#my brother cornering me about how miserable my mother is since we no longer talk

[alloutshirt]

//

[obeiii-mee]

Can I angst for Mammon where he is in a really bad mood and his brothers are at it again calling him names. And already ask them kindly to leave him alone but they keep at it. And Levi says something and it's the last straw. The air around them get cold for a moment as he slowly looks up and he flat out threatens them to shut up before he puts them back into there place with a really dark and threatening voice, before leaving. And the look could rival Satan's or even Lucifers glare.

I think Mammon takes the abuse of his brothers but sometimes he isn't in the mood and want a little peace and it is very very rare for him to get pissed

Like he's the kind of person who would yell when he's upset but when he's down right pissed it's like really fucking scary

People forget that as much as he lets his brothers push him around he is still the second oldest and is powerful so 😬

Brothers+ undateables reaction

Mammon snaps:

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This is something I’ve mentioned in previous posts, but I basically second everything you said. I believe that Mammon dislikes getting into confrontations but isn’t by any means weak or stupid. He is the second eldest. However he is also, arguably, the one with the most self control out of them all. He has an overwhelming amount of patience when it comes to his siblings and I like to think he puts up with all of their insults because he loves them. Then again, it’s very possible for him to go berserk after years worth of build up.

Thanks for the request!!! I had a bit of trouble at first because I didn’t know how I was going to format it but I like the way it turned out so I hope you do too. Uhh also I reached my word limit writing this so I couldn’t include Simon, Luke and Solomon. I do plan on writing for them as well but at this point I’m just trying to get this done. Let me know if I made any grammatical errors! I double check my writing all the time but sometimes mistakes got over my head! The undateables are short because honestly I view the brothers as the ones who will suffer the most out of everyone. I hope you enjoy reading it anyway!!

•Characters: Lucifer, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphagour, Diavolo, Barbatos.

⚠️Warnings: Cursing, mentions of blood & gore and that’s about it.

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For the past few months, Lord Diavolo’s pleasure of hosting parties and inviting people over had become more and more noticeable. It was pretty obvious that the Prince was lonely, isolating himself from others due to the responsibilities he has as the heir to the throne and a leader in the making. Attending his gatherings seemed like a down right chore for most of the brothers but you never had any problem tagging along. Besides, it felt nice knowing he seemed you worthy of coming to such important meetings. Your seven demons were, of course, also invited and per Lucifer’s orders, they all got cleaned up and dressed in fancy clothing to impress the regals prancing about the castle. Though the outfits themselves came with their own set of problems. Levi’s was way too tight; the collar seemed to annoy him more than anything else, judging by the patches of red skin on his neck. Satan accidentally ripped one of the buttons from his jacket off in a fit of rage earlier that day and was now silently fuming while poking his finger through the hole he made. Even Asmo spilled some water on his shirt before they arrived, ruining his pretty pink suit! Not to mention Beel was munching on his tie, having last eaten about 15 minutes beforehand. Lucifer pulled it out of his mouth and scowled at the saliva stains that were left behind. Safe to say they were all in a miserable mood to begin with.

“I expect all of you to behave in a respectable manner,” Lucifer flicked Belphie on the back of the head just as he began dozing off, making the youngest growl at him. He shot Mammon an irritated look “I’m especially talking to you Mammon. Don’t try to steal anything or I’ll cut your hands off.”

“I told ya big bro, ya don’t have to worry about me! I’ll be a golden child today! Promise!” Mammon held up his pinky as if he was committing to some kind of oath. The eldest darkened his glare and opened his mouth to say something else, but you interrupted in hopes of avoiding any bickering that might’ve followed.

“Look, there’s our table! Let’s go sit down. Lord Diavolo’s speech is going to start any minute now.”

Beel leaped at the table as soon as he sniffed out the appetisers, which were neatly arranged on the expensive tablecloth, shoving at least half of them in his mouth by the time the rest of you caught up with him. Having been seated, you quickly glanced around the room in hopes of spotting Diavolo. You bumped into Solomon and the angels before entering the castle, chit chatting with them for a while about the event. Even now, Luke was excitedly waving at you from across the room, using both of his arms. However, Lord Diavolo and Barbatos were the ones in charge of this party and you were yet to see either of them.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Mammon eyeing the golden utensils laid out in front of him. Not the biggest of surprises really. Anytime Mammon sees something along the lines of gold, he can’t help but snatch it away. And there’s obviously so many valuables scattered all over the place, including the silverware that was proudly presented on every table. You sucked in a breath of anticipation when he reached for one of the spoons, only to exhale in relief when he placed it on the bridge of his nose, trying to balance it.

“MC, look at this!” He tapped your shoulder, as always wanting your full and undivided attention as he demonstrated his newfound skill. You giggled at his antics with fondness as he accidentally let the spoon drop with a clatter and a quiet ‘shit’ coming from him. Lucifer pulled on his ear, like a mother scolding her child and whisper-yelled at him to stop acting like an idiot. The only reason the oldest chose a sit right next to Mammon was to maintain order and peace. Basically, he did it for disciplinary reasons.

“I understand that being impertinent is your full-time job, Mammon but keep this up and I’ll throw you in Cerberus’ room. Let him do with you as he pleases.”

“Lucifer, it’s not a big deal-“

“Yeah, OK,” Mammon hissed, picking up the spoon from the recently polished floor with a slight grin that didn’t quiet reach his eyes “I gotcha. Can-“

“Speaking of Cerberus,” Levi suddenly piped in, no longer fussing about his collar or nervously twiddling with his thumbs because of the massive crowd of demons surrounding him “Didn’t you force me to walk him last week when it was your turn to do it?? I only agreed because you promised to buy me the newest Ruri-Chan limited edition body pillow that came out last Tuesday! And you never did! And now they’re out of stock, you scummy piece of-“

The third eldest would’ve leapt across the table and aimed for the throat if you hadn’t pressed a gentle hand against his chest, making him sit back down with a huff. People were starting to stare at the commotion coming from your table, turning heads and muttering between themselves. You were slowly dying from embarrassment by the way, since you guys definitely became the topic of conversation for the other guests. The brothers were being too noisy to even notice and Lucifer himself was too preoccupied to see the scene they were creating which made you further slouch down into your chair, silently hoping for the ground to swallow you whole. The night really wasn’t going as intended. You could hear Solomon laughing at the brothers’ antics from three tables down.

“I guess that’s Mammon for you,” Belphie yawned, barely raising his head from table “He lies everyday, all day. What exactly is new here? And that says something since it’s coming from me.”

“I apologised for that!” Mammon whined, referring to Levi’s accusation and choosing not to address Belphie’s insult “I was gonna buy it but then I realised I spent all my money earlier that week anyway so I couldn’t!”

“Perhaps that wouldn’t happen if you learned how to save the money you earn properly,” Satan muttered, sipping from his glass of whatever beverage he had snatched from the servants earlier “Not like you know how to earn money in any way besides stealing it.”

You watch as Mammon clenched his fist “Can we please just move on-“

“I can’t believe that I was cursed with this moron for a brother,” Asmo sighed, almost theatrically, as if he was performing. And, in a way, he was. People were getting really interested in the drama unfolding over there. It was making you even more anxious, all those eyes staring at you. The Avatar of Lust was leaning so much on his chair, you were sure he was going to topple over and at this point, you kinda hoped he would. Anything to stop this momentum of hatred aimed at Mammon “You’re always getting us in trouble, you know. Hmph, we can’t go anywhere with you Mammon! You always end up ruining it for us! With your stupid schemes and-“

“I’m hungry-“

“Not now, Beel!”

“Cutting him up into tiny pieces for the witches will always be an option,” Lucifer chimed in, smiling at the thought.

Mammon snapped his head upwards at that. It was such an abrupt reaction, it made you jolt a little in your seat. You couldn’t miss the tension radiating from him, how quickly his body stiffened and exactly how hard his hands were gripping the edge of the table. His brothers were still paying him no mind, blaming him for this and that under their breath or being silently judgemental in Lucifer’s case. You worried for him because Mammon rarely acted like this; feral, in a way. Just so you know, he definitely noticed it. The look of concern plastered all over your face. That’s the only reason he released the table from his vice-like grip and slouched back against his chair. Satan went quiet and was staring at Mammon in bewilderment.

