, he never thought he'd see his teenage daughter sitting next to his bed, holding swords – his old swords, the katanas that came with him from the past – in her lap. He never thought he'd feel a room fill with smoke again, that he'd ever wonder whether the person he saw was still alive – but it did happen and he did rush her out of there. He didn't hear her questions – they got drowned out by the buzzing of blood  in his veins, eventually being cut short by the shutting door. His back against the wall, he slumped to the floor, beads of sweat forming on his forehead – and when Mai came to check on him, alarmed by what Iroha relied, he searched for her pulse. He needed the proof that her heart was still beating. Yet, one thing he was sure of – their children were smart, the conversation was postponed at best.

Some things cannot be either foreseen nor prevented. Yet, Masamune never thought it would end like that, he never thought he'd see his teenage daughter sitting next to his bed, holding swords – his old swords, the katanas that came with him from the past – in her lap. He never thought he'd feel a room fill with smoke again, that he'd ever wonder whether the person he saw was still alive – but it did happen and he did rush her out of there. He didn't hear her questions – they got drowned out by the buzzing of blood  in his veins, eventually being cut short by the shutting door. His back against the wall, he slumped to the floor, beads of sweat forming on his forehead – and when Mai came to check on him, alarmed by what Iroha relied, he searched for her pulse. He needed the proof that her heart was still beating. Yet, one thing he was sure of – their children were smart, the conversation was postponed at best.

Indeed, Iroha kept asking – though he did underestimate how much of her search she had conducted in private. She was their daughter, after all – giving up just didn't fit her. Though, it didn't made her words any less surprising. He was in the kitchen when she came, both Tadamune and Mai being out. Apparently, their son's vision wasn't exactly perfect – and  perhaps cookies couldn't make that any better, but they could fix his mood. Masamune had just taken the last tray out of the oven, when he heard her. „ Did grandma and grandpa really die in a freak car accident?” her voice pierced through him, taking away any warmth that he felt. „ And... Did you really lose your eye then? It... It wasn’t smallpox, was it?” He didn't respond, adrenaline starting to flow in his veins. „ I’m being stupid, aren’t I? I made some story up and those swords are just reproductions, and everything else is just a coincidence... Right?” she pleaded, sounding almost pained, anxious. „ And you just felt bad that day, and didn’t have anything to hide, right? Say something, dad.” His throat closed. He inhaled deeply, trying to compose himself. „ No, you're being very smart, as always,” he uttered finally, silence overtaking the room once more. However, Iroha waited, waited for something more – any explanation, anything that could console her. He couldn’t give her any, though. „ That's it? You don't have anything more to tell me?” she asked, feelings getting the better of her. She looked around, too confused to come up with any appropriate words. Her breathing hitched – and the next moment she was running, running out of the kitchen and out of the house. Masamune followed her. „ Iroha!” he called after her, as she moved further away, rubbing at her eyes. Yet, as she picked up her pace, he slowed down – she was trying to get away from him, wasn't she? He stopped and just shouted: „ Please, do not do anything rush! Iroha!”

Iroha didn't think clearly – she couldn't. The more she read, the more similarities she saw between her dad and the person described in history – The One Eyed Dragon of Oshu. It was all a joke, was it not? A coincidence, nothing... But why such reaction? It confused her, the reaction of her father being even more so worrisome. Was she losing her mind? Was he? Some things she just couldn't imagine, some things just kept burning her on the inside – but he did not deny anything she had asked about. How come her father, the very person who memorised all Disney medleys and sang with her when she was little, the very person who would bake her „feel better” cookies whenever she was upset, the very person who stood up for her, hugged her when she cried, who grew vegetables in their garden, who always made sure she ate well and who was so overwhelmingly proud of her when she took up kendo – how come he was... Or was so very similar... To a murderer? How come he, if any of that was real, had led wars and sent people to death? How come he was memorized as ruthless and cold? The person she knew wasn't like that... Could all of that be a lie? She ran, until she reached the forest – and then, between the trees, she collapsed. She sat, hugging her knees to her chest and cried, hidden behind bushes. She was angry, she was confused – she needed answers, but didn't get any, the number of questions she hadn't even asked only increasing. How was all of this possible in the first place? She wiped away any tears she had left and reached for her phone, steeling her resolve.

They were worried for her. Masamune had called Mai immediately – perhaps Iroha would pick up if it was her mother who phoned her? Yet, that didn't work either. They were just about to contact the police, when he got a text from her. „ Forest, as always. In half an hour. Bring my training swords. Both of them,” it read.

Masamune didn't think twice. More than anything, he felt he was to blame – he should have talked with her before it escalated. If only he knew how... Perhaps she wouldn't have been hurt then.   Yet, past was unchangeable – the future was still in his hands. He did as she asked him to, soon meeting her in the woods. Her eyes puffy and red, she outstretched her hand towards him. „ Give it to me.” Just as she ordered, Masamune passed her the wooden sword. Iroha seemed conflicted, her face twisted  in a mix of sadness, anger and disbelief. She assumed the stance, her eyes burning with determination. „ Show me what you're really made of,” she demanded.

Actions speak louder than words – Masamune could agree with that. Though, sometimes they provided a bridge for things to be said out loud as well. He parried her blows and she struck mercilessly again. „ Why are you on the defence?” she cried, putting even more force into the swing. „ Because I don't want to hurt you,” he replied, dodging her this time. Her sword not having connected, she staggered, just to regain her balance mere seconds later. „ Oh, so I am not good enough?” He shook his head – it was pretty much the opposite. He saw her grow and learn – and he had never been prouder than when he looked at her and Tadamune overcoming newer and newer obstacles, never stopping in their desire to do more, to feel more, to experience more. She was bright, kind, caring, stubborn and confident – and she still kept on improving. To see her like that, so distraught that she lost her temper, hurt him. She fought against pain, not him. „ You were always more than enough. But now you aren't acting like Iroha I know.” „ Aargh, like you're the one to say! Come on, how am I supposed to understand anything if you don't show me?!” Masamune obliged. The moment his sword touched the side of her neck, the moment she felt her pulse against the wood, she froze. For a second, she stared at him – and then, she took a step back, something about her aura changing. „ Now we're talking,” she barked at him, her breathing steadying.

Masamune was more experienced – it was undeniable. Swordsmanship was hammered into him from a very young age and, although he hadn't trained in years, he suspected he'd never be able to forget how it felt to hold the weapon in his hands. He fell into the familiar rhythm, his body moving by itself – dodge, block, parry, attack, in whichever order it saw fit. Yet, he couldn't quite make the sword connect, his arms always stopping right before the blow reached her. „ Why so merciful now? Were you even going to ever tell me or did you just think I'd never find out?!” „ It's not exactly something people would generally believe.” „ Oh, right. Excuse me, I forgot, I've already heard all the explanations and do not need anything to make it all clear!” „ I don't understand it completely either”, Masamune grunted, as he pushed her sword aside. Iroha held onto the hilt, not letting it fall out of her hands. „One day your mother travelled to the past through a wormhole. We fell in love and when opportunity came, we decided to come here,” he tried to clarify, catching her looking him in the eye for a second. Yet, she averted her gaze. He redirected her attack, but she swirled around him, aiming to strike at his blind side – to no avail. „ Couldn't we just stay there?!” she roared, the storm inside of her refusing to subside, giving her strength to be more precise. Her weapon almost grazed him „ You were a daimyo! So why?!” „ Because it was dangerous to stay there!” „ How dangerous could it be, you were born in a castle!” Masamune stopped the training sword, his eye gleaming. He blocked the swing with his forearm. „ How do you know my mother wouldn't poison you like she poisoned me? How do you know you wouldn't die of disease? How do you know we wouldn't have to fight with relatives, who'd like to marry you off to anybody just to solidify influence over some land?” he asked, pushing her away. „ At least I wouldn't have to wonder when you were lying. How am I supposed to trust you if you've hidden so many things?!” Iroha shouted, somewhat out of breath. Her arms trembled slightly, but she managed to control herself. „ Don't you dare hold back!” „ In the first year Mai spent there, she was almost killed six times.” „ And how many of those times were caused by you?” she spat out, shaking her head. Yet, he didn't deny it – had Yukimura not tackled her to the ground then, his wife, the only woman he ever loved like that, would be dead. Masamune clenched his jaw – he didn't want to admit to that. Iroha's breathing quivered, her eyes watering. „ Don't you dare... You didn't... You couldn't have...” „ I did,” he grated through his teeth. „ It was before I took back my future.” „ Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!” she cried, tears spilling from her eyes. „ Mom doesn't deserve such excuses. Not from a man who shot his own father!” So she knew. „ Do not make it sound like it was easy for me,” his voice broke. She swung at him again, but this time, he used his full force – and soon, her sword flew through the air, as she fell to the ground, tip of the weapon in his hands against her throat.  Masamune was looking away, his head lowered. „ It was never easy. Not when I shot him. Not when I carried on so that my mens' deaths wouldn't be in vain. Not when I hid being shot and not when Mai ventured onto battlefield to save my sorry ass,” he uttered in low voice, his muscles tensing up. He threw the sword away. „ I didn't want for you and Tadamune to go through any of this. I wanted you to have future you'd look forward to.” He turned on his heel, his back towards her – and for a moment she could have sworn, she saw his shoulders shake ever so slightly. He sat under a tree and took a deep breath. „ I don't know how much blood is on my hands. All that I can say is that I wished for you, Tadamune and Mai to never have any on yours.”

Iroha still wanted to scream, she still wanted to fight. She rubbed at her eyes, getting any tears out of the way – and then, she tried to glare at him, but couldn't. She saw her father angry, she saw him sad and disappointed – but never, never saw him this close to crying. She got to her feet, memories coming back to life in her mind: them preparing dinner together, the movie nights when she was still little, how she cringed when she saw his lockscreen – a photo of her taken at a tournament; how he would side with her most daring ideas, as long as he was sure she was indeed safe; all the tender interactions between her parents she saw daily. Before she realised, she was in front of him – and she felt something wet on her cheeks. Her vision turning blurry, Iroha hugged him. „ Dad? I'm sorry,” she sobbed. „ I'm sorry.” „ Shh, kitty. It's all good. I shouldn't have kept this a secret,” he said, patting her head soothingly, barely keeping his voice from breaking. „ Let's go home, okay?” „ Yeah, I would like that,” she agreed, the tiniest of smiles showing on her face. It reached her eyes.

