#look I get it I’m ten years behind in this take leaf me alone

[spicyviren]

They literally made Viren Jesus, resurrected Sacred Burning Heart and all.

[messers-moony]

Home | F.H

Paring: Five Hargreeves X Fem!Reader

Summary: Five goes through everything with his best friend, and when they return with the announcement of their marriage his siblings are appalled. 

Request: “I can request a FiveXreader where the reader is loving, sweet and naive, Five's best friend but the reader has no powers (You can invent a way how they became best friends and they are in love with each other, cliché but I love) One day the reader was sitting in front of the Umbrella Academy and saw Five leave in a hurry (The scene that he will travel in time) In this the reader does not abandon Five and decides to travel in time with him, they end up trapped in the apocalylipse, can you make them stay together?  (Like married I don't know) And also the scene where they go back to 2019? Sorry, if this so bored”

Five couldn’t believe his eyes. After a failed mission, he and his siblings decided to sneak out. Klaus had spotted a park on the way home, and that’s where they went. For the first time in years, they felt like kids again. They were all ten years old and had never experienced a playground before. Allison had never laughed as much, and Diego seemed to finally forget his insecurities while swinging from monkey bars. 

Even on occasion, Luther would help Ben cross the monkey bars. Vanya was finally included, and Klaus had never seemed so carefree in his life. But Five had his eyes on someone else. She sat at one of the navy blue tables, quite a ways away from the playground, watching the siblings with a soft smile on her face. A notebook was in front of her while she twirled a pencil in her hand. 

Curiosity killed the cat. Five was too intrigued not to sit with her. So despite this probably being the only time he could experience a playground, he sat in front of her, obscuring her vision from his other six siblings. Her eyes met green ones; they looked evergreen in the dark of the night. His hair almost looked black, but she knew it had to be dark brown. 

“Good evening.” Her voice, it sounded like heaven to him, “Evening.”

It felt awkward, and the silence could’ve been cut with a knife, “My names Y/n.”

“Five.”

“Five? That’s unique.” Y/n complimented, and his cheeks flushed, “Thanks….” 

Her vision went back to the other kids, “You’d think they’ve never seen a playground before.”

“They haven’t.” Five stated, looking at his siblings, “Our father is strict, so we snook out to come here.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to come off as rude-“

“You didn’t.” Five smiled, looking at her e/c eyes. 

Since then, Five would sneak out a lot more. His power was a fantastic tool. When he and his siblings began to sneak out more, Five always invited her. Klaus, Diego, and Vanya seemed taken with her. Y/n was always so kind and sweet. Her laugh radiated, and it made everyone around her smile. It was like she was Aphrodite, and he was Ares. 

After becoming friends with the academy kids, Y/n had a habit of sitting outside the academy. She usually sat on the edge of the sidewalk with her notebook on her lap, pencil in hand. Five couldn’t remember a time when her hand wasn’t covered in graphite or ink from drawing. He adored it, though, because it was so her. It made him stare at his black pens, aimlessly smiling, knowing that she probably had the same color ink on her hand. 

Becoming friends with Five meant knowing his ambition. Five Hargreeves was driven by his goals and wanted to do them regardless of the consequence. So Y/n knew about his dream to time travel despite his father's wishes. On a gloomy day, Y/n sat on the sidewalk. The only thing drawing her from her daydream was the slam of a gate. 

“Five!”

He didn’t turn, “Five!”

Y/n grabbed his arm, “What’re you doing?”

“I’m- I’m going to time travel.” Five stated with that daze in his eyes, “And you need to stay here.”

“No! I’m not letting you go alone!” Y/n exclaimed incredulously, “Y/n, please.” Five pleaded. 

She shook her head, “Absolutely not. Either we go together, or we stay here together.”

“Fine.” Five reluctantly agreed, holding out his hand for her. 

Hesitantly Y/n slid her fingers through his. They were intertwining their hands together. Five was so focused on time-traveling correctly that he didn’t notice the pink flush on his best friend's face. But he did it, once and twice—finally a third time. Smoke clouded the area, and fire could be seen for miles. 

Y/n dropped his hand and covered her mouth. Five circled in his spot in shock. He felt nauseous and queasy. He couldn’t believe that he let this happen. He shouldn’t have pushed himself. They were stuck. Fucking hell, they were stuck, and he couldn’t do anything. Y/n ran back to the academy, and Five followed her. The h/c haired girl stared at what used to be the Umbrella Academy. Now in ruins. Five dropped to his knees, tears collecting in his eyes. 

“It’s- it’s gone….” 

Y/n hugged him tightly, “It’s okay, we’re going to be okay.”

“I’m gonna- I’m gonna be-“ 

Five didn’t get to finish his sentence. He pushed her away and threw up to the side. When he finished, Y/n took her jacket sleeve and wiped it around his mouth—gently combing his hair from his face. Y/n had never seen Five look so drained. Seeing her in front of him, taking care of him made him break. Five broke into sobs holding onto her like a lifeline. Y/n rubbed his back and held him just as tightly. 

“I’m here, Five. I’ll keep you safe.”

Being thirteen in an apocalypse seems like a death sentence, but when you grow up the way Five did, it’s more bearable. The first few months were awful. Searching for shelter, food, clothes. It was downright hell, but they made it through. On cold nights Five would hold her close to his chest, and on hot nights Y/n would always manage to get him cold water. 

Years passed, and their friendship turned into a relationship. They needed each other to survive, and they just needed each other. Five couldn’t be more grateful that she insisted on coming. He couldn’t imagine doing this alone. But now, he had his girlfriend leaning her head on his shoulder while watching the fire. His arm wrapped around her shoulder, leaving occasional kisses on her temple. 

“I couldn’t imagine this world without you.” Five confessed, “I couldn’t imagine my life without you.” Y/n challenged. 

He smirked, “Oh, really?” 

“Don’t let it go to your head, smartass.” Y/n snorted, “Too late, it’s already there, my love.” Five retorted. 

She kissed his cheek, “Love you.”

“Love you too, darling.” 

Five years later. They were twenty-five, and he wanted to make it official. It was a rather cold day wherever they were, and Five was holding her closer than ever. Y/n was shivering on the old mattress they had found. She was constantly snuggling closer to Five’s chest. They laid facing each other, and Y/n’s head was tucked under his chin. Five’s hand ran through her long hair - after being unable to cut it - soothing her nerves. 

“Marry me.”

“What?”

“I want you - Y/n - to marry me.” Five repeated, looking down at her.

Her teeth chattered, “Are you sure?”

“It’s not like there’s anyone else to choose from.”

Y/n glared playfully, and Five chuckled, “Asshole.”

“So, what do you say? Make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?”

“I say that if my fiancé doesn’t stop being an asshole, then I won't marry him.” Y/n retorted jokingly, “I love you too, pretty girl.” Five replied, smiling softly. 

He kissed her forehead and allowed her to muzzle closer into him. Gently he pulled the two plain rings he found. They were battered, of course, and the gold was dirty, but that didn’t matter. Five slipped the ring on her finger and his. Y/n placed a gentle kiss on his lips that he gladly returned. Sweet, soft, passionate, and full of love. A description of how she was. 

“Love you.”

“Love you too.” Five replied, “Now get some sleep.” 

Y/n was about to fall asleep when she heard Five mutter one last thing, “Y/n Hargreeves.”

29 years. 348 months. 1512 weeks. 10,585 days. Until a woman showed up in their shelter, offering them both a job. Five could remember pushing Y/n behind him defensively. The last thing he wanted was for her to get hurt in any interaction he had. The woman offered them a way home. Five turned to his wife, and she saw it. For the first time in forty-five years, she saw it. Hope. 

Y/n took Five’s hand in his, squeezing it gently. The softest smile crossed his features before agreeing with the woman’s offer where both of them became assassins—partners in crime. Nothing turned Five on more than seeing his wife fend for herself, and god, was she good at it. Y/n was so naive and innocent when she was ten. But now? At the age of fifty-six, she wasn’t that girl anymore. 

But when they reached the age of fifty-eight, Five finally found out the correct equation. They were at their last mission, make sure John F. Kennedy gets shot and everything goes to plan, but Five had different ideas. Taking Vanya’s book from his suitcase, he looked over the equations one last time. They were going back; Five would go home today. 

“Y/n.”

“Yes, love?”

Five sighed, “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?”

“To go home.” 

Y/n’s smile was blissful; Five could’ve fainted on the spot, “Home?! Like- Like-“

“Home.” Five answered to his overjoyed wife. 

Y/n kissed him more passionately than ever. Five could feel her gratefulness in her kiss. His hands placed themselves on her waist, and hers were around his neck. God Five never wanted to forget this feeling. The feeling of his wife in his arms, kissing him as she would never get enough. When they pulled apart, Five opened the portal. Gripping her hand, they jumped through and landed on the leaf-filled ground in the icy rain. 

“Does anyone else see Little Number Five and Little Y/n, or is that just me?“ Klaus asked, not trusting his eyes; maybe it was an illusion from the drugs. 

Five and Y/n stood up. The first thing Y/n noticed was the ring on her finger was too big now. But Five looked down at the suit he had been wearing previously. The blazer now reached his knees instead of his waist, and Y/n’s shirt was hanging off one of her shoulders. Five and Y/n looked at each other. They were thirteen all over again. 

“Shit.” 

He grabbed Y/n’s hand and dragged her into the academy. Y/n had only been in the academy a handful of times before, and she usually was only allowed in Five’s room because she wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place. His siblings followed aimlessly and took their spots at the table. 

“What’s the date? The exact date.” Five inquired, grabbing different things around the kitchen. 

“The 24th.”

“Of what?”

“March.”

“Good.”

Y/n took place beside him as Five began making a peanut butter marshmallow sandwich. The same snack he used to love as a kid. Y/n could remember him trying to eat it back at their apartment the commission provided them but complained it was too sweet. It seems that being in his teenage body again made him crave the sweetness of the snack. 

“So, are we gonna talk about just what happened?” Luther questioned, but no one answered, “It’s been 17 years.”

Five scoffed, “It’s been a lot longer than that.”

The same big spatial jumped behind Luther as he began to take marshmallows from the cabinet, “I haven’t missed that.” Luther murmured. 

“Where’d you two go?” Diego asked. 

“The future.” Y/n answered politely, “It’s shit, by the way.” Five added spatial jumping beside her again and gently kissing her cheek. 

The siblings stared in shock at Five’s sudden act of affection; Five could feel their eyes on him, “What?”

“You just kissed her.” Allison stated, “And?”

Allison didn’t say anything, “Is it a crime for me to kiss my wife or something?” Five asked agitatedly. 

“Wife?!”

“Yes, wife.” Five sighed. 

“Called it!” Klaus exclaimed. 

“I should’ve listened to the old man. You know, jumping through space is one thing.” Five began as he looked through the fridge, “Jumping through time is a toss of the dice.” 

He came back with peanut butter in his hand at the front of the table, his wife beside him; he took in the appearance of his siblings, “Nice dress.”

“Oh, well, Danke!” Klaus smiled. 

“Wait, how did you two get back?” Vanya questioned. 

“In the end, I had to project our consciousnesses forward into a suspended quantum state version of ourselves that exists across every possible instance of time.” 

Diego couldn’t wrap his head around it, “That makes no sense.”

Five went to remark, but Y/n cut him off, “It doesn’t have to. All that matters is that we’re back.”

“How long were you two there?” Luther queried, “Forty-Five years. Give or take.”

Everyone looked at the two teens in disbelief, “So what are you saying? That you’re 58?”

“Well, not exactly. Our consciences are 58, but it appears that our bodies are back to 13.” Y/n answered. 

“Wait, how does that even work?”

“It seems that Five might’ve gotten the equations wrong.” Y/n replied, and Five glared at her, “I’m not mad! I’m just happy we’re home. Appearance be damned.”

Five took notice of the newspaper in front of Y/n, “Guess I missed the funeral.”

“How’d you even know about that?” Luther inquired, “What part of the future do you not understand?” Five retorted. 

“Heart failure?” Y/n asked, “Yeah/No.” Luther and Diego contradicted. 

Five clicked his tongue, “Nice to see nothings changed.”

The teenage boy began to walk away, “Uh, that’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Allison questioned.

“What else is there to say? It’s the circle of life.”

Vanya was the first to get up and hug Y/n, “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too, Vanny. Me too.”

[finelinevogue]

Imagine if you’d been dating Harry for ages and all the fans love you and him together cause you’re always super nice and love talking to the fans too (maybe you’re slightly famous like an actor or work in fashion or something?) and you’re kinda in the background when Harry is meeting fans before the show, offering to take photos and chatting with them all🥺

okay so let’s pretend hslot has a meet and greet before hand… that’s the dream right? ;

“Love, y’sure you’ll be alright?” Harry asked as you stood off to the side of the room, nearer the drinks and snacks bar stand.

“Yes, H. I’ll be fine!” You replied.

Harry was worried about leaving you alone, although still in the same room as him, when his fans came in for their meet and greet. There wasn’t masses of them, but still enough for if they wanted to gang up and shout at you, which you’ve insisted many times to Harry is a silly notion, that they could successfully do so. You were in the media industry, a photographer no less and you’d met Harry on the shoot for Another Man - having been his designated photographer for the day. He swore he loved you at first sight. Since that shoot you were constantly with each other and the fans fell in love with you more and more each day, however there were still the ones who despised you - that’s what, or rather whom, Harry was worried about tonight.

He looked so good tonight, you could barely focus on anything else. Harry was in his outfit for stage and he was wearing pink trousers, cream-white boots and a gilet style jacket made out of glittery tassels. He was so beautiful and his skin was glowing so gorgeously, from spending the last week or so in LA. You were coordinating with him and were wearing a pink blazer with matching pink pants and then a cream-white bralette underneath the jacket with the same cream-white boots as him. You both couldn’t look more like a couple if you tried. Lambert had taken so many photos of you both, happy that you’d managed to unexpectedly coordinate so well with each other.

It was a soulmate thing, you told him.

It was around 40 minutes until showtime now and the fans should be arriving any moment now, for their opportunity to get photos with their idol.

“Just don’t like leaving y’alone.” He sighed, wrapping his arms around your neck so he could hold you closer. Your arms rested on his inner arms, feeling the warmth of his skin so smoothly as he swayed you from side to side.

“Well i’ll be by the snacks if y’need to find me.” You laughed and so did he, making you feel better that he was feeling a bit better too.

“M’kay.” He said softly and leant down to give you a soft kiss to the lips, cupping you chin lightly so he could pull your further into him. He tasted so good and fresh and he felt so hot against you. He pulled away with much reluctance and smiled when he saw your strawberry-tasting lipstick now slightly smudged. “Did I mention how hot you look tonight?”

“Only a few times.” You smiled and bit your lip as his eyes gazed over you, soaking up every detail of you, your body and outfit. You knew you looked pretty damn good, because you felt so good too.

“Only a few? Well that’s not good enough, is it?” He asked rhetorically, straightening your blazer slightly so the collar wasn’t crooked.

“You can make up for it later.”

“Oh, i’ll make sure of it lovie.” Harry raised his eyebrows and kissed your cheek, before Jeff told him to go stand over by the wall where photos would be taken. He left you be, with a childish pout to his face, and did what he was told.

It was another minute before the fans piled into the room, being told to form an orderly queue within the lines they’d marked out. You took a water bottle and drank from it as the first girl walked up to Harry, the poor thing shaking like a leaf. You watched as Harry comforted her, hugging her only slightly. Everyone here was obligated to wear a mask and also be vaccinated with a negative test result. If you weren’t vaccinated you couldn’t meet Harry, regardless of whether your test was negative. There were very strict rules, but it was for the safety of everyone - including touring staff who were more vulnerable.

A few of the other girls did their solo photos, before asking for a group one too. They were all coordinating in their outfits, but just different colours so they made a rainbow. Harry thought it was genius and made positive comments on all their outfits. You could tell it had made their year, let alone their day.

Once the first group was done they were told they could refresh themselves with some snack, before they would be escorted to their seats because they were in their own pit area. You smiled with your eyes at the group of rainbow girls approaching the table, moving out of the way so that they could grab what they wanted.

“Y/N?” One of the girls asked, the one wearing lilac actually.

“Hi, hello!” You waved awkwardly, not sure whether this was going to be the confrontation Harry had warned you about.

“Can we get a photo?” They asked politely, which made your eyes widen. You’d never been asked for a fan photo before, even when out in public with Harry. You’d always preferred to stick to the shadows unless instructed otherwise, just because you hadn’t always appreciated how good you looked, but now you were feeling great so you didn’t have a problem with it.

“Sure, yeah.” You nodded as the girl brought her camera up to snap a few selfies with you. You smiled through your mask and stuck up a peace sign - just like Harry had taught you to do.

“Thank you so much. You look amazing, by the way.” They complimented your outfit.

“Thank you! So you do lot! You’re giving me heavy TPWK vibes.” You pointed to them and they laughed, agreeing that that is in fact what they were going for.

“Can I get a photo too, sorry?” The green girl asked and you had to admit that they probably looked the best, but maybe you were just biased because that wad your favourite colour because they reminded you of your boyfriend’s eyes.

“Don’t be sorry, ‘course y’can.” You smiled and they came to stand closer to you. You took a few selfies with them and then the blue one asked too. It wasn’t long before you’d taken selfies with the full rainbow. “Shall we have a group photo?”

“Oh my god yes please!” They all cheered at the same time and you called over one of Harry’s security guards to come take a picture for you.

You all huddled together, you in the middle of them. You were stood in between green and yellow, so your pink outfit sort of ruined the flow of colours but they didn’t seem to mind. They especially didn’t seem to mind when Harry sneaked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your head. He squeezed you tight and everyone’s faces were super happy when the next few photos were taken.

“What’re you playing at?” You asked him, taking your arms off the shoulders of the girls and turning your head around to face him since he wasn’t letting go of your waist.

“Was told to come tell you to stop being a bother so these lot can go and find their seats.” Harry smiled his cheeky grin, knowing that he phrased that in a less than pleasant way.

“A both—”

“Y/N was no bother at all.” Green girl came to your assistance, protecting you against Harry’s playful accusation.

“Yeah we asked to take the photos.” Red girl stepped in next, blushing when they realised that Harry was actually staring at them with a smile on his face.

“Alright. Just this one can be trouble sometimes.” Harry tickled your waist, which made you squirm and laugh.

“Oi i’m not trouble, y’prick.” You whacked him in offence, just joking and the fans could tell because they were all laughing at you two. You noticed that one or two of them were filming you both, or taking photos, and so you tilted your head back onto Harry’s shoulder as he held you tight - feeding the fans the content that they so desperately wanted.

“Thank you so much Y/N. I love you Harry. Thank you Harry.” They all spoke bc over each other as they were escorted out of the room and off to their seats, Harry being told he had ten minutes until stage.

Harry just held you tight, kissing you at every opportune moment until the sounds of Golden called him away.

[gryffindors-weasley]

For The Very First Time

Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: Sirius Black just might be more sentimental than you think when he takes you on a trip down memory lane.

Prompt used: “Sorry how do you spell that?”

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: mild angst, smoking, fluff, kissing

A/N: This is for @sweeterthansammy ’s 1k writing challenge! I hope you enjoy. Flash backs are italicized, and the prompt I used is bolded!

The weather was a little bit chillier now that the sun was dipping down in the sky, chilly enough for a sweater or a light jacket. Something you didn’t have much time to think about with the spontaneity of Sirius’ plans and just how urgent he’d been making them out to be. Really, there was no rush and he knew that, of course he knew that, but he was far too eager for his own good and you knew that.

You were certain he’d under dressed when you found him standing by the front door, leaning against the frame in that tattered old jean jacket. The one there’s no chance in him getting rid of, not in a million years. It’s got a myriad of holes here and there in the faded, washed out denim, the cuffs having seen better days as the frayed material dangles down half torn. A miscellaneous pin from James is still on there, even that bright yellow smiley face is stuck on the collar that you’d put there ages ago. It was more than a well worn article of clothing, that much was for sure.

You managed to break away from James and Lily’s conversation, more so Lily, and any other time you wouldn’t have minded a single bit. You absolutely wouldn’t have, but with Sirius calling you from the floor below in the small Potter home, you find yourself having no choice but to give in to saving the conversation for later in favor of quieting the raven haired wizard.

You walk down the stairs until equally tattered converse come into view, then those same old black denim jeans, the those frayed jean jacket cuffs. You smell the distinct smell, something that’d only further been confirmed as you reach the very last step.

“Either I’m a fool, or time just stopped,” he says, flicking the ashes from his cigarette as he smiled down at you.

The corner of your mouth quirks up, the kind of smile he knows isn’t a hundred percent sweet.

“I think you’re just a fool, Pads,” you say, that smile widening a fraction. There it is. He walked right into that one and he knew it, rolling his eyes. “And I don’t think Mr. Potter would approve of you smoking in his beloved family home.”

“Which is exactly why I’m standing outside,” he grins before bringing the cigarette back to his lips, throwing his hands up as he takes one step backwards through the threshold of the doorway just so he can officially say that he is in fact outside and not at all breaking the rules of the residence.

Sirius Black liked to bend the rules when he could, he liked to walk on the wild side just about every chance he got no matter how trivial it may be. He claims it’s the only way to be, claims that’s what having fun is all about and anything less is boring. Nonchalance is simply in his nature.

“Yeah, I’ll bet you are,” you counter, hopping off the very last step when he tugged on your hand to urge you out the door.

He pulled the door shut behind him and stopped you in your tracks, making you turn on your heel before you could take another step forward. You look up at him with a narrowed gaze and await an explanation as to just why it is he’s gone and stopped you when all he’s done the past ten minutes is tell you how desperately he’d wanted to go. So you stand and your stare and you watch as smoke blows past parted lips, lips that quirk upwards in a smile as he looks at you.

In that moment, he dips down, pressing his lips on yours in a kiss that’s as smoky as ever and the gesture alone has your smile pressing into his kiss. A smile that’s genuine just as much as it’s teasing.

“I thought we had somewhere to be?” You say, breaking away as you look up at him with a raised brow.

“We do,” he says, taking another puff before you snag the cigarette right from between his fingers, dropping it to the little stone walkway before putting it out beneath your boot.

You take notice of his pursed lips that fight a smile, at the squinted gaze he’s got set on you as you spin on your heel and walk ahead, leaving him to stand there and stare after you for a fleeting moment or two. You’ve got all the amusement in the world sitting on your expression and he doesn’t even need to see it to know it, he can tell just by simply hearing the laugh fall from your lips. He can see it as he catches up to you within a second’s time.

“How very rude of you,” he says in faux offense, but it’s not too long before you feel the tips of his fingers brushing against yours.

“How very generous of me,” you counter, and his scoff doesn’t go unheard.

The next time you look up at him, he’s got those sunshine yellow shades on, those obnoxiously yellow sunglasses that sit on his nose seemingly more often than not. James had gotten them for him at the town fair just a few years back, a gift just for laughs that he’d gotten with the rest of his tickets. They were bright and they were bold and very much fitting for the year nineteen-eighty-one, but he’d gone and kept them. Of course he did.

Sirius Black kept every single thing his friends have ever given him no matter how ridiculous or trivial it may have seemed. Even when he was just a child still stuck in his dreaded family home, he’d saved a shoe box from a pair of dress shoes he absolutely hated wearing, one pair of dozens that inevitably got scuffed up just a little too much for the liking of his parents before they’d gone and bought him a new pair to look more presentable for the family image. Aside from that, he’d kept a shoe box, one that he had tucked under his bed.

Inside were all the letters that James and Remus had sent him by owl over summer break, each and every letter even if it was simply James complaining about some nonsensical thing or a joke or if it was Remus writing to see if he’d gotten his Hogwarts letter yet. He kept all of them. He kept the four leaf clover James had stumbled upon, and he kept that special quill Remus had swiped from Snape. He never knew his best friend had a knack for being mischievous until that moment.

He’d read those letters on his best nights and his worst, read them just for so. They were tattered and worn at the creases where they were folded, but he didn’t plan on getting rid of them any time soon.

Over the years that sentimental collection grew and grew, adding to it a myriad of pressed flowers and leaves from Lily, and bookmarks from Remus, postcards from James that were the absolute most ridiculous he could find. You added to it with miscellaneous letters and a guitar pick you thought he might like. He never used it, he didn’t want to ruin it. He kept that feather boa you’d found and even that lucky coin. He kept it all.

Sirius Black was more sentimental than he let on, he’s got a softer heart than he showcased to most, he kept every one of those things no matter how stupid or trivial it may seem to someone else. But he’d never in a million years admit it. James had found it once, but he never said a word about it.

“You never did tell me where we’re going,” you say, kicking a pebble out of your way as you walked along the cracked sidewalk.

“I believe that’s the point of a surprise, love,” he says, and you catch his smile as you look up at him, lips pursed as you nudge him with your elbow.

“You’re terrible at surprises,” you tease, your smile in your voice and had he not been wearing those sunglasses at sunset, you’d have been able to see his eye roll. But you knew him well enough to know he’d gone and done it regardless of the visual confirmation.

“Have I ever told you you’re a pain?” He asked, his chuckle following his words as he grins ahead, glancing down at you briefly.

“Yes, and I take that as a compliment,” you say, hearing his continued laughter as he shakes his head.

You try and put the pieces together, try and pick up any hints to put together any form of information that just might lead you in the direction of where you could possibly be going. It was in town, that you knew for certain. It was somewhere, local otherwise he’d have taken Mr. Potter’s car. The attire was no use in a giveaway because there was not a single chance there’d be an occasion where you’d find Sirius taking you somewhere in which you’d need to dress to the nines. The days of pristine suits and freshly polished shoes were far behind him, he hated dressing up with everything that he had.

He didn’t even dress up above and beyond for James and Lily’s wedding; well, he did, but he dressed down his suit with a half loosened tie that wound up being a headband and that tattered pair of converse. And he even wore those same old yellow sunglasses.