He disliked the idea of you watching him lose control of himself. He was your guardian. Your first pact. It’s important to him that your relationship is build around a pillar of trust. And he can’t even expect you to trust him if he exposes you to his demon form every time something inconveniences him. Mammon would rather cease to exit than have you fear him. So he kept his breathing regulated as the fog cleared his mind. The Avatar of Greed isn’t an angry demon. Snuffing out the the flame of rage he had fanned up until then was relatively easy. He just needed to get through tonight, then he could go home and complain to you about it once he got out of his brothers’ earshot.

“Why does he get to spend so much time with MC anyway? He’d probably sell them for a few Grimm any time of the day, wouldn’t he? It’s so fucking unfair. He won’t change no matter what so why risk MC’s safety? I will summon Lotan on him if he starts getting on my nerves.”

It would be an understatement to say that those words rubbed Mammon the wrong way, judging by the lack of immediate response. It was unexpected for him keep his mouth shut at a time like this. What was even more unexpected was the abrupt, delayed reaction he had a few seconds afterwards, resulting in his chair being flung back about 5 feet in that general direction. The seemingly deafening thud it made when it collided with the floor echoed around the dining hall, bouncing off walls and whacking people over the heads with the aggression behind it. A moment of pure, indescribably loud silence filled the crowded space as everyone else stared in shock at their brother, mouths agape and eyes bulging out of their sockets. Mammon would’ve laughed at their faces if it weren’t for the circumstances leading up to that point.

“What gives any of you the right to treat me like some sort of punching bag?” Mammon drawled, accentuating his obviously superior nature to almost every single demon at that table. He laughed, in an oddly half hearted way, before his sea struck gaze landed back to his siblings “Do not try to push me into a corner, because I will not handle it well. You’ve been having a field day with me for centuries now and I’m starting to get really ticked off, ya know? But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’ve done everything in my power to keep MC alive for the past few months and y’all are acting as if I’m out here playing with their life. Complain about me all you want. But...” He thumped the table, loud enough to make all the noblemen in the room flinch.

“Don’t you dare insinuate that I would ever put MC in danger, willingly or not because I will rip out your insides and paint the walls of this palace with them while hanging your intestines from these chandeliers. I will pluck your hairs out one by one, then your nails, then your eyeballs and then your teeth. You’re the ones that have put MC in danger’s way time and time again in the past few weeks, and you’re out here trying to suggest that I would even think about hurting them? Unlike every single one of you, who almost killed my human-you’re lucky I don’t have your fucking heads.”

He smashed his fist into the table again, using even more of his strength this time and effectively breaking the whole thing, the wooden legs giving out and shattering into thousands of splinters. Mammon spoke again, his voice lowering “MC forgave you. I didn’t. And I have no reason to. Not with how you’ve been treating me.”Once he spit that out, Mammon turned on his heel and left, slamming the door shut behind him hard enough to shake the whole building, leaving his siblings in dazed awe.

......

Even more silence. For some reason, all of the brothers at the now broken table ended up looking your way, silently questioning what they should do. It often ended up like this

You gave them all an unimpressed stare and a half-assed shrug “Don’t look at me. You guys fucked up.” Before sliding out of your seat and following Mammon out of the castle, sending an apologetic smile to Diavolo on your way out. Hopefully, you could manage to calm him down before everyone else gets home otherwise this might drag on for a while.

Lucifer:

-In all honesty, he probably saw the signs from a mile away and still decided to ignore them

-Maybe because he believed they weren’t being all that harsh on him, even if in Mammon’s eyes they were

-‘Harsh’ in Lucifer’s vocabulary usually means being hanged upside down from a ceiling or publicly executed, not a couple of mere insults

-Not to mention the eldest had always been horrible at communicating with his brothers when it came to emotions

-Despite Mammon clearly suffering from the treatment he received from his brothers, Lucifer refuses to believe he’s the root of the problem

-As the Avatar of Pride, he always had a hard time realising that all those words and the constant teasing, which he deemed to be pretty harmless, scarred Mammon a lot more than expected

-Once he actually comes to that conclusion, and after getting over the initial shock, Lucifer would probably feel the guiltiest out of them all

-Being the eldest means he carries quite a few burdens on his shoulders as most responsibilities fall on him due to his prideful nature

-He would blame himself for Mammon’s outburst simply because he’s the older brother and he should’ve known better, not just because he sees how a big of a role he played in all of this

-Usually, if his brothers do something bad, then he’s there to fix it within hours, that’s how it always worked

-Except he doesn’t know how to fix this exactly

-The problem is he has no idea how to approach Mammon after that sudden meltdown and he has no idea how to talk it out with him because he sucks at expressing himself verbally

-And since this took place in a public space, Lord Diavolo’s Palace no less, he felt really conflicted on what should have been done at that moment in time

-There was a lot of frustration, embarrassment and confusion in him for a good five minutes after Mammon slammed that door shut behind him and even after he gathered his thoughts together, he was still in shock for the rest of the night

-In any case, the whole event was promptly cancelled and everyone ended up going home earlier than expected, after Lucifer apologised to Diavolo about the spectacle they created (several times)

-When they finally get home, he decided to give Mammon his space instead of trying to knock at his door and instead went back to his room

-He knows they will need to solve this matter soon but there’s no way Mammon will want to see, let alone talk, to any of them just yet

-He’s sort of hoping he can apologise best he can next morning at breakfast, cross his fingers and wish for the best but judging by the venom that laced Mammon’s voice the night before, it’s not likely he will forgive any of them that easily.

Levi:

-If I were to guess, he saw the ending credits of his life flash before his very eyes as soon as those words left his mouth

-Levi felt a panic in him like never before, not even while playing his engaging horror visual novels at 3am in complete darkness or that one time he used Lucifer’s credit card to buy merch before being found out

-Must’ve forgotten his brother technically ranks higher than him on the power scale for a second there

-Or maybe he didn’t think his insults were going to affect him much

-They usually don’t

-Or at least that’s the impression he’s been under for a while now

-Mammon doesn’t snap easily under pressure but Levi must’ve really hit a nerve there that night

-While everyone was sitting in a short silence after Mammon left the building, he started twiddling with his fingers again the more he thought about it

-Because now he went from nervous to fucking terrified of what the hell was waiting for him when he finally got home

-He does feel guilty, nowhere near as much guilt as Lucifer feels but still pure shame

-However most of that guilt is swallowed by a steady fear and the constant worry of ‘how do I stop my brother from killing me?’

-Unlike Lucifer, I honestly don’t see him taking any sort of initiative when it comes to apologising to Mammon

-Not even because he doesn’t want to, but he would freeze up if he were to come face to face with him after that incident and then scamper back to his room like a rat in hiding

-So without your help, it’s likely the two won’t be speaking to each very soon which can honestly make life at the House of Lamentation so much more miserable

-In the end, if either you or Lucifer forced him to, he would say sorry by selling some of his merch and then giving him the profits (in secret but we all know it’s him)

-That is a big sacrifice on Levi’s part considering how precious his merchandise is to him

-But the idea that he’s gonna get murdered in his sleep by his older brother was getting a tad too real

-Besides, Mammon is still his brother and if he has to sell a couple of items in order to make him less mad, he would do it, albeit with a bit of grumbling

-Despite that, Mammon still refuses to come out of his room and sort of relies on you to bring him food because he doesn’t want to see his brothers

-Levi and Mammon would probably have to rebuild a lot of their relationship after this but it could easily take months for that to happen since Levi is too terrified to look him in the eye and Mammon is too upset to even hear his voice

Satan:

-He wouldn’t be the Avatar of Wrath if he couldn’t spot the anger within someone from a mile away

-He’s always been able to recognise the fury building up inside of him so for Satan it’s second nature to just know when someone’s on the brink of snapping

-It’s no surprise to say that he probably noticed Mammon’s wrath spilling out before anyone else did