Tag list: @datenoriko , @nad-zeta , @tsubaki3192 , @choi-jiyu , @missjudge-me ,  @ikemencrossedmyth , @plumpblueberry , @nxh-special-here-just-lia If you want to be tagged under my future works, let me know (any way works)! ^^ Also, if you have some preferences (for example: you’d rather not be tagged under some series, etc.), please, tell me. 

[panda-noosh]

No Longer the Same {Sokka x Reader}

Words: 9k

Summary: For years, Sokka thought you and him were the same. He was wrong. 

Genre: angst

Warning: nooooothing 

Notes: hello you lovely lil humans. if you didn’t have a good day, i’m going to be upset :):):) 

----

Children could be so innocent sometimes.

    Of course, you were a perfect example of this. Young and naïve, trying to make things happen that could never happen in a million years; it was the hope within you. It burned bright when you weren't aware of the corruption yet.

   There was plenty of said corruption, especially within the water tribes. Growing up, it was almost an everyday occurrence for you and your friends to stand by the edge of the ocean, waving off boats as they drifted off to sea. You couldn't talk to anyone who didn't have a relative fighting somewhere else, or died in the battles that were being fought just so you and your people could have basic rights, basic freedom.

    Back then, it was all you knew. You thought it was normal. You would wave and smile and run around like nothing was happening, when in reality, everything was happening. People were dying. People were getting injured, losing limbs, losing their abilities to a force that could have been settled if other people could just see equality for what it was – necessary.

    You grew up eventually, though. Not too fast, not slow enough that you were left blind to the truth until it was too late; your parents tried their hardest to keep you away from it all, but they knew the point where the line was drawn. They could see you gaining more and more interest in the world around you, and they weren't selfish enough to keep you out of that for long.

   It was at this point you realised you were different, though nobody told you that. You figured that out on your own, and it didn't take long. Growing up, you saw it. Sensed it, but not the hostility that came with it, the implications, the burning feeling of worthlessness that could have easily taken you hostage if you let it.

  Your mother bent down, pulled you into her chest. The sofa furs of her cloak pressed into your cheek, and you remembered that feeling more than anything else. Her voice was a whisper when it grazed your ear. “You don't need bending abilities to be special. You're perfect just the way you are.”

   At the time, you hadn't even understood what she was telling you.

  Sure, you had seen it. Everyone in your class at school could make cool things happen – water sprouting from holes in the floor, shapes appearing in the air that they could control with their hands. You were never been able to do that, but you'd never tried. At some point, you were even scared of it, wondering what kind of brain power it took to be able to do such a thing.

  You didn't worry about it until your mother was telling you not to worry.

  “But Sokka can't do any of that stuff either,” you said to your grandmother one day, following her around the kitchen with a plate of fish in your hands.

  She barely even looked at you. She never really did. Her eyes lost their warmth a long time ago, almost immediately after Granda hadn't returned. “Sokka might learn,” she told you. “His sister and his grandmother are very strong water benders.”

   You had frowned at the time, because the idea of Sokka having powers was beyond your imagination. That was one of the things you two bonded over – the fact that neither of you could really do anything. If he suddenly learned how to water bend, that would destroy everything.

  You told him this the following day. The two of you were sat against one of the igloos, sharing an ice pop. You only managed to steal one from your grandmothers home that afternoon, so you were forced to share it with him. You didn't mind, despite the argument you put up.

  Sokka screwed his chubby face up in confusion, licking a stripe up the side of the ice lolly before handing it back to you and wiping his sticky little fingers on his coat. His mother wasn't going to be very happy about that. “I don't think I'll learn.”

   “Why?” A common question for a ten year old; whywhywhy?

   Sokka shrugged. “Katara got the powers. I missed out.”

  “But you're older than her,” you pointed out, handing the ice lolly back to him. “Surely that means you should get first pick?”

  “Katara didn't pick. She was chosen.”

  He said it so whimsically, reminding you of some creepy mage in a forest, ushering little kids into their shrine.

    Sokka caught your confused expression and shrugged again; that was something he did often. Whilst you were constantly asking why, he was constantly shrugging. An answer to a question. Maybe that's why you were best friends.

    “Well,” you started, “if you ever feel yourself getting water bending powers, tell me. I want to be the first to know.”

  “Nosy.”

  ---

   That was when you were ten.

  The world had changed since then. Your thoughts had changed since then. Nothing was the same.

  Sokka's mother died.

   Correction, was killed. Right in front of Katara.

  Your parents fled the water tribe, heading for the Fire Nation in a battle they refused to give you any details on. You were left with your grandmother. You loved her, hated the life she provided. She was sad. Losing her husband and her daughter was too much for her, and she left you to raise yourself.

  Raise yourself you did.

  Your seventeenth birthday was just round the corner, and as per usual, Sokka was more enthusiastic about the date than you were. You enjoyed the celebrations that came with a birthday, but there was a certain responsibility to it that stressed you out more than excited you. Sokka, on the other hand, shouldered that rationed excitement and took it for himself.

  He jumped at you when he saw you, the day before your birthday. He had turned seventeen only a few months prior. His training for the army had started, and it was clear in the fresh build of his shoulders, the way he carried himself, the way he walked as if he was constantly stuck in a line of soldiers. You had laughed about it multiple times, and he had waved you off with a, “You won't be saying that when I'm avenging our tribe.”

  Now, though, he was all floppy hands and goofy grins. He grabbed you by the shoulders, whirled you around and yelled, “Happy birthday!”

   “It's not my birthday until tomorrow,” you replied.

  Sokka rolled his eyes, waving a dismissive hand through the air. “Details, details.” He let his hands drop to his sides, and you didn't fail to notice the small blush that crept up his face when he stuffed them in his pockets. “Are you still coming over for your birthday dinner?”

  You nodded. “As I do every year. I can't believe your grandmother still cooks for me.”

   “She loves you.” Sokka wrapped an arm around your shoulders and the two of you started towards the Ice Market. “Your grandma is welcome to come if she wants. The invitation is still on the table.”

  You were barely able to hide your wince. It wasn't as if Sokka was oblivious to the state your grandmother was in – he was just too polite to take any notice of it. He gave you pitying glances every now and then, asked you how she was, even asked her how she was, even if she only replied with a faint grunt of acknowledgement. Not an answer, but typically more than she gave you.

  But Sokka was a firm believer in letting things run their course. In his mind, your grandmother would snap back to reality soon enough.

   Soon enough had dragged out through the last seven years. He still had hope, bless his soul.

  “I'll tell her,” you lied. “How's Katara's training going?”

   Sokka grumbled, his grip tightening on your shoulders. “It's all she talks about. All she complains about.”

  “It's not going well?”

   Sokka shrugged. “She doesn't let me watch. It's just her and Grandma, but she's always in a bad mood when she gets home. I don't think she's finding it as easy as Mum or Grandma did back in the day.”

  You frowned, remembering your mothers words all them years ago: she said Katara was a natural, just like her Mum, just like her grandmother.

    “Odd,” you hummed. “I thought she was pretty good back when we were kids.”

   Sokka nodded. “She was. Mum was teaching her.”

   You looked away at that, heat creeping up your neck. This happened all too often – your tongue would get too loose and you'd make some irresponsible comment about childhood and growing up, forcing Sokka to think about the mother he had lost to the Fire Nation when he was only ten years old. To you, talking about your childhood was nothing, a quick get-away, even, but Sokka didn't have that luxury. He had ten years of memories that he wanted to block out purely because his mother was no longer present to share them with him.

     “I don't know if Grandma's just getting old,” Sokka continued, his voice a sigh. “I don't think she's teaching Katara the moves right.” He raised a hand in defence, even though you hadn't spoken. “Don't get me wrong, I haven't seen them training. Katara could just be being dramatic – but I don't know. She's never in a good mood any more, and Grandma's always tired. I think the two of them need a break.”

   “So why don't they? Surely if it's that much hassle-”

   “Grandma thinks Katara needs to learn so she can be like Mum.”

   Sokka's words startled you. Your head whipped round, but his profile revealed very little. This happened when he mentioned his mother; he shut down. He tried to hide how much it really hurt to talk about her. The only sign he gave you that he was feeling anything at all was the twitch in his jaw and tensing of his arm slung over your shoulders.

     “She hasn't said that to Katara, has she?” you asked. “Your Mum was an incredible water bender. Even the suggestion that Katara can-”

   But Sokka was nodding before you'd even finished your sentence. “I know. I know. That's what I told her but she's old and I'm pretty sure she's going deaf, so she won't listen.” He sighed, ran a hand through his hair. His arms tensed again; he seemed to realise that his muscles were a direct give away to how he was feeling, as he uncurled his arm from your shoulders and dropped it back to his side. “Katara already compares herself to Mum. She thinks she needs to fill in the gap she left.”

   “That's impossible. She's fifteen. It took your mother years to master what she's trying to do.”

  “I know.” Sokka hollowed out his cheeks. “I know.”

  The conversation died when the two of you entered the gates of the market. As per usual, it was full – as full as it could be when it was located in a water tribe. The population was fairly small, but so was the market. The cramped space helped you believe that perhaps not everyone had gone off to war.

  “Do you even want to buy anything?” Sokka asked. His voice was grim now, that twinkle leaving his eyes and his mouth turned down only slightly – just enough for him to be assured that you didn't notice, even though you did.

    “I'm gonna get something for my dinner tonight, I think,” you replied before nudging him. “And you, mister, need to get me something for my birthday.”

  Sokka raised a brow, glancing down at you. “What makes you think I haven't gotten you something already?”

  “I don't know. Maybe it's the years of watching you be an unorganized mess.”

  He hummed. “Fair point.” He nudged your arm, took a step forward as if to start sprinting, but his track was blocked when a small, chubby kid appeared in front of him. The two of you froze, looking down at him because he was looking up at you and for some reason, his angry face wasn't as cute as it should have been.

  It actually startled you a little bit.

  Sokka straightened up, taking a single step back so he was beside you again. “Hello.”

    The boy sneered. His black hair was sticking up in all directions and he wasn't even wearing a coat – he was what the world would often describe as a mini thug, because clearly he had some nerve walking round without a coat on.