It was early evening, and things don’t tend to stay open for that much longer, so that narrows things down just a little bit more. Makes things just a little bit clearer, but it all proved to be not as helpful as you’d like it to be.

The small town was dotted with street lamps casting the area in a warm glow as it began to get darker and darker outside. The surrounding trees held reddening leaves that dropped and fluttered to the ground when the breeze sifted through them. And it’s only then that it hits you, the smell of coffee and spice that wafts through the air the closer you get. The sweetened air the closer you got. You even heard that familiar little clang of the bell over the door.

It wasn’t until then that you’d realized that maybe this was his surprise, that it absolutely was judging by the way he’d been biting the inside of his cheek to stifle his grin.

“Sirius Black, is this what I think it is?” You ask, your brow raised as the corner of his mouth quirks upwards.

Your question is answered when that smile breaks through, when you do indeed stop in front of the door to that ever familiar coffee shop and he holds the door open for you to step inside. It’s noticeably warmer than the chilly weather outside, cozier than ever as the smell of coffee washes over you. It looked just the same as when you were here last, felt just as inviting as it always did.

There were a few carved pumpkins sitting outside the door, an assortment of fall decorations littering inside the small shop. Each of the little wooden tables have cozy orange table cloths, and string lights are hung. The entirety of the shop smelled like fall festive drinks and what was left of the pumpkin rolls and muffins, not to mention the sweeter than sweet scented candles that were lit.

He tugged on your hand as he stepped up to the counter.

“Can I get a black coffee with two creams and a hot chocolate?” He asks, dropping your hand to dig around for his wallet in the pocket of his jacket.

That was another thing, Mr. Potter had gifted him that very same wallet a handful of years ago. It was a hand-me-down, but that was the least of his concerns when he was given the leather wallet. He didn’t care about the scratches or worn corners. That was the first real gift he’d ever gotten that had true thoughtfulness behind it.

He remembered your order like the back of his hand, and he’d gotten the same thing every single time.

The drinks were ready in no time and he put some money on the counter with a little extra for a tip, handing you yours as he headed towards that ever familiar table tucked away in the corner by the window.

He ran his hand through his hair, sitting those sunglasses back on the top of his head once more to push his hair out of his face. Your smile was fond as you looked at him, a stubborn chunk of black hair dipping over his forehead and brushing against the tip of his nose anyway.

“Remember this place, love?” He asks, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

“As if I’d ever forget,” you say, a laugh leaving your lips.

Of course you did, it was hard to forget the one and only place you’d met Sirius black in a few years back.

It was a hectic afternoon, customer after customer flooding into the coffee shop especially now that the fall season was sweeping in at last. Things were always busy around this time of year, things were always busy around this time of day, so you’d come to expect the rush hour by now after all this time you’ve worked there.

Things were fairly simple once you got the hang of it, once you were able to do things with a practiced ease and it made the line of customers a little bit easier to move along. Most of them you knew by name, most of them you knew their orders because they never failed to get the very same thing each and every day that they came in. Some of them came in every day, some of them came in every week, some of them even had a select day of the week that they stopped in for their usual order.

It was one of the things you liked about working there. The regular customers were friendly as ever and made the workload a little easier given the prior knowledge of just what they get and how they like it, and it makes the time fly just a little bit faster.

The day hadn’t been your finest, you’d gone and spilled half a cup of hot chocolate on your apron, one you didn’t have the time to swap out and you’re quite sure you’d still had a smear of flour on your face from catching up on baking that morning before opening time. But that clumsiness was only in your nature and it was everything you expected from yourself.

“Y/n, can you cover up front? There’s someone waiting.”

That clumsiness only heightened at the sight of a new face, one you don’t believe you’ve seen frequent the shop before. He’s got a mess of black hair he keeps tucking behind his ear, yellow sunglasses dangling from the collar of a Queen t-shirt as his gaze focuses out of the window to his left. He’s got a pack of cigarettes tucked in the front pocket of his jean jacket and pin on the other.

You quit your staring, you quit while you were ahead as you smoothed your coffee stained apron.

“What can I get for you today?” You ask, capturing his attention as he looks at you.

You swallow thickly as your gaze meets gray eyes, a half smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You take notice of the dimple in his chin and the strands of dark hair that dip down over his forehead as he leans against the counter.

“Just a black coffee with two creams, please,” he says.

“Your name?”

“Sirius.”

You nod with a smile as you snag a cup and the marker from your pocket, turning on your heel to head towards the coffee as you uncapped your marker before you very quickly made that realization and spun back around. In the process, you nearly tripped over your own two feet and you can feel the heat blossoming in your cheeks.

“Sorry, how do you spell that?” You ask, biting the inside of your cheek.

You hear the softness of chuckle as he looks at you, surprisingly not out of mocking even with the way you just made a fool of yourself in front of him. He spelled it out for you with a smile, and you turned away without tripping this time. You made his drink just how he’d asked, your heart racing in your chest the entirety of the two minutes it took to make it as you thought about his smile.

You tried your best to stall, to steal a little bit more time before you had to go back to the counter to face him once more. To give yourself a little more time to let the heat in your cheeks cool off.

You pressed on the lid to his cup and took a breath, turning around and heading back to the counter where he stood leaning against it still.

“One coffee with two creams for Sirius,” you say, setting the to-go cup on the counter as he dug around his pocket for some money.

He counted it out in his palm as his hair fell in his eyes, quickly brushed away as he ran his hand through his hair and set the money down in exchange for his drink, and a little extra for a tip.

You notice the way his gaze lingers on you for a little bit longer, you notice it as the seconds pass and your heart races. It lingers on you and you can see the way the corner of his mouth quirks up as he does, spinning the cup in his hand out of an absentminded habit as his gray gaze finally meets yours.

“You’ve got a little something on your face, love,” he says, pointing to his own cheek as a signal for your own face.

Your hand shoots up immediately to swipe across your cheek, the heat in your face flooding back once more as you swipe your fingers across your skin, pulling back to see that dreaded flour on your face that you knew was bound to be there from that morning.

“Oh, uh, thank you,” you say with a laugh and a smile, his following soon after as he nods.

There’s a sort of tension that simmers as you meet his gaze once more, as it bounces to his smile and you’re not quite sure if time actually stopped or if this is some cliche moving moment happening to you in the middle of your shift, or neither and you’re just being ridiculous. That, it’s probably that one.

Either way, you find yourself interrupted by the ding of the bell to your side on the counter from a customer growing impatient, a call of your name sounding over your shoulder just behind you. It all brings you back to reality.

“Have a nice day, Sirius,” you say, watching as he nods.

“I’ll see you around.”

With that, he offers you that same smile that had your mind on it for a ridiculous amount of time, that smile that made your heart race, and he turned away and headed out that door with a little ding of the bell over the door. He headed down the sidewalk as he snagged a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it before he disappeared around the corner.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Sirius asks, grabbing your attention as he gazes at you over the rim of his cup, gray eyes full of amusement.

“About what?” You ask, playing into it with a half smile even though you know you’re bound to be met with a tease.

“That time you tripped over your own two feet. I mean, do I really have that effect on people, love?” He jest, feeling you kick his foot just under the table.

There it is.

“Must you be so cocky, Pads?” You ask, your gaze glimmering with amusement as you purse your lips.

“I’m afraid I must,” he says.

You roll your eyes as you sip on your drink, eyeing the smile forming on his lips. “What?”

He chuckles as he shakes his head, his gaze dropping down as he swirls his drink in his hands and bites the inside of his cheek. His stare is more amused than ever as he looks at you again, that same lingering gaze set on you in the very same way it had been all those years ago and you knew it couldn’t have meant anything good. If it was anything like that very first time, you were bound to feel your cheeks grow hot even though you’ve known the troublemaker for years.

He doesn’t say anything at first, quiet as he lifts his hand and swipes it across the top of your lip and all the way to the corner of your mouth. He’s just as amused as he wipes away some hot chocolate that’s been left behind from your sip, his chuckle immediate.

“You’ve got a little something on your face, love,” he says, and you hear that teasing tone in his voice that he’s always got, that mischief dancing in his eyes.

“I truly think it’s you that’s the pain,” you huff, biting back your smile.

He chuckles. “‘S that so?”

You nod as you smile at him. “Very much so.”

He bites his lip momentarily as he looks at you, that pesky chunk of his hair falling back down in his face. “I take that as a compliment.”

He used your earlier words, of course he did, that’s just how Sirius Black is. Taunting and teasing in the most lighthearted of ways and that’s something that’s always been so, that’s something that always will be so forever and ever.

He’s got the tip of the arm of his sunglasses between his teeth, having given up on using them to hold back his hair as he looks around the little coffee shop where it all began, as he looks out the window at passers by, the corner of his mouth quirking up when he feels your gaze on him. It widens a fraction as he feels you get up, feels you swing around the edge of the table to take a seat in the booth bench next to him rather than sit across from him.

You’re quiet for a few moments as you rest your head on his shoulder. The foot traffic in the shop was dwindling as it neared closing time, growing less and less busy until it was starting to become just the two of you there. But you weren’t so focused on the details, not when you’ve been in your own little world with the one stealing your attention right next to you as you sat in your usual booth in the corner.

This was it, this was where it all began, this was where you’d met the chaos that is Sirius Black. The chaos that’s brought nothing but good into your life, nothing but a thrilling excitement that only he could bring.

You lift your head and look up at him, his gaze falling on you within a moment’s time. You see that smile, that smile that makes your heart race a mile a minute. You see it and you mirror it as you look at him. It’s only a matter of seconds before you lean up and press a kiss to his lips, soft and sweet and tasting of hot chocolate and coffee and a little bit of that smoke that never quite left his lips.

You kiss him before you wrap your hands around your cup, feeling his eyes on you. You take a sip as you stifle your smile, the arm of his glasses between his teeth once more as that smile he’s got remains as you look at him. You smile when you look away, head shaking as you nudge his foot with yours.

This is where it all began a handful of years ago. This is where you met Sirius Black for the very first time.

—

Tags: @nancybycrs @pogueslandia @hahee154hq @snitches-at-dawn @writeroutoftime @awritingtree @lilypad-55449 @medalloway-blog @vicouscirce @mon4907 @violetrainbow412-blog

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 10

Masterlist

Shoutout to my bestie @acollectionofficsandshit for all the drunk comments she made while betaing this one... Wish you guys could see them lol

Word Count: 4.8k

Recommended song: “Amnesia" by 5SOS

Pierre paces in his dinky trailer at the Circuit of the Americas and desperately tries to forget you exist. He had already taken down the pictures on the wall but the images were burned into his brain. He had shoved your shirt under his bed, having absolutely no idea how it had made its way halfway around the world to taunt him.

He was slowly unraveling like a spool of thread on a loom as you wove him irrevocably into the tapestry of your life.

The race in Austin started in less than two hours and you hadn't texted him. Not once in the handful of years he'd known you had you neglected to wish him luck before a race, even if it was 2 am your time or you had exams, you always took thirty seconds to warn him to be safe and finish well.

He was beginning to think you hated him for how he'd acted at the gala last weekend, jealous and possessive from afar. Talking to you would have been the better choice. But seeing you laugh and dance the night away had hurt too much. He’d slipped out early after Victoria assured him she could find a ride and sped home to fall apart.

He had only barely managed to piece himself together in time for the race.

Pierre checks his phone for the third time in as many minutes and swears under his breath. He didn't know why he expected it to ring and for your face to pop up at this point. Even if you called to tear into him, he'd still fall to his knees at the sound of your voice. He just wanted to hear you speak, didn't care what was said, only that he could latch onto your words and lose himself in them.

Hope sparks when his phone chimes but he nearly throws it across the trailer when he sees Charles' name.

Heard from her yet?

No. At this point I'm beginning to think I never will again.

Maybe she fell asleep early?

It's 5 pm in London. I'll bet you she's eating a bowl of takeout from the Chinese place down the street, not sleeping.

Its still possible. Don't dwell on it. This isn't the headspace you wanna be in before a race. Block it out. I don't wanna see my best friend wind up hurt today.

Pierre didn't reply, if only because Charles was right. Worrying would get him nowhere. After his shitty qualifying yesterday, he started thirteenth on the grid so he had his work cut out for him. Austin offered plenty of opportunity for overtakes; he could get the job done if his team made the right calls. 

And if he made it to the podium, you would have to text him.

The thin mattress groans when he sits to unlace his hastily tied race boots. He folds his legs to sit criss cross and places his palms on his knees. The familiar pose already has some of the tension leaving his shoulders as his eyes slide shut. He breathes in for ten seconds, reflecting on what ails him. He holds the breath for five seconds before releasing it slowly.

He repeats the process until he comes to terms with the fact that you won't be wishing him luck. That was your choice; there was nothing he could do about it and therefore no sense reading into it. He had done all he could to convince you to trust him. The ball was in your court; he had to be patient and wait for you to take a shot.

“Focus,” he murmurs to himself, forcing any erroneous thoughts from his head. “Walk through the track.”

The circuit at Austin was challenging, consisting of a mix of 20 sweeping corners and scattered hairpins. He was almost lucky in a way to be starting so far back on the grid because turn one was only a few hundred meters from pole and their tires would be slightly colder and less grippy upon arrival than his would be. The few extra seconds afforded to him by starting thirteenth could mean the opportunity to leap frog past his rivals in the first corner.

The counterclockwise circuit meant he would have to keep an eye on his front left tire too, as it would wear faster than the others. He'd change gears an average of 66 times per lap, higher than similar length tracks like Monaco. Pit stops cost an average of nineteen seconds, meaning he would need to build a significant gap to the driver chasing him in order to avoid the threat of any undercuts.

There were too many variables occupying space in his mind to afford you a sliver of it.

Some time later he decides that his four leaf clover tucked safely in the worn leather of his wallet will provide all the luck he needs and switches on his pre race playlist after popping in his ear buds.

"Sights on the podium," he murmurs to himself, hand on the doorknob. "Let's race."

The bass flows through him as his feet carry him to the Alpha Tauri garage on autopilot, through the back entrance and to his plain white driver room. The familiar beats are a numbing salve spread on his frayed nerves, his anticipation rising like a crimson wave in his veins. He leaves his clothes in a haphazard heap in the corner and changes into the white fireproofs hanging nearby, thoughts momentarily veering to you knocking on the door and stripping them right back off.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, he runs through his usual stretch sets until Pyry arrives to walk him through reflex exercises.

"How's your head?" Pyry asks, running him through more cool down stretches. "Do we need to take a minute and do some meditation?"

"Beat you to it," Pierre grunts out, pushing back against the hand on his head to work his neck. "I'm good."

"You sound better than you have all week, I'll give you that. Keep that focus, use it to propel yourself forward."

"Run me through the lineup again," Pierre requests, "I need something else to think about."

Because if he let his mind follow the path it wanted to, it would inevitably lead to you and undo the work he had done to avoid that. He needed to be empty of anything that wasn't racing, anything else was an unnecessary distraction that had the potential to end in disaster.

Pyry rattles off the grid in order of who Pierre needs to overtake, pausing between each name to give him time to recall their driving styles and potential chinks in their armor to exploit. He knew from tapes of previous years that Stroll often ran wide into turn one, giving Pierre the option to brake late and sweep up the inside. Vettel was half convinced the track was cursed, so his mind would work against him enough that Pierre could exploit it and get past at some point. He continued until he got to Hamilton and Max locking out the front row, where he would need a bit of luck to overtake.

"You got it?" Pyry asks, stepping back.

Pierre rolls his shoulders and nods. 

"Get shit done mate," Pyry says and bumps fists with his driver. He slips out to allow Pierre a moment to center himself before slipping into his race suit, leaving it half unzipped and tying it around his waist before following his trainer.

Pyry leads the way to where the matte navy and white car waits, mechanics swarming it like studious worker bees tending to their queen. No one talks to him save his engineer because words from anyone else threaten to break his carefully constructed race mentality. If they wanted him to bring home points, they knew to leave him alone once he was suited up.

His mind is blank of anything but statistics as he twists his ear buds in and pulls on his balaclava and helmet. As his vision narrows to the sliver of track he can see through his visor, so does his focus. With forty minutes to lights out, he's directed out onto the track. He rips the wheel to the right as he exits the garage, getting a decent powerslide for his efforts.

There was no doubt in his mind that he would land on the podium, if only to see the look on your face when he did.

**********

It took an unfathomable amount of restraint to keep yourself from calling Pierre to wish him luck.

You texted Max instead, wishing him a safe and comfortable podium a half hour before lights out. He hadn't responded, likely already in the garage with his trainer going through his pre race routine.

The pace Max had set the day before had awarded him pole position and the margin between him and Hamilton had been enough that you were confident in his ability to hold off the Mercedes for all fifty six laps.

If you were honest with yourself, you were disappointed that the Alpha Tauri you so desperately tried to ignore would be starting in thirteenth. You try not to think about it, instead queueing up SkySports and opening your laptop for pre race coverage. You avoid the interviews in favor of listening to the commentators analyze the grid.

"It should be an easy win for Max as long as he fends off Hamilton until the first round of pit stops. The undercut works well here, as Red Bull proved last year, and I'm sure they plan on doing the same thing this year."

You hum in agreement, gingerly sipping your steaming tea. You really ought to consider a career as a sportscaster at this point based on how often you came to the same conclusions they did.

"I think one of the biggest shakeups is Russell starting all the way up in eleventh after his amazing qualifying for Williams yesterday. Think he can hold onto that position?"

"He's got some fierce competition not far behind in the form of Alpha Tauri. Gasly starts thirteenth- surprisingly far back on the grid given the otherwise flawless performance he's shown this year. But it seems likely that he should be able to overtake-"

You flick the tv on mute, unable to stomach listening to them sing his praises. You numb your mind with social media until the Formula 1 theme plays on your laptop, alerting you that there's a few minutes until race start. Tire blankets are peeled off and the drivers weave their way through the formation lap with the exception of Kimi who takes his traditional straight line approach to warm up his supersoft tires. 

Most of the front runners are on ultrasofts, indicating a two stop strategy. It was Pirelli's recommended approach, and you were glad that Horner heeded their advice for once and let Max use the ultras in Q2. It would give Max the upper hand over Hamilton who starts on the yellow sidewall tire and thus slightly slower lap times.

Crofty and Brundle break down the notable turns as the cars line up on the grid, pointing out the sharp hairpin only a few hundred meters from pole position. If Max got away clean, he would be ahead of the cramped pack and have an even better edge over the silver arrows who would be forced to queue behind him.

The traditional "lights out and away we go" kicks off the grand prix, engines roaring into the first turn. Max does manage to get away clean and is awarded with an immediate advantage. Turn one proves tragic for the Alfa Romeo of Raikonnen and the Asthon Martin of Stroll who collide and cause Kimi to spin. They rejoin at the back of the pack, your eyes snagging on the navy and white of an Alpha Tauri as it streams past. 

Your heart spins in a similar fashion when the GAS driver tag leaps up two places in the timing table, suddenly in eleventh due to the incident. Your gaze snaps to the laptop humming on your legs before you remember its Max's driver cam you queued up. The Dutchman is silent as his engineer relays information about the incident and informs him of the widening gap between those chasing him. 

“Confirm received,” Gianpiero says calmly. No matter the situation or how heated Max got, he always kept his head. It was what made the duo such a good match and had likely kept Max from going off the rails on more than one occasion.

“Yeah,” Max says shortly, clearly pissed about how quickly Hamilton was approaching. “Let me know when I’ve got enough charge to get out of range.”

“Yep, will do. Just keep this pace and you’ll hold him at bay.”

Live coverage replays the incident between Stroll and Raikonnen from the view of onboard with Pierre. The instant the 10 on the halo appears in the center of your screen you suck in a breath. He yanks the wheel to avoid colliding with Ocon, who had to do the same to keep from hitting his teammate as they navigate through the carnage.

You chew on your lip and try to refocus on the battle between the front runners. Not much is happening in the midfield for the next thirty or so laps and Max just barely manages to build a solid enough gap between himself and Hamilton to dive into the pits comfortably without losing places. 

Your phone rings and you answer it without checking who it was as the only person you wouldn't answer was currently occupied.

"Hello?"

"Why the fuck didn't they pit Daniel?!"

You grin, noting the blistering beginning on his front left tire as SkySports switches to his onboard camera. "Because he's about to pass Charles," you tell Dan's girlfriend. She didn't call you often during races. It was likely that she knew you were nearing your wits end and this was her way of offering support.

"He won't be able to with those tires- oh." She breaks off when Daniel passes a DRS detection zone and his rear wing opens, allowing him to pass the Monegasque with ease. 

"Told you," you say with a touch of reprimand. "You're always too nervous about those things. Daniel knows how to drive, just trust him to get the job done and he'll bring home another trophy for your apartment."

"I don't live here," she points out and you roll your eyes. She had lived in London as long as you had known her, but she was almost always at Daniel's apartment whether he was in town or not. Daniel digs in as the camera follows him for a lap, highlighting the widening gap between the McLaren and the Ferrari.

"You basically do. At this point, you're paying rent for a dusty one bedroom apartment on the east side that you set foot in maybe once a month." She scoffs but you push on, "a waste of sterling if you ask me, when you're at Daniel's every time I ask you to do anything."

"You act like I never- there goes Pierre!"

His name sparks dread in your gut as your attention flicks back to the screen in time to see him overtake Bottas on the inside of turn one. He'd managed to claw up to fifth with the move, somehow gaining places while you weren't looking.

"Good for him," you croak, trying your best to be genuinely happy for him. He was pushing the car to the limit and you'd be amazed if he didn't wind up on the podium along with Dan and Max. Charles and Hamilton were the only ones in his way, and something told you Charles wouldn’t put up much of a fight when his mate reached his gearbox. Hamilton would prove a challenge but he had been making tiny mistakes all day. Nothing significant, though enough to add up to him barely holding onto second while Daniel rode his gearbox.

"He's got ten laps to get past those two," she murmurs as if momentarily forgetting you were on the phone. 

"Can we talk about literally anything else please?" You whisper, half tempted to shut off the race completely. 

"Babe, you have to face the music at some point. Either you never want to see him again or you love him, which is it?"

She never failed to be anything but brutally honest. You appreciate it because everyone else let you brush off your problems, but she called you on your bullshit. She would needle you about it until you folded.

"I think it's better for both of us if I pretend we never met, don't you?"

"Easier for you, yes," she agrees. "But it'll kill Pierre. You don't think you could keep in touch with him, just as friends?"

"I don't know if I can handle that. I can barely look at him without wanting to bawl my eyes out."

She sighs, pausing to contemplate what to say. Voice soft, she continues, "Why don't you just take him back? Clearly it's ruining both of you. Are you really gonna let the press wreck the best you ever had? I know its hard but-"

"I'm not like you," you cut in. "I can't just ignore the articles and the comments and pretend there aren't people out there that hate me for being with him. They came to my house, disrupted my family. Hell, Ben can't even go to school without being mobbed by his classmates demanding answers. If my suffering is what allows my family to go about their lives then so be it."

"If that's what you wanna believe."

You sigh, tangling your fingers in the hem of your shirt. "It is."

"Alright," she says, voice teetering on a knife's edge. "I know better than to try to change your mind when you're like this. He's on the podium by the way. Oh, and watch what you say to Max- Pierre will read into it."

She hangs up without a goodbye, leaving you to deal with the realization that the podium is indeed VER RIC GAS on your own. Your eyes are glued to the Red Bull and McLaren drivers, blatantly ignoring the one in the white suit as the anthems play and the champagne is sprayed, turning away to busy yourself with making coffee when Daniel hands his liquid filled race boot to third place.

You weren't quite sure how you were supposed to watch what you said to Max- there was no reason to in your mind. Max was your next closest friend on the grid and you had every right to congratulate him if you wanted to.

Resolute in your decision, you text Max and Daniel a quick congratulations before shutting off the TV and closing your laptop.

Max's insane custom ringtone he'd selected for himself nearly makes you jump out of your skin when it blares from your phone.

"Hey great race-"

"Did you see it? I wasn't sure if you'd watch it- did you see my move on Hamilton when he tried to get past me?" He was talking a mile a minute like he was still out on track. "I was like- and then Dan tried to overtake me on the final lap and I was like no way! And then-"

"Max," you chime in, dragging out the 'a' with a sing-song voice. "You're rambling."

"Oh right. Yeah but I made it! Led every lap and finished with another win."

"That's great." You force as much enthusiasm in the words as possible, trying to match his chaotic energy. "You did great. I know it probably doesn't mean much, but I'm proud to be your friend. You beat a world champ!"

"It means a lot-" 

"Who's that?"

You stiffen at the familiar cadence. You had assumed Max was back in the garage when he called, but he must have still been in the podium room. You could picture him in his race suit, smudges of grease and dirt staining the pristine white. Beads of sweat probably ran down his neck, begging to be brushed away by your tongue. 

"Uh, no one," Max says in a lame attempt to cover up his digression. "I gotta go," he whispers to you. 

"Let me talk-"

"Wait don't," you start, but the call ends abruptly and you blink. You stare down at your phone, completely dumbfounded. Of course his instinct would be to talk to you, to share the euphoria of a podium with you. It was the first victory in three years he wouldn't have you to celebrate with.

It was only a matter of time until his resolve popped like the cork on his champagne.

**********

Pierre's phone is in his hand as soon as Max hangs up. He hefts his trophy in the other, a wild grin on his sweaty face as he snaps a picture. He makes sure he's the only one in the frame, shamelessly wanting himself to be the center of your attention.

"Mate," Daniel pipes up, catching his eye, "you think that's a good idea?" 

Pierre sighs, cutting the Australian a glare. "I'm just trying to fill her in."

"Wasn't your plan to give her space?"

"It's been a week, isn't that long enough?"

"Take it from me, sometimes it takes months for someone to figure things out. Hell, you know how long it took me to sort through my feelings for-"

"I know," Pierre cuts in. "I know. I just- a snap can't hurt can it? C'mon, I just got a podium! If it goes bad I can blame it on the post race jitters."