-But alas, he realised it too late

-If he had reacted quicker, maybe he would’ve been able to diffuse Mammon before he exploded on them. Or not

-It’s difficult to tell if he could’ve actually helped because who was he to tell Mammon to calm down??? If anyone told him that while he was throwing a fit, he would probably break their necks-

-In the end, he just pressed his lips into a straight line and watched his brother throw his chair across the room

-Not gonna lie, he found it a bit entertaining purely because of the look on Lucifer’s face

-Satan had to try really hard not to crack a smile because he knew Mammon would probably smash a glass against his head or something

-Even so, he was the first to stand up and offer to go after him, though he wasn’t sure he could do much consoling

-Being so experienced with anger meant that he knew Mammon had built himself into a rage that he won’t be able to escape out of too easily

-Which is why he advises Lucifer to give Mammon his space once they get home

-Overall, the most understanding out of all of the brothers

-At this point in time, probably the least judgemental out of everyone and once Mammon comes out of his room for the first time in a while, either him or Beel is going to apologise to him first

-He may push and push him alongside the rest of his siblings but I feel like Satan doesn’t want to reach a certain low, like cornering Mammon into the frenzy he had that day ever again

-He might get pissy with him if he’s being too stubborn to forgive anyone after coming down from his intrusive thoughts

-And he really hates that Mammon had to remind them about all the times you had nearly died because of them, because he knows they won’t be able to make it up to you so why is Mammon upset about this????

-But he will try to maintain respect for his older brother from then on

-Even if the sharpest of remarks is on the top of his tongue!

Asmo:

-Asmo is the type to laugh it off and then start feeling really upset about it later on, the longer he thinks about the whole thing

-After Mammon storms out, he just assumes it’s another one of those ‘Mammon’ things and tried to brush the feeling of unease off him

-Even so, later that night the memory of Mammon kept coming back to him while he laid in his bed, unable to have a nice rest for the first time in how long? He’s always been really strict about his sleeping schedules after all

-Asmo’s observant, almost on par with Satan himself when it comes down to it. He definitely saw the gleam of anger, pent up frustration and hatred in his brothers’ eyes that moment and it legitimately scared him, even if it was for just half a second

-Honestly, he begins neglecting himself out of anticipation and worry which is a huge red flag for the Avatar of Lust who always holds himself at such a superior level compared to everyone else

-It may start out slow, but it has the same effect as a snowball rolling down the hill. It becomes more of a problem the longer it’s ignored

-Because he spends most of his days now debating whether he should try to coax his brother into coming out of his room and apologising to him, he forgets about himself

-Skincare routines are missed, pedicure appointments have been cancelled; hell, if Mammon’s keeps being stubborn, he may let his hair become absolutely filthy

-Asmo sort of relies on his brothers to provide the living environment he revolves around. If something is off with his brothers, he can not work properly either because it doesn’t feel right to do so

-Imagine a machine not working anymore because one of the clogs in it got stuck

-I can see Asmo feeling a decent amount of guilt when it comes to the situation but he still blames Levi for completely pushing him over the edge at dinner

-So now those two aren’t talking (it’s honestly so exhausting since they’re shoving the blame onto each other without stop)

-If Mammon decides to come out and hear them out, Asmo might get on his knees and beg because that guilt bubbling up inside of him may end up being his demise

-No seriously, MC might need to keep an eye out on him too while comforting Mammon because whatever he is doing isn’t healthy

-Takes Mammon’s outburst pretty badly and tries apologising to him many times but the second eldest still hasn’t said a word to any of them

-And that’s driving him into a fucking swirl of insanity at this point

-Of course, much like Mammon’s mental breakdown, this builds up over time but the result can be devasting

-If you pass by his room at night, you could probably hear him sob about how his brother hates him and it’s really heartbreaking to hear pained cries like that coming from such an overly confident demon like Asmo

Beel:

-Literally the only one here that doesn’t dish out insults onto Mammon every hour of the day

-He joins in very rarely and even when he does, it’s usually in good nature rather than malice

-Unless food is involved. Feelings (and Mammon) might be hurt if that’s the case

-Beel wasn’t listening to his siblings as they were diminishing Mammon, he was way too hungry to comprehend what the hell they were on about

-So he just started wolfing down appetisers until he noticed you looking all weary

-That’s the first thing that put him on alert

-And then the second born’s aura was also...off putting

-Might’ve actually tried to nudge Belphie to stop him from saying anything offensive to Mammon in this state when he realised how tense the atmosphere got

-Flinched when his brother left the palace, almost cracking the whole doorway on his way out

-Hunger is all but gone and at this point he wants to go home to check up on him

-Beel is a bit of a softie and he wears his heart on his sleeve a lot of the times

-He never did anything particularly bad to Mammon, not on the same scale his brothers did certainly and yet he still felt extremely bad

-Perhaps because he didn’t step in as much as he should’ve...?

-Either way, when his loved ones suffer, he has a tendency of putting the blame on himself because he feels it’s the only logical answer

-Honestly, he feels guilty enough to the point where it’s affecting his eating habits-which is obviously not normal for the Avatar of Gluttony

-Beel knows Mammon doesn’t want to talk to him but he still brings him food and leaves it at the doorstep of his room since he doesn’t want to come out and have dinner with them

-Or he relies on you to give it to him

-The thought of Mammon being so mad at them that he doesn’t even want to eat makes him feel so vulnerable

-As soon as he sees him for the first time since that night, he will probably be the first to apologise, even if Mammon isn’t in the mood to hear apologies

-Again, he’s trying to use food to make up to him (bringing him his favourites and paying for them)

-Even if he gets ignored, he’s still going to do it

-Beel is trying his best to say sorry to his older brother the only way he knows how to do so, but Mammon still doesn’t give in

Belphie:

-Could’ve been asleep the whole time Mammon was thrashing about

-Or at least that’s what it looked like to the average passer-by

-Kept one eye open to watch as Mammon finally snapped under pressure, having to raise his head once his brother broke the whole god damned table

-“OK, alright, storm off I guess-I have a splinter now-“

-Don’t trust that sarcastic commentary, he’s in deep thought on the inside

-Maybe he should’ve expected this but then again, he never would’ve guessed Mammon had it in him to be so aggressive

-Will narrow his eyes at him when he talks your death and scowl

-As if he didn’t already feel like the world’s biggest piece of shit, he had to bring that up

-As soon as he leaves, he turns to Lucifer and goes “See what you did? You broke Mammon. You suck, Lucifer.”

-The shifting of blame suits Belphie really well (it takes Beel side glancing him to get him to shut up)

-The Avatar of Sloth is too tired to even try to communicate with his brother so he goes straight to bed after getting home

-However, he actually visits Mammon’s dreams that night

-Or at least tries to, if Mammon is getting any sleep after that showdown

-It’s his way of checking in with his brother, helps him evaluate the situation

- Whether that works or not, there was definitely an attempt that required a lot of effort and you don’t see that very often with Belphagour

-It really demonstrates how much he actually cares for his family, even if he hides behind snide remarks and the likes of it

-However, if Mammon refuses communication, then he can’t do anything but give up

-He clearly won’t be able to convince him to step aside for a chit chat and why waste energy trying to force him to do so

-When the time comes, Belphie knows his brother will willingly talk to him (or at least someone else because he knows he’s not any good at comfort or apologies)

-At the same time, a lot of the things Mammon said during that party rubbed him the wrong way and seeing his twin suffer because of it is also pissing him off so patience may be running thin with Belphie

-Like Levi, there may be a lot of ice between the two from then onwards so it won’t be easy for them to find the middle ground in this whole argument either

-It could lead to a strained relationship if no one intervenes or even a physical fight if the youngest pushes all of Mammon’s buttons properly

Diavolo:

-The Future King feels guilty too, for some reason

-He is clearly not involved but he’s under the impression his party was a catalyst of sorts to the fight that broke out that night

-Diavolo wasn’t even in the same room when it happened-he heard shouting and growling from next door whilst talking to a noble about future arrangements in DevilDom and rushed in

