#fluffbruary day eleven

[fanfictasia]

Fluffbruary Day 11

Anniversary 

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from The Chosen Twins

Ahsoka Tano

It’s been a year since we first came to Onderon. It’s fall now, though it’s a bit cooler than I remember from before. Onderon time, actually, it’s been over a year. Before it was late summer, now, it’s early fall.

“It’s been a year since you came here to help us,” Lux says, smiling, “I thought I should come over.”

“Has it really?” I ask. It doesn’t feel like that long. It feels like longer. “That was a while ago.”

“I wanted to thank you,” Lux replies, “For everything you did for us.”

“It’s what we do.” I wish I could have done more. “Thank you for coming by.”

“Of course,” he replies, reaching out and taking my hand, interlinking our fingers. He’s free with affection, and I’m glad he doesn’t have a problem pursuing it. I don’t, either, but still, I’m not always comfortable with it. “I was thinking I could take some time off and we could spend time together. It’s hard to be away so much.”

“The more time you spend here, the more danger it puts you in,” I have to point out.

“It doesn’t matter,” he assures, and I don’t know if its better or worse that I can tell he means it. “I want to be with you.”

My heart swells with adoration and gratitude. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Ahsoka.”

[thelazyecrivain]

Fluffbruary - Day 11 (anniversary)

Eleventh day of @fluffbruary, using the prompt "anniversary"

I completely botched this one, I had no ideas, and no motivation. Since Greg is a character I like a lot, I wanted to include him a bit more

Read on AO3

French version

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Greg feels like he's dying under the pile of paperwork. He loves his job, but how he wishes he had someone to do it for him. So when someone knocked on his door, he sighed with relief. A little distraction wouldn't hurt.

"Yes?" 

The door opened and Donavan slipped his head in. "The freak is here."

All his hopes were dashed. Just what he needed, a Sherlock Holmes. It's been two weeks since he'd given him an investigation interesting enough to get his butt up out of his damn chair.

"Send him in."

Donavan disappears and Greg takes a deep breath as Sherlock barges into his office. Thank God John follows behind.

"Sherlock, John." Greet Greg. "Sorry but I don't have anything for you."

"We didn't come for that." Says Sherlock in his impatient tone.

Sherlock looks annoyed to be here, but the look John gives him seems to say he had no say in the matter.

Greg frowned. "Whatever it is, I don't have that much time." He said as he pointed to his desk completely out of order, files taking up all the space.

"Sherlock has something to give you." Said John with a mischievous look.

Greg feels like he's in front of an adult and a child. "Really?"

Sherlock pulled a box from behind his back and handed it to him with a sigh. Greg took it, exchanging a knowing smile with John. Sherlock was the child.

Inside, four doughnuts -his favourite- awaited him with a note. He licked his lips at the delicious treats, but took the note instead. He recognized Sherlock's delicate handwriting and John's sloppier one. 

Happy Birthday! You’re getting dangerously close to 60 :) 

Good thing I was there to remind Sherlock. And he dares to proclaim himself a genius.

I invite you to have a drink in the pub with me and watch a game while criticising what the players are doing (although I doubt we'll be able to do better than them) and complain about Sherlock!

John.

Greg smiles at John's note. An evening like he likes, talking about anything and everything with his friends.

Happy birthday Lestrade. I want to make it clear that I am in no way consenting to what I am writing at the moment, but if I don't, John forbids me to experiment on human body parts for two weeks. So I pretend to write a cliché note for your birthday while he watches me from the corner of his eye across the room. (There's a good chance he'll read this note later.)

Since he bought the donuts, for your gift he made me promise (again without my consent) not to get your name wrong for a month.

SH.

Ps: Yes, Sherlock, I read your message, you dumbass.

Greg raised his eyebrows in surprise as he discovered Sherlock's gift. The latter raised his eyes to the sky, but he could see his eyes shining with mischief. "Really?"

"He knows what awaits him if he doesn't respect it." John laughed.

Greg laughs with him as he sees Sherlock start to sulk.

And he thought he was having a crappy birthday. 