Daniel holds up his hands and shrugs. "You're a grown man. Do what you want."

Pierre studies the photo, scrutinizing the way his hair was plastered to his head and the awkward way he'd posed to keep anyone but himself out of the frame. It's his genuine smile that he knows will do you in, and ultimately the reason he sends it.

His phone is a lead weight clutched in his grip as he winds through the paddock, constantly stopped by vips and team members congratulating him. None of what anyone says registers, he just tries his best to match their mood and sputter praises about his team's contributions to his podium. 

The snap you finally send back is only from the eyes up, but it's enough. He's surrounded by people in his driver room, but for ten seconds it might as well have just been him staring at a sliver of your face on a screen.

The tiny lines at the corners of your shining eyes tell him you're smiling, which is a step in the right direction even if you won't let him see your entire face. It's enough to reignite the hope that slumbered in his chest while waiting for you to pull the trigger and make a move.

He sends back a video of the people in the room, who cheer when they realize they're being filmed. 'Wish you were here,' is what he captions it and sends it without giving himself a chance to overthink.

Ten minutes pass with no reply.

The beer he’s already consumed have given him a pleasant buzz as well as an excuse to make a bad decision or two. He takes another video of the room to post to his Instagram story, 'Missing you' written in the lower left corner.

Fuck, he hopes you'll see it and regret leaving him on read. Instead all he gets is a text from Charles chastising him for stirring up drama.

Really Pierre?

Blame it on the alcohol, he texts back. 

I know you aren’t drunk. You can’t form a coherent sentence when you are.

Guess i gotta drink more then

Pierre doesn’t turn anyone bearing alcohol away. He's two celebratory shots deep when Daniel finds him sulking in a corner. "You've got my girl texting me freaking out over your story. I've seen it and I gotta agree with her. Was that really necessary?"

"She left me on read," Pierre says like that was enough explanation. His head was spinning and it was getting hard to keep the room upright. "And it's the truth. I miss her like hell. I want her here. She was supposed to come, you know? I was gonna have her fly in with me on the jet. She doesn't start class again until June. I had this whole week planned out. I was gonna show her Texas- she’s from New York and..." 

He trails off when he notes Dan’s pitying smile. Daniel sighs and runs a hand through his curls. "I know. I get it, okay? I know it's hard but you can't force it. You've gotta let her come back on her own, all you're doing now is pushing her away."

He was fucking clueless when it came to these things. He'd had you for a few precious moments and now that he'd lost you he didn't know how to act. His mind was running on hazy autopilot; he barely knew which way was up, let alone did he trust himself to make any sort of important decision.

He stares down at the shot he'd been handed at some point before throwing it back. The cheap whiskey burns his throat but he barely registers the sting. "Should I take it down?"

"She already saw it," Daniel says gently, as if he anticipates how bad the fuck up will hurt. And it does. It hits him like a tire wall at two hundred kph, knowing that you were probably ranting or crying on the phone with Daniel’s girlfriend. "But yeah, that's probably best. People are already wondering what happened between you two, no need to throw fuel on the fire."

"You're probably right-" Pierre cuts off when Charles arrives with a grimace on his face. He shakes his head and gives his friend’s shoulder a squeeze. 

"For once I'm not the dumb one."

"You're a dick, you know that right?" Daniel says, allowing Pierre to delete the post. It takes him a few tries before he gets it down, but undeniably rumors will be circulating in the morning if they weren’t already.

"Honestly what were you thinking?" Charles demands, edging towards full blown yelling. "I told you to leave her be. The gossip stemming from this isn’t gonna help.”

The last thing he needed was someone else telling him how stupid his decision had been. At least Daniel had the decency to show sympathy. 

"Honestly?" Pierre responds with the same intensity, his anger flaring. "Honestly, Charles, I was thinking that she was happy for me but was too afraid to take the leap. She haunts me. Every second I’m awake I have to force myself away from her. Even when I’m asleep I can’t get away from her. So I don’t know, maybe I wanted to haunt her too."

“This isn’t the way you win her back and you know it.”

“I know!” Pierre throws up his hands. “But what else am I supposed to do? She won’t talk to me. She has no problem talking to Max or Daniel but apparently she draws the line at me.”

“You know it’s not-” Daniel's eyes flick to his phone and he fights back a grin. All it does is remind Pierre that he lost the person that could bring that sort of smile to his own face. "Fellas I wish I could stay and help but I gotta get going. Charles, I think Pierre needs another drink." He slaps five American dollars in the Monegasque's hand. "First one is on me."

Pierre is too deep in a spiral to care when his friend drags him from the party to a bar just south of the circuit. Somehow it was within walking distance; the floor was sticky and the lighting was for shit but he didn't care.

Pierre's focus was on downing shot after shot, erasing the broken image of you his mind had conjured up. He never should have posted the story. It only served to feed into what the media had been speculating for the past week and dredged up more tension between you.

Pierre stops checking his phone two shots later. The liquor provides a wet blanket over his senses, dousing him in cold water and scrambling his brain. He could barely remember his own name, but yours still lived in the corner of his mind.

Even drunk, he refused to forget you.

Two hours and who knows how much alcohol later, Charles helps Pierre back to his hotel room.

Pierre falls asleep as soon as he hits the mattress, head too blurry to dredge up memories of you.

[scapegrace74-blog]

New Ways of Turning Into Stone, Chapter 2

A/N I should really think of story titles with fewer words in them, huh?  Thank you so much for the warm reception to the first chapter of my latest fic!  Of course, we all want to know what caused Janet to force Jamie to seek out grief counselling services.  But before we get there, I think we need to know a little bit more about the good doctor herself.  So no Jamie in this chapter, but never fear, he’ll be back in the next one!   Trigger warning for fertility issues.  The working chapter title is “Psychiatrist, Heal Thyself”.

Friday evening arrived, announced by two days of nearly pristine pages in her planner.  Exhausted by the work week’s hectic schedule, Claire stood ambivalently at the doorstep of each dawning weekend.   It wasn’t that she minded the time alone.  Quite the opposite; she was fond of her own company.  But a quiet mind was a mind open to whispers of the past, and those she couldn’t abide.

“What are yer plans fer the next twa days, then?” Geillis asked as she locked the office door.  Her friend was well-versed in Claire’s many coping mechanisms, even the ones Claire barely acknowledged herself.

“Oh, you know, the usual,” she replied as they got into the lift.  “A few classes at the gym, tidying my flat, maybe a run.”

“Christ, tha’ sounds like a punishment, no’ a break!  Ye need tae recharge, Doctor Beauchamp.  Would ye stop tae smell the flowers, jus’ fer a second, fer me?”

Watching the floor numbers slowly tick down, Claire considered her friend’s oft-repeated counsel.  It wasn’t that she doubted the sincerity or sense behind the plea: clinically, she knew the healing power of relaxation, of doing something for the sheer pleasure of it, or of doing nothing at all.  She had been on the treadmill of mindless momentum for so long, though, she wasn’t sure she remembered how to to step off.

The bell dinged and they walked together across the lobby.  Everywhere, people were milling about, rushing with a mobile tucked between chin and shoulder, meeting friends for an après-work drink.  They reminded Claire of ants, engaged in alien activities she could only interpret from a distance.

“I’ll take it under advisement, Geil,” she placated.  They had reached the pavement outside their office, where each weekend they parted to go their separate ways.

“Alright, hen.  Call me, if... weel, ye ken ye can always call, right?”

The back of her throat constricted, squeezing moisture towards her eyes.  Rather than risk speaking, Claire nodded emphatically, gave her friend a quick hug, and walked away without a backwards glance.

***

The next day dawned with a moist crispness to the air.  Having lived in the capital long enough to know that any pleasant weather might be short-lived, Claire threw the windows of her flat open to the timid breeze.  Pushing her utilitarian furniture against the walls and rolling back a threadbare Oriental carpet she’d inherited from her uncle, she proceeded to mop and then wax her floors.  Curls restrained in a kerchief, she’d donned her oldest yoga pants and sweat top for this Saturday morning cleaning ritual.  The kitchen was next.  By the time she reached the bathroom, she was perspiring and a number of ringlets had escaped confinement.

After a much-needed shower, she decided to apply a hot oil treatment and throw together an egg-white omelette.  She ate on the couch, the morning paper balanced on her knee.

Ten o’clock.  Only twelve more hours to go before bedtime.

***

Emboldened by the continued clear skies, Claire decided to try a new running route after lunch.  She usually ran the perimetre of Holyrood Park before finishing up with a hard sprint to the rocky nub of Arthur’s Seat.  Today, she took the tram to Corstorphine Hill, the site of an under-visited walled garden according to an article she’d read online.  Dirt paths meandered the park,  entering and leaving oak woods whose grassy skirts were embroidered by sunlight and bluebells.  It was all quite enchanting, and by the time she came across the walled garden, her heart beat with a long-lost weightlessness.

The garden itself was a pocket wonder; tiny but bursting with botanical life.  And while she didn’t literally stoop to smell any of the vernal blooms, she thought Geillis would be quite satisfied when they shared their usual Monday debrief of their weekend activities.

Walking downhill in search of a water fountain, a muddied roar travelled on the springtime wind.  It took a moment to place it, but she recalled that Murrayfield Stadium was located just to the south of the park.   Never a huge sporting enthusiast, she hadn’t been aware that a Scottish national rugby match was being played that afternoon.

Thoughts of rugby called to mind her newest patient.  With his height and bulk, she could imagine him following the sport, if not playing it himself.   Reason enough, she mused, to wander past the stadium as she cooled down.

With her mind pre-occupied, she completely missed the queue of people until it was too late.

“Frank!” a shrill voice broke her reverie, sending an icicle of dread down her spine.  Her heart kicked back into high gear, while her eyes scanned about for an approaching threat.  A tow-headed boy ran past, chasing a squirrel.  She stepped automatically out of his way, but managed to stumble over a tree root in her haste.

“Franklin!  Come back here this instant an’ apologize tae this lady!  Ye near knocked her o’er.”

Turning round, Claire was confronted by a hugely pregnant pale-haired woman, presumably the mother of the young boy who was now scuffing his feet through the leaf litter on his reluctant return.   She looked for a quick escape, but there were families everywhere.  She’d completely forgotten that the Edinburgh Zoo shared the hill with the park.

“I’m terribly sorry,” the mother offered.  “He’s sae excited tae see the pandas, ye ken.  An’ I canna chase after him as I used tae.”  As she spoke, the woman rubbed the globe of her belly, her eyes alight with the mysterious joys of impending motherhood.  It suddenly hurt to breath.

“No... errr, it’s fine, really,” she stammered.  “No harm done.”  Which was patently untrue, but the damage was pre-existing and beyond repair.  “Congratulations,” she choked out, the word like chalk in her mouth.  

The woman seemed eager to strike up a conversation. With a mumbled apology, Claire took off at a run, weaving down the path to the pavement, turning east and sprinting back to the safety of her flat, nearly three kilometres away.

***

As the evening wore on, it became impossible to overlook the truth of the day’s events.  No matter how hard she tried to pretend otherwise, Claire still wasn’t recovered from the ordeal that befell her over two years’ ago.  The irony of being a grief counsellor who couldn’t manage to overcome her own grief was bitter on her tongue.  What right did she have to counsel others in behaviours she couldn’t master herself?

She didn’t begrudge Frank his happiness, but she envied him greatly.  Their inability to conceive had torn a fatal wound in their relationship.  Both of them had suffered, both of them had lost a spouse.  But where Frank had quickly moved on to find another, more fertile partner, Claire felt like she was trapped in a never-ending cycle of self-blame and contempt.  No matter how far she ran or how diligently she planned the tidy compartments of her life, the anguish found her.  It was a corrosive shadow that dogged her days, always ready to darken her brightest moments.

It was well past eleven o’clock and she lay watching the flare of headlights chase each other across her bedroom ceiling.  A bottle of prescription pills promised sweet oblivion from inside her night table drawer.  She resisted for as long as she could, but as the minutes crept by, weary resignation won out.

Swallowing two of the capsules dry, she lay like a corpse wrapped in an Egyptian cotton shroud.  Slowly, the dry ice fog and discord of approaching sleep pulled her down, down, down below the waves of consciousness where nothing could harm her.

[edupunkn00b]

Punks, Poets, Parents - Ch. 2: The Book I Read

Prev - Ch. 2: The Book I Read - Next - Master Post - [ A03 ]

Rated M - WC: 1708 - CW: Swearing (guess who gets to say f---)

So take my shoulders as they touch your arms I’ve got little cold chills but I feel alright The book I read was in your eyes - The Book I Read, Talking Heads

Fic playlist on Spotify

---

Friday, October 7, 1983

Logan sat at the kitchen table, sipping his third cup of coffee, leafing through his copy of Walt Whitman’s Inscriptions. He’d laid awake last night, well past his intended sleep time, haunted by the lyrics of that song from last night.

He could only remember snippets of it now… All alone, when I’m walkin’ right through the glimmering light. He shook his head. It was so familiar but he couldn't quite place it. And the bit about the glimmering… No, it had actually been glimm’ring. That was what had drawn Logan’s attention to the line. Tapping the end of his pencil against his lips, Logan scanned the poems in front of him. Sighing, he stood, making his way back to the coffee maker for yet another refill. As he poured, he absently watched the dark liquid fill the cup and he turned the words around in his mind. Glancing at the time on the coffee maker, he gulped down the coffee before calling to the back bedroom, “Patton! You need to leave in ten minutes!”

Patton was already running out of his room, buttoning his shirt. “I know, I know, I know… I overslept.” Logan wordlessly filled another cup half-way with coffee, topped off the rest with milk, then handed it to his brother. “Ah… thanks,” he murmured, sipping at the milky coffee. Patton reached behind Logan for a banana from the counter, chugging the coffee. Ripping open the peel, he took a large bite, then started rooting through the refrigerator, searching for something to bring along for lunch.

Logan leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee, watching Patton’s panicked movements. “There’s a bag with your name on it on the top shelf, Pat.”

Patton froze, then stood up, holding the paper sack with his name written on it in Logan’s clear block lettering. “You’re a lifesaver, Lo!” He took another giant bite of his banana, mumbling, “Fthanks!”

Chuckling, Logan handed him a napkin, “You’re welcome.” Taking another sip, he looked at the time again. “Hm, I need to get going, as well. Will you be home for dinner tonight?” As he spoke, he put down his own coffee, walking over to the large bookshelf that dominated the wall in their living room. He pulled a few more poetry books down, stacking them in his arms. He snagged the Whitman and tucked them all into his satchel.

“I’m meeting a couple of friends from my work and last year’s internship for drinks tonight.” Patton pulled on his jacket, then finished his banana and his coffee. Logan eyed the peel and empty cup left on the counter for a second before Patton turned back, rinsing the mug and tossing the peel. “Hey, wanna come? Barb was asking about you.”

“Barb is interested in me.” Logan shook his head. “It would be inadvisable for me to attend. I do not wish to send her mixed signals.” he looked significantly at his brother.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Hey, we should do something this weekend, then.” Patton looked at the clock, “Fuck, I mean, fudge , I gotta go! See ya, Lo!” Patton shoved his feet into his shoes and grabbed his bag, running for the door.

“Who are you censoring for? I was present when you first said ‘fuck’ at age four!” Logan called after him.

Patton opened the door again to stick out his tongue, taunting in a sing-song "Just tryin' to respect my elders!" right before lightly slamming it shut behind him.

"Elder by five years!" Logan called back, chuckling and shaking his head. Still smiling at his brother's antics, he took a few minutes to pack his own lunch and to wash their mugs, letting them dry in the dishrack. He emptied the trash, tied off the bag and replaced the liner. He gathered his satchel, keys, and wallet then left for the school, locking the door behind him.

Logan sat back in his creaky old chair, staring at the papers spread on the desk in front of him. In the center of the desk were five attendance Delaney cards. It was only the third week of school and these five students had already missed between four and eight days of school. He picked up the first card, Damien Richards. He opened his desk drawer, jogging through the files until he found Richards. Pulling out the file, he opened it and checked his emergency information card. Asthma. Shaking his head, Logan put that card and file to one side.

He checked the next card. Laura Steinway. Opening her file, Logan re-read the note from last year’s teacher. Suspected home trouble. Sighing, he placed Laura’s file in a different stack.

Logan repeated the process for all five students with already-checkered attendance records. When he’d finished, he identified three as likely medically-related. One student had the misfortune of contracting chicken pox last week and he made a note of the children he’d noticed had spent the most time with that little girl before she stayed home.

Two of the children’s absences, however, were likely due to other causes. He would speak with the Principal about Laura. Logan had already spoken with the child’s parents twice in the last three weeks and their blasé attitude around their daughter’s schooling made Logan’s blood boil. A stern reminder from the principal that education was compulsory and they were legally required to ensure their child attended school regularly might make a difference.

Logan looked more closely at the file for the fifth child, Janus Heaney. He remembered this student from his initial review at the beginning of the school year. The child had been absent for an extended period last year due to a hospitalization. He shook his head and scowled. Lousy record-keeping by last year’s teacher. The file didn’t specify why the child had been hospitalized and, in fact, had very little information about the child other than noting he’d been out and that he was not disruptive in class. For not the first time, Logan wondered if it was related to the scar on the child’s face.

Regardless, his record included no reference to any on-going medical care or condition that might result in frequent absences, nor was there any mention of his apparent mutism, nor any interventions his kindergarten teacher had tried. He sighed again, lips curling in disgust. No wonder Mrs. Skinner was let go.

It was time to meet Mr. and Mrs. Heaney.

Logan pulled out a sheet of his bright blue “Teacher Time” notes and penned out a message for Janus’ parents, inviting them to come in after school to talk about their child. When he was finished, Logan checked the time. Ten minutes until students began to arrive. Just enough time for another cup of coffee.

He was going to need it.

Remus ran the last two blocks to the Village Voice’s office in Cooper Square. He had ten minutes before the Editor’s meeting and he desperately needed time to grab a cup of coffee from his favorite cart on the corner before having anything valuable to contribute. As he approached the tiny coffee cart, Max saw him coming and waved, starting a large light and sweet before he even got in line. When it was his turn, Remus gave him two dollars and a giant smile. “Thanks, Max. You’re a lifesaver, man.”

“Hey, I read your last article—is it true? You get over a thousand letters a week?”

Remus grinned and glanced at his watch. Yeah, he had time. Stepping to the side so the next person in line could order, he tucked in the little tab on his coffee cup and took a long drag of the steamy sweet caffeine and sighed, nodding. “Most weeks, yeah.”

“Damn. You need that coffee more than the schmucks down on Wall Street.”

Laughing, Remus took another long swig of the coffee. “I don’t know if I’d go that far, but yeah, I read a lot of letters. Most of ‘em are, uh, scintillating.... ” Remus waggled his eyebrows over his cup. Max laughed.

“Well, at least you get to share your experience with all the sad and lonely souls of New York who are looking for love.”

Remus winced, “Yes, I get to share my copious relationship experience with my readers. Speaking of which….” He raised his cup in a salute and rushed off to the heavy brass doors and his tiny little desk tucked in the corner on the fourth floor.

When he got to his desk, he found two mailbags’ worth of letters to go through. Remus rubbed his hands together, grinning. “Editing meeting first, fun later,” he muttered to himself, grabbing his notebook and a couple of pens, then dashed off to the staff room downstairs.

Remus slid into a seat in the back of the room just as the Feature’s editor, Jeff, started speaking. “Okay, people, listen up…." Jeff waited for the caffeinated din to quiet. "With Kate getting pulled over to the school asbestos story, we need someone who can pick up her article on the homeless encampment in the tunnels downtown.” Kate sat near the front of the room and turned in her seat to look behind her, staring pointedly at Theresa, the reporter on the child welfare beat.

Jeff followed her gaze. “Terry?” He held out his hands in a supplicating gesture, “These kids fell out of the foster care system and ended up homeless. You’ve been down there, interviewing them…” Remus shifted in his seat, watching Theresa’s expression.

“They’re not all kids,” Theresa scowled, carefully keeping her line of sight directed away from Remus. “The kids are just the photogenic ones that make the front page. 63% of the adults in that camp, including most of the addicts, used to be foster kids. They just aged out.”

She shook her head, glaring at the Feature’s editor. “I’ll write it." She stabbed her pen in his direction. "But you need to make sure you don’t edit out all the images of the adults who live down there, too.” Jeff crossed his arms, staring at her. Theresa just lifted her chin, tapping her pen on the top of her notepad.

Finally, he nodded and she—briefly—grinned. Jeff turned back to the board in front of them, calling out the next article up for grabs. Only then did Theresa cast a quick look of shared victory to Remus, a smile still hiding behind her glasses.

taglist: @psychedelicships @mavenmush @demon9980 @crossiantgay @justmeandmygayships @tsfanficarchive

[phantomchick]

Naruto Fic Rec Masterpost!

Adoption by Defenestration; or, A Family Can Be A Fox Demon, Its Jinchuuriki, and Three Dozen Highly-Trained Assassins  by elumish Oneshot, Gen, Fluff, child neglect, Naruto gets unofficially adopted by his anbu guards and it’s incredibly cute Summary: He will not be the ANBU who let the jinchuuriki plummet to his death out a fourth story window. Let that be another ANBU’s legacy.

Being Over-Prepared is Impossible (and other mottos)  by Pleasedial123 Longfic, Gen, Team Seven, team as family, Bamf Kakashi, Bamf team 7, au, kakashi pov, Complete but part of a three part series and the third part is still ongoing, still highly recommend, what team 7 should have been, Skilled Teacher! Kakashi Summary: In one world, Kakashi awoke, felt grieved at being assigned a team he sees his own in, and he let that grief make him a lazy teacher.  He saw himself in Sasuke, Obito in Naruto, and Rin in Sakura. He woke, saw himself in them, and took a large step back, regretting accepting them as his new team.  In that world he was quite hands off - merely a watcher because it was so very painful to watch. He saw himself and all his mistakes in this new team of his. 

In this world, Kakashi awoke, saw the similarities, and instantly panicked. 

He suddenly realised what he had done, passing a team.  Kakashi was left scrambling not to repeat old mistakes and regrets. This team would not suffer the fate of his team.

In this world, simply put, Kakashi became a teacher.  This is the beginning of a new team seven.

Something in the water by maldoror_gw  Oneshot, Gen, Teen and Up for language, hilarious, Tsunade pov, fluff, mild crack, pre-shippuden post naruto,

Summary: "Sakura...what is that man reading?" Tsunade asked in a dangerous voice. Sakura's gaze twitched away from her ex-teacher to her new - and temperamental - mentor. "Erm...a book...written by a...well-respected member of the community...about...romance?" Tsunade noted with passing approval that Sakura was demonstrating both loyalty and quite a lot of imagination in defending her one-time team leader (who was now trying to edge around a pillar to get away from Tsunade's venomous glare).

backslide by blackkat Time travel, time travel fix it, mature, fluff, team seven, m/m, slow build romance, Naruto adopts himself, Uzumaki heritage, bamf Naruto, complete longfic, Summary: Naruto’s friends are gone, his lover is dying, Konoha is destroyed, and Madara’s second return has pushed the entire world to the brink. Hunted and harried, Naruto is sent back in time to upend Madara’s plan before it even starts, and sets about changing everything. Butterfly effect nothing: the world is at stake, and Naruto is hardly about to let it fall to ruin once more. Not while he’s still breathing.

Tobirama Kicks Some Sense Into Konoha by allseer15 Hurt/comfort, whump, emotional whump, time travel, fix it, time travel fix it, The ‘what if Tobirama came to the future saw an orphaned Naruto and adopted the shit out of him’ Fic, Iconique, child neglect, child abandonment, fluff, so much fluff, completed longfic, look I have a weakness for the time travel fix it trope at the best of times but this fic is good even looking at it without focusing on that! Prolonged Tobirama content, Senju lore, senju feels, Summary: The Hidden Leaf Village in Naruto's time seems to have forgotten just why the village was founded and have lost their way.  Through a mishap with a hiraishin seal, Tobirama finds himself during Naruto's time and he is having none of this nonsense. His brother may be gone, but he won't stand to have Hashirama's dream trampled so. And if he has to cause a civil war or burn the village down to the ground? Well that depends on how much resistance he meets. All Tobirama does know for certain is that no child will suffer underneath the protection of Konoha and if he has to take them in and care for them himself, then he will.

Hardest of hearts by blackkat Oneshot, Gen, look I really like blackkat’s naruto fic okay, part one of a completed three part series, all three parts are great, Fix its are the best, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix It, Orochimaru redemption story, the sheer shadenfreude of one baddie fucking over another baddie, in this case Danzo, Obito has a ‘bad guy but not that bad of a guy’ solidarity moment with Orochimaru at the start and I loved it so there’s that, featuring a low key constantly horrified at this turn of events Minato,

Summary: Orochimaru gets one more chance. Just maybe, it will be enough to save him—and the entire world as well. 

A Snake In the Grass, a Wolf At the Door by blackkat Mature, Completed ten chapter fic, Orochimaru redemption story, Orochimaru/Kakashi’s dad, you read that right, quality Sakumo content, Families of Choice, Humour, Fluff and Angst, somewhat crackish, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, baby Kakashi being a cutie Summary: Orochimaru is on the edge of breaking when someone unexpected pulls him back to solid ground. When the time comes, he returns the favour.

Nukenin by WhisperingDarkness Gen, dimension travel, team seven, team as family, Kakashi actually being a good sensei even when he’s not a sensei at all, possessive kakashi, Team Seven is his team, Kinda Fluffy, Protective Kakashi, the ‘this might as well happen’ adaptability is real, Kakashi adopts team seven and team seven adopts kakashi, even though he’s illegal, 4 chapter fic, marked as complete as author doesn’t plan to continue it, but even taking these chapters as stand alone this fic is great,

Summary:  In the sealed scroll he finds a Bingo Book – his own page marking him as an S-class nukenin with flee-on-sight orders.  “Ok. That is definitely different.”  In his head he blames Naruto – even if his number one unpredictable student had been nowhere near him on this mission. When things go this stupidly impossibly wrong it must somehow be the future Hokage’s fault.