-The sight was something to behold really; Mammon cornering all of his brothers and threatening them with pure venom in his voice wasn’t something you saw everyday

-More often than not, it was the other way around so the Prince had every right to be concerned

-He tried asking Lucifer what was going on after the second eldest slammed the door shut behind him and left but to no avail; the Avatar of Pride was in a state of shock and the only thing he did was apologise to him about a million times before his departure with the rest of his siblings

-Despite his worry, Diavolo tried not to get involved in the aftermath either, believing it’s not his place to interfere and hoping they would solve it out amongst themselves

-He did give Mammon permission to miss RAD classes for that week, thinking a small break is what he needed most

-Even drops by every now and then to check up on him (he just asks you how he’s holding up because he doesn’t want to pry)

-He can’t do much but watch from the sidelines, I mean this is a family dispute so it would be wise to just give them all a bit of space

-If it drags on for too long, however, he will be forced to do something because the brothers are all distracted and can’t get on with their student council work because of it

-Lucifer is even more stressed than usual and can’t even focus during their meetings so for the sake of his friend, if nothing gets resolved quickly, he will intervene and it won’t be pretty

-For now, he’s counting on you to make sure there are no further incidents but it’s unlikely you can stop a train once it’s set in motion so just hope Mammon doesn’t come out of his room until he’s calmed down

Barbatos:

-The butler is a Time Lord so it’s probably no surprise to find out he already knew this was going to happen eventually

-Not like he believed Mammon was going to take his brothers’ insults for much longer anyway

-Being the quiet and observant demon he is, he’s been keeping a close eye on the Avatar of Greed knowing damn well he was going to lose his patience soon enough and go on the offence

-If he knew this was going to happen at such an important moment in time, he would’ve warned his majesty beforehand but he failed to see the potential catastrophe awaiting his breakdown

-Again, he has no right to intervene

-Unless, of course, Lord Diavolo asks him to do so but really the most he can do is give you tips on how to deal with miserable demons

-I mean, you’re the one that’s going to be stuck with them for the rest of the year and this isn’t the type of conflict that gets resolved too easily

-Barbatos is clever so if there is still bitterness between Mammon and his siblings after an amount of time passed, he might try to change timelines (with the permission of Diavolo)

-He’s had enough of Beel coming over to eat his cakes and cry about his older brother hating him (believe it or not, the butler is definitely a bit fond of the sixth eldest so his cries did pull at his heartstrings)

-Basically, in the same position as the Prince

-He relies on you to get them all to make up but he knows it’s not likely to happen any time soon

-For now, he’s getting ready for the chain reaction this fight set in motion because there was no easy way to end this, considering they’re all vicious demons and all

—————————————————————-

Al~ im mad I couldn’t add Simon, Luke and Solomon-I want to write for them too >:(

[whelvenwings]

who will fall beside you, if you fall

Dean Winchester's been loved in a lot of different ways throughout his life. He was shaped by that love, changed by the expectations and hopes and hurts of the people he cared about. He learned fear and silence and caution. But Castiel's confession, free of expectation, might undo those lessons.

Tags: Fix-It Fic, Endgame Castiel/Dean, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Minor Lisa/Dean Snippet and Minor Cassie/Dean Snippet, John Winchester’s A+ Parenting, Fallen Angel Castiel Word Count: ~4k

“If you’re angry, you could just tell me,” Dean said. “God knows I’d get it.”

He glanced to his left and right before crossing a road, his eyes lingering on the faces nearest him, as though he were looking for someone.

“Cas, just talk to me.” The words were so quiet that no human but Dean himself heard them. He was still watching around him, waiting, but nothing happened.

He put his hands into his pockets again. Walked with his shoulders set a little lower.

“It’s not…” Dean muttered, a broken-off answer to a thought inside his head. “Just – I don’t know what you want me to do. Can you hear me thinking about you? ‘Cause it’s all the time, man. I don’t know what to do. Last time I saw you, you told me… but now you aren’t even…”

He rounded a corner and began to cross a small parking lot.

“If you’d just come here. You could tell me what I’m supposed to do. All I want is…” Dean’s eyes searched the backs of the cars he passed as if their number plates were esoteric texts with all the answers, all the things he needed to say. He breathed out. “I don’t know how, man, I don’t know what to do.”

Read the whole thing below the cut!

Dean was three years old and not quite steady on his feet, still, when his father took him outside to help shovel the snow. In his coat and hat he was a little duffled-up sweetheart, to whom nothing particularly bad had ever happened.

Red-cheeked and grinning, he left small bootprints in the snow.

“Come over here, Dean.” John stood behind Dean and lowered the shovel down to Dean’s height, so that they could hold it and move the snow together. Dean pressed his lips together and frowned as he followed his father’s movements. John’s coat smelled like smoke and the outdoors. They moved one, two, three, four, five big shovel-fulls.

“That’s enough for one day,” said a voice from the porch – Mary, smiling down at the two of them. John carefully lifted the shovel out of Dean’s reach, standing up to his full height. They’d managed to clear just a short stretch of the path that led up to the house.

“But Mom, there’s loads more!” Dean said, pointing to the rest of the pathway.

“Your dad can clear that. You need to come in and have some lunch,” Mary said. “Come on.”

Dean looked up to his father with wide eyes, but John put his hand on the top of Dean’s head and ruffled it so that his hat almost came off.

“Listen to your mom, Dean. In you go.”

Dean’s eyes travelled from his father’s face to his mother’s.

“There’s your favourite for dessert,” Mary said, coaxing him with a little smile.

“Yes!”

Dean made a sudden break for it towards her, running down the path he’d just helped to clear. After the crunch-crunch-crunch of the snow, the cleared pathway was hard under Dean's feet. Hard, and unexpectedly slippery.

“Whoa, there,” said John, as Dean felt his balance go, his feet skidding out from under him – and suddenly he was being lifted, one hand on either side of him. John pulled him up out of the fall, and set him back down in thick snow.

Dean blinked. It had all happened very fast.

“Next time,” John said, giving Dean a little push indoors, “I won’t catch you. You’ve got to learn, Dean.”

–––––

And now Dean was eleven years old and trailing after his father down a quiet midnight street, with a sleepy little brother in tow.

“Dad… are we nearly at the motel?”

“Nearly.”

He’d pay for that question later somehow, and Dean knew it, but because he’d asked there was a new purpose in John’s step. They didn’t stop at the liquor store that Dean knew John had been weighing going into. Walking past it, Dean felt a little break of relief in his chest. They’d get out of the cold sooner, and Sam could get to bed.

“Dean?”

Dean turned his head to look at his brother, keeping walking. Sam was wearing Dean’s coat, swimming in it, the hood pulled up and the elastic tight so only the round circle of his face was visible. It was nearly funny, but they hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and the humour was shaved off everything.

“Come on,” Dean said.

“I’m cold.”

“I know.” Dean cast a glance forwards at his father’s back. He lowered his voice. “It’s okay. Just a little bit longer.”

Sam made a miserable face. Their breaths were puffs of air between them. Underfoot was the hiss and crunch of melting, slushy snow.

“Can I have soup when we get there?”

“It’s late, Sammy. We’ll have something in the morning.”

“But I can’t sleep when I’m hungry…”

“Okay.” Dean cast another worried look towards his father, and then made a meaningful face at Sam when he looked back around. “I’ll find something. I think we have some of that apple juice left over.”

“That’s cold,” Sam said, but he’d quietened his voice, too. “And a drink.”

“You didn’t know?” Dean said, making sure his face was completely straight.

“Know what?”

“That’s the best part,” Dean said. “Cold drinks make you warm up faster.”

Sam narrowed his eyes, and Dean cursed internally. Every day Sam got a little smarter and a little harder to keep happy.

“That’s not true,” Sam said.

“It is,” Dean promised. “You’ll see.” He thought for a few seconds, and then said, "Maybe we can heat up the apple juice."