    You and Sokka shared a confused glance before Sokka repeated himself: “Hello.”

  The kid raised his hands and water exploded in your faces.

  You spluttered, stumbling back into the crowd before Sokka managed to reach out and grab you, pulling you into his side. Water dripped from your nose, the ends of your hair, soaking into the thick material of your coat. Sokka was even worse, his jaw already clanking up and down with his new found jitters. His hair stuck to his temples, his eyelashes dripping.

  You would have laughed if you weren't also soaked.

  The kid, on the other hand, had no such qualms as he immediately let out a bellow that was far too deep for someone his age. He kicked ice up at the both of you before saying – in a kid-like sneer - “What are you gonna do about it? You can't even water bend!” His voice rose at the end of his sentence before he turned on his heel and barrelled down the length of the market.

  You wrapped your arm around Sokka's upper arm before he could even think of chasing after him. “Let him go. He's about seven.”

   “I don't c-”

  “Sokka,” you said, sterner this time. “It's not worth it. Let him go.”

  Sokka's eyes fluttered closed. He inhaled deeply, exhaled in the way you had taught him to when the two of you were only seven years old – you used to get scared when he got angry, so you taught him how to not be angry. At the time, you thought you were some kind of scientist.

  The fact that he still used them same exercises almost made you jittery. Almost.

  “Are you alright?”

  Flicking your gaze up, you saw he now had his eyes open. Your fingers were still curled around his upper arm. Now that he looked calmer, you let your hand fall back to your side.

   You nodded, running a hand through your hair. “I'm fine. It was just water. Nothing I haven't dealt with before.”

  “That's not what I meant.” He reached forward, plucked at your soaked hair. “What he said. That didn't bother you, did it?”

  It did. Kind of. It was a subtle kind of bother, settling in your stomach rather than your head, or your chest. If you concentrated hard enough on something else, you could ignore it.

  You shrugged. “He was just a kid, Sokka. He probably thought he was being clever.” You tugged on the fluffy lapels of his coat. “Besides, we're not the ones that are gonna die of hypothermia.”

  ---

  The morning of your seventeenth birthday, and nothing felt different.

  Seventeen wasn't a special age. This was made clearer and clearer as you walked around your home, opening cupboards in search of something to eat – your grandmother hadn't gone shopping again.

  Damn, you thought. That's seven years in a row now.

  Your stomach growled, but you ignored it. You got dressed. You brushed out your hair. You kissed your grandmother goodbye and walked out the door. It was a daily routine, and the fact that you were another year older didn't change that. It was almost sad.

  Sokka was waiting for you in your usual hideout, back leaned against Old Man Partridge's igloo. The elderly man was a myth amongst this place; the igloo itself had been abandoned ages ago, with Sokka's grandmother throwing a story onto it for the kids to enjoy; that was how Old Man Partridge came to be, and why this igloo was the place you and Sokka met up at every morning.

  His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his lower lip juttering out. It was colder than usual these days, and even you had to pull your fluffy hood on over your head to keep the chill from clipping at your ears.

  “Took you long enough,” he called over when you finally emerged over the hill into view. “I've been here for a good ten minutes.”

   “As long as they were a good ten minutes.” You grabbed his hand before he could retort with some stupid comeback. “Let's go to the river. I'm starving, and Grandma didn't get anything from the market.”

   Sokka raised a brow. “Again?”

  You shrugged as if it was no big deal, as if your stomach wasn't growling, as if you weren't starting to get a headache from early morning hunger pains.

  You and Sokka arrived at the rivers edge and sat down on the ice mounds. The water tickled your toes through your sandals, and you smiled down at it, as if somebody was smiling back up at you beneath the waves. You had half a mind to dip your hand in, but you didn't get the chance to before Sokka was suddenly sliding a fishing rod into your palm.

  You looked up, startled. You didn't own a fishing rod of your own, couldn't afford one nowadays. Fishing was always just something you admired from afar, watching Sokka and Katara play about in the water until they finally collapsed and took their wooden fishing rods out of their bags and started fishing; you often craved to join them, but sticking to the sidelines was all you knew how to do. It was all you thought you could do.

  But this was a brand new fishing rod. The wood was freshly carved, sparkling with a fresh layer of sealer. It was slightly rounded, but there was edges to it that fit against your fingers perfectly – and in the handle, your name was carved into the wood.

  Your eyes snapped up, jaw dropping open, words evading you. You were a jumble of thoughts and emotions and words, but your mouth wasn't cooperating and you were fairly certain the sentence you wanted to say would come out as nothing more than a babble if you were to even try and communicate what you were feeling.

  But Sokka was Sokka. You didn't need to talk for him to understand exactly what you were feeling.

  He smiled sheepishly and looked down at his lap, pulling at a loose thread on his brown trousers. “Happy birthday.”

   You don't remember moving. You don't remember squealing, don't remember dropping the fishing rod and wrapping your arms around Sokka's shoulders. You remember the impact, though, of your elbows slapping against the ice, the sound of Sokka's amused and startled laughter echoing right beside your ear. You wanted to bottle the noise up and pocket it, a little birthday gift to yourself.

  You squeezed your eyes closed, hugging Sokka closer. He wrapped one arm around your waist, the other struggling to keep his back away from the ice. Eventually, he gave up and flopped backwards, you resting on top of him with your head nuzzled in the crook of his neck. The threat of tears was much too fierce for you to even think about looking up right now.

  “Happy birthday,” he repeated through laughter. “That's from Katara, Grandma and me.” He paused. “It was mostly me, though.”

  You pressed a kiss to the space just above his ear. Maybe it was a little too intimate. Maybe you should have aimed for his cheek, but you didn't care. You got up, dragging him up with you by the lapel of his coat. He was grinning from ear to ear, cheeks bright red, hands working into the fabric of his coat.

  “You like it?” he asked.

  You picked the fishing rod up, running your thumb over your name. “I love it.” You looked at him. “How did you know I wanted one of these?”

   “I see you standing by the edge every time me and Katara come down here,” he replied. “You think you can hide, but I notice you everywhere.”

  You pursed your lips. “I don't really know how to use it, though...”

   Sokka's face lit up. He scooted over to you, grabbed the fishing rod from your hands and said, “Well, this is where I come in handy,” and the lessons began.

  Sokka's excitement dribbled through each of his words. His smile illuminated the waters surface, distracted you for moments at a time until strict, stern Teacher Sokka would snap his fingers in your face to bring you back to the present. You would only smile, watching him close as he explained the basics of fishing, lost himself in his own teachings.

  You knew why he was so enthusiastic, even if the reason was sad. You didn't like thinking about it, but when the opposite side of the spectrum was so giddy and excited, it was difficult to ignore; he had never been useful.

  Of course, to you, he was everything. Your best friend. Your rock. The person you could turn to when the world was grey and it felt like nothing was going to get better. To you, he was the world and maybe more than that.

  But to others, he was Sokka. He was the boy with the dead mother, the cheeky little sister, the boy who wanted to follow his father to the ends of the earth just to prove himself. He was the boy who joked around to the point where nobody believed in him; his training was a joke to most people, a way to keep him busy, to keep his hopes up. You heard the whispers, and they angered you.

  And yet here he was, finally teaching something rather than being taught. He was good at it. He explained things clearly. He made sure you understood until the two of you were sitting side-by-side, feet dangling over the edge, toes barely grazing the ice cold water, fishing rods dipped into the cool waves.

  “Who needs water bending?”

  The statement startled you. “What?”

   “We certainly don't,” he continued, more-so talking to himself at this point. “We don't have an ounce of power in our system, and it's working out pretty well for us, don't you think?”

   “Where is this coming from?”

   Sokka shrugged. He didn't seem upset, just reminiscent. “What that kid said to us yesterday...”

  “Sokka...”

  He shook his head, waved a hand in the air as if to dismiss the idea that was lingering in your tone. “I'm not upset. He just got me thinking. People really do think we're useless sometimes, don't they?”

   You stared at the side of his face, willing him to look at you so you could see just what it was that was bouncing around in his head. You were good at that, catching his emotions, trapping them in little bottles like they were fireflies and you were in darkness.

   But he didn't turn to look at you. He kept his hard gaze on the swaying ocean in front of him, messing idly with the handle of his fishing rod.

   “I'm sorry,” he grumbled. “It's your birthday. I shouldn't be saying this stuff.”

  “It's okay.” Your voice is hoarse, quieter than you planned. Maybe it's because it wasn't okay. Maybe it's because you want him to be quiet, want him to stop putting so much attention upon something a seven year old boy had said the day before.

  It almost made you angry, though you didn't want it to. You turned back to the ocean and fiddled with the engraving on the end of your fishing rod, willing yourself to calm down before the storm erupted and you were unable to stop it.

   You came to Sokka to stop the nightmares. You came to Sokka to get a break. You came to Sokka because he was your best friend, your light at the end of the tunnel. Having his words corrupt that safe place made you want to stand up and run as far from this as possible, because if Sokka has let society get to him, then there's no way in hell any of the other tribe members are making it out alive.

  The two of you sat in silence after that. Sokka knew he had said the wrong thing. He didn't apologise. You didn't ask him to. They were his feelings, whether you wanted them to be or not.

  ---

  The pain was unbearable.

  It pulled you from your sleep. It dragged you into consciousness and didn't let go of you until you were arching your back off the mattress and gasping for air which was too cold to inhale and too important to ignore.

  It started in your stomach, the right side of your upper abdomen. Like needles. Needles, needles, needles, prickling your skin, puncturing organs. You tried to stand up, but your knees were weak and your palms were slick with sweat. You reached for your lamp, ended up knocking it off the bedside table; all you could do was watch it smash. The pieces of glass were piercing your stomach – that's what it felt like. Your insides were a mess of feeling and jumbled pain and your brain was a mess of feeling and jumbled emotions.

  You tried calling out for your grandmother, but the words came out as a scrambled groan instead. You pulled yourself to your knees, balanced on the end of your bed, doubled over in the hopes that some pressure would help – it didn't.

  It really, really didn't.