Ear to the Wall by Vodkassassin Ongoing, it’s really really good though! great Kakashi content, Minato is very stressed and I love him, Sickfic, Hurt/Comfort, whump, PTSD’d Kakashi gets to relive his childhood but gets a little bit of a real childhood along the way, ADHD Rin, time travel fix it, look I like what I like and what I like is fix its and time travel apparently, Kakashi adopts Orochimaru before he descends into douchbaggery, Orochimaru Redemption story, everyone is alive,   Summary: The Minato-sensei beams at him, and replies, “Kakashi! I’m glad you’re awake,” and, yup, that’s Minato-sensei’s voice. Kakashi falls back down against the bed, closing his eyes. It’s too short of a way down, and he clenches hands that are too tiny and feeble and not his in dog-print sheets he hasn’t owned for decades.

How To Save The World With No One Even Realising by IncompleteSentanc (Erava) Gen, Teen and Up, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, time travel fix it, Canonically Accurate OP Team 7, SuperBadass!Sakura, SuperBadass!Sasuke, SuperBadass!Naruto, RegularBadass!Shikamaru, Canonically Violent Sasuke, Equally Violent Sakura, Saving The World One Murder At A Time, Various Jinchuuriki, Team 7 As Super Villains, Doing Super Villainy Stuff, Like Murder, And Professional Eyeball Removal, Poor Obito, Poor Minato, AKA The Worst Four Months of Minato's Life, And Everyone Else's Too, Dark Humor, Bittersweet Ending, Dark Comedy, Crack treated seriously, completed 3 chapter fic, Well worth the read, Team 7 To The End! Summary: Minato knows at the beginning of the week that it's going to be a hellish one. Mostly because it starts with the kidnapping of one of his two remaining students, only a year after they'd lost the first one. He just doesn't realise at the time that it's not going to be a hellish week - it's going to be hell for quite a bit longer than that. It all starts with Rin's kidnapping, and her subsequent rescue at the hands of a mysteriously appearing, monstrously strong, murderously violent woman. A woman with cotton candy pink hair. It only devolves from there.

Just Killing Time by Elizabeth Culmer (edenfalling) Gen, Oneshot, Short and Sweet, Classic of The Fandom, Ficlet, Team 7, Kids being Kids, Fluff, Fluff and Humour, Slice of Life, Cute Kids

Summary: After Wave Country and before the chuunin exam, Team 7 kills time while waiting for Kakashi to show up. 

there lies a trail of fire behind us by BowAndDagger Gen, Madara is extremely confused but mostly on board, Time Travel au, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bamf Naruto Uzumaki, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Except Zetsu, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Fix-It, Founders Era, clan wars era, Pre-Slash, POV Uchiha Madara, the Completed part one of an Ongoing/Incomplete series, completed 4 chapter fic, Summary: As he returns from a mission, Madara makes a strange encounter with an even stranger shinobi. Then, he’s summarily kidnapped to go on a quest to save the world by said weird shinobi. (He absolutely did not choose to follow the stranger on his own free will. He was kidnapped. He did not give chase. He did not.)

A Political Perspective by VJ Riddle  / MueraRashaye Ongoing, Possibly (Probably) Discontinued, Teen and Up, Gen, Team 7, training montage deluxe, Konoha is a murder village, Good Teacher! Kakashi, AU, slowly developing into Bamf team 7, Bamf Kakashi, slowly developing into Team as Family, lots of fun ideas, not crack, Minor Spoiler: Zabuza and Haku get x’d before their character development gets its chance to shine in this fic, Sometimes people don’t warn for that in the tags and it can be a dealbreaker in fic for me as I love those two, not a dealbreaker in the case of this fic though! Really good fic so far, kind of verging on dry in places but it always stays fun in the end with lots of interesting elements, I enjoy the character insight from the pov switching, and also how much of a headcase Kakashi is, graphic depictions of violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence,

Summary: Hatake Kakashi was a shinobi, and as a shinobi, the only people who could give him orders were his military superiors. The idea that a Council made up of civilians and peers was under the impression they could give him orders...displeased him. Or: He was ordered to pass Team 7. He was fine with that, until they actually passed.

Integrity by Liz_Starling Oneshot, Gen, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Compliant, Integrity, Child Neglect, BAMF Uzumaki Naruto, Reflections on Naruto’s inner workings as a person, promises,

Summary: Naruto keeps his word. Some people are loyal to their families. Some, their orders. Naruto is loyal to the only thing he’s been able to count on; the promises he makes.

Foundation (Build It Higher, Bury It Deeper) by RayShippouUchiha Ongoing, BUT EXCELLENT, it made me cry, Naruto feels, 6 chapter fic thus far, Bamf Naruto, Bamf Tsunade, Naruto deserved better, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Mature, Team 7, Uzumaki Feels, Abandonment, Tsunade gives Naruto the personal talk he deserved instead of finding out from a chakra imprint when he was dying, so we stan, I love this fic

Summary: It’s just… he’d thought, given his fight against Neji and then his confrontation with Gaara, that someone would finally really acknowledge what he’d done.  That beyond Iruka-sensei’s crushing hug and Kakashi-sensei’s absent pat, someone would actually notice that he’d won against both of them.

That he’d beaten a genius on his own and then had battled another jinchūriki to a stand still.

So while he hadn’t really expected to be promoted too he’d still ...

¦ part 1 ¦ part 2 ¦ part 3 ¦

[teacup-crow]

Maybe, Maybe, Maybe

Fun bit of survivors’ guilt for @badthingshappenbingo, based pretty heavily off Don’t Poke the Bear and Variations on a Theme. Post-finale.

They take it in turns to keep watch for when he wakes up: Doug, Reneé, Isabel, first names still such a novelty. Just his luck, he opens his eyes to the impassive face of Captain Lovelace.

“Hi, dickbag. Sore head?”

“Unnnnhh…” he whines as if he’s lying under a ton of rocks rather than a cosy quilt on Renee’s living room floor. His face is a patchwork of bruising. “Aspirin?”

She takes pity, and passes him two and a glass of water. The sitting up takes longer than he thought it would.

“You look terrible. Lucky for you, Renee makes a mean chilli con carne. Never would have guessed she could cook.”

“No thanks, I should, should be going-”

“You need food in your system, that’s non-negotiable. First thing’s first, though, you’re having a shower, and you either go willingly or get dragged bodily, because you goddamn stink. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” he mumbles automatically, and he remembers the Colonel - Warren? Was it on a day he could call him Warren? - once saying something similar and his head pounds. ((“mr jacobi, of all the irresponsible, stupid shit i have seen from you this really takes the-“))

“Bathroom’s on the second floor, just past the master bedroom. Dominick put a pile of clean clothes in there before he left for work. And it’s Isabel, okay? Not sir. Not Captain. Never again.”

***

“Who did this to you?”

He grips his mug of sweet tea like it’s thousand dollar whiskey. He’s still ashen. “I did this to me.”

“You beat the shit out of yourself? Okay, yeah. Don’t buy that one.” Isabel repeats the question. “Who did this to you?”

“Just some guys I pissed off. I don’t know how many. I don’t know who. Happy now?”

The room goes silent. Isabel continues:

“And did you go provoking them deliberately?”

Not for the first time, Renee wonders whether they should have included Doug in this little intervention. He’s been through so much just like the rest of them, but he doesn’t know it, and he’s clearly freaking out at the situation.

“Why would he want something like that to happen? He looks terrible!”

“I don’t know, Doug,” Isabel says levelly. “Care to answer, Jacobi?”

He’s not on a first name basis, apparently.

“Not… I didn’t... no. No, no, no. I was too drunk and… picking fights, but suddenly there were too many of them, okay? But I got out. And if I want to drink then that’s my own problem, so thank you for the hospitality but-“

Renee cuts in there. “When you drink yourself into a stupor, get attacked by a gang in a back alley, and stumble into my doorway at 0300 hours after six months of radio silence, it becomes our problem.” Her look of pity makes his stomach churn even more than the chilli did. He breathes in, hold, out; in, hold, out; in-((alana’s breathing technique and why why why is she everywhere in everything why does he have to see her out of the corner of his eye when it’s been so long he can’t properly remember her face-))

“Fine. What do you want from me?”

“You are a good man and you saved every single one of our lives and we need to understand why you’re so intent on throwing yours away.”

Jacobi starts laughing then, guttural laughs that worsen the ache in his head and bones but he can’t seem to stop them. “...me? I’m a good man? Oh my God, Lieutenant, that’s hilarious. Give us another.”

“You need to take this seriously! This is a form of self harm! You could have died!” Isabel is pacing up and down. She and Renee do good cop, bad cop like it’s a professional sport.

“Boo fucking hoo. And the world would forever be worse off for my passing.”

Isabel stops, and turns back towards him with some heat in her gaze. “I have lost too many crew members who deserved to die far less than you do. Okay? Is that what you want to hear? Do you need me to reconfirm that you are a an asshole? Do you need to hear about how Fisher, and Hui, and Fourier, and Lambert were all far better people than you will ever, ever be? Or will you accept that you are good in there? That deep down you’re on the right-“

“We burned their letters.” He’s staring at the duvet he’s wrapped in, running his finger over the flowers on the pattern. “Okay? Still think I’m a good person?”

“...wait. What?” She laughs a little, in shock perhaps. “But you told me…”

“I told you what I needed to tell you to make you trust me. We burned your crew’s letters. Lambert’s… I remember those especially. His hands were shaking really hard when he wrote them, weren’t they.”

It’s not a question.

Isabel stops pacing, and Jacobi grins again but it doesn’t reach his bruised eyes when he looks up at her. “More than mine, even. You could tell he was sick. They didn’t make any sense. We laughed at them. The irony of a Communications Officer who can’t communicate. Are you listening to me? We read their letters and we burned them and we laughed about it-“

Renee loses her softness. “Jacobi, that is enough!”

Isabel has a hand on her chest as if something has hit her there. She counts to ten in her head, ((fisher’s technique to try and stop her fighting with sam, never worked but still stuck in her head, or this copy of her head, or whoever she is now-)) and leaves the room.

They hear her slamming drawers in the kitchen.

Doug glances at Jacobi and shakes his head, before hurrying after her.

“How could you,” Reneé says. “How could you.”

“I don’t know. Will you let me go and ruin my own life now?”

“Never,” she replies. “Because, God help me, you’re still a member of my crew.”

At that, his eyes prick with tears he can’t explain. He rolls over on the air bed, and closes them.

***

“Lovelace?” Jacobi finally makes himself walk into the kitchen, grimacing like each step is on hot sand. The words are monotone. “I’m so sorry. What I did and said is... inexcusable.”

“Nope. That’s too large a word for your vocabulary. Come back to me with an apology Renée didn’t script,” Isabel snaps, going back to scribbling in a sketchbook.

“Look, I’m not much good at this-“

“You’re telling me.”

“I’m… really used to people yelling at me and hitting me until they feel better. Or you can shoot me if you like!”

“Jesus. Well, I am not about to do that to ease your guilt. You look like you’d snap if one more person poked you. So apologise properly.”

“I’m sorry…”

“For?” Isabel prompts over the top of her book.

“I’m sorry for burning your crew’s letters.”

“You did what you were ordered to do. It is what it is. I’m not condoning it.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Jacobi realises she’s waiting for him to continue. “And… I’m sorry for bringing it up. That was… needlessly cruel. It sucked.”

“It really did,” she replies, putting the book down. “Tell you what: that sounded somewhat genuine, and Goddard brought out the shit in all of us. You look so pathetic, I’m going to forgive you. Not because you deserve it, but because I don’t bear grudges. Not anymore.”

She holds out a hand, and he shakes it. “Thank you.”

“Wow. That actually hurt for you to say.”

Jacobi nods. He sits down across from her at Renée’s huge darkwood table, and thinks about how she and Dominick must have bought this when they moved in together with plans to have people over for dinner every other night. Maybe even plans to have kids.

He wonders if Dominick ate at it alone while his wife was gone.

“So, you gone on that holiday yet?”

“No, actually. I’ve legally been dead for about seven years, so getting a passport is proving pretty tricky.”

“I can imagine.”

“Where have you been, anyway? We tried to get into contact with you. We drove down to your old apartment - got your address from the Goddard database - but it was cleaned out.”

Jacobi looks sheepish. “Yeah, well, I’d mostly been staying at Alana’s for the last few years or overnight at… yeah… so I’d not been a very good tenant and turns out they took ‘lost in space’ as the perfect opportunity to kick me out. So I’ve been sofa to sofa, on the streets a bit-”

“For heaven’s sake, Jacobi. We would have helped you, you stupid asshole! All you had to do was ask and you could have stayed here! Renee and Dominick would probably even let you have a cheese collection or whatever the fuck it was.”

“Guess the amount of drinks it takes for me to lose my pride is somewhere over eighteen?”

“How do you have a functioning liver?”

They sit in an almost comfortable silence for a few minutes, Isabel reopening her sketchbook.

“I never knew you drew.”

“You never knew me outside of a life-threatening situation.” Isabel sighs, twists the pencil between her fingers. “I don’t think I did. Before. The old ‘me’, I mean. But I was bored and I can’t get a job because of the ‘being dead’ issue, so I thought I should take up a hobby or something. Might be therapeutic. I’m not very good at it…”

“Can I see?”

“I, uh,” Isabel suddenly looks uncertain. “I drew her. Maxwell. I drew everyone, actually. Are you sure you want to look?”

“Yes.”

He leafs through the pages, at first simple doodles before branching into full portraits. Eiffel, upside down and smoking a cigarette. Hilbert, looking troubled at a shadow behind him he can’t quite see. Two ghostlike figures in lab coats staring out at the star, the man with a prophetic terror etched on his face - must be Isabel’s old crewmates. Mr Cutter smiles up at him with far too many sharp teeth in sharper lines where the pencil was pressed far too hard and he turns the page quickly. There’s Kepler, mid-whiskey speech and it almost stops his heart. He pauses. Maxwell.

In the picture, her eyes are shining as she stares at Hera’s console, fingers nothing more than a blur - the three-day stint she spent trying to get the AI online. Aside from the orange and blue of Wolf 359, elsewhere in the book Isabel has barely used colour, but here the room is bathed in a serene green light from the screens. Behind Maxwell, Jacobi sees himself, little more than a stocky, sketchy outline, waiting for her to finish.

He looks so proud of her.

He looks so… content.

After staring for a long moment, Jacobi closes the book and hands it back. “Thank you.”

“You can keep the pictures of them, if you like,” Isabel offers, but he doesn’t know whether he would like, so he says:

“Tell me about your crew.”

“What?”

“Your old crew. Tell me about them. Was Lambert the one staring at...?”

“No. No. No, that was Kuan Hui, our senior astrophysicist. He was whipsmart and funny and fearless, until the time Goddard Futuristics played around in his brain, stretched out his perception of time. He was completely alone in the dark for two weeks. His smile never really reached his eyes after that.”

Jacobi sips tea awkwardly, even though it’s cold.

“Something like that, it stays with you. At least he had Fourier, though.”

“That’s the woman behind him?”

“Junior physicist. Victoire Fourier had eyes like stars. Cleverest person I’ve ever met. She played six instruments, spoke four languages and she had the most gentle soul. She used to read to Hui when he got sick with Decima. Coughed up every organ in his body. I thought it would break her, but she was made of stern stuff. She vanished off the space station in the final days and I still don’t know what exactly happened to her-”

“I… do. If you want to know, I mean.”

Isabel shakes her head. Then pauses. Then shakes her head again. “I get the feeling whoever is to blame is long gone.”

Jacobi shrugs. “Who else?”

“Well, there was Mace Fisher. Fisher… Fisher died because of me, not Goddard Futuristics. Asteroid shower tore him from my hands. He had a boyfriend waiting at home. He was sensitive, sensible, grounding. A real older brother type. I- I didn’t deal particularly well with his death. Well, you know that much.”

((Pill popper!)) Jacobi gulps more cold tea.

“And Lambert?”

“Sam Lambert. Officer Samuel Lambert had a stick up his ass. He was whiny, and authoritarian, and he treasured his copy of Pryce and Carter more than Reneé and Kepler combined did. He drove me nearly insane, and I drove him likewise. The best second in command you could ask for. A damn good man. Sam got sick after Hui, so we knew what was coming. What it meant. He was brave, though. At first.”

((“C-Captain, please shoot me, please, it hurts, it hurts, Captain, please, I just want it to-”)

She falters.

“Lovelace?”

“Yup?”

“You know, it’s not even really about the Hephaestus. I keep… it’s insane, but I keep thinking about… I was an explosives guy for the Air Force. Before Goddard. A trigger failed and two men died. Andrews and Sullivan. I haven’t thought about them in years and suddenly-“

“They’re everywhere?”

There’s a sudden understanding between them.

“They’re everywhere. Them and Maxwell and Kepler. They’re in mirrors, in the back of my brain, around corners.”

“Flashes of them.”

“And if you just reach out far enough, maybe-“

“Maybe-“

“Maybe.”

((let’s go be monsters)), Jacobi’s brain echoes. He grits his teeth.

“Did it stop for you? When does it stop?” He finds himself asking. Isabel doesn’t answer.

[crimsonrae]

Reckless Intent: Part One

Summary: When the dance between Sherlock and Delia first began, learning the steps did not come smoothly. But then that would happen when affections haven’t been made clear and a murderer is on the loose.

SherlockXOFC

Rating: M

Warning: Mentions of Prostitution and some minor nudity

A/N: I couldn’t leave the thought of Sherlock and Delia alone and this was how I picture them finally acknowledging the attraction between them. Set about ten years before the events in Enola. Sherlock has only been away from home for about three years.

It hadn’t taken much effort.  

Far less than Delia had anticipated when she had visited with the proprietor of the gentlemen's club, but then she wasn’t surprised by the notion that a group of men who spent their private time ogling scantily clad women, would hire her so quickly to do the same. Her stomach churned with mild disgust while her nerves threatened to undo her.

Large dusky pink feathers danced and skimmed playfully over her delicate slippers, teasing the curve of her calf as she drew the large fan up her body.  

Being in the club was a risk, but it had been the last place her dear friend, Margaret, had visited before her untimely death and the police were making little headway in finding her killer.

She bent sanguinely back in time with the dulcet chords from the piano, allowing a glimpse of the swell of her bosom to the leering crowd below.

Part of their sloth had much to do with the other women's reticence in speaking with the coppers. Their livelihood depended on them being able to keep a secret, after all.  

She winked and tossed her leg up receiving a loud cheer as the men tried to glimpse her coveted virtue.

The other part had much to do with the fact that Margaret had been a former pickpocket and flower-girl, now tobacco-girl. Her death meant little to the constables and even less to the detectives.  

What was one more dead urchin after all?  

It both saddened and enraged Delia, for that had been her life for so very long too. Still was to a certain degree, but she had found employment for her particular skill set... even if it did bring her into contact with the police and an up and coming young detective far too often for her tastes.  

She twirled. The fans just barely hid her assets from the audience as she swayed across the stage.

Unruly fire twisted in her veins as she thought of that arrogant young man. How his cerulean orbs twinkled with dark intrigue with their every encounter... as if she were some mystery for him to puzzle out. She didn’t care for his stares or the odd fluttering he caused her.  

The clip in her hair fell loose as she pirouetted more vigorously than she had intended. Her hair cascaded in soft luscious waves down her back much to the appreciation of her gentleman viewers.

Those flames licked angrily at her throat as she recalled their last meeting. How she had all but begged for his help and he... Humiliated tears burned at her eyes as she tried and failed not to think of his uncaring words.  

Her friend’s death wasn’t interesting. She was likely caught in one of her scams and it ended badly for her. She forced the tears down.  

She tried not to think of why his usual dismissive behavior had wounded her so...

What did Sherlock Bloody Holmes know anyway?

A playful smile curled at the edges of her painted lips as she slid down into a vertical -legged split to roars of delight. Never noticing the lone note of remonstrating silence from the back.

Delia glided from the stage feeling flushed and exhilarated as she was greeted by the knowing chuckles of the other women. There was a strange excitement that came from being so daring and vulnerable before that crowd... she understood now why Margaret had sought it out. She felt almost... powerful.

“You look just like her.” One of the girls murmured, a sad glint tinting her gaze.  

Delia arched a questioning brow, surprised when the other woman continued, “Your friend, Maggie... She had that same dazzled look, Luv.”

A few of the women dispersed, heading for the stage – other's the crowd, but the intent was the same to get away from the coming conversation.  

The woman sighed and adjusted the garter on her thigh as she critically eyed the tight lacing of her silk corset, “We’re not fools, ya know? We know why you’re here. Maggie was a good ‘un. Real riot. Shame, what happened to her.”

Delia’s heart skipped a beat, unsure how to react to being found out so soon – she wasn’t used to others seeing through her disguise. It was foolish on her part; she had visited Margaret here on a few occasions. Hesitantly, she queried, “And do you know what happened to her?”

The other woman sighed and finished tethering her skirt to her hip before turning to her, “’ Course not. She ran into trouble, didn’t she? Word of advice, avoid the red room, else you’ll run into trouble, too.”

The woman spurned Delia with a pointed look before she sauntered off to join another girl on a secondary stage. There was no missing the hint behind her comment.

If Delia’s heart had skipped a beat before, it thrummed with desperate need now. Warily, her eyes darted to the stairs in the back of the club as she pinned a faux skirt over the lacey French drawers that teased her nethers. The private rooms resided above, and Delia shivered to think of what occurred inside. Many of the women sold more than dances, and despite her earlier bravado, such carnality was foreign to her. It saddened her to realize that perhaps it wasn’t foreign to Margaret.

Steeling herself, she pasted a coy smile to her lips and forced mischief to dance in her gaze as she picked up a tobacco tray. She mingled in the crowd. Trading her pouches of dried leaf for coin as she steadily made her way to the stairs. She dumped the tray once she passed the smirking usher at the bottom... now she just needed to find this red room.  

Footsteps and giggling voices interrupted her search before she could even begin. Panic choked at her throat as she sought an open room to duck into, uncertain if her presence would be questioned. She didn’t make it far when a warm hand wrapped around her elbow and yanked her into a darkened room. She yelped, her fist flying at her assailant before she consciously noted it moving, but this too was thwarted.

Her wrist was captured, and her body pressed firmly back into the closed door to prevent any further attack when she caught sight of a familiar pair of cerulean eyes.

“You!” Delia spat, her fear forgotten in the face of her arrogant detective, “Unhand me!”

Momentarily allied that no harm would befall his person, Sherlock stepped back with an arched brow as he faced her ire, “Kindly keep your screeching to a minimum. It wouldn’t do to have us discovered so soon.”

Delia’s mouth dropped open indignantly and her hand tingled with the dark desire to slap his smarmy face. She barely kept hold of her temper as she berated him lowly, “You accosted me, Mr. Holmes. If anything, I should be screaming the building down on you.”

“That would be foolish and counterintuitive to your goals.” Sherlock stated mildly as his gaze deliberately skimmed over her meager dressage. His mouth tightened distastefully, “Though you’ve already proved how foolish you’re willing to be tonight.”

She resisted the urge to cover herself as her gaze darkened almost ferally, “I beg your pardon -”

“You’ll beg for a lot more than that before this night is through.” Sherlock murmured softly, a hint of danger coating his tone that raised the hairs on the nape of her neck and sent heat to her cheeks.

It was then that Delia realized there was no trace of his usual mocking humor. His eyes didn’t twinkle with that thoughtful light but gleamed with dark intent. The passive non-smile that usually painted his maw was now replaced by a tense jaw and a twitching cheek. To anyone unfamiliar with the detective they would merely see an impassive visage, but Delia had encountered him often enough this past year to know he was displeased. In fact... he seemed livid.

The realization sent an untoward shiver down her spine. Vainly, she ignored the embarrassed fluttering he induced in her as she held her scowl, “Why are you here, Mr. Holmes? I didn’t take you for the type to buy his pleasure.”

“Nor did I take you for the type to sell hers.” Sherlock retorted impatiently – even this was unlike him. He was not usually prone to such emotional responses. It made her leery, “I seemed to recall my assistance being required in solving the murder of a one Margaret Harris, Miss. Woodson.”

Delia blanched, her uncertainty growing as she stared bemused, “You said the case wasn’t interesting or worth your time.”

“It’s not.” Sherlock iterated stonily, “But since you seemed intent on running headfirst into trouble, I thought it best to intervene before you did something reckless. Though I see I’m already too late on that account.”

Acidic words danced on the tip of her tongue, but by some odd strength, she kept them at bay. Her attention soundly stuck upon his anger. Delia didn’t understand it, was galled by it... she hated it, “You’re angry.”

“I’m aware.” He answered quietly, making her huff.

Her lips pursed as barely kept reign of her irritation, “Why?”

The air in the room seemed to chill with her question and she had to bite back a gasp as his full attention bore down on her like a malevolent cloud. Incredulity shined like a stray beacon against his ferocious storm of muted fury. He stared at her as if she should already know why he was upset, and Delia had never felt more out to sea. For a wild moment, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be brought back to shore.

“Why?” He growled.  

Delia refused to acknowledge the thrill that hard tone sent through her body as she fought to remember she had been the one wronged in this scenario. Not him.

“Perhaps Miss. Woodson, you are more naïve than I thought. After all, it does take a certain amount of oblivion or perhaps ignorance to not realize where exactly you are standing.” Sherlock lectured crisply as he loomed over her small form, “Is it completely lost on you that you stand in what is essentially a high-caliber bordello? That you are before me in your undergarments? That you are very much at risk of being accosted by far worse characters than myself?”

None of those questions truly answered hers about his motives but rather danced around it. He reminded Delia of a boy she had known as a child. He had had a toy train that he adored more than anything. Strangely, he never played with it, but always had it in hand. He would never let another child play with it and was quite protective of this train. It was his toy. No one else's.  