“Keep up, boys,” said John’s voice, from too far away. Dean realised he must have slowed down as he’d talked to Sam, even though he’d been trying to hold a steady pace. He reached for Sam’s hand, turning his head at the same time to call back to his father – and as he did so, he felt his balance betray him. His feet slipped in the slush, and in a rush he was a jumble of elbows and knees hitting the ground in all the wrong places.

For a second he sat still, assessing the damage. Nothing broken.

“Are you okay?” Sam said, the dish of his face looking pale and worried above Dean.

“I’m fine… ugh.”

“Get up,” John called, and when Dean turned his head to look, he saw that his father was turning away to keep walking. Dean scrambled to his feet, hands out for balance. His hip ached – he’d landed on it.

“I’m alright,” Dean said to Sam, pulling on a smile. “Let’s go.”

He hurried after John, making sure Sam was beside him, going as fast as he dared until they were right behind their father. His knee was starting to throb, too, and he kept it off his face carefully, because Sam was still glancing up at him.

“Saw you reach for your brother when you were falling,” John grunted. “Don’t do that. If you two’re on your own and both of you go down, you’re both dead. If Sam’s still up, he can go for help.”

“I wasn’t –” Dean tried to say.

“Don’t do it,” John repeated, more forcefully.

They walked on in silence.

––––-

And now Dean was twenty-one years old and stepping out into the brisk air of a winter evening, with his head a little light from the drinks he’d had in the bar at his back.

“Come on,” Cassie said from beside him, her eyes bright with laughter. “You can tell me.”

“Hey, we’ve been through this,” Dean said, as they began to make their way down the street, “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

“As if you could,” Cassie said.

Dean glanced over at her smile, and thought about the way the shifter he’d taken out earlier that day had looked at him, right before he’d swung the blade through her neck. He swallowed hard.

“I might,” he said, and held his arms a little out from his body. “How long can I contain this much raw aggression, you know?”

“Stop," Cassie said, nudging him with her shoulder. “Seriously, okay, just tell me what your job is.”

“Is it really worth your life?” Dean asked, putting on his most serious face.

“You’re really trying to tell me you’re, what – a spy? A fed?” Cassie asked. “C’mon, you can’t expect me to believe that. With that face?”

“Hey,” Dean said, mock-offended, as they passed closed-up stores and parking bays. “What’s wrong with my face?”

“Nothing,” Cassie said, “that’s literally the problem. The FBI don’t hire people who look like you, do they? This is real life, not HBO.”

“Okay,” Dean said, his face working not to look too pleased. Underfoot, the pavement was shiny with ice. Dean started to walk a little slower. “So, if this isn’t the face of a fed, what is it the face of?”

“Mmm. Radio show host?” Cassie laughed when Dean threw her a look. “Well, c’mon, how am I supposed to know? Third date and you still won’t tell me?”

“Just trying to keep the mystery alive,” Dean said, faking an absent kind of tone in the hope that Cassie would drop the subject. The sidewalk was getting more and more treacherous, each of his steps sliding just a little.

“The mystery is too alive,” Cassie said. “It could die a bit. I’d be okay with that.”

“Whoa… careful.” Dean’s foot slipped out from under him, and he only managed to keep his balance by grabbing onto a parking meter that happened to be close by.

“Easy, big shot.” Cassie watched him start to move again, even more tentatively. “Wouldn’t wanna lose the deal with HBO if you fall on that perfect face.”

There was an edge of hurt to her tone of voice, and Dean jaw tightened. Was he ever going to tell her, he wondered. Surely not. She’d hate it. Spending time with Cassie was like visiting a parallel universe. That world didn’t have room for monsters under the bed.

And so Dean kicked them back underneath as hard as he could, and smiled at Cassie, and held out his hand.

Cassie looked down at it, and then back up at him.

“Really?” she said, a smile waiting at the corners of her mouth.

“It’s slippery,” Dean said, and wiggled his fingers temptingly.

“Yeah,” Cassie said with a laugh, pushing his hand away, “it is, asshole. That’s why I’m not letting you take me down with you.”

––––-

And now Dean was thirty-one years old and watching a soccer game, gloves on, hat on, clapping along with the dark-haired woman next to him.

“Come on, Ben!” called Lisa.

“Like we practised, okay, kid?” Dean added, and watched Ben’s face relax into concentration as he placed the ball for his free kick, just a yard outside the penalty box.

“You practised free kicks with him?” Lisa said to Dean, sounding like she was holding back a laugh. Dean glanced down at her; she had her eyes on her son, but there was a little smile on her face.

“A couple times,” Dean said. “He asked.”

“That’s sweet. And I thought you two just watched TV and ate too much pizza together.”

“We do that too,” Dean said. “When I have a say in it.” He rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them up. On either side of Lisa and Dean, also at the edge of the soccer pitch, were other parents all waiting on Ben to take his kick. They were standing on wet grass, a few of them stamping their feet to keep them from going numb.

Ben took a short run up, swung his leg, made contact. The ball sailed high, dipped – and the goalie caught it neatly.

“Next time,” Dean called out when Ben’s face fell, and gave him a clap. The game played on.

“God, it’s cold,” Lisa said.

“You want my coat?”

Lisa looked up at him, her big brown eyes soft.

“You’re cute, you know that?”

“... Right.” Dean smiled awkwardly. Lisa’s would-be compliment hung in the air, sounding more incongruous the longer Dean stood tense and unmoving.

Lisa reached out, and put her hand on his folded arms.

“You wanna order in, tonight?” she said lightly. “Or I could make fajitas.”

“I can cook,” Dean said. “I’ll make burgers.”

“Mmm. Twist my arm.”

Some small burst of relief, there. Dean’s expression eased. He put his hands in his pockets, lifted his chin, as though remembering the role he was playing. Who he was, now.

He shifted his feet – and felt his right foot slide, almost right out from under him. He steadied himself, hands out to the sides, looking down at the grass.

“Careful,” Lisa said.

“Jesus,” Dean said at the same time.

“Come here,” Lisa said, holding out her hand.

Dean smiled.

“It’s all good,” he said, reaching out and giving the hand a squeeze, and then letting go quickly.

“Can’t have the head chef breaking his arm,” Lisa said, her hand still out.

“It’s fine, really.”

“Dean, would you hold my hand?”

“We’ll both go over,” Dean said.

“Mm-mm. I’ll hold you up.”

Her expression allowed no argument. Unwillingly, Dean allowed her to loop their arms together, Lisa pinning Dean to her side and turning back to the game, calling out to support Ben as he went for a tackle. Dean stood quietly. He was having to lean down ever so slightly so that Lisa could keep his arm tucked under hers.

He tried very hard not to move. Just the smallest slide of his feet and he’d be over and he’d take her with him. Every muscle in his legs was clenched, forcing himself not to slip.

After just a minute or so of stiff silence, Lisa sighed.

“Okay,” she said, “you win.”

She let go.

––––-

And now Dean was forty-one years old and walking down a street in Lebanon, Kansas, on legs that still felt a little new. The cold air was harsh; he took in a deep breath.

He went to cross the road, and a car gave a screech as it swerved suddenly to avoid him. The driver made a few different gestures at him through the window, and Dean held up a hand in apology.

It was easy to forget that things didn’t part and make way on Earth like they had done in Heaven.

“Couldn’t fix that for me, could you?” Dean said aloud. “Not that I’m not grateful for the ticket home, Cas, but Heaven had its perks.”

Silence. Dean kept walking, with only the slightest slump to his shoulders and crease on his brow. Lebanon was wearing snow like a big white coat. Dean’s boots crunched in it when he stepped off the gritted path to let a mother with a stroller go by.

“I should probably stop expecting to see you round every corner, huh,” he said. “Been a week now. And I keep wandering around thinking you might show up just ‘cause I’m looking.” Someone passing gave him a slightly frightened look and a wide berth as he walked by, talking to himself. Just another thing no one had much noticed in Heaven: the prayers. Dean frowned, and ducked his head. Tucked his hands in his pockets.

He walked quietly for some time.

Long enough for his hands to come back out of his pockets, and his shoulders to lose their self-conscious hunch. Long enough for the hurt in his eyes to seem nearer the surface.