(tell me if you wish to be tagged !) @topsyturvy-turtely @missdeliadili

[di-daynamic]

@fluffbruary Bonus

Part 1 of 5

Prompt: Yearning

Telling stories of James and Lily was difficult.

Sirius could readily admit that to himself. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was Harry, and the fact that Harry had been denied this part of himself and his heritage for nearly six years now. So it didn’t matter that even saying his best friend’s name made him feel like he was seventeen again and drowning in sadness and memory.

What mattered was Harry sitting in front of him, Lily’s green eyes shining, wanting in a way he never was.

Getting Harry to tell anyone he wanted something was a bigger task than killing Voldemort. He had been so obviously scarred by the Dursleys in so many ways – but the biggest way, in Sirius’ opinion, was just how insignificant he considered himself.

Remus had told him to be patient, and Sirius wasn’t an idiot. He’d known he had to be.

And Harry had blossomed. He was still cautious, still careful not to ever openly state he wanted something, but he’d grown into the confident young man before him, who smiled freely while looking into his eyes.

“I’ll be fine, Sirius, really,” he was saying.

“You have Hedwig?” Sirius fussed anyway. “And the emergency portkey? And the snack bag? And you’re sure Susan is bringing Bambi?”

“Dad!” Harry laughed, and Sirius felt his heart skip a beat, like at every time Harry called him that. It wasn’t often – only casually emotional moments, but Sirius still loved it, he still treasured every time.

“Do you think my parents are haunting us?” Harry’d asked one day, and Sirius hadn’t been able to breathe for a moment through the pain and the memories, knowing his godson wasn’t asking about actual ghosts - that discussion, painful as it had been, had already taken place.

“I think—” he’d started carefully, knowing he was, for all that he was only twenty-nine and fresh out of Azkaban, one of the only true guides and grown-ups in Harry’s life, “That we can never know that for certain. But if you’re asking if that’s a bad thing, I don’t think it is.”

“Why?” Harry had frowned, swinging his legs, “Muggles always talk about ‘haunting’ like it’s a bad thing.”

Sirius had had many years to contemplate the intricacies of grief and how ephemeral life was, but he didn’t know how to express that other than through wildness - sex, alcohol, cigarettes and recklessness. “I don’t think it can be as obvious as good or bad,” he told the quiet boy finally. “But – we carry their love, their memories along with us on our own lives. And if they’re there, they not only see the bad stuff, but they see the good, they see the best.”

He hoped James and Lily hadn’t seen how their boy had been treated by his so-called blood family. He yearned to know if they thought he was doing a good job raising him.

At least he knew James would’ve never had a problem with Sirius taking on the mantle of ‘dad’. James had always, always wanted the people he loved to be happy, and nothing more or less. As long as both Sirius and Harry were happy, he would’ve been fine with it.

God, and Merlin, and everyone, he yearned for James.

“—eleven years old now. I’m all grown up!” Harry was saying importantly.

Sirius smiled and ruffled his hair. “You sure are, bud. Can’t blame an old man for being cautious, though, can you?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I know I call you old, Sirius, but you’re only thirty-one. That’s, like, youth for wizards.” He paused. “Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. Whatever. You’ll take care of Sanju, won’t you?”

“Mooncalves don’t really need caretaking, but yes, you know I will.” Sirius dragged Harry into another hug, telling himself not to cry. Harry wasn’t even on the Express yet, and Sirius already yearned for it to be Christmas.

This type of yearning, though, was much better than others.

“Be careful, okay?” He added quietly. “You know that there are other Noble Houses’ heirs in your year – many children of suspected Death Eaters.”

“I know,” Harry his beloved hooligan of a child was replaced by Harry the rising political and business star for a moment. “I’ll introduce myself to those I haven’t met before. I’ll try to find out the lay of the land before the vote.”

“Don’t forget to have fun, though. Explore the castle. Fly. Make some new friends.  Bask in first-year lessons, they get very hard soon. Just don’t challenge anyone to duels before you’ve gotten used to your wand. Don’t sneak out after curfew alone without telling anyone – someone should always know where you are.”

“I will, promise.” He hesitated, and then in a whisper so faint Sirius could barely catch it, “You’ll write?”