An inexplicable dawning began to light her mind as if she were seeing the stars in the night sky for the first time.  

Quietly, she prodded him, “I am quite aware, Mr. Holmes. Otherwise, I would not have attempted to defend myself when you did accost me. I understood the risk I took. I also understand that I am not your ward – in any sense of the word. You are not my husband, nor my kin. Your concern for my well being while touching is -”

“Delia.” He barked, making her jump, “Do not insult your intelligence and myself by finishing that sentence.”      

Just as quickly as he had lost grip of his temper, he regained it. She blinked at him wide-eyed as she watched him resume his guarded mask. His control was frightening, but also frustrating. So much went on beneath his prickly surface that to see his countenance crumble was... simply illuminating.  

Her heart beat a frantic staccato in her chest... she wasn’t ready for such illumination, however. Not now. And most certainly not here. She nearly wanted to cry, especially once she realized that to want it otherwise meant she returned his sentiment.  

It simply wasn’t to be born. She did not hold affection for Sherlock Bloody Holmes.  

And yet...

A quiet strangled question left her lips before she could stop herself, “Why are you here, Sherlock?”

His mouth opened to answer before swiftly shutting as he studied her – his head tilted to the side and while she could still make out the fury burning in his bright orbs a strange vulnerability winked like a passing star at her before his visage fell into careful neutrality, “You already know the answer, Miss. Woodson. To speak it would simply be redundant, but I will enact upon that sentiment once we have departed this place. Go and get your things.”

A faint battle ensued within her at his words – Delia wanted so badly to push at him. He dragged her before a truth that she was not ready to face, it seemed only fair that he confirmed her suspicions by admitting his care. But the knowledge that Sherlock was present while Margaret was not, weighed heavily on the battle tides.

She found her back stiffening and chin tilting up as she declared, “I’m not going anywhere, Mr. Holmes. Least of all with you. I came here for answers, I’m not leaving until I have them.”

That thin veil of danger descended upon her again as Sherlock glowered at her. Goosepimples shivered down her arms under his silent predation, as her belly swam with anticipation. She suddenly felt very much like a lamb lost to a wolf.  

Unbidden, a small plea came to her tongue, “Sherlo-”

Abruptly, she found herself pinned to the wall and shock thundered through her veins as she distantly perceived the clips of her skirt yank apart before the flimsy fabric fluttered to the ground. Sherlock’s long fingers delved beneath the hem of her undergarments as his mouth claimed hers in a furious kiss that awoke a tempest in her heart.  

Delia squealed, melting into his embrace even as she latched her fingers to his woolen coat to push him away. She barely managed to budge him, when the door swung open admitting a giggling showgirl and her John.

Sherlock growled, his body covering hers effectively from sight as he glowered at the intruding couple, “Room’s taken.”

The man grumbled an apology as he tugged his conquest back out and shut the door behind him. Then and only then did Sherlock return his attention to her. He raised an innocuous brow as he took in her flushed face and gaping expression.

Pleasure twinkled at Delia through his stern visage and she was torn between the need to slap him and a need to taste his lips again. Quietly, he slipped his hand from her drawers and stepped back enough to give her room to breathe. His hungry gaze drifted along her body for a second time as he took in the long expanse of her curved legs.

He swallowed tightly before returning his stormy glare to her face. He left no room for argument as he quietly ordered, “Get your things.”

Yet argue she did, “I’m not -”

His finger came up in warning as he silently dared her to finish that sentence, “You’ll get your answers once I’ve found them. You will not be staying here any longer than it takes for you to find your clothes. Do not test me.”

Still, Delia hesitated, part of her wanted to demand an explanation. Her heart and her mind were of two battles and the sea he had swept her out to, now raged with drowning swells. She didn’t like this confusion, this uncertainty within herself... she wanted answers and not just about Margaret’s murder.

She bit her lip as she fought not to wilt under his demanding stare, “You’re taking the case.”

“If only to keep you out of trouble, yes.” Sherlock intoned almost impatiently. He bent swiping up her skirt and deftly pinned it back in place, “We’ll discuss the matter of your payment, amongst other things once we depart from here – that man was not here to use this room. I don’t know what ears are in the place. So be quick.”

“Sherlock.” She pushed even as he grasped her elbow and ushered her out the door.

He paid her no mind, “Ten minutes, Delia, meet me outside. If I have to come back for you, I will not be pleased.”

He gave her a small nudge towards the stairs, and she couldn’t help but mutter, “You’re not pleased now.”    

“Ten minutes.”

The steel in his tone had her scampering for the back as her stomach clenched. She ignored the wave of arousal coursing through her but raised a hand to her still tingling lips as she bit back a smile.  

Sherlock Bloody Holmes.

Next Chapter

[sellina-skyfall]

Dream SMP - We don´t talk about it

Summary: It’s no secret that Tommy believes he’s the greatess person to exist, the ego on that child is bigger then everyone elses in the Dream smp combined. Even thou he can handle his own pretty well in battle, maybe he should think twice before picking fights with gods.

In other words, problem child tries to fight the literal goddess of chaos to try and prove to everyone else that he is strong.

Warning: This work is a work of fiction and in no way should be taken as gospel.This was done with entertainment proposes, and involves the Dream smp characters, and the characters only. It is not my intention to make anyone uncomfortable, or cross any bonderies.

This work contains, a fighting scene, mentions of child abandonment, bad parenting and some violence.

I apologize if there are any mistakes, or if there are some sentences that don’t make much sense. English is not my first language.

This can be read as an Xreader, or as an Xcharacter!

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

-I am not a kid!-

-Yes you are Tommy, I'm not teaching you how to murder someone just because you think you're a grown up-

-You're just afraid I'll beat you in a battle!-

I couldn't lie, it was hard not to listen to Techno's and Tommy's querrels. As loud and as annoying as they could get, the two always managed to light up everyones mood. Accuratly, this didn't always work, but for the most part, their little arguments were light hearted and fun. A change of scenery for the usually calm and honestly, quite boring winter empire.

-Ten minutes max until they are at eachothers throats-

The hushed comment made me snicker slightly, a small smile breaking out as I carefully adjusted the tea cup on my hands, making sure to not spill it over the beautifully decored table me and Philza were sitting by. The winged man gave me a knowing look, smile crooking slightly as he gestured back to the fighting pair with a simple nod of his head. My eyes immediatly snapped over, teeth suddently digging into my lips as I held back a laugh. Philza was more then right, those two would be at eachother sooner rather then later. Not that we were too worried, if anything escaled we would simply step in.

Like we always did.

The bird-hybrid more then me, I simply did not have the mental strenght to argue with both Tommy and Techno, they were already hot-headed when alone.

Oh but when they were toguether?

A living time-bomb that could go off over the smallest and dumbest things.

-It really does run in the family, uh Phil?-

It wasn't really a question, if anything, it was more of a little jab to the mans raising methodes. Not that I could really talk, it had been centurys since I had last held a baby, even longer since I had to take care of one. If I had been in Philzas place I would probably have been a worst parent then he ever was.

In response to my teasing, the bird-hybrid simply rolled his eyes, smile softening as he leaned somewhat closer to me. Immediatly catching onto his antics, I decided to play along, quietly suffling forward in my chair before bringging up the cup of tea up to my lips, the smile I had only widening as the childish behavior.

-Mighty words coming from someone who abandoned their child-

-I did no such thing, do you really believe I would be able to abandone a baby? Scar was a follower of mine-

-A very dedicate one if I might add-

Phil's sentence was abruptly interruted by Tommy's voice, the teenager had somehow approached us without any of us noticing. His hands slamed down onto the table, the impact making the glasses and plates shake slightly. It didn't take five seconds before the hybrid was scolding his youngest soon, eyes Sharp as he told Tommy to apolegize.

The teen, however had other plans. His Bright blue eyes were focused on me as his smile praticly occupied half of his face. His next words had be chocking on the tea I had been drinking.

-Well! If Techno won't teach me how to fight then Sellina will! Right!?-

I looked over to Philza in disbelief, eyes widened at the bluntness his child possessed. Tommy really had no manners in conversation, especially when it came to woman. The blond man simply stared back at me, his expression mirrowing mine as his mouth opened and closed several times. We were both at a lost for words. The silence that took over was quite unconfortable, and the intense stare Tommy kept giving me did nothing to make me feel better about the hole situation.

After breathing in slowly I found myself forcing a smile at the teen, hands coming down to rest the partly now spilled tea on the table.

-I don't think that's a good idea Tommy-

-What, you think I can't handle my own?! I'll have you known I'm the strongest in this house hole!-

Techno's snicker was loud enough to catch our attention, so much so that Tommy turned over in his direction to curse him out. Talk about na big ego.

Really, where were this childs manners...

-C'mon Sellina! I'm sure I can beat you in a fight!-

-I don't think so T, but the intention is what counts..-

-Well! If you are so sure of yourself why won't you fight me? At least teach me some cool moves so I can use them agaisnt Techno!-

-You'd have to have blue blood for that buddy. Maybe when you're older Tommy-

The frustation was evidente in Tommys face, his cheeks had redden up and his mouth had dropped into a frown. Without another word the teenager simply stormed off, bangging the door loudly behind him.

I couldn't help but feel slightly bad, a tired sigh escaping me as my shoulders dropped slightly at the teens mood swing.

Humans were way too emotional.

But in the end, there was nothing I could really do, teaching Tommy how to fight was out of the question, and fighting him was na even worst idea. I was not about to train a sixteen year old kid to be a soldier.

My train of thoughts was broken by Philza, who at this point had gotten up and was grabbing the dishes up from the table to put them in the kitchen's sink. Before he did so thou, he gave my shoulder a tight squeeze, eyes soft and understanding. The smile on lips lips was small, but welcoming all the same.

I found myself smilling back with ease.

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

-Are you sure you don't need me to accompain you home Sellina?-

-With all the due respect dadza, I can take care of myself. You should be more worried for Techno, he seems...-

-I know. The fight with tommy lefy him in a sower mood. He'll be back to normal before you know it-

-If you say so... Alright, take care then. Give the boys kisses for me!-

Quietness.

That's the only real way I could describe the winter florest, apart from breathtaking and beautifull view. Honestly, the scenery looked like it had been straight out ripped from an old fairytail book, the kind of book kids swore held magic.

And maybe, they did.

The snowed covered trees almost touched eachother a the top, the casted shadows creating this welcoming sense of protection. Their frozen leafs shook slightly in the welcoming breeze of the night, even the animals seemed to have gone silent. I found myself slowly coming to a stop in the middle of it all, eyes locked onto the brightly illuminated moon. It had been hard to spot her, after all the threes were rather large, but the sight that welcomed me had made it all worth it.

Nights like this were what made me remember why I was so found of earth. So found of these people that slowly destryed everything they touched. So found of their interactions and relations.

It was never this peacefull and serene out there.

My shoulders relaxed quite quickly, and before I knew it I was calmly enjoying the presence of the cold winter spirt. The wind had started to pick up, but it didn't bother me in the slightless, in reality it made me smile harder.

The small moment of bliss was cut short by the sounds of foot steps fastly approching. For a moment I thought it might have been Techno or maybe even Philza but none of them had any reason to follow me into the florest. I forced myself to stay quiet, holding my breath in as a way to hear the steps better.

They had broken out onto a full blown sprint.

My reaction was pretty much immediate, right hand coming down fast to to summoning my battle axe. I turned on my feet as fast as I could, cape flowing behind me as my eyes fell on the tip of the sword that had barelly missed my face. Instinctively my arm came up, axe in hand as I swung it down with so much force that it sliced right through the dimond sword that once had been held up to me. A squeek left my attackers mouth, but before he could do anything I brought my left leg up, swiftly quicking his leg before swingging once again. The blade barelly missed his face as he fell to the ground with a muffled "thud", the snow aiding in his fall. His breathing was much faster then it should have been, teary blue eyes widened in shock and in terror as he stared up at me like I was some kind of monster. The gripo n my axe flaterred as soon as I recognized who was on the other side of my blade.

-Tommy?-

His name came out in a whisper, arms shaking as I realized how close I had just been to hurting the small teenager. The axe slipped past my fingers and onto the snow as I stared down at Tommy, the frightened look he had inprinting itself into my memory.

Calls of both our names echoed through out the florest, not that I could hear them clearly, everything had started to turn into white noise. That is until Techno stepped into view, rough hands carefully grasping at my face as he tried to gain my attention back. Still, my eyes stayed focussed on Tommy, even when Philza started scolding himw hile checking over for injuries.

-I could have killed him-

-Hey. Hey, c'mon it's it's not your fault. Tommy shouldn't have sneaked up on you-

-Oh my god I could have killed him. Techno I could have killed him-

-It's fine. It's going to be fine-

I don't remember exacly how that night ended, nor' how the next day started.

One thing had been certain thou, Tommy made sure to never ask me to fight him again.

[nythberryy]

Hold Me Tight (Erwin x fem!Reader)

I wrote an Attack on Titan fanfiction (oneshot) in which Erwin Smith is a real gentleman.

Words: 2955

Warning:

The story contains 18+ scenes and builds up slow.

-They'd known each other for a long time, yet none of them confessed until that rainy night.-

It starts a bit sad, but trust me, it ends well. 💞

It's my first story written in English, so I apologize for grammatical mistakes and cringe writing.

I hope you’ll still find it enjoyable. 💞

(I also posted it on ao3. You can find me there as: NythBerry)

Thank you for your time!✨

September was usually gilded by the last sunbeams of summer, however that day was colder than usual. As clouds gathered, the sky turned grey. Raindrops began to knock on the red tile roof just to then fall and soak the ground. It was raining all day without a break. Everyone from the city struggled to get through the mud. The carts couldn't fight it, the horses neighed as they tried to push forward. Wooden wheels crackled, some even broke in two.

A tall man walked into the guesthouse. Water was slowly dripping from his clothes. With each step he made, he left a puddle on the freshly washed floor. (Y/N) recognized him in a blink of an eye though his face was covered by the green hood he was wearing. He stopped at the counter and revealed his face. His blonde hair, that was always slicked back nicely, now was a mess. Wet strands fell on his forehead.

(Y/N) put down the mop and wiped her hands to greet the man. "Erwin!"

"Good evening, (Y/N)! I'd like to book a room for tonight."

"What happened to your trousers?" it was covered in mud to the knee "Is it that bad outside?"

"It's raining quite heavily" he said "I don't think I would be able to go back tomorrow."

"I'll prepare a room for you. Just sit down please. There's no one here anyway, except an elderly couple upstairs. Do you want to drink something warm? Tea maybe?"

"Tea is fine, thank you."

Erwin took a seat in front of the counter and watched the woman placing the teapot on the stove. She quickly ran into the pantry and returned with a basket full of baked goods. She put some on a plate and gave it to the man.

"How's your father?" he asked while (Y/N) wiped the floor again. Her father owned this little guesthouse that once was famous.

"He's alright. But I'm afraid we won't be able to afford his medications. Less and less people can afford to book a room and we simply can't make the prices cheaper. I don't really know what to do."

"Don't worry, (Y/N)!" a kind hoarse voice appeared from behind. It was her father. "Welcome, Commander Smith! What brings you here again?"

"Good evening!" he greeted back. "Just another budget negotiation. As usual, the government has no intentions of increasing funds."

"As much as I want to support the Scouts, I unfortunately see why they don't want to do so in moments like this." Her father was in the regiment before he retired. Erwin and he shared similar views on the importance of going beyond the walls. "(Y/N)! Go prepare a room and find some clothes for him."

While she went to search dry clothes that would fit the commander, the two man began to talk about a different topic.

"I know why you visit this place so often" chuckled the father as he opened a bottle of whisky. He poured them both. "I see how you look at her."

For a moment Erwin didn't know what to say, which was quite unusual of him. A small smile curved his lips. "So, you found out my secret."

"It wasn't that hard to figure out. I have eyes. It's that simple." he sipped "You've known my daughter for years. Since when...?"

"It's one of those things that just can't be put in words. It was four years ago, that moment I realized I wanted to see her as many times as I could."

"Why didn't you tell her? You're afraid I'd bring the rifle? Or maybe you're more afraid of her? You think she would reject you?" he smiled "I can tell she has feelings for you too. Haven't you noticed how excited she is seeing you? She's not even looking at other guys, though she's in the age of marriage. What will she do when I'll be gone? At least you, as a commander, would make a great reputation for her." he joked "She'll be left alone like the last leaf on a tree before winter begins."

"That's why I won't tell her. I don't want to cause pain." he grabbed the glass and drank from it "To be honest, I don't even know if I'll be here next month. There's just no guarantee." he sighed "But I'm a selfish man. I still want to see her every time I'm near her. I'm truly the worst. I can't give her happiness, only suffering. I don't want (Y/N) to lose more people."

(Y/N)'s father knew Erwin was right. Her mother passed away, when she was fourteen; lost many loved ones when Shiganshina fell. Childhood friends, friends whom she trusted the most, old neighbours she liked and nearly all relatives of their family were gone now.

Both men knew the feeling. Without further words they agreed and sat back quietly.

(Y/N) heard the conversation. When she heard that Erwin had feelings for her, she thought her heart was going to break through her ribcage, like a desperate bird ready to be free. However, as he continued, her hearth shattered into pieces. (Y/N) pretended she didn't hear anything and told the blonde man his room was ready. He stood up and walked towards the stairs where she was standing.

"Change into these" she gave him the dry clothes "I'll knock on your door in ten minutes."

...

"Can I come in?" she asked. Erwin replied with a yes. (Y/N) walked into the room catching a glimpse of the commander's chest while he was buttoning the last button. He picked up the soaked clothes from the chair and held it out for (Y/N).

"Thank you for taking care of me."

"Erwin..." she began faintly and grabbed his arm "We need to talk."

"About what?" he looked surprised.

"I heard everything and-"

Erwin interrupted. "You don't have to worry about it. I won't do anything." he shook her hand off.

"You don't even want to know how I feel?"

"What would it change? You should find someone better. Someone who can be there for you. Someone who's not selfish. There're many good men out there."

"What about my choice? You think you can make decisions for me?"

He put the clothes back on the chair. "I don't want to put you through hell."

"It's already hell." she said with a slight hitch in her voice "You have no idea how long... How long I've ... Erwin..." Tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her cheek.

It pained him to see the woman, whom he loved the most, looking so defeated.

"I love you, Erwin!" she cried out "And nothing can change that."

It snapped him out of his stubbornness for a second. He gently pulled (Y/N) into a hug, placing her head on his chest. The feeling of his warmth and beating hearth was pure heaven.

"I want you. Only you."

"(Y/N), I can't give you happiness."

"What it is at all?" she sniffled. "There's no such thing as that... It's not a destination you can arrive to and stay there for the rest of your life. Happiness is a temporary state. It comes and goes. And... What defines it anyways?

"I still don't want you to get hurt. Especially because of me." he paused for a bit "I could die at any time. What if I go on a mission and never come back?"

"You think I don't know that, Erwin? Every time you go out the walls I worry, but... Did you know that in this awful world you're the one who keeps me alive?" she pressed herself against his comforting chest "And what about you? You think you don't deserve your so-called happiness? If you have feelings for me, why don't you..."

As she looked up, her eyes met with his. Tears were coming to his sky-blue eyes.

"Are you sure, (Y/N)?"

"I am. I want you to hold me tight and never let go."

...

Erwin placed his hand on her face caressing her cheek gently with his thumb. He leaned closer to kiss her forehead, then gave another kiss on her nose making her blush. Finally, he pressed his warm lips against hers. He sucked her lips slowly, evenly, as he was dining something sweet as nectar. She was his delicate flower.

His kiss was subtle and tender, however a wave of heat flushed through him causing to kiss more passionately. Erwin slid his tongue across her bottom lip luring her mouth to open for him. His tongue swirled around hers composing an intimate, sensual dance. A slight moan escaped from (Y/N) in response. She slid her hands up his back, running her fingers through his soft blonde hair. As a result, he groaned, and the urge to pull her hips against his grew. As much as he wanted to devour her, he had to resist.

The commander pulled away, only to realize that he wasn't the only one getting excited. The woman's body was filled with desire too. He watched her chest rise and fall hastily with each breath she took. He couldn't help but admire the beauty that was in front of him.

"You're gorgeous, (Y/N)." he held both of her hands and placed two gentle kisses on them "If we don't stop now, I won't be able to hold back. You're driving me crazy."

"I feel the same. I want you, Erwin."

Their lips met once again. The passion they felt had been buried in their hearts for years. The man possessed her lips claiming every centimetre of it while she held onto his strong shoulders tightly. Erwin guided her slowly to the writing table, not breaking the kiss even for a second. He lifted her up and placed her on the desk.

The commander's lips travelled down her neck and goose bumps flooded her skin tilting her head to the side. He tucked her blouse out of her skirt to slide his large hands under the fabric. When he touched her stomach, a sudden thought startled her. What if she's not good enough?

"Erwin... The candles..."

"I want to see you" he whispered in her ear.

"But..." she grasped his shoulder.

"No buts. You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen. No one can compete with you" the man kissed her cheek "Can I take your blouse off?"

She'd been deprived for far too long of this man who now was standing right in front of her. She nodded, and looked away in fear of what he would see might disgust him. Erwin took it off her and freed her breasts from the undergarment.

"Look at me, (Y/N)." he begged and with a bit of hesitation, she did so, finding his sparkling blue eyes, so full of love and excitement, staring down at her. Meeting his gaze, she smiled sweetly before closing her eyes as he inclined his head. He also pulled his hips tight against hers. "You did this to me, (Y/N)."

He laid her down gently on the wobbly desk and his mouth was on her breasts quicky, conquering all of it. His fiery tongue played with one of her nipples while the other was held in his hand. Next, he travelled lower and lower, down to her stomach, only to find the skirt in the way. She felt a sudden wetness between her legs.

"Can I?" he asked for permission. She nodded. She ached for it.

He removed the skirt and her shoes too. Erwin placed a kiss on her beauty through her panties before he pulled it off and trailed it down her leg. He kissed the hill again and ran two fingers down on it.

"You're soaking already, (Y/N)." then he started to explore her slit with his tongue "You're so sweet, my darling."

He sucked on the folds a little, then parted them to make his way up to her clit which he tickled wickedly. With a finger he began tracing circles around her entry. Shortly after, he slid it in. (Y/N) flinched a little, letting out a moan. After he realized she could take more, he added another one.

She enjoyed it greatly. She grabbed Erwin's head, ran her fingers through his soft hair while pulling him closer to her hips. She wanted more. Erwin was surprised by her action, and began to lick and move his fingers more passionately. Her body was burning in explicit heat. A sudden wave of extasy rushed through her and he was proud seeing his efforts paying off.

The man straightened up to hurriedly rip his shirt off and throw it on the floor. (Y/N) was mesmerized by his well- built form. She wanted to touch it, so she sat up to lean closer. She explored each muscle with her finger, even caressed his hard nipples. She travelled further down to his pants. Hearing the sharp intake of breath as her fingers lightly touched his sensitised flesh made her wanting Erwin even more.

"If you touch me like that I might..." Erwin's mouth left an excited hiss as she pulled down his trousers a little.

He stepped back to take it off along with his shoes as well. As he tugged down his underwear, his rock-hard, massive manhood revealed.

"Well..." she said in surprise "That is a titan."

He couldn't help but giggle. (Y/N) glanced up, seeing him smile at her with a sweet, sensuous smile. He stepped closer to possess her lips and lift her up from the desk just to then put her gently on the bed.

He was on top of her. The woman's breast against his chest while she wrapped her legs around his trim waist made him lose it all. He wanted to be inside her.

"(Y/N)" he sighed "Can I?"

"Yes, Erwin!"

He began to trace her entry in circular motions with his member. Softly, he placed the tip inside. She moaned in pain, feeling it tearing her walls.

"Are you alright, darling?" he asked with worry in his eyes.

"I'm okay. It's okay" she caressed his clean-shaved face. "Go on, my commander."

Their lips joined again, while he grabbed her hips and plunged deep inside her. He waited a little so she could get used to his size. A couple of minutes later, he began to move gently, sliding in and out gradually going further and speeding up the rhythm. As he heard her sweet moans, felt her warmness and tightness around him, he fell into an abyss of pleasure. Erwin couldn't tame his desire anymore, finding himself thrusting into her with an enormous intensity. He couldn't get himself to stop now. He wanted her.

Erwin grunted and groaned which she found immensely sexy. The pain already faded away, endless pleasure and joy replaced it. His thick hands made their way up to her breasts, grabbing it with more and more greed.

"I love you, Erwin" she cried out.

"I love you more."

Shameful sounds filled the room and the man increased his speed to the maximum. (Y/N) latched onto his shoulders and buried her head into his chest, trembling hard against him. A wave of pleasure started to hit them both. She tightened around his manhood, and he couldn't hold on any longer as she continued to clutch. The unbearable yet wonderful torture of being lost in her made him release his seed inside of her. It was an indescribable feeling being filled up by the man of his dreams. They remained like this for a while, panting heavily.

Erwin pulled out of her but didn't let go as he wrapped her arms around her.

"I'm sorry." he said, stroking her hair.

"For what?"

"For loving you so badly, that I lost myself and couldn't hold back."

"You're so silly." she chuckled "I enjoyed every minute of it."

"Can I clean you up?" he asked placing a gentle kiss on her forehead "I've made a mess down there"

She nodded and the commander put his underwear on. He brought a wet towel and sit back on the bed. He gently spread her legs to wipe her womanhood. Then he softly stretched her entry with his finger. Erwin blushed as he saw his liquid oozing out of her.

"Erwin?" she noticed the rosiness on his cheeks.

"Nothing..." he said looking away "I apologize."

"No need to." she sat up giving him a quick little kiss on his pink cheek "I love you!"

"I love you more, (Y/N)"

...

Morning came shining its warm, golden sunbeams. All the clouds were gone and she was in his arms, all his and he would never be so foolish to let her go. She opened her eyes, only to get lost in his sky-blue iris.