“Might not even have been you that got me out of Heaven,” Dean said, his tone quiet, as though picking up the thread of a half-finished conversation.

A pause, in which he walked. Passed by other people, made no eye contact. Dean meandered a little as he went, as though his mind were elsewhere.

“If you’re angry, you could just tell me,” he said. “God knows I’d get it.”

He glanced to his left and right before crossing a road, his eyes lingering on the faces nearest him, as though he were looking for someone.

“Cas, just talk to me,” he said. The words were so quiet that no human but Dean himself heard them. He was still watching around him, waiting, but nothing happened.

He put his hands into his pockets again. Walked with his shoulders set a little lower.

“It’s not…” Dean muttered, a broken-off answer to a thought inside his head. “Just – I don’t know what you want me to do. Can you hear me thinking about you? ‘Cause it’s all the time, man. I don’t know what to do. Last time I saw you, you told me… but now you aren’t even…”

He rounded a corner and began to cross a small parking lot.

“If you’d just come here. You could tell me what I’m supposed to do. All I want is…” Dean’s eyes searched the backs of the cars he passed as if their number plates were esoteric texts with all the answers, all the things he needed to say. He breathed out. “I don’t know how, man, I don’t know what to do.”

He swallowed.

“It feels like I have to do something, though.”

He kept walking.

“Or, I don’t know. Maybe I just want to.”

He breathed out.

Emotions were crossing his face, too fast to catch one alone, too swift to parse. He looked down at his feet, watching where he stepped.

“If I had what I wanted,” he said, “you’d be here.” After a pause, he rolled his eyes. “I’m sure that’s news to you. Like, wow, right? Not as though I’ve ever asked, after all.” Another silence, and then he said, “But you know, I – it’s not that I just want to… fix it, or… finish things off. It’s not… I’m not…” He pressed his lips together, smiled wryly. “Jesus. I hope you can’t hear this. I’m not making any sense. I’m just trying to say, I want you here, man. I want you here to stay.”

A little flicker of light seemed to touch Dean’s eyes.

“You could stay now,” he said, “right? You could actually stay. If you wanted to. And we could…” He stopped. “Yeah,” he said quietly.

A car drove by, and the child in the backseat stared out the window at him. Dean blinked back to reality.

“We didn’t have time to think about what we wanted,” he said into the quiet of the parking lot, when the car had passed and he was walking again. “All this time. Or maybe you did. But I didn’t.” He looked upwards, towards the iron sky. “And now there’s time, Cas, and all I’m thinking about is you.” He looked down. “I said that already.”

He moved on, stepping out the other side of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk.

“I remember you said that the… the thing you want, you can’t have.” Dean took in a breath and let it go. “I don’t know why you thought you couldn’t. Whatever it is, man, you deserve it.”

His feet carried him onward.

“You gotta be sick of hearing me talk at this point. But I just…” Dean’s eyes glanced over the snowy Lebanon street in front of him, and he crossed the road. “I just want you here. Maybe I should take a damn hint.” His voice strained, hurt betraying the attempt at levity in his tone. “But you said… I keep thinking back on what you said. About how you feel. And I, uh. You know. If you’d just let me…”

Dean lifted his hands, a little helplessly, into the air as he walked, as though wanting to give something invisible to someone who wasn’t there. He dropped them awkwardly, his expression creasing.

He was circling back around towards the mall, his footsteps pointing him towards home. He looked heavy, weary. The lines on his face were deep, and his eyes were unfocused, lost in thought.

The people around him paid him no attention. He was just part of the crowd. They swirled across his path and around him, irrelevant to him, not seeing him. Except –

Dean came to a sudden stop. His gaze sharpened.

Twenty feet away from him, standing completely still, was a figure. Not struggling with carrier bags or strollers or wallets and keys like the other shoppers going into and out of the mall. Utterly stone still.

Tall, almost as tall as Dean. Wearing a long coat. Brown-haired. Impassive.

Watching Dean as though waiting for him.

And Dean visibly blossomed. His mouth fell slightly open, his shoulders loosened, one hand reached out unconsciously.

“Cas?” he said, disbelieving – and Dean saw a slight smile appear on Castiel’s face, and the angel slightly raised one hand in greeting.

Warmth touched Dean’s eyes, rising up as though from a great depth. He began to move, at first taking care on the slippery sidewalk. But his feet hurried him, and he was walking fast and then he was almost running, caution forgotten, eyes on Castiel’s.

It was when he was only a few steps away that his foot hit a patch of black ice. His arms went out, struggling to balance him – Castiel moved forward, one hand out – Dean reached for him on instinct, grasping his arm, his body relaxing in obvious expectation of Castiel being able to pull him upright –

But Castiel’s weight tilted along with Dean’s, and the ground gave them both a hard and cold welcome. There were some muttered ooohs from people passing by, and a few of them came to awkward stops nearby.

Dean landed hard on his back, head hitting the cement. He stared for a moment up at the sky. It had all happened very fast.

He sat up, and saw Castiel kneeling beside him, inspecting his own hands.

“Fuck,” Dean said. He put a hand to the back of his head. No blood.

“Are you okay?” said someone behind Dean, and he waved them off.

“All good,” he said, seeing in his peripheral vision that the people who’d stopped to look were moving on. He looked at Castiel. “Are you… you’re…”

Castiel stopped staring down at his hands, and looked at Dean instead. His blue eyes searched Dean’s face. Under his gaze, Dean smiled – a smile that grew on his face from a tiny brightness in his eyes until his whole face was alight with it.

“It’s you,” he said. "Damn, Cas, it's really you."

“It’s me,” Castiel confirmed. His voice held a recognition of Dean’s smile, a reciprocal warmth.

“You’re here.”

“I heard you,” Castiel said.

“You heard me? Just now?”

“Yes.”

Dean nodded. He was breathing a little fast. His gaze searched Castiel’s face, partly seeming to be looking for something, partly seeming already to have found it. People were stepping around them to get inside the mall.

“It’s good to see you,” Dean said.

Castiel smiled too, at last.

“But you know,” Dean added, “you could’ve just appeared right next to me instead of a whole freaking mile away on a slippery sidewalk. That’s all I’m gonna say.”

“Ah.” Castiel, still on his knees beside where Dean was sitting, dropped his gaze. “That was, in fact, not under my control. Jack sent me down here. After I asked him to do something for me.”

Castiel looked down at his hands again, and this time Dean looked too. His expression broke into slight surprise when he saw red on Castiel’s palms, at the sight of the blood – and then the surprise came in a second, deeper wave, as realisation hit.

“Cas,” he said.

“Just a graze,” Castiel said calmly.

“But you – you’re – that’s not supposed to happen,” Dean said. He reached out, and took Castiel’s hands in his own, inspecting the little scrapes on the skin. “You can’t get hurt like this.”

“Well,” Castiel said, “I can, now.”

“But you’re…” Dean stared at Castiel, seeming suddenly caught in consternation.

“Staying,” Castiel finished for him.

Wide-eyed, still sitting on the sidewalk, Dean took this in. Something light crossed his face, then anger, then confusion.

“I heard you,” Castiel reminded him. Dean stared at him.

“What I said?”

“Yes.”

“About staying?”

“Yes.”

“And you… you want that?”

Despite the hustle of people around them, the crunch-crunch of their boots in the snow and the harshness of their voices, Dean and Castiel might have been the only two people in the world when Castiel said,

“Yes, Dean.”

“So, but – before, in the bunker, with the Empty, when you said – the thing – the thing you said you wanted –”

Castiel looked down at their hands. Dean’s holding Castiel’s.

Dean tightened his grip.

“Just that?” he said, his voice sounding thick.

Castiel said nothing, words seeming to fail him.

They stared at each other. Hands in hands, touching, Castiel bleeding. Dean didn’t let go.

“It’s yours,” Dean said roughly.

“You mean…” Castiel’s eyes were suddenly wide. “You mean that you…”

“Since pretty much day one. I just never thought you’d want that from me.”