  The world tilted and you fell with it. You tumbled to your side and screamed into the mattress as tiny fire ants ambushed your stomach, crawled into your throat, lit your skin up with invisible flames that engulfed your entire body. Your legs kicked out against your will. Your bare foot slammed into your bedside table and the wood splintered, but you were twitching and you couldn't stop it and it was painful and you had no idea what was happening.

  It lasted only minutes before the big finale. You felt it building, and for a minute you thought the rising pressure in your throat was a scream hauling its way to the surface. When you opened your mouth, nothing came out.

  When you opened your mouth, the world exploded.

  The wall, made entirely of ice, shattered into a million pieces. Water burst from the floor. The darkness outside illuminated with thunder as it ripped across the night sky, and it was then that the pain started to fade. It was gradual, allowing you to sink back into your mattress even as you stared up at the damage in shock; your mouth was agape, your heart beating to the point where you thought it was going to beat straight out of your ribcage and take off across the ocean.

  The wall was gone. Entirely gone, nothing more than a few ice shards digging into the ground. The floorboards were also ripped up, tiny spurts of water shooting up from beneath them.

  Your fingers trailed over your stomach. Your mouth formed words – a cry for help, maybe – but nothing came out. The stars blinked back at you, the sound of the ocean louder than ever before. Your skin was sweltering, sweat sticking your pyjamas to your flesh.

  Your grandmother stumbled into your room, took one glance at the wall and grunted in what you could only assume was displeasure.

  You gave her a sheepish grin. “Sorry.”

  ---

  It was still dark when you stumbled into Sokka's house with your arm wrapped around your shivering grandmothers form.

  Sokka's grandmother wasn't going to let you sleep in a house that had no wall. As soon as she heard about what happened, she insisted you both come over and spend the night at her house, spend as long as you needed in her house until things were sorted.

  Sokka wrapped a blanket round your shoulders. You snuggled into its warmth, even though your skin was burning and your eyes were burning and your stomach was still reeling from the abuse it had taken moments before.

  Sokka sat down beside you. His knee brushed your own. The touch was too much, and you flinched away even though you couldn't pinpoint why.

  He was fresh out of bed. You could tell by the haze in his blue eyes, the slouch of his shoulders, the mess of his black hair. He tried to hide it, because he knew you would feel bad for dragging him out of bed at this time, but you saw right through it.

  “You should go back to sleep.”

  Sokka grunted. “How did I know that was the first thing you were gonna say?”

  “I'm fine.”

  “Grandma told me what happened.” He pursed his lips, looking away. Your heart clenched. Even though you told him to go to bed, you needed him to be there for you right now. You needed him to not be weirded out by whatever description of events his grandmother had given him.

  You nudged him. He turned back to you, caught your eyes and looked down at the place where your knees met.

  “So you were a water bender this entire time, huh?”

  The words don't compute for a second. They were true. There was no other explanation. Even your grandmother in her deluded, unresponsive state was able to acknowledge that something had happened – something explainable, something that made sense but something you didn't want to admit to because it was terrifying to think that the self-loathing you had relied on for all these years was going to be ripped away.

  “M-my Grandma can help you, you know,” Sokka continued. “If you want to learn how to control it, she knows how.”

  You shook your head. “I don't want to use it.”

  “It's a part of you.”

  “It hasn't been a part of me for seventeen years. I've never needed it. I've never wanted it. I especially don't want it now.”

  “You sound awfully ungrateful.”

  Your head whipped round. Sokka raised his hands in mock defence.

  “I'm just saying. I would do anything to wake up one morning and be able to bend. Do you know what this means?”

   There was genuine excitement in his eyes. It broke your heart.

  He shook his head dumbly, gazing out at the living room – his living room. The living room you had infiltrated because you had lost control of yourself and destroyed the only home you ever had.

  “I'm happy for you, Y/N,” he said. “This is gonna be the start of something awesome for you – I can tell.”

  “It won't be.”

  He frowned, forehead creasing. “Stop being so negative-”

  “I don't want it.” Your tone was harsh, but you didn't reign it in. “I liked what we had before. I liked that we didn't have bending powers. I liked that we didn't have the responsibility.”

    Sokka was silent for a little while. “If it's me you're worried about, don't. I'll be fine.”

  You wanted to believe that. In every sense he had showed that he didn't care what others thought. He was perfectly happy being himself, with or without bending abilities, and yet when you looked at him now, you couldn't miss the twitch in his jaw, the way he clenched his hands, the way he refused to look back at you.

  He was more hurt about this revelation than he let on. He was realising that maybe he was more on his own than he originally thought.

  ---

  You knew word would get around fast. That didn't make you want it any more.

  The onslaught of curious eyes and questions was nauseating. People popped up from nowhere, asking you howhowhowhow and you wanted to answer them, but there was no answer to give; you didn't know. You didn't want to know, because coming to the conclusion that you had gone from one end of the Weird Spectrum to the other was too much for your mangled brain to take right now.

  Sokka glanced over at you, biting his bottom lip. He had been oddly quiet since the two of you woke up, though he tried to hide his emotions through smiles and hand-waving and pretending everything was alright when you knew it wasn't. Both of you knew it wasn't. Something was going on with you, and you didn't want to admit it.

  “We can go back to my house,” Sokka said after yet another person had come up to bombard you with questions. “We don't have to stay out here. Grandma and Katara have gone to train-”

  “It's okay.” Your words were abrupt, leaving no room for argument. “I'm fine.”   Sokka nodded. He had the decency not to push you any further than you were comfortable with, but the thrill of confusion buzzed off him just as much as it buzzed from everyone else; the thing with Sokka, though, was that he knew you better than anyone in the entire world. He could take one look at your expression and just know then and there that talking about last nights mishap was the last thing you wanted to do.

  So he let the subject drop.

  He let the subject drop, and silence consumed you, and you were engulfed in the feeling of your fingers fizzing up, bubbling over with the need to do something.

  It had been like that all morning. From the moment you opened your eyes, you felt different; in the beginning, you blamed it on the exhaustion. You had been woken up in the middle of the night with an indescribable pain, hadn't managed to go back to sleep until Sokka had crawled into bed behind you. But it was more than exhaustion that was clawing to the centre right now – it was power. Pure power that had waited seventeen years to finally be unleashed; it wasn't waiting.

  His hand covered your own. The feel of his fingers dragged you back to reality, forcing you to release a breath you hadn't even realised you'd been holding. Slowly you shifted your gaze until you were looking at him, and he looked right back. There was a tilt to his head, a small smile on his lips that just said Sokka.

  You flipped your hand around until your fingers were intertwining with his. “Maybe we should go and see Katara and your grandmother.”

  ---

  “Oh, Y/N, sweetie, it's so good to see you out of the house.”

   Sokka's grandmother slapped a kiss to your face, wrapping you in her arms before she had even glanced at her grandson. He rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue out as if to say gross before she pulled away from you and he forced a smile.

  “And you,” she said, pointing a knobbly finger in his direction. “You shouldn't have kept them hidden away in your room all day. The poor thing probably has no idea what to do with their new abilities.”

   You winced. “Actually, I don't plan on doing much with my abilities.”

  His grandmother froze, her lips inches away from Sokka's cheek. Her grey eyes snapped round to look at you, and never before had you felt so under the scope. Sokka often wore his emotions on his face, but his grandmother's expression was made of steel.

  That made it even worse.

  You shifted awkwardly, glancing to the floor. “I just came here to ask if there was anything I could do to make this feeling go away.”

   She slowly peeled herself away from Sokka, raising a brow. “Feeling?”    “You know.” You showed her your palms as if that would explain it all. “The feeling. Like there's fire ants crawling up my skin or something.”

    His grandmother stared at you. She wasn't looking at your fingers, wasn't interested in the awkward shift of your demeanour as you tried – and failed – to make yourself seem comfortable in her presence. Once upon a time, Sokka's grandmother had been almost like a second grandmother to you, but things had changed. She looked at you with a glint of appreciation in her eyes that wasn't there before – to anyone else, this would have been a good thing, but to you, it was different. It was strange and you didn't want to deal with the unfamiliarity of it all.

  “It's normal, right?” Sokka stepped up beside you, grabbed your hand and inspected your fingers for himself. “Y/N isn't going to combust all of a sudden, are they?”

   “The power wants released,” his grandmother replied. Her eyes were still burning holes into your own. “You can live with this feeling forever by not giving in, or you can learn to control your abilities.”

   Bile rose in your throat. You squeezed Sokka's fingers, even though you didn't want to, even though he could already tell exactly what those words did to you. “I don't want to.”

    “I can help you,” she said. “This isn't a journey you have to take on your own.”

   “Yeah, Y/N!” Katara exclaimed. Throughout the conversation, she had been busy practising her own water bending abilities. “You and I can train together.”

   You shook your head. “I don't want to.”

  “Y/N, don't get-” Sokka began, but his grandmother cut him off.

  “You're afraid of who you are, Y/N. That in itself is going to rip you apart from the inside out.”

   Your breath was ragged. Your hands were trembling. You balled them into fists, tried to breathe, tried to remind yourself that none of this was a big deal. Water bending wasn't extinct. It wasn't going to kill you. Just because you were unfamiliar with it, didn't make it dangerous.

  And yet you couldn't stop the images of dead bodies flashing through your mind. Battle fields. Faces of people you knew twisted into screams of agony as water burst from their insides and the world collapsed around them; having bending powers wasn't a blessing, and it certainly wasn't something you wished for.

  Sokka leaned in. His lips were inches from your ear, his breath making your hair whisp around your face when he spoke. “Do you want to get out of here?”

   You swallowed, brought yourself together before you squeezed his fingers again and turned back to the friendly old woman. “So there's nothing I can do about this feeling? I'll just have to put up with it?”

   Her wrinkled face fell. It was disappointment, and it made your heart squeeze, but you couldn't take her offer.

  “If that's what you choose to do, then yes,” she said. “It will only get worse.”

  “Okay, that's enough now,” Sokka exclaimed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and turning you towards the exit. “This was a lovely little chat, but I'm afraid Y/N and I have places to be, people to impress, a failed birthday to celebrate! See you at dinner!”

  You stumbled after him, hissed his name no matter how grateful you were for his distraction. He sent you a cheeky, knowing grin before the two of you disappeared. You pushed all thoughts out of your head, deciding then and there to just enjoy your time with Sokka.