"Good morning, love!" he caressed her face.

"Morning, Erwin..." she yawned and quicky realized, that she should've been up a long time ago. "My god! I should be downstairs! What time is it? Oh! And I haven't even washed your clothes!"

"Shhh..." he stopped you from jumping out of the bed by hugging you from behind "No need to hurry. It's only six thirty."

"I wake up at five!"

"You're open at seven..."

"Yes, but there's work to do. Buying things from the market, breakfast to prepare, cleaning..." she counted on her fingers.

"It can wait. Just stay with me like this for five minutes"

"Then hold me tight, Erwin."

She couldn't resist him. She was lost in his alluring presence whenever she was with him. It was pure heaven to be in his loving arms.

The end

[exquisitley-obsessed]

Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns: 10

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn’s attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain’s father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elain x Lucien, Elucien

Warnings: Nine

A/N: I’ve added a tag list for those who wish to stay updated with this story! Just message me if you wish to be added <3

MY MASTERLIST

THIS FIC’S MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Ten: Human not Humane

Huckleberry Hall was thriving with life. Lucien had apparated at the bottom of the pathway leading up to the external arches and courtyard placed before the hall – and there were people everywhere.

Elain saw all walks of life, from noblemen to peasants crowded on the lawns and paths. It was like looking directly into a memory. In another life, Elain would walk among these people with her sisters and parents. Nesta would trot directly behind their mother as she sneered down her nose at the farmers and tanners, Feyre would drift a little further behind, looking up at the clouds in the sky. Their father would walk at the back holding little Elain’s hand, pointing out the flowers and the trees and showing her how to make a trumpet from a leaf.

That was another life and what Elain had always assumed was a happier one.

Mother knows what she thought now.

Lucien and Elain were hidden from sight down the pathway, and it looked as though they were the last to arrive. Looking around, Elain saw stableboys managing a small army of horses, farmers sitting next to wagons full of seeds, grain and fruit, there were even Lords and Ladies, perched under umbrellas in fine chairs, tutting to themselves at the display.

It was so…human.

The rowdy chatter, the children playing hopscotch, the delicacy of these little lives and how they were interwoven with one another. Another way in it being so human was that Elain knew she didn’t fit.

Years ago the sight of all these people would have simply washed over Elain, now it threatened to drown her. Looking around all she could see were people, people and more people. People she didn’t know in a situation she couldn’t control. How long had it been since Elain had spoken to anyone outside the Inner Circle or the Band of Exiles? She hadn’t been taken to any of the meetings with other Courts or any trips abroad – her family hadn’t even told her. They’d just left her alone and hoped she’d be fine.

Breathing started to become a little difficult.

“Are you okay?” Lucien’s voice husked in her ear.

Elain just stared blankly up at him; she wasn’t sure. His own eyes were assessing her carefully.

“If you don’t want to do this just say the word and I’ll take us home.”

Home…

“I’m fine,” Elain said, though a little breathily, “It’s just…I haven’t been around a crowd in a long time.”

She flinched then as a carriage thundered through the woods on a path far to their left, the noise scaring the birds who began a loud chorus of squawking. All of the uproar felt as though it were washing over Elain, dragging her down, suffocating her.

“Hey, Elain, breathe,” Lucien’s hands came up to rest on her shoulders as he pulled himself in front of her, blocking her view of the Hall and all the people surrounding it. Now, her attention was on him.

“Breathe,” he commanded once more before he joined her in taking deep, long breaths. In, out. In, out.

Slowly, the roaring noise and itching anxiety began to fade away as she became encased in the sensation of Lucien. The smell of him surrounding her, his hands on her shoulders, his eyes concerned as they roved over her face.

She wondered if this is how he often felt – like his entire universe sometimes shifted so that she was at the centre.

Once Elain’s breathing had returned to a steady pace for several moments, she felt something tugging from within. Without thinking, Elain brushed up against the bond and was surprised to feel a wave of emotions – Lucien’s emotions – washing over her. She was even more surprised at what those emotions were.

“You’re angry,” Elain whispered after a moment. Lucien shook his head but, he was. His eyes were burning, his jaw set, his brows furrowed – he looked as though he were furiously trying to stop himself from talking. “You are,” Elain prodded because, well, it was a good distraction.

Lucien sighed before looking warily down at her, almost as though he were contemplating telling her whatever it was that had set him off.

“I told Feyre a long time ago that she should’ve been taking you out to see the ocean or sunlight. Instead she…” Lucien trailed off. Elain wished he didn’t, she wished he just said what he so clearly itched to get off his chest.

“I like the indoors,” Elain shrugged.

“Do you?” Lucien cocked his head, “I thought you used to spend all your time in gardens and your greatest wish was to see the continent.”

Elain paused. How did he know about the continent…

Her father. When Lucien had come for Vassa he’d met Elain’s father and he must’ve tried to inconspicuously pick up as much information about her as he could. Maybe once Elain would’ve thought the notion strange but, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling shyly.

“Okay…” Elain tilted her head, “But I needed the indoors.”

“You needed both,” Lucien said as his eyes softened, “Fresh air, new places, new people – they remind us that the world is bigger than the rooms we lock ourselves in.”

The hands on her shoulders began to rub soothingly along her upper arms, and once more Elain’s entire focus zoned in on that point of contact.

“Did you used to lock yourself away?” Lucien grinned.

“Elain, I’m a 400-year-old fae, I’ve spent my fair share moping indoors. Tamlin was the one who eventually had enough, he threw me out into the woods of Spring one day and said if I couldn’t catch anything, I wasn’t eating dinner.”

“That sounds mean,” Elain half-laughed.

“Maybe,” Lucien shrugged, “But it got me out. He was a bastard though, I spent all day in a river collecting enough bass to feed a small army only to come back to the Manor and find an entire spread waiting for me: potatoes, honeyed-ham, even Tipiati – it’s a delicacy from Dawn. It’s this little bird and you cut it open and eat the heart raw-”

“Oh, ugh!” Elain giggled as she scrunched her nose.

“What’s wrong petal? Raw bird heart not sounding good? Wait until I tell you what they do with the eyes-”

“Okay, okay! Feeling better! Ready to seize the day just please, stop talking about those poor birds!” Elain laughed, feeling for the first time in forever the weight on her shoulders disappear.

“I’m going to get you to try it one day,” Lucien grinned, looking rather smug with himself at having made her laugh.

“Oh, in your dreams,” Elain looped her arm through his as they made their way up the path and into the view of the humans.

“Just you wait, if we’re ever in Summer I’m making you try Calamari.”

“I don’t even want to know,” Elain smiled, and for a moment, she forgot where she was.

Because her arm was in Lucien’s and he was smiling down at her as though she were a forest nymph bedecked in moon-flowers and in this moment, everything felt alright.

It was only when they were halfway down the path to the Hall, that Elain began to remember where she was, and she felt the eyes of the humans – humans she once knew – boring into her. She simply kept her own stare ahead at the open doors of the Hall in which she could see the fiery glint of Vassa’s hair and golden dress.

But her fae hearing picked up on everything. She heard the whisperings of the peasants, both enchanted and disgusted by her beauty, she heard the Ladies muttering to one another about her dress and how disgustingly uncivilised it was.

She heard the Lords grinning to one another about how they knew Elain when she was a little girl. About how they had first dibs…

If she wasn’t mistaken Lucien had gone somewhat rigid next to her and he was once more pulling himself to his full height, looming over everyone in the courtyard. One glance up at him told her that he was wearing his fiercest scowl, his entire being practically thrumming with magic that she knew was hot under the surface of his skin.

Then, Lucien was leaning low, his lips coming close to her ear as he whispered three little words. And then, his voice was the only one that mattered.

“I’ve got you.”

***

Time started to move quickly after their laboured walk into the Hall. Once they were in and grouped with Vassa and Jurian, Elain found herself being introduced to a plethora of Noblemen and Ladies. They shook her hand with introductions and light discussions of who they were and the role they played in the rebuilding of the mortal world. Elain was glad she had spent so much time looking over the documents and contracts as she found herself maintaining elaborate, detailed questions with everyone she came into contact with – and as each successful conversation passed, so did her anxiety, and she truly began to believe she could do this.

She often found herself using the same techniques her mother had taught her when attending balls. Except now, instead of conversations about dowries and marital prospects, she was speaking of trade routes and contractual obligations.

On more than one occasion she came into contact with someone whom she once knew. Some people, such as older, less wealthy men were kind and joyful, telling Elain how they were glad to see she was at least healthy and alive following the Battle against Hybern. With others, Elain could read the quite plain apprehension and slight disgust in the eyes of those she’d once known – particularly of father’s whose sons she’d once been a contender for marrying.

The Hall was busy with chatter as this was also the first meeting in which Queen Vassa was in attendance, and with the two new, unusual arrivals, there were many mortal civilities that needed to pass before everyone was to take their seats in the main hall at the southern end of the building.

Lucien never left her side, but not in a way that felt claustrophobic or hovering, but merely in a way that told her that he had her back. Whenever she tuned into his conversations she found that most mortals responded somewhat well to Lucien. At least, as well as they could given the circumstances. Many mortal Lords were interested in Lucien’s weaponry and experience in battle, there appeared to be an endless amount of questions regarding his sword of choice.

There was only one time in which Elain overheard her name in his discussions.

“Are you and the Lady Elain married then?” Lord McAdams, an old man who owned the human libraries inquired over a glass of port.

“We’re acquaintances, and while she is here she is under my protection,” Lucien replied smoothly. He was the image of relaxation, an easy smile that lit up the room playing on his features.

“Ah, I see,” McAdams winked at Lucien, who merely tilted his head in response.

“Pardon?”

“I won’t tell anyone, of course, you see, it is highly unusual for an unmarried woman to…well to…though it does happen.” McAdams was old enough that he wheezed as he talked.

“I’m quite lost Lord McAdams, though I’m sure you mean well.”

“Of course, of course, my boy. Of course, I mean well,” McAdams chortled, “Besides, I can’t blame you can I? You know I knew Elain when she was a little girl, her father used to take all three of them round to my house so they could have their pick from my libraries. She was the prettiest of them all, even then, and it’s always interesting to see how they…turn out.”

Elain was nodding along as a young Lord who owned the rice fields out West continued to chat extensively about himself. Though at that moment, she felt a pair of eyes searing into her back, particularly her behind. At that moment she didn’t need to reach for the bond to feel the protective fury that was radiating from her mate.

It was strange, but for some reason, she liked it. Some guilty, deep down part of her shuddered in agreement at the idea of Lucien being protective over her in the face of these men. It was almost a nice idea, belonging to him…

“Elain!” A saccharine voice pulled Elain from her internal tribulations and Lucien and McAdams faded away as a silver blur appeared in front of her. “Oh Elain it’s so good to see you again, you look…well!”

Delilah Darlington exploded into the conversation, nudging into the side of the young Lord who grumbled in response. She was bundled in a rather ridiculous silver gown which was bedecked in frills of lace that hung off the fabric like cobwebs. Delilah was beautiful, though, and a sweet kind girl.

She did not deserve the cruelty of someone such as Graysen.

“Delilah, I’m so glad you’re well! Congratulations on your engagement,” Elain said with as much earnest kindness she could muster as she pulled Delilah into a brief embrace.

They’d been friends, once, along with a small gaggle of girls. Nesta couldn’t stand any of them, she saw them as competition at balls and discouraged Elain from forming any kind of relationship with them. Elain had anyways, of course. It was something to look forward to at those balls, something to distract her from the wandering hands and unwanted touches.

“Oh, well, yes I-I uh, I didn’t know you were coming back.” Delilah looked strangely guilty for a moment, and Elain felt something in her chest squeeze. Graysen wasn’t deserving of this girl, and he wasn’t worth coming between them.

“Well I’m only here until some political goals are accomplished, then I’ll probably be heading back over the border.”

“How exciting, you always wanted to travel.”

“Yes,” Elain grinned shyly, touched that Delilah remembered such a trivial detail. Looking around Elain realised that the young Lord had disappeared, and she felt herself relaxing from the forced courtly act she’d been playing.

“It’s wonderful Delilah it really is. Being turned fae has been difficult, more than difficult it’s been…well, it’s been hard, but it’s almost worth it for the beauty of Prythian.”

Delilah, unlike the other mortals who changed the conversation once anything beyond the wall was mentioned, grinned widely and rubbed her hands together.

“I read a book after you were taken over the wall, it was a forbidden scripture from McAdams library that I managed to steal when I was over there. It detailed all things about Prythian, is it true there are Seasonal Courts?”

“Oh yes,” Elain grinned, allowing her courtier’s exterior to crumble, “Lucien hails from the Autumn Court.”

Elain shifted so that she was now standing next to Delilah against the wall and pointed out to Lucien, though there was no need, he stood head and shoulders above everyone, currently nodding along to something a small gaggle of women were chatting about.

“Oh of course, I can see it now,” Delilah muttered with a smile, but Elain was fixated and the now growing group of women that were trying to gain her mate’s attention. Delilah, seeing Elain’s line of sight, smiled wider. “They do that every week. They’re all eligible brides, see there’s Isobel and Lottie…not that they would ever admit it, but I think some of them want him to propose.”

“Propose?” Elain couldn’t stop herself from spluttering, feeling a protective fiery anger move through her at the thought. The idea that these women had gathered week after week trying to sway Lucien into offering them his hand in marriage for two years, it made her feel feral.

Lucien was hers.

The thought was like a stone to the head and suddenly the protective rage was cleared, leaving behind her internal shock and confusion had having had such an audacious thought. But by the way Lucien was now grinning slyly at the women before him, his confidence having tripled within the minute, Elain was pretty certain she’d accidentally sent that thought down the bond.

“Is he really your mate?” Delilah asked, her eyes twinkling slightly. Elain stayed quiet for a moment, and then.

“Yes. He is. We’re bound together by fate and the Mother herself.”

“That sounds very beautiful,” Delilah said softly, but Elain could not take her eyes away from her Autumn Male. It was like the thought had just truly dawned on Elain, the reality of their situation.

Lucien was her mate. In that way, he was hers.

And she was his.

“It is…”

“The meeting shall begin in ten minutes, please, may you all take your seats!” A loud, brash voice called from the looming doors of the main hall and the crowd began to move in the direction, the babbling only increasing as wives got left behind and Lords could engage in the locker room talk before the politics – Elain didn’t miss the several glances thrown her way as the men’s rowdy chatty began to fill the building.

“I must go but, I’ll see you soon,” Delilah hopped out away from her, giving Elain a quick embrace and a kiss on the cheek before she was waving and disappearing into the crowd. The crowd where her fiancé no doubt was hidden.

She had not yet seen him.

Just as she was about to lose herself in the throng, Lucien was in front of her, pushing through the men as though they were no more than butterflies to swat at. Before she could say anything, he was holding out his arm with a slight bow.

“Lady.”

Unable to help herself, Elain grinned at her mate as she looped her arm through his and was rewarded with an equally bright grin back. Lucien led them through the crowd into the hall, people parting for them as though they were a plague to be avoided. Elain didn’t mind, especially if it meant no one would stand on her train.  

“They can’t take their eyes off you.” Lucien didn’t move as he spoke, he merely muttered the words under his breath and had he been talking to any mortal, they would’ve been lost on the wind. But Elain’s fae-hearing picked them up, and she felt a shiver run the length of her spine at the secret conversation in plain sight.

“Feeling territorial?” Elain surprised herself by husking back.

“It would seem I’m not the only one.” She didn’t need to look at him to know he was smirking coyly.

“I don’t like the way they talk about me,” Elain moved on before her cheeks could start burning, “The men who watched me grow up.”

“It’s repulsive.” All humour left her mate’s tone. “If it soothes your mind know that I won’t let them lay a finger on you.”

“I don’t know if touching is the problem so much as the looking.”

“That dress isn’t doing us favours I’m afraid.”

“Oh, do you wish for me to get rid of -”

“Don’t,” Lucien said too quickly, his arm going rigid from where it was interlinked with hers. Elain smirked. “It’s…it’s a fine dress.” Lucien tried to concede.

“I think so.”

“It reminds me of home.” Elain stole a glance at him then.

“Because of the fabric?”

“Well yes,” Lucien’s brows furrowed as his eyes met hers, “But…that dress was my mothers.” Elain felt her shock roll through her. His mother’s? But this was a gift from Mor – right?

“You didn’t know,” Lucien mused, now seemingly unable to take his eyes off of her. Elain shook her head. “Ah, of course, I gave it to Nuala the other day, she wouldn’t take it until I said it was from Mor.”

“I’ll…have to ask her about it. Why do you have your mother’s dress?”

“Eris delivered it months ago, apparently she’d heard of our bond and wished to gift it to you as a mating present.”

“Oh-”

“I don’t intend to – I’m not giving it to you for that reason I just, I explained to Nuala my thinking about how the fabric and style is perfect for setting intention.” Elain just drifted next to him, turning his words over in her head.

“Is this why you are always dressed so finely, because it is a political motive?” Lucien, to her surprise, grinned wickedly.

“Nothing is coincidental, Elain, from the clothes we wear to the way we talk.”

“Whose we?” Lucien shrugged.

“I would’ve said Autumn Court Males but, I believe it is only Eris whom I share that trait with. Ah, here we are.”

The hall was set up like a Courtroom, with certain families, estates, and job sectors, sectioned off into small groups. Elain and Lucien, being the representatives for The Fae were somewhat isolated from everyone else. They were near enough to Vassa and Jurian who were bickering quietly from where they were seated to their right. The room was still squabbling and rowdy with chatter, and there were only men besides Elain and Vassa. The other mortal queens were not even present.

Elain’s eyes unwittingly began to search for Graysen. For some reason, not having seen him yet was making her nervous, it felt as though the longer she waited, the worse it was going to be. She just didn’t want to have anything sprung upon her.

Perhaps with the bond having been in more use the past few days, it seemed that Lucien was somehow easily able to gleam that Elain’s attention had returned to her ex-fiancé. Elain knew because he’d gone rigid next to her.

“What?” Elain prodded, turning to him. With the hall still full of chatter, she wasn’t worried about anyone overhearing their conversation. She’d thought she and Lucien had been good on the Graysen topic following their conversation in the kitchen doorway. Lucien didn’t look at her, instead, he appeared to be assessing the Darlington’s as they made themselves comfortable. “Lucien,” Elain stressed.

“I um, I felt you the other night, when you found out Graysen was engaged,” he began slowly, still not meeting her eye. Elain tugged on his sleeve forcing him to look down at her, she raised her brows questioningly to show she didn’t understand. Lucien breathed deeply, his eyes closing momentarily before he looked deep ahead, avoiding her pleading look. “I could feel what you were feeling.”

The way Lucien looked ahead, his jaw set and his eyes unfeeling, it was as though that little sentence had explained everything. But she was just more confused.

He’d felt her? Her emotions? What had she been feeling? She’d found out that Graysen was engaged, and she felt…She had felt tired, relieved, pitiful even. It was like some door had finally jammed shut after it had been fluttering between open and closed. It was a final sever in their bond and as she had fallen asleep that night, she’d welcomed the end of her time with Graysen. Her dream that night was a reminder that her relief was earned.

How could any of that upset Lucien?

Then Elain realised that Lucien had felt it. That longing, and by the way Lucien was now glaring at his hands, curled into fists in his lap, she’d realised that he may have misunderstood what, exactly, she was longing for.

She didn’t want Graysen. She wanted what he had. Not in terms of Delilah but, she wanted his ignorance, his ability to simply move on and find a new wife. She wanted his strength to not change, to still be who he was, to still have the world the way he wanted it with him at the centre.

She longed for the bliss Graysen had found, simply because that bliss made her agony so much more tender.

Lucien had misread her. She almost sighed with relief. She could fix this; she could simply explain to him why, and the small waves of hurt currently rocking through her would disappear.

Lucien wasn’t Graysen, he wasn’t going to leave her side in an instant just because of a misunderstanding. But even as Elain repeated this to herself as the room quietened and the meeting began, some part of her refused to believe it – some part of her refused to trust.

***

The meeting was rather boring. After all her research and all her note-taking, the first two hours involved discussions Elain had no interest in. It was about internal disputes, farmers angry with one another over borders, fisherman demanding wage rises, etcetera, etcetera. Elain was forced to watch as the Lords and Noblemen sneered down at the lower class, working men and had to bite her tongue the entire time.

It seemed that Lucien shared her disgust, as he regularly whispered quips in her ear about how mortal and fae weren’t so different after all. That the High Fae and these Noblemen had more terrible things in common, such as their treatment of working families and Lesser Fae.

Elain had tried to watch with an assessing eye, categorising the figures she needed to remember for later discussions. But by the time the lunchtime break came about, she was practically falling asleep on Lucien’s shoulder. It was after lunch that the room seemed to clear slightly, the farmers and peasants going home to their families as the topic of the Fae and Queen Vassa was brought up.

Queen Vassa made her introduction to the room, her voice full and powerful as she stood, Jurian watching with an all-knowing smile at her side. There were some small talks about property and Vassa was able to confirm her signature on several contracts.

Lucien got involved in discussions several times, and Elain was more than happy to sit quietly and watch as he worked the room. He was perfect. The way he eased into conversations, the easy-going smiles, the unconfrontational comments on trade routes and Fae resources.

Elain was surprised to notice that several Noblemen had taken a shining to Lucien and seemed to actively pursue his voice in discussions. She could tell a lot of it was fake, the way Lucien grinned at men whom he’d whispered insults about in Elain’s ear but, his courtier’s mask was perfect.

Elain was beginning to think that she might make it through the meeting without having to stand and utter a single word, until Lucien interjected a conversation about wrapping up for the week.

“We must speak of the matter that is Koschei.”

This seemed to be the first thing Lucien had said which the Noblemen did not instantly grin and nod along to. Instead, Elain saw heavy sighs and the rolling of eyes. It would seem that these Lords did not mind discussing with the Fae so long as it was about mortal matters. But talk of Death-Gods and magical firebirds, seemed to rather put them off.

“We have spoken of it. Weeks ago.” Elain heard Lord Nolan’s tired voice swim into the room. He appeared humoured by Lucien’s statement while Lucien simply remained passive. Stoic. They were sitting far to their left, and Elain had already glimpsed Graysen perched next to his father, leaning back in his chair. It was almost like he was trying, and failing, to impersonate Lucien’s image of confident boredom.

“May I remind you, Lord Nolan, that fae resources are only open to you so long as you stick to your word.”

“My word-”

“-yes,” a shimmer of anger was seen in Lucien’s eye, but beyond that his courtier's mask was flawless. “Your word that you would assist both Queen Vassa and her fae acquaintances in disposing of the Death-Lord, whose residence is not far from this very hall.”

“The agreement was to help you reverse the so-called curse placed on the Queen, and as we can all see, Queen Vassa has joined us today and therefore one might consider that vow fulfilled.”

“I am here on bought time,” Vassa now stood, her voice dripping in authority and power as she asserted herself amongst the men, “I shall not explain the means, as the explanation shall no doubt be lost on a room of mortals, but what you see before you is merely a temporary solution to the problem.”

“It would do you well, Queen Vassa, to remember that you too are mortal,” Lord Darlington now husked, his eyes predatory, “Or at least you were…once.”

“Oh don’t worry, Darlington, she’s just as mortal as I am,” Jurian grinned, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Darlington merely sneered in disgust.

“The point is Koschei is still at large-” Lucien tried again, the picture of relaxation from where he stood, looming over the room.

“And what do you expect us to do?” Elain felt her heart shudder as Graysen’s voice finally joined the others. It was only a matter of time.

Even though he was speaking to someone else - to Lucien - Elain felt her fight or flight instinct kick in. The last time she had heard that gravelly, low voice, had been when it had broken her heart.

“You fae clearly see us humans as inadequate, as proven by your Queen forgoing explaining her sudden appearance. No doubt caused by some dark magic, the same magic that threatens to infiltrate our lands and poison our people.” Graysen rose to his feet, his voice growing louder, and Elain noticed how much he had aged since she’d last seen him.

It had only been two years but the stress of rebuilding the mortal world without a wall had taken its toll: thinning hair, lines around his mouth, he’d also put on quite a bit of weight. He was no longer the young boy Elain had fallen in love with, a dreamer who wished to rid the world of evil beings. He was a man with a heart full of hate.

“Two things,” Lucien’s own voice didn’t waver as he turned to address Elain’s ex-fiancé, and she wondered how much they’d had to see of each other over the past two years. “One, Vassa is not my Queen. Two, it is somewhat hilarious to watch you whine like a pup over Queen Vassa not explaining to you her magic, when you are already so prejudiced to not comprehend the difference between the fae and Koschei. There is no magic seeking to infiltrate your lands apart from the work of the latter.”

“Koschei is fae-”

“-Koschei is a Death-God.” Lucien’s tone turned cold, and at that moment the sun dipped behind the clouds. “A survivor from the time of Old Gods. He is not fae, he is a threat to us as much as he is a threat to you.”

“The threat to humans are all fae and everything that comes with them.”

“The fae of Prythian have no interest in humans-”

“Oh please, one must only look to my ex-fiancé for proof of their machinations.”

The room went cold. The sun having now truly disappeared from sight, leaving behind a world of blue and grey shadows.

“Look at her, look at her unnatural beauty. Many of us knew Elain, the true Elain Archeron, the human one. She was beautiful but plain of the mind but set to live a normal, human life. Now look at her, she’s no better than a siren or a nymph, her beauty is of a freak nature and it’s only purpose is to lure you in, to cover the ugly truth underneath. Her and her two sisters were turned, stolen from their beds in the middle of the night and taken across the wall. I’m surprised to see you here Elain,” Graysen had been talking theatrically to the room, but that last sentence was personal, intimate. And when he caught Elain’s eye, she could only think one thing.

She hated him.