The world moved past and around them. They didn’t notice. Castiel was radiating happiness in every body line, though he was unmoving. Dean was watching him as though afraid he might disappear in the space of a blink.

"Is this real?" he said. "My head hurts enough for it to be real."

Castiel nodded.

“You’re really staying,” Dean said.

“As long as you’ll let me.”

After enough time under the steadiness of Castiel’s gaze, it seemed finally to sink in for Dean – the truth of it, the reality of it. Dean breathed out.

He swallowed. He looked down.

He smiled.

“We should get home, then,” he said.

Castiel didn’t say anything, but he gave a nod made small by emotion.

“Oh. I’m sorry, though,” Dean said, his eyes catching on Castiel’s small injuries now that he was looking down again. His thumb lightly touched the place where blood was drying on Castiel’s palm. “If I’d known I wouldn’t have run at you.”

“It’s fine,” Castiel said, getting to his feet and pulling Dean up with him, their hands not letting go.

“I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Don’t be,” Castiel said, his blood on Dean’s hands, and still holding them. “Don’t be.”

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 9

Masterlist

As always thank you to my beautiful bestie @acollectionofficsandshit you can also thank her for all the Max content in this chapter. Its a long one, enjoy!

Word Count: 9.6k

Recommended song: “Hate the way” by G-Easy and blackbear

The one thing that never failed to lift your spirits was your dad's homemade blueberry chocolate chip pancakes. Whenever you were upset as a kid, whether it be your team losing a sporting event, your high-school boyfriend dumping you for the head cheerleader, or getting rejected from an ivy league college you never expected to get into in the first place, his pancakes had been there to cushion the fall. Clever as he was, he always messed them up in some insignificant way like leaving off the whipped cream and hiding the container so you were forced to talk to him in order to remedy it. Then he would crack some stupid joke or cheesy pun that would just barely have the ghost of a smile curling your lips.

Blueberry chocolate chip pancakes were no match for the heartbreak of losing your best friend.

The morning after, you only trudge to the kitchen when your stomach's demands to be fed become too loud to ignore. A steaming pile of fluffy pancakes sits at your usual spot, no syrup in sight. You don't have the energy to find your dad and ask where he's hidden it, instead picking at them. You knew the flavor should be fruity and sweet but every bite tastes like ash. One pancake is all you can manage before nausea roils, threatening to make your meager brunch resurface. 

"Some is better than none," Ben murmurs behind you and you drop your chin in the barest of nods. "We can save the rest and you can warm them up later."

"Thanks," you mumble when he takes your plate. You pull your blanket tight around your shoulders as your gaze turns to the window while your brother washes your dishes, wishing for all the world that you could make your uncooperative limbs move and help him but the mental effort it requires is too taxing. Instead you stay curled up on the chair, the noises of the house waking up around you a dull buzz in your ears. At some point your mother kisses your head and hustles out the door to work, her husband close behind. Ben is the last to leave and is reluctant to do so.

"Promise you'll text me if you need me," he says. "Mom already gave me permission to cut class after trigonometry."

"Sure." You both know it's a lie and a bad one at that. Your voice is dull and flat, completely void of emotion. 

"Mom said she's coming home early anyway,” he tries. “Something about overstaffing at the greenhouse."

"Okay."

The mechanical spooling of the garage door tells you he's finally gone. Your elbows slide forward until your head rests on the table, unable to hold it up any longer.

Every fiber of your being yearns for him, to hear the distinct r's and flowery lilt of his accent as he comforts you through the heartbreak, always knowing exactly what to say. It was second nature to call one another when either of you had had a bad day or a good day or just a normal day - you'd talked so often that last year you had convinced your parents to add international minutes to your phone plan. 

Your fingers itch to dial the number you had long since memorized, knowing it would ring no more than twice before he picked up. He never let it go to voicemail unless he absolutely couldn't avoid it and you had a hunch he was waiting for your call.

Despite knowing better, you scroll through the messages on your phone. Love was evident in each witty remark and wish goodnight, pulling at your heartstrings. Your finger hovers over the delete conversation button, and after a minute of debate, you can't bring yourself to do it. You would allow yourself one reprieve to look back on and remember the good.

It would be so much easier if he had given you a reason to hate him. If he'd cheated or intentionally led the media to your house, hating him would be easy. You wouldn't have to admit that you still loved him because his betrayal would have yanked out the newly blooming bud of love you nurtured and crushed the fragile petals. Instead, you were left knowing that it had been your choice to inflict damage in him. You had no right to seek comfort in his arms or even ask how he was doing. You deserved to be miserable for causing him to feel the same way. 

Yuki is the first to check in on you. You don’t know what he expects; you lie through your teeth when you tell him you were fine.

The press is asking me for my thoughts. No idea why. I told them not to stick their noses where they don't belong.

At least someone had the guts to stand up to those bloodsuckers. Yuki was the last person you'd suspect to do so, but the scrappy twenty-something continued to surprise you.

Thanks, you type back. How is he?

You hesitate. You didn't really want to know the answer. Pierre was devastated and just as broken as you are. You delete the last part and opt to refrain from subjecting yourself to biting off more than you could chew.

I'm here if you need me, is Yuki's reply.

Charles, Daniel, and his newly promoted girlfriend were the next ones to text you, all offering varying degrees of support. Daniel's friend was the one that offered to sucker punch anyone that came near you without your permission, and actually dragged a single huff of laughter from your aching lungs.

I'm good thanks. But if I need a bodyguard you'll be first on the list.

Just because Daniel can lift me with one arm doesn't mean I'm not punchy!

I believe you.

Spent, you set your phone down and retreat under the down comforter. The bright pink clashed with your earthy decor, but at least the old blanket didn't smell like Pierre. Your mother had taken it upon herself to erase all trace of him from your room when she had managed to coax you into a shower, and the half hour you had spent letting the scalding water run over your skin had given her plenty of time to do so. The absence of him hurts almost as much as the trace of cedar you know you're imagining when you breathe deep.

It has to be impossible for so much agony to be contained in your body. No matter how much you try, the tears won't stop flowing because Pierre's crushed expression had taken up residence at the forefront of your consciousness. 

It didn't help that so many of your recent memories were touched by his presence. Getting into university served to remind you of the ecstatic call you'd gotten after his race that Sunday, voice strained with a mix of excitement for you and the disappointment of his race ending crash on the opening lap. Even something as simple as staring at the saggy bean bag chair in the corner brought back the memory of the countless times he had lounged there, sprawled out like he owned it.

Max's text brings you briefly back to reality.

You doing okay? Dan told me what happened.

No, was all you say back. Within a minute, Max's face occupies your screen. You sigh but accept the call, laying the phone on the pillow.

"I don't feel like talking, Max."

"That bad huh?" He asks, concern lacing his usually chipper voice.

"Yeah. That bad." As if that summed up getting your heart torn to shreds.

He's uncharacteristically quiet for a beat. "Wanna hear about Vic's day? She had some crazy clients at her salon- it'll take your mind off it."

"I guess," you say, utterly nonplussed. You could care less if he kept talking or not, you wouldn't be paying attention. He prattles on for a few minutes, seemingly unaffected by your silence as his words pass through one ear and out the other.

"Told you it was crazy," he says finally, your cue to respond. You hum noncommittally and Max just sighs.

"Look, I don't know how I can help you unless you come here. I know you have a flight booked- do you still wanna come to the gala? My date's been stolen so I'm in need of one."

"Who stole your-"

The realization hits you before you can finish. Pierre. Pierre stole Max's sister and left him without a date. Something about his willingness to replace you so quickly rubs you the wrong way. It shouldn't have been so easy for him to find someone new; he should be hurting just as much as you. Fundamentally, you knew nothing would happen between Pierre and Victoria. She wouldn't go for him out of respect for both of you and you were thankful in the knowledge that it was completely platonic. Still, it was like rubbing salt in a wound. 

"You know what? I'll go." It was the most you'd said all day, your throat scratchy with disuse. Max whoops on the other line and you could almost see him punching the air in victory.

"Great! When's your flight get in? I'll bring the Acura and pick you up." 