  ---

  You were going to die.

  Fire ants. Fire ants. Fire ants, living in your skin, burrowing in your veins, sinking their teeth into your flesh. Fire. Fire. Fire. It burned. It ran up your arms. It sprinted through your system, snapping open your sweat ducts until your mattress was damp and your hair was glued to your forehead.

  You tried to keep it in, tried to bottle up the scream that was fighting its way to the surface, but it was impossible. It ripped from your throat, sounded out through Sokka's bedroom, bounced off the walls and echoed back to you. It taunted you. It teased you, called you cowardly, made fun of you-

  Sokka's fingers splayed across your stomach, pushing you back into the mattress even as you writhed and arched away from it.

  “Y/N? Y/N, oh god, what's happening? What's going on?” His voice was distressed but distorted in your ears.

  You shook your head ravenously, unable to form words that could answer his question. There was an answer there, playing on the tip of your tongue because you knew what the problem was – you felt it intuitively, scratching at your insides, refusing to let you think it was anything other than exactly what it was.

  Sokka scooped you up in his arms. He ran. Your head bounced against his chest. Your fingers prickled. The fire ants were loose. They were loose and hungry and refusing to show you any mercy – you didn't deserve mercy. You knew you didn't. You made this choice, the choice to ignore what was building up inside of you, and it was finally coming back to bite you.

  “Sokka,” you choked out, gripping his shirt. He didn't stop running, but his blue eyes flicked down. “Sokka, you need to let me down. This is dangerous. I need – I need to – I need to-” Your words were blocked by a scream.

  Sokka winced, but did exactly as you told him. He set you down on the sofa, immediately ran his hands through your sweat soaked hair, pushing it away from your forehead. His hands were cold – they always were – but it did little to soothe the all-consuming burn that engulfed your body.

  “What's going on?” he whispered, voice trembling. “Tell me what to do. Please tell me what to do.”

  “I don't – I don't know what to d-do,” you choked out. “I think it's the – the w-water bending.”

  His eyes lit up. “You ignored them. You said you didn't want to-”

  “I know.” You winced, curling a hand around your stomach. “I know w-what I said, b-but I d-don't t-think ignoring th-them is an o-option any more.”

  “Then you won't. I'll go get Grandma. She can help you.”

  He stood up, darted towards the door before turning to look at you over his shoulder. He opened his mouth. There were words there, but he did not speak them. He didn't really need to. His blue eyes softened. He offered you a smile, and then he started back down the hall in search of his grandmother.

  ---

  Training was difficult and tiring, and far from what you wanted to do, but it was the only option, and you were slowly learning to get used to it being part of your daily routine.

  You trained alongside Katara, her grandmother yelling orders and directions from the corner of the river. Katara was good, but you were getting better and better everyday – Sokka's grandmother claimed it was because your powers had been waiting for the moment they could release themselves, whereas Katara had been gradually building throughout her entire life.

  It was a relief. You no longer went to bed feeling one hundred pounds heavier, no longer woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. Your grandmother was no longer scared of you. Everything was working out exactly how it should have.

  But Sokka was a different story.

  He tried to hide it, but you knew him too well. He was a sensitive man, whether he showed that to the world or he didn't. You could read him like an open book, and the fact that he was doing everything in his power to avoid the topic of your new-found water bending abilities spoke volumes.

  He was feeling more worthless than ever before, and it broke your heart to see.

  You invited him to watch you train that afternoon, purely because you knew he had nothing else to do. The idea of him walking around on his own, waiting for you to finish up with that sad expression on his face made your heart clench; having him beside you would be refreshing, would maybe open his eyes to what it was you were actually doing.

  He stood by the waters edge, hands stuffed in his pockets and head tilted back. His eyes were closed, the sun beaming down on his already golden skin, illuminating it even more. His throat bobbed every time he swallowed. It was mesmerizing.

  Water crashed into the side of your face.

  You stumbled, just barely managing to grab on to a branch and tug yourself back onto the rock you were balancing on. A single look at Katara told you she found her surprise attack very funny.

  “I wasn't ready,” you grumbled, waving your hand and tossing water back in her direction. It didn't hit her face; you didn't want it to. It soaked the bottom of her dress, made her frown, and that was good enough for you.

  “He looks like a lost puppy over there, you know,” Katara said. “Why did you invite him here in the first place?”

  You raised a brow. “He has every right to be here.”

   “I never said he didn't. He just looks like he doesn't actually want to be here.”    You frowned and glanced over your shoulder; there he stood, still as a statue, eyes darting to and fro. He did look incredibly awkward. As soon as he saw you looking at him, he forced that fake smile onto his face and waved. You waved back slowly before turning back to Katara.

  “I don't know what's wrong with him. He's been like this since-”

   “Since he woke up to see you dying at the side of him.”

   You winced. “I didn't think it scared him that much...”

   “He was terrified.” There was disbelief in her tone, as if she couldn't believe you would think any differently. “Like, terrified. I've never seen Sokka like that – trembling, crying, barely able to talk kind of terrified.”

    Your heart clenched. “It was a crazy night.”

  “Plus, it can't be very nice to be in your shadow now.” She said this casually. However, your heart jumped.

  Your head whipped round, eyes narrowing. “What do you mean? Sokka isn't in my shadow – he's never been in my shadow.”

   “He is now,” said Katara. “You're all anyone talks about nowadays. People don't even care that Sokka went up a rank in his training. They don't even care that he now knows how to tie fourteen different types of knots in five seconds flat, and then undo them in ten seconds flat. He was really proud of himself, and nobody else was.”

  Your mouth was running dry, mind reeling at a thousand miles per hour. Of course you had listened when he was talking about these achievements. You were the first person he told, and you had given him the exact same enthusiasm back – that didn't mean everyone else had, though.

  You swallowed down the golf ball sized lump in your throat, flicked some water up before you mumbled, “I think I need to go and talk to him.”

    Katara's eyes lit up. “Now? We're still training!”

   But you were already jumping from rock-to-rock, back towards the waters edge. “I'll make it up to you. I promise!” For now, you had more important things to worry about.

  Once you made it back to land, you headed directly for Sokka. He raised a brow, opened his mouth to say something but you gave him no chance; you looped your arm through his and dragged him back into the trees.

   “Woah, woah, woah!” he exclaimed, stumbling to catch himself. “Is your training over already?”

   “I can tell when you don't actually care, you know,” you said.

  He frowned. “Alright then... what's wrong?”

  “You know I love you, right?” It was the first thing you could think to say, the first message you needed to make exceptionally, exceptionally clear.

  Sokka blushed, stuffed his hands back into his pockets. It made your heart ache with fondness. “I know that.”

  “And you know I'll keep loving you no matter what happens, right?”

  “Y/N, what is this about?”

 “Right?”

  Sokka looked up and nodded. “Right.”

    “The fact that I've got water bending abilities doesn't change anything between us. And it doesn't make you any less of a person.”

    His face fell. It was the moment he realised what this conversation was really about, the moment he understood that these emotional mood swings he had been dealing with weren't as subtle as he thought – at least not to you.

  “Y/N...,” he mumbled, flicking his eyes over your shoulder to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

  “You're incredible,” you said. Even you were startled by your own words, but pushed on because you were telling the truth. “You're brave, and talented, and you have every bit of potential to do whatever you want to do, whether you do it with water bending or not.”

   He blushed again. Your heart beat raced. “It would be better if I could do it with water bending-”

  “Sokka, no. Get that out of your head right now.”

   “Don't be so bossy.”

  You closed your eyes, inhaled slowly. “I just – I hate the thought of you thinking you're less than amazing just because you can't water bend.”

  For the first time in a long time, Sokka's breath caught in his throat. You heard it, the sharp little gasp that he tried to cover with a cough, failing miserably in the process. His eyes burned holes into the side of your head until you were all but forced to look at him, get a glimpse of what was going on behind the false emotions he put on show.

   He stepped forward and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Why do you care about me so much?”

   The question startled you, because the answer was obvious. It was a light constantly flashing in every word you said, a little kid yelling for attention – that was what you always set it up to be.

  “Because I love you,” you whispered, and maybe the words meant more than you let on, and maybe he knew, but he said nothing and you were okay with that.

  Sokka's eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks. He was quiet. His hand drifted up, gently cupped your jaw, his thumb trailing beneath your eye and it was only then did you realise you were getting emotional. The tears were dotting your water line; you blinked to get rid of them, but they were already seen.

  Sokka smiled lightly. It wasn't much, barely a hint of what you knew he could show you, but you didn't complain. It looked real. It was real. You hadn't realised just how much you craved to see a genuine look of happiness on his face these past few days.

  “I'm sorry.”

  Your eyes snapped up. “What?”

  “I'm sorry,” he repeated, voice still soft, hand still pressed to your cheek. “I should be happy for you. You're a water bender – that's such a big deal, and all I could think about was the fact that I'm on my own now.”

  “You're not on your own.” The words were ripped from your chest, desperate.

  He chuckled breathily. “I know. I know that. Of course I know that, god, but I already felt so useless before – at least I could feel useless with you by my side.” He looked away, smile fading. “I can't do that any more.”

  “You're not useless. You've never been useless.” You reached up and pressed your hand over his own. His palm was firm against your cheek now, but his touch was still soft, still full of care. “Remember when we were younger, the night your mother died and your father went away?”

   Sokka stiffened. You gripped his fingers a little tighter, urging him not to let the memories whisk him away, urging him to stay with you.

  “Do you remember?” you whispered.

  Sokka bit his bottom lip, nodded anyway.

  “Katara was distraught. She was paralysed, Sokka, and you can't tell me she wasn't, because I saw her that night. I saw her curled up in the corner, rocking back and forth – and I saw you gathering up all of her stuff, grabbing the canned goods and the good fish. I saw you doing everything you could to make sure she was okay.” Your other hand came up and rested on his heart. “I see you nowadays, training and doing what you love, and I know you're gonna make this world a better place. You're gonna be part of the reason we finally find peace in the long-run. I know you are.”

  Sokka's heart raced beneath your fingers. His eyes never left your own. He didn't once step away from you; it was weirdly perfect. The weight of words could sometimes be crushing, but Sokka stood up straighter now, pulled up by the reassurance that he was enough, always would be enough, always had been enough.