“Surprised but I suppose that’s my own fault, you always had a small fortune of ugly secrets you liked to keep hidden - and to think I almost fell into a marriage with you. You see, this is another reason the fae wish to infiltrate our lands, they wish to take our wives. Elain was stolen and turned only to be given to the male we see before us,” Graysen held his arm out to where Lucien was standing, still as stone at Elain’s side.

“This male was able to lay a claim on Elain the second she was turned. We’ve all heard of the mating bond.” A ripple of disgusted murmurs went around the room. “At that moment Elain, my soon to be wife, belonged to a fae male. Mother knows what atrocities occurred in the time between their mating and the moment Elain finally remembered her fiancé and came back home.”

Outrage and disgust were expressed around the room, and Graysen looked almost gleeful as he assessed the crowd.

“These two, this harlot and her owner-“

Elain shot out a hand and gripped the fabric of Lucien’s trousers if only to stop him from burning the boy to a crisp from where he stood.

“-have come here to mock us! They have come as a warning, to show us what will happen to our people - our women - if we allow this alliance with the fae to continue!” There were shouts of encouragement swelling from the crowd. “If we continue on this path then our women will look like her, horrid in their beauty. And worse, our women will belong to him as Elain belongs to him, as little more than a personal prostitute!”

There was something feral in Lucien’s eye as he glared at Graysen across the room. But while her mate was focused on her ex-fiancé, Elain was drowning in the leering coming from the crowd. People she had just introduced herself to a few hours earlier and had pleasant conversations were now staring at her with revulsion and disgust. She heard shouts of people calling her a ‘witch’, people telling her that she had no shame, that she was to burn in hell.

With her hand fisted in Lucien’s trouser leg, Elain drowned it out, she drowned it all out, and reached for the bond within.

Lucien was a tempest. Brushing up against the bond, Elain herself could feel the fire in his veins, could envision the rings of his powers, burning hotter and hotter all the way down to his golden core. The mating bond was taut in his skin, demanding him to defend Elain, to rip out the throat of anyone who would insult her. But there was another anger there too, a personal one. Lucien was furious on Elain’s behalf; she could read that now. He thought so highly of her and to hear lesser men insult her was turning him livid.

Sharply, Elain tugged on the bond and in an instant, his eyes snapped to hers.  

There was so much emotion in that one look. Concern, fury, bitterness, doubt. It was all there for her to see; he didn’t dilute anything. With as much delicacy and care as she could muster, she slipped her hand from his pant leg into the hand that was dangling by his side.

Slowly, she rose to her feet.

“It is true,” she began, and she felt Lucien’s hand squeeze her own. “I was stolen in the middle of the night by a group of fae. They stole me across land and ocean, all the way to Hybern. It is there where I was thrown into the Cauldron, the maker of all life, and transformed into a High Fae. This is all true.

“But my transformation was an irregularity, an unfortunate yet calculated political move whereby the King of Hybern attempted to get back at my sister for her killing of Aramantha. I expect you to all remember the King of Hybern, given that your own armies joined the fae in the Battle that catalysed these meetings two years ago.

“The King of Hybern was evil. Not the fae of Prythian. The King of Hybern was your enemy and the threat to human life. Not the fae of Prythian. Those such as Lucien here fought for your freedom. Fae died on that battlefield for you to stand here today, and you repay them by villainising them.

“There needs not be any animosity between these mortal lands and the fae realms of Prythian. I grew up like you, believing the fae were evil incarnations that existed to tempt human morality. But unlike you, I have travelled Prythian, I have seen fae from all walks of life, and the reality is the cautionary tales we all heard growing up were nothing more than fiction.

“The fae have homes, wives, children. They have towns and cities, farms, libraries and schools. They wake up each morning and go to work and each evening they have dinner with their families.

“This alliance is not about turning humans into fae, nor turning fae into humans. It’s about recognising life and seeking to protect it from those who might threaten it - and Koschei threatens all of us. We know he seeks to free himself from the confines of his lakeside Manor, we know he wishes to seek vengeance for his imprisonment. But there is much we do not know.

“We do not know how Koschei was bound to the lake, how he steals women of this land and turns them into swans, why he took Vassa, nor what it will take for him to be free. That is why this alliance is paramount.

“Koschei has a fascination with the mortals, he steals mortal women and mortal Queens. His residence is only a few miles south from here, deep in the forest. It is because of this we need mortal alliances.

“You do not need to believe the fae are good, nor must you trust us. But you must understand that all we wish to do is destroy a being who threatens everyone in this room. The alliance need not be a happy one, but it is needed.”

The room had quietened, the shouting had stopped. People were listening to her, and Elain had finally found her voice.

Lucien’s hand squeezed her own and she realised they were both standing before the room of mortals. She could only have an idea of what they must’ve looked like, side by side, glistening with the beauty of the Fae. They must’ve looked united and commanding.

They must’ve looked powerful.

Then, across the room, a man got to his feet. Looking at him for a moment, Elain realised it was the young Lord she had been speaking to with Delilah who owned the rice fields out West. He looked tentative and young as the spotlight fell on him, but when he met Elain’s eye, she saw a fierceness burning there.

“What do you need?”

***

Lucien wanted to get Elain home quickly after the meeting. Today had been unusually tiring, what with Elain’s debut in that dress this morning to the crowds turning on his mate halfway through the meeting. He just wanted to go home.

Correction, he needed to get Elain home and safe and away from these horrible men and their horrible thoughts.

A few noblemen came forth following the meeting expressing their devotion to helping Elain and Lucien in tackling the problem of Koschei. Most of them were young Lords who had come into their father’s wealth unexpectedly after the war, and their hearts had not yet had a chance to become polluted with years of hatred for the fae.

That was a success. No matter how often Lucien had tried to convince the noblemen to even speak of Koschei in the meetings, it seemed that the missing element was both Elain and Queen Vassa.

But before long Lucien had had enough. He wanted Elain home and safe now, and expressing a few half-hearted apologies he looped Elain’s arm through his and guided her out down the pathway before winnowing away without a second notice.

They made their way to the house with some small talk about how well the meeting had gone (Lucien tried his hardest not to spend all his time grovelling about how amazing she was and how fierce and strong she’d looked when addressing the crowds). The maids were there waiting for them with a pot of tea whilst they began on dinner.

It seemed that the meeting had gone on well into overtime and the sun was now distinctly plummeting towards the horizon. But when Vassa and Jurian finally made it back on horseback, there was only Jurian who entered the living room with a glass of whiskey.

“Where’s Vassa?”

“She decided to get her firebird overtime out the way,” Jurian sighed, something bitter in his eye as he flopped carelessly on the couch next to Lucien.

“Does that mean she won’t be turning back tonight?”

“We assume so, we’re not sure how the ring works but if Koschei’s little note is correct then I believe we won’t be seeing Vassa for a few days.”

Lucien cursed under his breath. Jurian just looked tired and…angry.

“There was a note?” Elain asked from where she was perched on her armchair, her legs tucked up underneath her, her dress outlining every curve of her body.

“Yes,” Jurian eyed her for a moment, “You did well out there princess, Lord Cao looked practically ready to sign you his battlements.” The Lord who had spoken at the end of the meeting.

“We talked after,” Elain mused, her finger running around the lip of her glass, “His residency is the closest to Koschei’s manor and he’s invited all of us to come visit, I think if we get close enough we may be able to get a read on the magic that’s bound to the manor.”

“Oh, fun, a day trip,” Jurian sighed bitterly, something clearly having aggravated his mood. He turned his scowl to Lucien. “Are you really going to let your mate within a mile of that place?”

Something dark flickered in Lucien’s eye.

“If Elain deems it a worthy trip then of course we must go. I thought you were interested in seeing Vassa free of the curse?”

“Of course I’m interested in seeing Vassa free, why do you think I’m here?” Jurian hissed.

“To generally give the manor a feeling of unease?”

“To make rude comments about people’s sisters in an attempt to start a fight?” Elain added.

“To make indecent comments about people’s mates in an attempt to-”

“Alright, alright. Mother, you two are no fun.” Jurian rolled his eyes, but some of the tension seemed to leave his body at the teasing. “Have you already eaten?”

Elain and Lucien nodded and Jurian got up with a stretch.

“Yum, leftovers for me then,” was all he said before he headed for the door.

“Jurian,” Elain called, “That note Koschei sent with the ring, could I see it?” Jurian glanced between her and Lucien, seeming to think before he nodded.

“I’ll send it up to your room in the morning," was all he said before he left the room. And once more, Lucien and Elain were left alone with nothing but a crackling fire.

There was a tension there that hadn’t been there before, or maybe it had, maybe they’d both just been too ignorant to see it.

The reality was there would always be that tension between them, that intrigue and possibility. Looking at her now, curled in an armchair, the dress having turned a glittering emerald in the firelight, he felt every inch of his skin respond to her.

Not for the first time, an unplanned fantasy strolled through his mind. An image of himself getting up off this couch and walking over to her, of him placing his knee on her armchair, in between her thighs, capturing her throat in his hand and lowering his lips to hers.

One blink and the image was gone. Perhaps it was the bond showing him these things, taunting him with a possibility that at this moment seemed unachievable.

“I, um, I wanted to talk to you actually,” Elain spoke into the silence, and briefly Lucien fretted if his scent had changed.

“Oh?”

“Yes…about Graysen.” Lucien’s hope dropped like lead in his gut.

“Oh.”

“I just wanted to say that I think you misread my emotions when I found out he was engaged which, I mean that’s not your fault. This whole bond kind of disrupts communication.”

Lucien just nodded. Looking at her, he saw the strands of hair that had come loose around her face, he wondered if they were as soft as they looked.

“I’m not upset about it. I don’t want him anymore,” Elain said plainly. “I just…I guess I want what he has.”

Lucien blinked. That wasn’t what he was expecting.

“What, specifically, do you want?” The words were careful, calculated.

“I’m not sure…his happiness? His ignorance?” Elain seemed to scowl slightly and then she was standing, setting her drink on a nearby table as she turned to the fire to warm her hands. Lucien pondered for a moment, definitely not using that time to worship at the way the dress followed the swell of her behind and, Mother help him, her thighs. Then he was up, moving around the table to join her at the fire.

Elain turned and watched him approach with an enigmatic stare, the fire reflecting in her glassy eyes.

“Graysen’s life is perhaps an easier one,” Lucien eventually breathed, “But whilst yours may prove more difficult, it is certainly more worthwhile.” Elain paused as she pondered his thoughts, and Lucien once more allowed himself to drink from her ever-flowing fountain of beauty.

“I just, I think it’s all so unfair.” She wrapped her arms around herself.

“Why?”

“Because why does he get to be happy? Why does he get to continue to live his life and just find someone else to marry? Is there no such thing as justice?”

“You are free to seek retribution Elain-”

“And give the humans further reason to hate the fae?”

 Lucien blinked. The timing of Graysen’s death would be unfortunate, but Lucien wanted to see the boy dead, even if that meant tomorrow an army would be at his door.

“The humans should be grateful the fae are ridding them of such vermin,” Lucien couldn’t help himself from spitting as he glared out the window. But not before he caught Elain giving a weary look and for the first time, he realised just how tired she looked. The way her shoulders hung forward and her arms curled limply around herself. Something akin to agony washed through him at the sight of his exhausted mate, followed by the overwhelming need to fix it, to take her into his arms and protect her from all the things that worried her. Lucien had to fold his arms tightly across his chest to stop himself from reaching out.

“I don’t want to have any revenge when it comes to Graysen because it’s not going to make me feel better,” Elain looked at the fire as she spoke, and Lucien hated the wobble in her voice. He hated that he didn’t know who was making her cry – him or the boy.

“It might.”

“No. It wouldn’t,” she said with such ferocity Lucien was temporarily reminded of Nesta. “You know why?” Elain scowled, her eyes tightening and her lips turning down into a cruel frown.

“Because I would’ve still loved him if he’d been the one to come back changed. I would’ve still married him, and I would’ve told him it’d be alright, and we’d figure it out together – and killing him isn’t going to change the fact that he wouldn’t do the same for me. That he would’ve never done that for me; and that means he never loved me the way I loved him. You don’t get Lucien. Killing him means nothing because there is nothing I can do to him to make him hurt even half as much as he hurt me because he simply, doesn’t, care. He will never even comprehend what he did to me. He will spend the rest of his life, even if that life ends tomorrow, in blissful ignorance of what he did and the damage he caused. Hurting him back would just be so…so pointless, and…I’m tired.” Elain curled in on herself with an exhausted, angry sigh.

“I know you think I came here because I was ready to finally deal with this…with us,” she met his eye and hunched herself into a smaller ball, her arms winding further around herself, “But that’s not it. I came here because I’m tired and there nothing left for me and, and I’m running out of-of-I’m running out of-”

She was starting to hyperventilate. Madja had warned her of this, the panic attacks that had become a side effect of her depression. She needed to breathe, she needed to calm down, she needed-

Lucien crossed the room in three strides. Some part of Elain wanted to recoil at him approaching her with such ferocity in his step and steel in his eye, but she couldn’t be scared of him. She could be afraid of the bond and what it meant to her, what he meant to her, but Lucien would never hurt her. Ever. That she knew.

He’d stilled in front of her, looking down at her enigmatically. She’d run out of words, and she didn’t know if Lucien understood what she was attempting to say. Every part of her was ready to just break down from how exhausted she was.

The silence drew on. The tension turning palpable, and when she was just about ready to fall to her knees and let the agony take over, his arms wrapped around her, and he pulled her firmly against his chest.

Elain let out a small sob as her face was pushed into the fabric of his shirt, her head resting against his upper ribs and lower chest. She’d never been so aware of how different they were in size; he was the tallest of them all and she the shortest. But it felt…good. And maybe she was touch-deprived, or maybe she was just deluded, but she found herself burrowing into him. He was so warm, and with his arms around her she felt like…like he had her. Like it didn’t matter if she let go and just crumpled because he had her and he wasn’t going to let her hit the floor.

At this point, falling was inevitable. Elain had been falling for some time, plummeting down and down after the Cauldron had tipped her out and washed her corpse on jagged stones. But with Lucien holding her she considered, for the first time, having a soft place to land.

She didn’t want him to see her cry, so she burrowed deeper. Her arms were still curled around her torso; Lucien’s curled around her back. Both of them holding onto her and keeping her together. A few seconds, minutes, hours of silence and she realised that after this, she could never forget how he smelt. Apples, warmth, musk, fresh Earth, smoke. Familiar and foreign. A stranger but…hers.

He smelt like an evening, an Autumnal evening, with a brilliant streaking sunset. The kind where it seemed like the sun had never been so alive, where the sun took the sky and turned into its masterpiece.

He was that masterpiece. The Autumnal sky. The Autumnal Sun.

Sighing, Elain waited for him to recoil. For his arms to slacken and for him to move away, for them to nod awkwardly at each and then go to bed and try to pretend that this conversation hadn’t happened. But time ticked by, and Lucien didn’t let go. If anything, his steely grip only tightened. As though with each passing second, where Elain expected him to drift away, he set out to hold on tighter. Their words had run out tonight, but Elain heard the message he was saying as he held her closer and closer. I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.

Elain breathed him in, and allowed herself to stay.

***

Right then, she wanted to tell him that she didn’t know how to do this, but she knew she didn’t want to hurt him. She wanted to say that she wasn’t sure if she could love again, that she might be a lost cause because Graysen had so thoroughly ruined her trust, and she wasn’t sure how high she’d built the walls around both her heart and mind. She wanted to say that she was lonely, and that she thought he was too, and what a funny pair they were in this world full of light and dark. Where good came in the form of people who made them both feel so alone.

She wanted to say that she was at a breaking point and had been for some time. That even though the war had ended it still raged within her. That no one else seemed to care because they’d got the happy endings whilst she just…existed.

She wanted to say that she didn’t know what she wanted. That her dream of being a wife and mother had been buried when she first tried to kill herself, three days after the Cauldron. Because how could she care for anyone else, especially a child, when she couldn’t care for herself.

She wanted to say that right now, in this moment, she just wanted to know him.

She just wanted a friend.

She wanted…

She wanted…

She wanted to run away and never look back. She wanted to damn the world that damned her. She wanted a brain that worked. A family she felt connected to. Someone to care.

Someone to fucking care. That was all.

But for now, this was enough. Lucien pulling her into his arms before she finally collapsed was enough. And so, tonight, she’d sleep. And that was enough too.

[hockeyisit]

Maybe a leafs gala, where a guy is constantly hitting on Amelia

A.N. Hi! I had a lot of fun writing this one. I got a little carried away with writing it so its a bit longer. I hope you like it though!!

Word Count: 4,325

Masterlist

I walked out of mine and Auston’s bedroom into the kitchen, wearing a tight black cocktail dress. Auston whistled at me as I did a little turn to show off.

“You look hot babe,” he called out after he finished chewing his food.

“Thank you,” I blushed as I walked closer to him so I could rest my hand on his chest. The Leafs were hosting a Gala tonight and Auston had invited me as his guest. It was basically just one big charity event where we spent the evening trying to impress people and meeting fans. Auston had signed us up for the cocktail making so we were going to spend the evening stuck at a bar serving drinks.

“Oh my god Auston!” I exclaimed loudly as I noticed the eaten brownies from my pan on the counter.

“Huh?” he asked, looking up from my lips to my eyes.

“Did you eat my brownies?” I asked worriedly.

“Yeah they were really good,” Auston smiled softly in apology.

“Auston no! They were edibles,” I pulled away from him with a worried face.

“You just ate edibles, oh my god,” I repeated, lifting my hand up to cover my mouth.

“Fuck,” he swore as he reached his hand up to rub it through his hair.

“How could you not tell me you were making edibles,” Auston accused, pointing his hand at me, causing me to take a step back and putting a hand on my hip.

“They were for me!” I didn’t think you’d eat them right away,” I said using my hand to hide my smile.

“Amelia, I have to talk to so many important people tonight. How am I going to focus?”

“Okay, okay,” I said, trying to think of something useful. “Okay we're fine because I’m not high or going to be high so it'll be fine,” I said, reaching out to stop his pacing. He glanced at me with a thoughtful look.

“This may be a dumb idea but I think you should eat a brownie,” Auston said after a moment.

“What! I think that’s the worst thing I could do,” I said with a laugh.

“No c’mon hear me out, it'll be fun, will both be high and plus you'll be more relaxed when you're high,” Auston said as he cut a brownie out for me. Shaking my head I took it from his hand and looked down at it.

“More relaxed when I’m high?” I questioned putting my hand on my hip. His facial expression changed to an ‘oh shit’ face as he went to correct himself.

“I just mean that you tend to get nervous when you meet strangers. This will help you relax more,” he clarified.

“I guess it would be more fun to both be high,” I agreed, going to take a bite.

“Steph and Mitch will be here in fifteen minutes,” Auston said after he looked down at his phone. We had decided to take a limo to the red carpet together.

“Okay I just need to go grab my purse,” I told him, turning around to make my way back to our bedroom. When I made it over to where I kept my purses I looked through the one I wanted and added the different things I thought I might need. Eyedrops, money, lipstick and my ID. Double checking to make sure I had everything I made my way back out to the kitchen to the front door so I could slip my heels on.

“This is going to be one interesting night,” I told Auston as I pulled on my long coat that Auston was holding out for me.

“Thank you,” I smiled at him before leaning forward to press a quick kiss to his lips. He smiled against my lips as he wrapped his arms around my waist and held me close.

“You look so beautiful babe,” he murmured as he pulled away. I blushed as I placed my hands on his chest and grabbed on to his suit jacket.

“And you look so handsome,” I told him softly. His ringer went off causing me to pull away completely so that he could check his phone.

“They are here, let's go down,” he mumbled, reaching out for the door. I walked over to where we kept Felix treats and grabbed one out to give to him. I then followed Auston out of the apartment and waited for him to lock the door.

“Is Freddie coming in the limo with us?” I asked as I pulled my phone out of my purse to see if I had any messages.

“Yeah I texted him he'll meet us at the limo,” he reassured me, wrapping his arm around me and leading me to the elevator. Auston stepped in and I stood close to him so that he was slightly behind me. As we began our descent the elevator stopped three floors below us and a man around our age walked onto the elevator. He very obviously checked me out causing Auston to pull me in close so that my back was against his chest and he was hugging me from behind.

“You guys on your way to the Leaf’s Gala?” he asked, causing the two of us to look towards him.

“Yeah man can’t be late y’know,” Auston answered him. The man nodded his head as he pulled his hands out of his pockets.

“I got a ticket last minute with some of my buddies. I’m pretty pumped,” he told us. I gave him a soft smile assuming he was a fan while Auston nodded his head.

“Yeah it’ll be great.”

As the guy went to respond the elevator doors opened arriving at our floor. Auston sent a wave and a see ya to the dude before leading me out of the elevator and over to the limo. He opened the door and let me in first before crawling in after me.

“Hi guys,” I smiled as I slipped into a seat next to Freddie and across from Steph and Mitch.

“Hey nice of you two to finally show up,” Freddie teased with a grin, causing us all to let out a laugh.

“Shut up, we were waiting on the elevator,” Auston said as he leaned back into his seat.

“Excuses Tony,” Mitch called out as he popped a champagne bottle. I let out a little squeal, surprised at the noise and everyone started laughing. I flushed red as I looked down at my phone.

“I heard the two of you are incharge of bartending tonight,” Steph said as she held her glass out to Mitch so that he would fill it. When he finished filling her he poured one for me and handed it over before moving onto the boys.

“Yeah so whenever you have a free moment come visit us. We're not supposed to leave the bar,” I told them.

“Mitch and I are incharge of the tickets. We have to walk around and try to sell them to people so I will definitely be coming by the bar,” she grinned at me.

“What about you FredEx, what do they have you doing?” Auston asked as he placed his hand on my thigh.

“I’m helping with the auction,” he responded, shrugging his shoulders. “I waited too long to sign up so they just told me what to do,” he continued. Auston had thankfully signed up right when the list came out and had gotten one of the best things we could do.

“Well cheers to the annual Leafs gala night. Hopefully this isn't just one big snooze fest,” Mitch said as he raised his glass in a cheer. I smiled as I glanced at Auston and raised my glass with them.

----

“Amelia, you look lovely,” Arnye said as she pulled me into a hug. I smiled as I hugged her back.

“You do too,” I responded as we pulled apart. It was true Arnye was wearing a tight yellow dress with her hair pulled up and she looked absolutely stunning.

“Thank you so much for volunteering to bartend tonight. We have everything set up and there is a book on the counter that explains how to make any of the drinks if you are struggling,” she told us once she gained both of our attention.

“Thank you,” I smiled as I made my way around the corner to look at the book that they had provided. Auston slipped up behind me and rested his chin on my shoulder.

“Those look complicated,” Auston mumbled. I let out a giggle as I nodded my head.

“Yeah they do.”

“We got this,” Auston said, rubbing his hand up and down my back. I leaned into his touch as I felt myself relax. I straightened myself as I noticed someone starting to make their way to the bar.

“Hi, can I just have a Molson and whatever red wine you guys have.” A woman who looked to be around ten years older than us ordered. I nodded my head as I moved over to the red wines and picked a random one for her. Auston grabbed the beer and took the cap off before setting it infront of her.

“Thank you,” she smiled as she placed a tip in the bowl resting on the counter. All the tips tonight we're going to be donated to different charities.

“Our first tip babe. How’d we do?” Auston asked as he walked over to grab the money from the bowl. I reached out and slapped his hand away.

“No, not our money,” I reminded him.

“Well she’s a cheap ass anyway. Only tipped us two dollars, the bar was free, could have spared more then two bucks,” he mumbled as he looked back towards me. I let out a snort as I shook my head at him.

“Not everyone is as rich as you,” I joked as I reached out to poke him in the stomach.

“I-” Auston went to say but was cut off by another person at the bar.

“Woah your Auston Matthews,” the man  fan said excitedly.

“Yeah man, how's it going?” Auston asked as he let out a laugh at his reaction.

“Great, super great. I’m talking to Auston Matthews,” I let out a loud laugh causing my eyes to widen as I threw my hand up to cover my mouth.

“Yeah, is there anything I can get for you to drink?” Auston asked as he raised his hand to rub at his neck.

“Right. Sorry. Just a molson,” he answered. I turned to the fridge and grabbed one out, setting it on the counter in front of him. He sent me a quick smile before turning his heart eyes back to Auston.

“You're just my favorite player so this is a bit surreal,” he continued when he glanced back at Auston. Another person approached the bar so I let the two of them talk as I took the ladies order and started making a cocktail. I had to turn to the book a few times because I wasn't sure how to make it. I finished pretty quickly though and we were once again alone at the bar.

“That guy tipped fifty bucks,” Auston told me as he leaned back against the counter. I let out a low whistle.

“Wow,” I glanced over to where I could see Steph and Mitch having a conversation with some really old men causing me to send her a smirk. She caught my eye and sent me a help look.

“I'm high as shit,” Auston said, causing me to whip my gaze back to him.

“Seriously these are some of your strongest edibles yet,” he praised. I did a little thank you curtsy as I let out a giggle.

“I know,” I leaned closer so that I wouldn’t have to speak louder.

“I used extra,” he went to respond but before he could someone approached the bar.

Auston helped while I looked around the ballroom that we had rented for the event. Auston’s teammates were spread all around the room talking to different people. My eyes stopped as they landed on Willy who was in the middle of chatting up a girl from the looks of it.

“Auston,” I called out when he was done helping the person. He glanced at me with a raised eyebrow and I pointed to where Willy was.

“He’s chatting up that girl,” I told him with a laugh. He glanced over before turning back to me.

“How do you know what Willy looks like when he’s chatting up a girl?” he asked once he was looking at me.

“Because he chats me up all the time,” I teased back as I turned to help the lady that had just approached the bar.

“Hi what can I get for you?” I sent her my best smile as I stood in front of her. She glanced around for a second before leaning.

“Two lemon drop shots please,” she asked, pulling her wallet out.

“Oh those are my favorite,” I told her as I started making them. She sent me a small smile.