Sirius swallowed, wanting all over again to find and murder the Dursleys. “Of course. Are you kidding? And I want return letters from you at least three times a week. I don’t care what you put in them. Tell me what Ron has been eating, for all I care.”

Harry smirked. “That’d take three parchments at least.” 

The ten-minute warning whistle rang out. Sirius’ heart clenched as he hugged his godson one last time. “I love you, Harry.”

“Love you too, Sirius.” Harry blinked up at him as though he were about to cry. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, but just wait for it. At Christmas, you’ll be begging me to let you stay.”

Harry laughed. “I know I’ll love Hogwarts, but I promise, nothing will make me want to stay there when I can come home.”

Sirius swallowed. It was all he had yearned for, back in the first hard days when Harry had been so wary and so cold, when trust between them had seemed a hopeless thing. For Harry to consider his place home, and for him to be the kind of child James had been and Sirius and Remus had not: who loved Hogwarts, but never preferred it to their own home.

“Go find Ron, Susan and Neville,” he said. “Leave me to my maudlin musings.”

Harry clicked his tongue. “You are going out with Moony and the Weasleys tonight, right? No musing by yourself?”

“Yes, mother.”

“Harry!” They heard Ron’s voice, and turned to see the ginger boy waving enthusiastically through a window next to a hastily backing away Neville. “C’mon, mate! You’ll miss the train!”

“Coming!” Harry called back, and he turned, grinning brightly, to his godfather. “Bye, Sirius!”

“Bye, Harry.” He said softly, watching him climb onto the train, run to his friends’ compartment and collapse on the seat next to Susan, who was trying to get Bambi to behave. The haughty half-kneazle jumped onto its owner’s lap with a loud purr, and he could see Susan throw her hands up in exasperation.

“Sirius!” He heard Arthur call, and turned.

“Hey, Arthur,” he said. “Boys all aboard?” Ginny gave a sniff, peeking out from behind her father’s legs. “Don’t worry, Ginny, the year’ll fly by and you’ll be the one going to Hogwarts soon enough.”

The girl smiled weakly. “I hope so.”

“Are you okay, Sirius?” Arthur asked in an undertone. “The first time can be hard.”

He watched his godson squabble with his friends, punching Susan on the arm as he laughed. So different from the boy he’d been four years ago, when Sirius had first taken him in.

There would be dangers, he knew that, but he’d equipped Harry to the best of his ability to face them. He knew his godson would not shy away from adventure.

He was, after all, his parents’ son.

The train began to chug and move forward, thick smoke pouring out, and Ginny ran beside it, waving frantically to her brothers with tears running down her face.                                                                        

“Fred, get in the train properly! Ginny, come straight back!” He heard Molly scream, and laughed as he waved to Harry, who pressed his face to the window, grinning and waving back, jostling for a place there with Ron and Susan, who were also waving.

“I reckon we’ll be fine,” he replied to Arthur, feeling the yearning and yet the peace he’d made with it wrap around his heart.

[kayedium-writes]

Fluffbruary: Day Eleven

Written for @fluffbruary day eleven prompt: unlikely

Written for @peggycarterbingo prompt: 3am Talks

MCU / Peggy x Natasha / 755 Words

Natasha’s hand swept about beneath the covers in search of Peggy’s, interlocking their fingers once it was found. It was their first night home—in their own home—in over a month. After a much needed, long soak in the bath, the well-worn curves of the mattress to their bodies had never felt quite so good. The only thing rivaling it was the feeling of the one she was sharing her space with. Rather than terrifying her, though, her closeness with Peggy was something of a growing comfort. Something reliable that she’d never had the foresight to predict and had truly caught her off guard, leaving her wondering if she was alone in that.

“Did you ever imagine this?”

“Did I ever imagine what? Being back in our bed again?”

“No, but I guess, sure. Yeah. Did you imagine that, too?”

“You really want to know if I imagined sleeping in my bed again?” Peggy rolled over toward her, pulling her hands out from underneath the blankets. “At 3 in the morning? Are you mad?”

Read the rest now on AO3!