  “Do you think Mum would be proud of me?” His voice cracked. Your heart shattered.

  “More proud than I will ever be able to tell you,” you whispered.

  “Are you proud of me?”

  Your breath hitched. “God, yes.”

     And he kissed you.

  Unexpectedly and unpractised but perfect in every sense of the word. His lips fit over yours, his nose brushing your own, his eyes fluttering closed once he realised that you wanted this just as much as him; it was a risk. Years upon years worth of friendship could be destroyed in a matter of seconds, but as soon as his lips met your own, as soon as his hands were curling over your waist and dragging you into him, you knew that couldn't happen because you and Sokka were different, and the world was just going to have to put up with that.

  Water exploded from the river, tiny droplets spilling over the trees and dousing you and Sokka, but neither of you pulled away. Sokka merely grinned against your mouth, water dripping from the point of his hair which had now fallen loose from the bun he always had it in. You giggled, breaking the kiss – Sokka had the nerve to groan at the disconnect.

  “That was you, wasn't it?” he whispered.

  You nodded, still grinning brighter than you ever had before. “I think so.”

   He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “My talented little water bender.”

[angelofthequeers]

Hold Me By Both Hands: Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

Chapter 19 | Chapter 21 | AO3 link

“She’s coming!” Alix hisses to everyone. Immediately, Adrien and his classmates, dressed in their best casual party clothes, scramble to assemble under the Joyeux anniversaire Marinette! banner. Adrien brushes down his pale green button-up shirt and black pants, then adjusts the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and ruffles his hair, making sure he looks his absolute best and pointedly ignoring Nino’s smirk.

He’s just in time for Alya to lead a blindfolded Marinette over to them, and his heart does a backflip at the sight of Marinette in a pretty off-the-shoulder pink dress with a chunky black and white belt, her black hair in a loose side plait. He’s about ninety-nine percent sure that Plagg would be snickering like a little shit right about now if they weren’t around other people.

Okay, so visiting Marinette a few nights a week for the past two months may not have been the smartest idea. Sure, they’ve both have grown to anticipate the visits, but it hasn’t exactly done wonders for his crush on her. If anything, he’s only fallen for her even harder after seeing how competitive she can get over video games, and how she sticks her tongue out when she’s concentrating on her sewing, and how her smell of strawberries comes from the shampoo and conditioner she uses; a fact he’d learned after she had a quick shower during one of his visits. The vanilla must come from living around bakers, then, unless she’s got vanilla-scented soap or body wash – and nope, that’s an avenue he does not want his brain to go down, not when he’s a teenage boy catching up from years of being sheltered –

“Happy birthday, Marinette!” everyone around him choruses. Adrien blinks and yanks himself out of his head just in time to see Marinette’s wide-eyed look of delight as she takes in the party that they’ve set up for her, thankfully not seeming to notice that Adrien had been a little too preoccupied to remember to join the collective happy birthday.

“Thank you, thank you!” Marinette bounces on the spot. Before his brain even knows what he’s doing, Adrien’s feet move without his permission and he’s pulling Marinette into a hug, trying not to bury his face in her hair like a creep to get a stronger whiff of strawberries.

“Happy birthday,” he says when he lets her go. Marinette’s answering smile is brighter than the sun.

“Thank you!” she says.

“Presents!” Kim bounds over to the pile of presents like a little kid on Christmas. “Open presents first!”

“Or we could actually party for a few minutes,” Alix drawls.

“Presents! Presents!” Rose follows Kim’s example, while Juleka just shakes her head and smiles at her girlfriend.

“Then we can party!” Max says. “Opening presents first will heighten the excitement and lead to more enjoyment throughout the rest of the party!”

“Yay! Presents!” little Manon cries.

“How can we deny such a cutie?” Lila says and ruffles Manon’s hair, making her giggle.

“Okay, okay! Presents!” Alya announces. Everyone cheers and crowds around the pile of gifts, ready to wade through and find their presents for Marinette until Ivan acts as a buffer and hands out everyone’s presents to prevent them from being tossed around and squished. “Let’s see…Mylène, you first!”

Beaming, Mylène gives her gift to Marinette, and Marinette gasps and hugs Mylène tightly when she unwraps a book, although Adrien can’t quite make out the cover.

“Thanks, Mylène!” Marinette says.

“Adrien next!” Alya says, and Adrien jumps and smile when Marinette looks at him. Before he can give his present, however, something yellow pushes through the crowd.

“How about me next?” Chloé says as Sabrina stops just behind her. No one says anything. “Wow. Hi to you all too.”

“What are you doing here?” Nathaniel says. Chloé rolls her eyes.

“I’m nice, remember? Obviously, I’ve got a present for Dupain-Cheng, even if I wasn’t invited to this…uh, lovely little party.” She thrusts a small yellow gift at Marinette, who looks just as taken aback as everyone else but quickly recovers. Adrien can’t help the small stab of annoyance at being upstaged by Chloé, but he shoves it down with the reminder that Chloé is being nice like he’d wanted.

“Thank you, Chloé!” Marinette says. Chloé rolls her eyes again.

“Sure, sure. Just open it already. I’ve got places to be.”

Chloé’s present is a small gold bottle of perfume; Joy, to be precise. Adrien raises an eyebrow. Sure, Chloé’s a princess who doesn’t do ordinary, but he hadn’t expected her to spend that much money on her archrival. Then again, they’ve been far less hostile to each other lately, so maybe that’s changing.

“I’ve never worn perfume before,” Marinette notes, examining the bottle from all angles.

“Of course you haven’t,” Chloé says. “And there’s no way I’m allowing your introduction to perfume to be some cheap, common stuff. Ugh, get off me!” she cries when Marinette hugs her. Adrien can’t help but grin at the sight. Maybe Chloé really is changing for the better! But he can’t be her friend again until he’s absolutely certain that she’s genuine; not until he’s sure that he’s not the only reason she’s being nice.

“Here’s my present!” Sabrina holds out a thin purple box, which contains a pack of good quality sketching pencils. Her reaction to Marinette’s hug is much more enthusiastic, smiling until Chloé pulls her away.

“Okay, okay, fun’s over. Come on, Sabrina.” Chloé grimaces and says, “Happy…birthday…Dupain-Cheng.”

Before Marinette can reply, the sound of singing shatters the air, and everyone whirls around to see a green-skinned woman with vivid red hair and a witchy black catsuit descending on a broomstick-shaped flying motorcycle, accompanied by a faceless woman with dark hair and angel wings. Adrien’s stomach sinks; judging from her clothes, the angel woman can only be Sabine Cheng, and one look at Marinette’s horrified face confirms his guess.

“La Befana comes at night on her shaky broom in flight! She gives candy to those who are dandy!” The witch woman – Befana – jumps off her motorcycle at the end of her song and approaches Marinette, parting the students around her like water.

“Nonna?” Marinette gasps.

“You lied to your nonna, Marinetta,” Befana tuts. Adrien’s rooted to the spot, torn between jumping in to protect Marinette and running off to transform. However, when Befana shoots a ray of red light from her gun and only hits Mylène due to Marinette ducking out of the way, Adrien’s able to force himself into action. He’ll be able to protect Marinette and their classmates far better as Chat Noir than as himself, so he sprints off to hide behind a tree, looking over his shoulder to make sure that he won’t get zapped into a crumbly black statue like Mylène.

“We didn’t even get in on the buffet!” Plagg complains when he zooms out of the pocket of Adrien’s pants.

“Party’s over, my friend. Plagg, claws out!”

“It’s rude to leave while Befana’s still speaking to you!” Befana points her gun at Marinette, who’s trapped between her and the fairy Sabine, but Chat Noir lands on one of the speakers and knocks the akuma’s aim off with his baton.

“Hey, I never knew grandmas could be so nasty,” he quips when Befana looks at him. She tuts and aims at him.

“You would look wonderful in white, my pretty kitty.”

Chat Noir jumps out of the way, but only barely misses being turned into a fairy like Sabine. “Eh, not convinced. I’m much more into black – makes my eyes stand out, don’t you think?” He resists the urge to wink at Marinette, which turns out to be a life-saving move as it allows him to dodge Befana’s subsequent shots and leap up behind a nearby chimney without being distracted.

“Take care of this pesky pussycat!” Befana orders Sabine.

Great. As much as Chat Noir would love to protect Marinette, he can’t exactly do that when her corrupted mother is on his tail, tackling him down to the pavement.

“Chat Noir!” she calls. The distress in her voice makes Chat Noir’s stomach churn.

“Stay put, I’ll be right there!” he calls, dodging Sabine again. Her next attack catches him in his worry for Marinette, sending him flying into a tree. “Uh, soon!”

The worst bit about being a superhero, he decides, is when he’s unable to do his job and help people. In the background, he’s very much aware of Alya, Kim, and Lila being turned to coal and Rose into a fairy, but he can’t exactly do much to save his classmates while he’s fending off Sabine. Finally, he catches a break and kicks Sabine away into a tree, then leaps over to Marinette’s hiding place.

“Sorry I kept you waiting. We need to find you a better hiding place. Shall we?” He winks and holds out his hand, pulling Marinette to his side when she takes it, although he can’t for the life of him figure out why her face is so red when he slips an arm around her waist to secure her.

“You’re really calling Dupain-Cheng a spoilt brat?” Chloé’s scoff reaches Chat Noir’s ears. “Lavillant might be an airy-fairy princess, but she was actually right for once. Dupain-Cheng’s so disgustingly nice that she makes me want to hurl.”

Huh. Now that, Chat Noir hadn’t expected from Chloé. Chloé gets a faceful of fairy ray for her trouble and floats up next to Rose, but Chat Noir can’t help but feel that she would think it totally worth it. Anything to sass a supervillain, even in Marinette’s defence, and especially because Chloé didn’t even cause this one. Really, as selfish and cowardly as she can be, Chloé also seems to have no sense of self-preservation when it comes to the chance to diss an akuma. Probably because Ladybug always ends up saving her in the end.

Speaking of Ladybug, where is she? Never mind. First things first: get Marinette out of here and away from Befana, then focus on where Ladybug could be. With the help of his baton, Chat Noir rises back up to the rooftops with Marinette, then smoothly swings her into a bridal carry as he retracts his baton.