“My boyfriend dragged me here and we’ve talked to so many people I feel like I’m starting to lose it,” she told me as she reached out for the one I placed in front of her. She quickly knocked it back.

“Oh I feel you, this is my second time at the Gala, it can be tiring how many different people you meet,” I smiled reassuringly at her as I placed the second shot in front of her.

“It'll get better with the alcohol,” I promised her. She let out a loud laugh as she took the shot.

“Thank you, I might be back for more later,” she told me before leaving a tip and making her way back to her most likely. I went to turn to talk to Auston but he was making drinks and talking to someone. I stood leaning against the counter until a guy around my age approached the bar.

“Hey can I get two Molsons,” he smiled as he leaned his arms against the counter.

“You're the girl from the elevator,” he said after I turned toward the fridge to grab the beer out.

“Yeah I guess I am,” I turned back to him and gave him a shy, uncomfortable smile when I noticed he was checking me out.

“It’s crazy I’ve never seen you around in the building before,” he said as he took a sip of his beer.

“Yeah I guess so,” I said even though I was thinking the opposite. It was a huge building. I still hadn’t even met our neighbors.

“We should-” he started to say but was cut off by his friend approaching him and pulling on his arm. The guy sent me a smile before leaving with his friend.

“Miss Amelia Matthews,” Willy joked as he approached the counter. I giggled as I shook my head at Willy.

“That’s not my last name Nylander,” I rested my hands on the bar.

“Whatever it will be someday,” he tisked. He reached his hand out and pulled a pretty redhead to the bar counter.

“This is Elizabeth,” he introduced us. I gave her a soft smile.

“Hi I’m Amelia,” I introduced myself. She gave me a shy smile as she greeted us.

“You guys making any fancy drinks?” Willy asked with a grin.

“Not for you,” I told him as I reached out for the book and set it in front of him. He let out a laugh before reaching for the book and flipping through it. When the both of them had picked out a drink I started making them. I made Elizabeth's first and then when I started working on Willy’s Auston joined us.

“I couldn’t get that dude to leave,”

“Jesus woman,” Willy said as he watched me pour the shot’s in, I may have put more than it called for whoops.

“Sorry,” I mumbled before handing his drink over to him. He took a hesitant sip.

“It’s actually really good,” he mumbled.

“That’s because my baby makes the best drinks,” Auston said, wrapping his arm around my waist and pressing a kiss to my cheek. I giggled, leaning into Auston and raising my hand to cover my blushing face. I didn’t mind when Auston called me babe in front of other people but I always felt like, baby was too intimate for other people to hear.

“Someone’s coming,” I told Auston, pointing to the older man that was coming towards us. He gave me a sad look before making his way over to greet the old man.

“You really do have him wrapped around your finger,” Mo said when he approached the bar with Tessa. He gave Willy a bro hug while I said hi to Tessa.

“How’s it been?” Tessa asked me as she sat down on one of the stools.

“Pretty good so far,” I shrugged as I grabbed a drink for Mo and Tessa. As I went to add more I was beckoned over by the guy from earlier.

“Hi, what can I do for you?” I asked politely.

“Just another beer please,” he said smiling. I reached out and grabbed one, setting it down in front of him.

“Aww that's cute you remembered my order,” he grinned at me.

“You were holding your empty bottle,” I told him pointing to it. He glanced at it before looking at me.

“Has anyone told you that you look really beautiful?” he questioned after he took a sip from his new bottle.

“Yeah” I started to say but was cut off by a lady speaking up.

“Get to the back of the line if you want to flirt,” she yelled at him, causing me to let out a light laugh at her attitude.

“Thank you,” I whispered to the older lady as he walked away. She let out a laugh as she nodded her head. I made her drink quickly and then turned to face Auston who was leaning against the counter.

“How’s it going?” I asked him as I made my way closer to him so I could wrap my hand around his waist. I was starting to get tired from all the talking I had done in the last two hours. I was starting to come down from my high as well so I was ready to go to bed. I could tell from the way that Auston slouched against me he was also starting to come down from his high.

“Honestly when I thought about it I never thought we’d still be here when we started coming down from the high,” Auston mumbled as he leaned his lips against the side of my face.

“Hi,” I heard someone call out, causing Auston to pull away from me to help the man at the bar. I pulled my phone out to check and see I had a text from Steph asking if we wanted to get food after.

“Hey,” I heard from in front of me, causing me to look up and see the guy who had been checking me out from earlier.

“Hello,” I responded, tucking my phone under the counter.

“What are your plans after this?” he questioned as he sat down. I took a step back and raised my eyebrow.

“Going home. Can I get you anything to drink?” I asked.

“We could go and get drinks after,” he suggested as he nodded to another beer. I glanced over at Auston who was still engrossed in his conversation with the man from a few minutes ago.

“Oh um I have a boyfriend so no thank you,” I answered as I grabbed the beer out of the fridge and set it in front of him. His smile dimmed as he looked at me.

“You didn’t say,” he said as he picked his beer up.

“Well you saw me with him earlier and he’s literally right there so I didn’t think I had to,” I said pointing to Auston, who had glanced over at us slightly confused as to what was going on.

“Well you should have said something,” he said, his voice coming out slightly harsh. I flinched back and Auston quickly made his way over.

“Hey is everything alright over here?” he asked, placing his hand on the counter to hold him up.

“Yeah everythings fine.”

“Great. Is there anything we can do for you?” Auston asked, wrapping his other arm around me and pulling me in closer.

“Man nah It’s nice to meet you I’m Leon,” he said holding his hand out for Auston to shake. Auston glanced at me before reaching out and shaking his hand.

“I’m Auston,” he gave him a small smile as he reached out to shake his hand.

“I see you’ve met my girlfriend Amelia,” Auston continued as they shook hands. Leon glanced at me as he bit his lip.

“Yeah I’ve met her. She’s a great girl,” he sent me a wink before picking his beer up and walking away from the bar.

“Who was that?” he asked, his eyes following after him.

“He’d been flirting with me all night,” I told him truthfully.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. I shrugged my shoulders as I leaned against him.

“It wasn't a big deal and you were literally right here,” I reminded him. He glanced at me worriedly before pulling away to pull the tips out. He started putting the money in a pile and sorting it.

“Do you need any help?” I asked, walking over. He shook his head no as he sorted it all into different piles

“No but did you want to do food with Steph and Mitch or just go home?” he asked when he finished counting the money.

“Up to you,” I told him. He glanced up from where he had just put the money into an envelope and grabbed my hand.

“Let’s go home. I’m exhausted,”

----

Auston wrapped his arm around my waist as he dragged me into the elevator. We had taken an uber home and I had fallen asleep during the ride. Auston had dragged me along as I tried to keep my eyes. We walked into the elevator and as the doors were about to close Leon from the bar slipped into the elevator with us.

“Oh funny running into you here,” Leon said as he took in the sight of the two of us. Auston’s grip on me tightened as he pulled me closer to him.

“Not really we live here,” Auston mumbled. Leon glanced at the two of us as he shook his head.

“You never said you had a boyfriend,” he said, turning his gaze to me.

“We talked for like two minutes,” I reminded him. He shook his head as we arrived at his floor. He gave us one last look before making his way off the elevator.

“We need to move,” Ausston mumbled against my ear once the door shut. I let out a laugh as I leaned my head back against his shoulder so I could look at his face.

“Okay when?” I leaned up and pressed a kiss to his chin.

The elevator door opened to our floor and we made our way to our apartment. Auston unlocked the door pushing it open so that I could walk in first. Felix greeted us excitedly as we walked into the apartment.

“Auston you should take him out,” I told him as I grabbed his leash and clipped it on, leaving Auston with no choice but to take him out.

“Alright fine I’ll be back soon.” Once Auston left the apartment with Felix I made my way into our bedroom to get ready for the night. I grabbed one of Auston’s sweatshirts and pulled it on. I then brushed my teeth and took my makeup off before making my way back into the bedroom. I had been crashing from the edibles for awhile now and they were about to take me out.

I made my way back into mine and Austons room, turning off the main light and turning on the fairy lights that I had set up around the room. I cuddled up into the blanket before reaching over to the remote and turning the tv on. I finally clicked on The 100 and waited for Auston to come back from his walk.

“Hey,” he called out as he made his way into the room and over to the bathroom.

“That guy tonight, was he flirting with you all night?” he asked, leaning against the wall. I shrugged my shoulders as I sat up in bed.

“Kind of he came up to the bar a few times but it was honestly just making me a bit uncomfortable,” I admitted as I plugged my phone into the charger. I loaded up Hay Day on my phone as he started talking again.

“Why didn’t you tell me what was going on if it was making you uncomfortable?” he asked, walking over to the bed. He sat down and then pulled his shirt off so he was in just his boxers.

“It wasn’t that big of a deal. Plus I was pretty high and I didn’t realize he was flirting at first,” I said. He leaned closer and placed his hand on my cheek.

“It’s a big deal if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“I’m fine,” I told him, cuddling closer to him.

“Alright let’s get some sleep, we can talk about it more tomorrow,” he said, rubbing my back before climbing into the bed next to me. He spooned me behind pulling me in close against his chest.

“I love you babe,” he mumbled as he pressed a kiss to the back of my neck. I smiled as I felt his lips press against my neck.

“I love you too, night,” I mumbled back.

Good Luck to the Leafs Tonight!!

[pigeonp0st]

Hi! Can I request harley quinn x reader where they were like best friends and joker broke up with harley and she finds out she's pregnant with his child and reader helps her through her pregnancy and eventually they both have feelings for each other? I just really love harley and I don't usually find a lot of one shots with her

Harley Quinn x Reader #1

Words: 1,197

Warnings: Mentions of abuse.

Notes:

Thank you for the request! I hope this lives up to expectations :) sorry for any and all spelling mistakes.

——-

Being friends with Harley Quinn felt like an odd thing. People would ask you why you were friends with her all of the time...they didn’t understand.

Harley just has this way of making people feel special without really even trying, and she finds so much happiness in the tiniest of things.

It’s not often Harley is serious though, let alone sad, that’s why when you open your door on a thundering evening to her crying face, soaked in rain, you don’t know what to do.

“”Hey Butterfly,” Harley sobs out, trying to give you a smile. The sound of the nickname she’s given you jumps you into action, it has you pulling Harley inside—out of the rain.

“Harley,” you force out, feeling your heart break as you watch her shiver in your foyer. You know who did this to her, he always does this to her, but Harley can’t see it—and bringing it up always drives her far enough away that you can’t protect her from him.

So you’ve lived with it, but when her nexts words to you are; “Mr J broke my heart,” you can’t help the sense of relief that takes over you.

You know that for Harley this is the worst thing in the world though. Just thinking about how sad she is takes away from your relief and makes you feel a deep sense of hatred instead.

If that clown hadn’t come into Harley’s life none of this would have happened.

“Harley—”

“I’ve got a muffin in the oven, Butterfly, and it’s his.”

That stops you completely. It replays in your mind over and over again, and you must’ve not heard correctly because Harley’s not— she’s not.

She can’t be...but if she is…

What you want to ask is; ‘Harley, are you sure?’ What comes out instead is; “The term is bun. A bun in the oven.”

Harley smiles at you, because of course she does. She always does. “What do you need, Har? What do you need…” it’s the only thing you can think to say next, because it doesn’t really matter that Harley is pregnant, you’ll always be here for her.

Harley looks shocked though, if the wide eyes and wobbly confused smile is anything to go by. “No I told you so?” She asks.

You suck in a deep breath and pull her into a hug, soaked and all, “I’m not happy he turned out to be exactly as I knew he was,” you tell her, squeezing her harder when she sobs against your neck, “I wish he could’ve been what you needed Harley. I really do.”

——

When Harley’s changed into warm clothes, and calmed down enough to have a conversation, you sit her on your couch with a cup of tea.

“First off, what do you want to do with the kid?”

Harley winces at your bluntness. You would’ve waited until she was ready to have this conversation...but you at least want to give her a chance of having a restful sleep tonight.

“Should I bring the Jokers muffin into the world or not?” Harley hums, eyes focused onto her tea.

Your eyes narrow. “It’s not his Harley.” She gives you a very doubtful look. You wince. “Well, I mean he ...obviously...conceived it...but if you choose to have this kid it’ll be yours, and only yours.”

Harley shakes her head, “J will never leave them alone. They’ll be in danger constantly.”

“The only choice I want you to make is your own,” You say, “don’t worry about the hows. I’ll kill the joker myself to keep you and the...muffin safe.”

Harley doesn’t want that yet, you know, she doesn’t want the Joker dead despite everything that he’s done to her, but you mean the promise anyways. Even if Harley hates you afterwards, you need her to be safe.

“I can’t do it alone,” Harley says, a haunted look on her face, and you think that perhaps she’s thinking of everything the Jokers instilled in her.

“You can, Harley, but you won’t have to.”

Her eyes meet yours at that, searchingly. She seems to find whatever she’s looking for when she looks away with a smile.

—

A week later when you and Harley are lounging on your couch watching television (Harley lives with you now) she says, out of nowhere, with a determined look on her face, “I’m keeping it.”

And that’s really when it all starts.

—

Nearly ten months later you’re watching Harley trying to change a tiny her and getting increasingly more impatient/pouty.

“Any regrets?” You ask her, leaning against the doorway with crossed arms.

She looks over her shoulder at you and gives you a beaming smile. And gods, you still aren’t used to it. That night Harley showed up, devastated at your door, seems imprinted in your mind. “Not yet, ask me again in a year.”

—

A year later Harley is yours. Not officially, you two just make out on the couch when the muffin is asleep...and maybe go a bit further, and you two just cuddle together, and wake up to each other, and go to bed with each other, but you don’t talk about it.

You don’t talk about it but you always pull Harley back into you when someone tries flirting with her, to remind her that you’re there, and you...care for her, and when someone tries flirting with you Harley gets annoyed for the rest of the day.

You don’t talk about it.

You talk though, when you come home one day covered in blood and scared.

“Butterfly?” Harley’s standing by the doorway in her pajamas, having just finished putting muffin to sleep, and looking scared too. She was nervous when you weren’t coming home, and this certainly isn’t what she was expecting. She knows what’s happening though. She just knows.

“Any regrets?” You ask humorlessly.

Harley stalks forwards, and once she’s close enough she tucks a strand of your blood soaked hair behind your ear. Your eyes begin to water almost immediately.

“Is Mr,” Harley pauses, correcting herself, “is the Joker dead?”

All you do is nod and suddenly you're getting pulled into a hug by Harley, all while you’re shaking like a leaf. “I’m sorry, Harls. I’m so sorry.”

You mean it because this wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“No regrets,” Harley whispers into your ear, and everything is better. Not fixed. It can’t be with the both of you now covered in the Joker's blood. But it’s better.

——

Two months later, while you’re meeting with the rest of the birds of prey Harley casually calls you her girlfriend.

It’s fixed then.

It’s beyond fixed when only a day later Muffin walks herself all the way from the living room to the kitchen for the first time.

It’s damn near perfect, watching Harley screech and jump into the air. It’s damn near perfect when she smothers both yours and Muffin’s face like you’re the one that achieved the accomplishment.

Damn near perfect when she breaks out crying later that night about how proud she is of her little family.

[yunaffie]

No Matter What [Lynne & Sissel]

Happy Ghost Swap to @redwoodrroad, here is your exchange gift!

Written for @fyeahghosttrick's Ghost Swap exchange.

Crossposted to AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32039206

Spring

The pursuit of a fleeing suspect had sent Lynne right into the path of a speeding truck. A swift call brought Sissel to the scene of the accident. Finding the unfortunate detective still unconscious, he wasted no time in reversing her demise. At the very last second, Sissel thought he could hear her voice.

Returning to the present, Sissel saw it - a core of the dead. Rather than engage with her right away, he chose to observe. The little moments of confusion, of spacing out, of looking for something or something that wasn't there didn't fail to escape his attention.

One evening, after finishing work for the day, Lynne left the police station while Sissel trailed along a short distance behind her. Every so often, she would make little glances back over her shoulder though she didn't seem to spot him. Unexpectedly, she made a turn off her usual route and travelled along a path that took her to a quiet little spot by the river. Sissel remained out of sight, continuing to watch her.

"It's getting nice and warm now, isn't it?" Lynne leaned back, focusing her eyes on the horizon. The setting sun cast a warm glow over her and her surroundings. "Suppose the breeze's still a little chilly, but it's nice to just sit out here and enjoy nature once in a while."

(... Huh? Is she talking to herself?)

"You must like it too, being a cat and all."

"...!"

"How long are you going to hide like that?" Lynne patted the empty spot on the bench. "Come here."

(Huh. I guess she knew I was there all along.)

"Of course I did."

"You heard my voice just now?" Sissel walked over and hopped up next to her.

"I've overheard you plenty of times. Even heard you talking to Detective Jowd. I thought I was going crazy at first." Lynne reached out and rubbed Sissel's head. "You could have just said something, you know."

"I suppose I was waiting."

"Waiting, huh?" Lynne's gaze shifted to the rippling surface of the river. "For me to remember?"

"You do, don't you?"

"I remember a lot of things. Living with Kamila, trying to save Detective Jowd, dying so many times on that night... and finally being trapped on that submarine, waiting for a miracle to happen. And of course, you." Looking back at Sissel, Lynne's face lit up in a bright smile.

"Lynne..."

"I believed in you. I was so sure you and Missile would find a way somehow, and you did." Lynne picked Sissel up, pulling him into a tight hug. "Well done, Sissel."

"I wasn't sure if you'd remember. Though I had a feeling when you found my name familiar."

"I told you, didn't I?" Lynne held Sissel up to her face. "That I would never forget you, no matter what happened." Her brow furrowed. "I'm a bit confused about that part. So, you saved that man, right?"

"Right."

"I see." Lynne's face softened. "That's wonderful. And because of that, a whole new ten years were born. Boy, we have got so much to talk about, haven't we? Say, would anyone miss you if you were to come over to mine for a little bit?"

"Not at all. I can always come over the phone line too."

"Wait." Lynne blinked. "You've been coming to my apartment through my phone?"

"Uh... maybe?"

"Oh gods. Please don't tell me you saw me get drunk that one time and sing to Missile with my hairbrush!"

"What?"

Lynne clamped her lips shut, averting her gaze. "Nothing. But let's set a rule, okay?" Poking Sissel's head, she regarded him with a stern expression. "You tell me when you're visiting, alright?"

"Alright, alright."

"Great. So glad we got that sorted. Now then, off we go." Lynne got to her feet, hugging Sissel to her chest. "And on the way, I'm getting Missile a special doggy treat. I would say he's earned it, wouldn't you?"

"Definitely."

Summer

"How do I look?" The patterned blue fabric rippled around Lynne's slender form as she gave a twirl.

"Well, you look different. Not in a bad way. I mean, I've never seen you wear something like that before."

Lynne released her breath in a loud puff. "Yeah. I should know better than to ask a cat for his opinion. But it's a nice dress, right? Perfect for a summer festival."

"It's certainly shiny, alright. Very attention grabbing."

"Well, don't you start playing with it now or anything." Lynne picked Sissel up.

"I have no idea what you mean. I grew out of the playful whims of a kitten a long time ago."

"Like heck you did. You turned my new blender on last week!"

"That wasn't playing, I just wanted to see what the buttons did."

"If there had been something in the blender, you would have ended up decorating my entire kitchen!" Lynne exclaimed. "Anyway, this is your first festival, right?"

Sissel took a moment to look over the crowds of people milling through the rows of stalls illuminated by hanging lanterns. "Yes. I do believe it is."

"I haven't been to a festival in forever." Lynne let out a little sigh. The wistful expression that appeared on her face was quickly replaced with an enthusiastic grin as she pumped her fist. "Alright! It's time to eat lots of festival food and play games! We're going to have so much fun, Sissel!" She hurried into the crowd, joining Kamila who was occupied with holding back an excited little Pomeranian.

The rest of the evening passed by, filled with fun and excitement. Lynne didn't fail to impress with how much of the stall food she was able to put away. A brief debate took place on whether it was fair for Sissel to use his ghost tricks to help on the shooting range game. In the end, he relented. Lynne's puppy dog eyes and Missile's pleas to do it for Lynne and Kamila were just too much to bear.

At the end, the festival goers formed a crowd, ready to watch the fireworks. Lynne, Kamila, Sissel and Missile gathered together, along with the goldfish the ladies had managed to win, an event that had Sissel wondering if there might be deaths to avert in the future.

"Ahh." Lynne let out a soft sound as the first firework burst into the sky. Sissel briefly looked at her face, seeing the way her face lit up in wonderment, before turning his attention to the display. "You've seen fireworks before, haven't you, Sissel?"

"Yeah. It's certainly a beautiful sight."

"It is, isn't it?" Lynne hugged Sissel to her chest just a little tighter, watching the fireworks go up, one after another. "We've had such a wonderful night tonight."

"Indeed. I'm glad I was able to experience this with you. Festivals really do look like a lot of fun."

"They really are." Lynne's expression softened. "We'll keep finding lots of fun things to do together, Sissel."

"Yeah. I'm looking forward to it."

Fall

"Right, that looks good." Lynne gave a satisfied nod as she eyed her handiwork. Leaves in hues of red, brown and yellow had been gathered together in a neat little pile. "Now, I just got to start the fire," she added, rubbing her hands together. "Mmm. It's been a long time since I last enjoyed a roasted sweet potato."

Sissel sat on the edge of the fountain, pawing at the basket, taking care not to dislodge any of the sweet potatoes as it rocked back and forth. "This seems like an awful lot of potatoes. I know the little lady is here, but still."

"It's fine, it's fine." Lynne chucked. "Hey, be careful with that basket. Why don't you go run around with Missile and Kamila or something?"

"As fun as it might be to run laps around that little doggie until he passes out from exhaustion, I think I'll pass. The little lady's doing a good enough job at keeping him occupied." Sissel jumped down and went to sit by the leaf pile. Lynne sat as well and got to work on the fire. "It doesn't bother you, right? Being back here in the park after all this time?"

Lynne shook her head, flashing Sissel a reassuring smile. "Not at all. You're here. Kamila and Missile too. There's nothing to fear. I mean, what are the chances of someone dying, right?"

Despite lacking the ability to feel, Sissel swore he still felt a chill run down his spine. "Please don't joke like that, Lynne."

"Okay, sorry." Once the fire was made, Lynne took a potato and buried it in the leaves. "I know a lot's happened here, but it's not like there's a curse on the park. Probably."

("Probably", she says. Still, I guess there really isn't anything to worry about.) Sissel turned his attention to the small figures in the distance. The little lady hurled a ball and the little doggie gave chase. "It's such a peaceful scene, even in this place where tragedy and terror reigned."

Lynne was quietly humming to herself as she poked at the pile with a stick. "I used to enjoy doing this when I was a child."

"You certainly did seem pretty into it."

"Sitting in front of a burning pile, smelling that aroma, finally tucking into that delicious sweet potato, it was one of the highlights of the season." Lynne's expression had turned somber mid-sentence. "And I used to do it all alone. But, you know, I still enjoyed it. Even if I had nobody to do it with."

(Poor Lynne...) "But it's different now, right?"

"Yeah." Lynne's lips curved into a smile. "I've got all of you now, and I'm finally ready to release the shackles of fear that held me back from ever coming here again."

"I'm glad to hear that." Sissel felt a gentle warmth stir within as he studied the look of contentment on her face.

"Right then." Lynne waved. "Hey, Kamila! Come and get a potato!" At her call, Kamila came running over with Missile in hot pursuit.

While the ladies engaged themselves in roasting potatoes and Missile watched on with a pleading look, Sissel occupied himself with batting at a stray leaf, content to sit by and witness this joyful scene.

Winter

Jowd came home from work late in the evening, flanked by Cabanela and Lynne. Sissel came over, letting out a mew of greeting.

"Hey, Sissel." Lynne reached down to scoop up the little kitten in her arms.

"Hey. How was your day at work?"

"Oh, you know, just the usual. There's nothing too major going on right now, fortunately." Lynne walked across the room to the window, watching the falling flakes of snow. "It's snowing tonight too. Just as it was then."

"Then?" Sissel hopped over to the sill.

"Right." Lynne watched him expectantly. "You do know what today is, right?"

"Hmm." Sissel lapsed into thought. (Let's see. Alma did have her birthday just a couple days ago, so... right. That must be it.) "It's the anniversary of your becoming a detective, isn't it?"

"That's right." Lynne's face lit up in a beaming smile. "It's been a whole year. How time flies, huh?"

"And in that entire year, you managed to die only once. Well done."

"Hmph." Lynne puffed out her cheeks, shooting him a narrow stare. "But, you know, I think I am kinda glad I managed to die just once."

"Glad?! Why would you even say something like that?" (This girl really does say the craziest things sometimes.)

"Well, because it meant I was able to remember you and talk to you again after all!" Lynne clasped her hands behind her back, leaning closer to him. "You were happy too, weren't you, Sissel?"

"Er, well... I suppose-"

"Oh come on, just admit it already! You were thinking to yourself 'When is Lynne going to die again already', right?"

"I would never think such a thing!" Sissel flattened his ears, giving her a haughty look.

Letting out a laugh, Lynne scratched his head. "Aw, I was only kidding, Sissel, you don't have to take it so personally."

"Honestly." Sissel let out an exasperated sigh. "Still, leave it to you to see the upside of things, I guess. For what it's worth, I... I really am happy that we were able to talk again. It's never a dull moment with you for sure."

"Hmm." Lynne raised an eyebrow, looking at him doubtfully. "I'm honestly not sure if that's a compliment or not."

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not saying it's a bad thing. I really do enjoy your company."

"Aw, thank you. That's such a sweet thing to say. You know, Sissel..."

"Hm?"

"You really are one of my very best friends."

"Gee, you're making me blush."

Lynne softly chuckled then planted a light kiss on the top of the kitten's head. Stepping back, she flashed him a radiant smile. "There will be many more years in store for us, won't there, Sissel?"

"Sure. Happy anniversary, detective."