“Marinetta is getting away with the kitty! Catch them!” comes Befana’s cry. There’s no sound of flapping wings growing louder, so something must have happened to Befana’s fairies, but Chat Noir resists the urge to look over his shoulder in case he stumbles and dooms both himself and Marinette.

“You must be a real cool girl if your friends are protecting you like that,” he says as he dashes across the rooftops in the direction of the Eiffel Tower. If there’s any good hiding place around here, it’s there. “Not that I didn’t know that already. So, why’s your grandma flipping out, princess?”

“I think she wanted me to spend more time with her,” Marinette says, her mouth drooping. Thankfully, Chat Noir arrives within baton-leaping distance to the Eiffel Tower at that moment, so he can focus on swinging through a gap in the metal rather than on Marinette’s sad face.

“Don’t worry,” he says when he sets her down on the viewing deck. “I promise to get your real grandma back safe.” He bounds over to the railing and hops up on it, then stops and turns back to her. “Oh, I almost forgot. Happy birthday, Marinette. Sorry I didn’t get to swing by and give you anything.”

“You got me a tour with a view!” Marinette gestures out towards Paris with a grin. “What more could I ask for?”

Chat Noir grins back and salutes, then jumps off the railing and leaps through Paris to find Befana. Not that he needs to look for very long; it only takes a few minutes before he hears her singing, and another moment before he catches sight of her turning an annoyed driver into coal.

“La Befana comes at night on her shaky broom in flight!” the akuma sings. “She gives candy to those who are dandy, and only gives coal to brats with no soul!”

Rolling his eyes, Chat Noir extends his staff across Befana’s path so that she crashes into it and goes hurtling through the air, needing Rose and Sabine to catch her before she crashes into the ground.

“Chat Noir comes in to…unexpectedly…” Chat Noir blinks and pauses mid-song. “Uh, how do you make that rhyme?”

He’s answered by a red blur landing next to him and singing in a melodic voice, “Fighting evil with his lady!”

“Of course!” Chat Noir grins at Ladybug. “Not bad, bugaboo!”

A purple mask appears over Befana’s face and Chat Noir tenses, wondering what Hawkmoth’s saying to her.

“You didn’t say the magic word!” she scolds. Chat Noir blinks and exchanges a look with Ladybug. “Much better, Hawkmoth. Now!” Befana points at Chat Noir. “You little thief! Where have you hidden Marinetta?”

Chat Noir shrugs. “I forgetta.”

Ladybug snickers at his joke. “Watch out or you’ll be getting a time-out of your own!” she says to Befana, swinging her yo-yo. Befana just scoffs.

“Take care of these little villains,” she orders. While her fairies attack Ladybug and Chat Noir, she races in the direction of the Eiffel Tower, and Chat Noir’s heart rises into his throat.

“We can’t let her get to the Eiffel Tower! That’s where I hid her granddaughter!” he cries.

“Wait, no, she’s –!” Ladybug shakes her head and bounds after Chat Noir. He can’t help but wonder what she was going to say, but the worry for Marinette that curdles his stomach wins out and he just focuses on getting to the Eiffel Tower and Marinette before Befana does.

Chat Noir wishes he could say that he’s surprised when Ladybug’s Lucky Charm gives her a tuba after they've tied the fairies up in the Tower elevator, but he honestly can’t; not when they’ve had far weirder. With a nifty use of Cataclysm to disintegrate a fire hydrant and the tuba to send the water gushing in Befana’s direction, they manage to trick Befana into turning herself to coal when she tries to shoot the water as it touches her gun.

Miraculous Ladybug sets everything to rights, though, and Ladybug is soon swinging off with a, “Tell Marinette happy birthday from me!” called back at Chat Noir. He waves at her, then turns to Marinette’s grandmother, who’s still looking rather dazed after shedding her Befana skin.

“Are you okay, Mrs Dupain?” he says.

“Oh, please, it’s just Gina,” Mrs Dupain – Gina – says. “Where’s my Marinetta? What happened?”

“I’ll go find Marinette now and she’ll be able to tell you everything that happened,” Chat Noir says. His ring beeps. “Are you okay to get back to the park by yourself? I’m going to transform back soon.”

Gina turns and spots her motorcycle, and she nods and strides over to it. “Thank you for protecting Marinetta, pretty kitty,” she says, pulling her helmet on.

“Of course.” Chat Noir preens at the “pretty kitty” comment. “You’ve got a real special granddaughter.”

Gina beams. “I know.”

Once Gina’s speeding off, Chat Noir leaps up the Eiffel Tower until he’s on the viewing deck. “Marinette? Where’d you go?”

“I’m here!” says a voice from behind him. Chat Noir turns and can’t help but grin at the sight of Marinette unharmed, smiling at him. “Ladybug helped me hide somewhere safer. Thanks for saving Nonna.”

Chat Noir bows and kisses Marinette’s hand. “My pleasure, princess. Now, let’s get you back to the park. You wouldn’t want to miss out on your own birthday, would you?”

Marinette giggles and lets him pick her up. He’s admittedly a little selfish as they head back to the park, taking a scenic route, but she doesn’t seem to mind. It does mean that he has to leave the moment he deposits Marinette back at her party, though, and he doesn’t get to tell her that Ladybug said happy birthday; but hey, Ladybug probably already told her when relocating her. Once he’s detransformed, he rushes out to join the others and makes up a story about getting hit by Befana in his hiding place.

“Of course you’d be hiding,” Chloé scoffs. “It’s not like you were in the action like moi. Ladybug would be so proud that I stood up to that tacky akuma.”

“She sure would!” Marinette says. “Chloé…do you and Sabrina want to stay for the party? None of us would mind.”

Her classmates immediately school their faces into totally neutral expressions.

“Oh, no, of course we don’t mind,” Alya says with what looks like a painful smile.

“Yeah, you’re totally welcome,” Alix says through gritted teeth. Chloé smirks around at them, no doubt able to tell that it’s causing them great pain to pretend that they don’t mind her being there.

“Well, I suppose I can cancel my hair appointment this time,” Chloé says. “I’ll stay, Dupain-Cheng. It’ll be…nice.” Her face twists.

“Yay!” Sabrina claps her hands.

“Oh! We never finished opening presents!” Lila says. “I think –”

“Adrien, give her yours!” Rose cries before Lila can finish her sentence.

“Yeah!” Manon squeals. How she avoided Befana, Adrien has no idea; the kid probably has superpowers of her own, for all he knows. Everyone crowds around Adrien, and Rose hands Adrien the small blue box that had been dropped in the Befana crossfire, which he holds out to Marinette. Her eyes widen when she unwraps it and finds a small yellow and green charm bracelet inside.

“I always carry the lucky charm you gave me with me wherever I go, and I think it works pretty well.” Adrien’s stomach does a flip-flop at the smile that spreads across Marinette’s face. “I figured it was my turn to make one for you.”

“It’s gorgeous!” Marinette tucks it into her purse, taking extra care to make sure it’s secure. Then she pulls Adrien into a hug, and he gulps and tries not to spontaneously combust on the spot. “Thank you, Adrien!”

“No Marinette – I mean – no problem,” he stammers. Over Marinette’s head, he catches sight of both Alya and Nino smirking, and he rolls his eyes at them. For the tiniest fraction of a second, Lila looks downright murderous, but then she’s grinning and winking at him and, well, what else can he do but brush it off as a trick of the light? Why Lila would even look so angry in the first place, he’s got no idea.

“Hey, stop hogging her!” Alix complains. “We’ve still got presents to give to her too, Agreste!”

With a laugh, Marinette releases Adrien and turns to Alix. All Adrien can think is that he’s so screwed.

Later that night, once the party’s over and everyone’s cleaned up the park and headed home, Adrien transforms into Chat Noir again and bounds across Paris to a familiar balcony. Marinette’s sitting on one of the seats on her balcony, a light on overheard to illuminate her sketchbook as she makes good use of her new pencils from Sabrina. She’s still wearing her party dress, but she’s put on a white fluffy cardigan due to the slight chill, and she’s so radiant in the soft yellow glow that Chat Noir can’t help but smile at the sight. She looks up when he lands on the balcony railing, then gives him a smile in return.

“Hey, Chat,” she says. “Thanks for saving me today.”

“But of course, princess.” Chat Noir gives an exaggerated bow. “I’m your knight in shining leather, after all.”

Marinette snorts, then gestures to the second chair, which Chat Noir spins around so that he can straddle it in reverse and lean his chin on the back. “I didn’t know that you made a habit of checking up on people after akuma attacks.”

“I’ve been visiting you for the past few months, Marinette,” Chat Noir says. “And you said I could drop by anytime. I’d say you’re a lot more than just “people”.”

Marinette’s cheeks flush dark, and she bites her lip and ducks her head. Chat Noir’s insides flutter at the sight.

“I got you a birthday present,” he blurts out. He reaches into one of his suit pockets and pulls out a small black box, then presents it to Marinette.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Marinette protests, but she still accepts the box and snaps it open. She lets out a small gasp when she sees the contents, and it takes every ounce of Chat Noir’s willpower to not preen when she lifts out the silver bracelet as delicately as if she was holding a newborn child.

“It’s not much,” he says quickly. “And it’s not handmade or anything like the scarf you made for m – for Adrien. But I saw it and I…thought you’d like it, especially because you can add more charms to it later…but if it’s not your style, I can –”

“How about you shush and put it on for me?” Marinette says, holding out the bracelet. A little silver cat’s paw dangles from the chain, inlaid with tiny green gems; really, how could Chat Noir not have gotten it for her? She rolls up the sleeve of her white cardigan, allowing him to lean forward and drape the chain around her wrist, and it takes a few tries of fumbling with the clasp, but he finally gets it secured. Marinette holds up her wrist to examine the bracelet from all angles, the smile back on her face.

“I’m guessing you like it?” Chat Noir shifts in his seat. He’s really not good at this whole birthday present thing, after a lifetime of being sheltered and only ever attending parties thrown by Chloé and maybe a few other rich kids. Shopping relatively inexpensively had been the biggest struggle of his life, only because giving Marinette something worth a fortune would’ve no doubt handed her a big clue as to his identity. Blond hair, green eyes, super rich? Yeah, who else could that be?

“No, I hate it,” Marinette says sarcastically. “I generally make a habit of wearing things I hate.”

“Fine,” Chat Noir sniffs. “I guess I’ll just have to take it back. Good thing I kept the receipt.”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “Thank you, Chat. It’s beautiful.”

“Just like you.” Chat Noir’s blood turns to ice. Did he really just say that? Out loud? To Marinette? The gobsmacked look on Marinette’s face confirms that yes, he really did say that out loud. “Damn it. I – uh – didn’t mean to say that?”

The corner of Marinette’s mouth turns upward. “Don’t worry, kitty, I’m an expert in no brain to mouth filter. The things I used to say to Adrien make me want to curl up and die when I think about them now. Um…thank you, by the way.”

Chat Noir groans and hangs his head. Fine. He’s messed this up, so he might as well go the whole mile and lay his cards on the table for Marinette. She deserves to know the truth, in case she’s not exactly okay with a dorky guy in leather having a massive crush on her.

“What’s wrong?” Marinette says. “Was it something I said?”

“More like something I said.” Chat Noir looks back up at Marinette, then rests his chin on the palm of his hand and attempts to look as casual as possible. “So. I…might…like you? A lot? Just so you know. So…I meant what I said just then. I just…didn’t mean to say it out loud.”

Marinette’s cheeks once again darken in the soft yellow light. “Chat Noir –”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Chat Noir says quickly. “Seriously. I just…thought I should tell you before I make a bigger idiot of myself than I just did, so you don’t sit there thinking “gee, he’s acting so weird, does he secretly hate me or something?” And no, I definitely didn’t get that from cheesy rom-coms, so you can just shut it –”

“Oh my god, you’re such a dork,” Marinette says. “Look, Chat…I think I like you? I’m not entirely sure yet. After the whole Adrien thing, my feelings have been a bit…gosh, all over the place. I still love him, even if I’m not stumbling over myself anymore, but I also love you and I can’t figure out what that even is yet, so then I worry that it’s a rebound thing or whatever, and oh my god, my life is such a mess –”

“Join the club,” Chat Noir laughs, cutting off her rambling. It’s as though a freight train has been lifted off his shoulders, telling Marinette how he feels and knowing that she has strong feelings in return, even if she doesn’t necessarily return his romantic ones. “You don’t have to stress, princess. Seriously, take all the time you need. It’s just a relief to know that you’re not going to utterly reject me.”

“Now why would I do that?” Marinette reaches out and ruffles his hair. “That would be animal cruelty. I couldn’t possibly abuse a stray cat like you.”

“Ha, ha. You know…” Chat Noir pauses, searching for the right words. “In a way, I’m kind of grateful that Ladybug rejected me. Not that I wouldn’t have wanted to be with her – she’s an amazing girl, I’ve always thought that since she literally fell for me –”

Marinette lets out a rather unladylike snort.

“– but, well…being rejected and getting lectured by my kwami about not taking her friendship for granted was just what I needed.”

“I’m actually kind of grateful that I’ve stopped trying so hard to be with Adrien too,” Marinette says. “Especially after he learned about my crush. We’re such good friends now, and I know I wouldn’t have done any of this stuff with him before because I would’ve been too busy choking on my own words to say one thing to him. And even if we do end up together in the future, we’ve got that solid foundation…you know?”

“Yeah, I think I get what you’re saying,” Chat Noir says. He looks up at the half moon in the night sky, then sighs and swings himself out of his seat. “I should get going. I’ll get the third degree if they find that I’m not in bed.” He makes a face. “Early morning commitments and all that.”

“Gross.” Marinette wrinkles her nose. “Sounds like Adrien. He’s got another photoshoot on tomorrow morning. I wish I could go and make it less of a drag for him, but my parents actually think that school comes first.”

“Lucky girl,” Chat Noir deadpans, forcing his laughter under lock and key so that he doesn’t have to fumble for an excuse as to why Adrien having early morning commitments too is so funny. He reaches out to take Marinette’s hand and kisses the back of it. “Happy birthday, Marinette. And seriously, no pressure about the feelings thing. I’m happy to wait, even if you decide that you don’t feel the same way.”

Marinette tilts her head and smiles. “Go to bed, kitty. I should sleep too. Although I’ll probably still end up late for school.” She stands up and approaches him. Before Chat Noir can even process what’s going on, she cups his right cheek and stands on her tiptoes to kiss his left cheek. “Thanks again for today.”

She opens her hatch and drops down onto her bed, then closes it after one last wave and smile. Chat Noir’s left standing on the balcony, blinking again and again as his brain buffers and then reboots itself.

“Holy –” He touches his cheek, then heads for the balcony railing and leaps home in a daze. Even when he’s in bed and drifting off, his fingers remain glued to his cheek, where he can still feel the ghost of Marinette’s lips brushing his skin.

He is so, so screwed. And judging by Plagg’s regular bouts of snickers, the little shit knows it too.

[cottontail20]

In Happy Times, Our Love Does Grow, Chapter 38: Whatever You Want To Be

Summary: Wanda comforts Viv.

Ao3 link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/20601530/chapters/54993523

"Can we stop here, Vizh?" Wanda asked quickly. "I think I need to stretch my legs a bit.."

"Oh, of course.." Vision pulled up outside the Park.

"What about you, Miss Vivian? Fancy a little walk?"

"Uh.. Okay" Viv replied.

"Great" Wanda unbuckled her seat-belt once Vision had parked the car. "Open the trunk, Vizh? I need to grab my bag."

Vision was a little confused about why Wanda would need her overnight bag for a walk in the park, but didn't question it, simply opening the trunk for Wanda while he fetched Viv from the backseat. --

And so, they walked, Vision holding one of Viv's hands while Rocket Raccoon dangled from the other, Wanda beside them with her bag slung over her shoulder.

"You know" said Wanda eventually, "When I was a little girl, I loved superheroes, and robots, and lots of things that were supposed to be 'for boys'."

"You did?" Vivian looked up at her.

"I did. I still do. Everyone said it was just because I spent all of my time with Pietro, and I'd grow out of it when I got older.. And I let them say it, because that excuse somehow made it okay. But, it was always okay."

"It was?" Viv asked hopefully, and Vision smiled, seeing what Wanda was doing.

"It was" Wanda nodded. "I don't need an excuse to like things that make me happy, and neither do you."

Viv still seemed a little uncertain.

"Grandma said.."

"We know what Grandma said, Vivian" Vision gently interrupted. "But older people.. They grew up in a different time, with different rules, and as much as they love you, they might not understand, or sometimes won't like things about you."

"But that's okay" Wanda continued, "Because you'll still have all the really special people, like Daddy, and Auntie Nat.. and me, who'll love you just as you are. You can like whatever you want to like, and be whoever you want to be. Even.."

She paused and knelt down, reaching into her bag for the Scarlet Witch coat, draping it around Viv and helping her slip her arms into the sleeves. Of course, the coat was huge on Viv's five-year old frame, but the kind gesture had the desired effect, the little girl's eyes lighting up.

"I can be like the Scarlet Witch?"

"I think you are already more like her than you know, Fata dulce."

"I am?" Viv grinned.

"Mmhm" Wanda hugged her tightly, then swept her up, running with her, holding her as though she was flying. "Scarlet Witch to the rescue!"

"Weeeeeee!" Viv squealed and giggled, the too-large coat streaming out behind her.

Vision, rather enchanted as he'd watched the adorable exchange between his two favourite people, was stuck in a happy daze until Wanda called back to him.

"Hurry, Vizh!" She was grinning. "Scarlet Witch needs The Vision to help her save the world!"

"The Vision is on his way!" Vision laughed, racing after them. --

They stayed in the Park a little longer they should have, playing and laughing and racing around. Eventually though, Vision looked at the time, panicked a bit, and ushered his girls back to the car.

They'd arrive Home a bit later than expected now, but the unplanned stop was worth it to see a smile back on Viv's face. She was much happier for the rest of the drive. They made one more stop, for a quick meal and a bathroom break, before continuing the rest of the way Home. And it felt so normal, so good, just so right to have Wanda with them that Vision had completely forgotten that he was supposed to drop Wanda back at her apartment first. But, in Vision's defence, so had Wanda, until they were inside.

"I'm sorry" Vision apologised."It's been a long day, it just slipped my mind.. We'll just get back in the car and.."

"It's fine, Vizh, I've got my car, I'll just drive myself.."

"Don't be silly" Viv cut Wanda off, sounding very much like her Father. "It's real late, Wanda. You should stay" Her eyes lit up. "You can sleep in my room. You're warm and soft, like a big pillow."

"Oh" Wanda blushed. "Well, I suppose I could, If it's okay with your Daddy.."

"Yes" Vision smiled softly. Now that he did not have to drive Wanda home, he removed his coat and his scarf, hanging them on the rack by the door. "That is perfectly okay."

"Yay!" Vivian happily hugged Wanda's legs for a moment, bouncing on her feet a little, then rushed off. "I gots to use the the bathroom.. I'll be back."

"Viv's sweet asking me to share her bed and all.." said Wanda, after the little girl was out of earshot, "But If you'd prefer me to go and give you a break, I really can just.."

"Of course not" Vision pulled Wanda close. "You are always welcome here."

"Always?" Wanda chuckled, resting her head against his chest. "Careful, Vizh. I might hold you to that."

"You are welcome to" He pressed a kiss into her hair. "Thank you, for what you did for Viv in the park Today.. Sometimes it's hard for me to speak against her Grandparents, even when they're wrong. I don't want to alienate her from the only other family she has left."

"I understand" She snuggled a little closer. "It's a tough situation. I'm glad I could help."

"You really did.." He kissed her, soft and sweet, showing the love he didn't want to express again in words for fear of scaring her away.

Wanda returned the kiss, equally soft, mindful of the fact that Viv would return any moment to keep herself from getting too carried away.

When Viv did return, the couple sprang apart.

"Daddy" Viv suddenly gasped, pointing. "What's that boo-boo on your neck?"

Vision turned beet red, having forgotten that without his scarf, the hickey Wanda had given him the previous night was fully visible.

"Uh.. well.."

"That is a very good question, Fata dulce.." Wanda, also blushing, scooped her up. "But like you said, it is late. Let's get you ready for bed, and maybe we can talk about it in the Morning.."