You put him on speaker and login to the airlines website to punch in the flight number. Last night you'd debated canceling the flight that Pierre had paid for, determined to stay home and be miserable. Looking back you were glad you'd trusted your gut and left the reservation untouched. If he could find someone else to attend the gala with, so could you. "I land in Nice at noon on Friday. It'll be a short flight, I can text you when we take off."

"Sounds good. I'll set up the spare room for you. Victoria is staying here too, I'm sure she would love to help you get ready and do whatever it is girls do before fancy events."

"Hey, Max?"

"Whats up?"

You trace patterns through the condensation left by the glass on your nightstand. "Thank you. For understanding."

"That's what friends are for," he assures you. "Is there anything you wanna talk about now? Or are you planning to wait until you're here?"

"Ben's been keeping an eye on me. I'm okay for now." Better now that you had something to look forward to.

"All you have to do is call," he promises. "I'll listen, I don't have anything going on this week besides streaming."

You latch on to the small redirection and run with it. "You and the twitch quartet?"

"They've been kind enough to allow me to join them on the sim this week, yeah."

"I'll try to catch a race. No promises though." 

"See you Friday. Try to contain your excitement."

Your lips twitch upward. "Bye Max."

**********

The rest of the week was more of the same. You stayed home and your family dealt with the swarms of people that still gathered on the lawn each morning not so patiently waiting for you to tell your side of the story. You had decided that the best course of action was to keep your mouth shut and let them figure out for themselves that there was no longer a story to report thanks to the wedge they had driven in your relationship.

By the time Ben drives you to the airport Friday the buzz has died down. You hug your brother tight before checking in for the flight and texting Max. His response is immediate, letting you know he's excited to see you.

You wish you could return the sentiment. You wanted to see your friend, sure, but you were beginning to dread the upcoming gala. Max would be your crutch and you knew he was okay with that, but it still felt wrong. 

Unlike your brother, Max was waiting at the curb when you arrived in Nice. A nondescript cap was perched on his head, the oversized sunglasses he wore hiding his eyes from passersby. His gleaming orange peel of a car attracted more attention than he did for once, people stopping to ogle the Acura as they came and went.

"Hey you," Max greets, a broad grin causing his trademark dimple to appear as he wraps you in a rare hug. You cling to him, throat going tight at the intimacy of it. Max wasn't a physical person by any stretch; if he was hugging you this tightly it meant he knew how broken you were.

He waited for you to break contact first, giving you all the time you need. You sniff and wipe the single tear that had somehow escaped and laugh lightly.

"Hey," you say, voice scratchy. "Thanks for picking me up." 

He waves a hand, brushing it off. "Vic wanted to come but she changed her mind when I told her I was driving."

"Probably a smart choice," you observe, letting him pop the trunk- which was in the front of the car, since the Acura NSX was a mid-engined beast of a Japanese supercar- "and considering your choice of car, she wouldn't have fit anyway."

"This is true." He starts the engine, the roar of which makes a poor old woman a few yards away drop her purse.

The drive back is near silent, broken only by Max's occasional quips about a landmark or an observation about someone's driving. It was impossible for any driver to turn off the analytical part of their brain, their Formula 1 habits crossing into their daily lives. 

When Max parks at the curb outside his apartment, you move to open the door but he hits the lock button. You glance over your shoulder at him and quirk a brow.

"Am I your prisoner?"

"Are you gonna talk about what happened?"

Sighing, you sink back into the seat. The way the bolstering hugs your sides almost makes you believe you could fade into it if you try hard enough. "I wasn't really planning on it."

It had only been a handful of days since you had broken it off, the wound still leaking fresh blood when you poked at it. It refused to scab over or give you any kind of reprieve from the torture.

"You know you'll have to face him tomorrow at some point. He'll want to talk to you."

"That's why I'm going with you. You won't have a problem telling him to leave me alone."

Max sighs. "Yeah, I suppose. If that's what you think is best."

The trudge up the stairs and subsequent silent elevator ride allows your thoughts to wander to Victoria. It wasn't her fault that Pierre had asked her to come with him after you'd canceled, after all she was already planning on going and the late notice meant it was likely no one else could make it, but it didn't stop the pang of jealousy that rocketed through you each time you ruminate on it.

It didn't help when she wrapped you in a hug the moment she saw you and whispered an apology in your ear, like she knew she'd done something wrong. Tears spring to your eyes again and Victoria shoots Max a leave us alone look.

"Uh, I'm gonna hop on the sim. Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge if you're hungry."

"Thanks Max." Your eyes are pinned to a smudge of dirt on the wood floor, safely out of range of anything triggering. Keeping it together was more of a struggle than you'd expected.

"I hope you don't hate me," Victoria starts genuine concern lacing the words. "It was just easiest-"

"I know," you cut in. "And I don't." Your smile is tight, not quite hitting home as she returns it.

"Well then. Let's figure out how we're gonna do your hair tomorrow, shall we?"

**********

The dress was a single, simple piece of fabric, spun of sunset orange and free of any bells or whistles. The feather light chiffon hugged every supple curve through your hips until flaring out slightly at the bottom just enough to allow you range of motion. The deep vee of the neckline prominently displayed your cleavage, toeing the line between attention grabbing and scandal starting and leaving little to the imagination. The back dropped low, leaving the elegant curve of your spine free to be kissed by the salty Mediterranean breeze.

The dress is nothing special compared to the thousand dollar pieces that the other boy's dates would be wearing, but you didn't have the money- or the will- to find something new. It by no means broke the bank when you picked it up from the second hand store last year, but it looked the part. It had been a showstopper at the spring formal you'd originally worn it to and judging by Max's reaction, it still was.

He let out a low whistle when you stepped into the living room. "I'm sorry, did you pick that out with me in mind?" He laughs and despite yourself, heat rises to your cheeks. You hated being the center of attention, even among friends. "It's the perfect shade of orange to match my tie. I swear I didn't plan it that way!"

"I know you didn't." You give him a forced smile, praying he doesn't call you out on it. The dress you wore hadn't been your first choice. The one you originally planned to wear still sat in your closet at home collecting dust. It had been the perfect shade of blue to compliment Pierre's sky eyes, but it didn't match Max's deeper ocean blue. So at home it had stayed, and you had chosen the orange one because it made the necklace at your throat pop.

Your fingers engulf the stone before you can stop yourself, as they always do when your thoughts wander to him. Him, because you could scarcely think his name before your heart wretches at the reminder of what you'd lost. Flashes of bright smiles and soft kisses filter through your mind, making you lock up. You swear you can feel the ghost of plush lips to your throat and the scrape of callouses over the curve of your spine. Your eyes fall shut, desperate to get lost in the idea of him like you used to.

"You good?"

Max's quiet words startle you back into the present. No, you were in no way shape or form good, but you had no choice to fall back on the familiar mask of humor to cover up your inner turmoil.

"The real question is are you?" You smirk and look him over. The Red Bull navy suit strains over his broad shoulders, suggesting he had put on muscle since the last time he'd been forced into it. "You look stiff as a board in that tux."

"I feel so awkward." He straightens the suit coat and absentmindedly lifts a hand to tousle his hair. You grab his wrist just in time to keep him from ruining his sister's hard work and shoot him a chiding look. He grins sheepishly and lowers his hand.

"Vic would kill me if you got to the gala looking like you got run over." 

"That's a good point." He offers you his arm and you accept the lifeline he unwittingly offers you. "But I refuse to leave the windows up on this beautiful night, so we'll test how well it'll hold."

You quirk an eyebrow at him. "You're driving us there?"

"Well duh. I always drive when I'm at home."

You glance sidelong at the glaringly orange Acura parked at the curb a few floors below. Your dress would blend right in with the paint, but perhaps that was a good thing. It would provide that much more of a shock factor when you arrived and stepped out.

"Just don't crash out on the hairpin," you tease half heartedly. 

He rolls his eyes. "At least it's just the two of us so I don't have to call an uber. Vic's getting picked up by-'' Max cuts himself off and gives you an apologetic smile.

"You can say his name," you whisper, eyes trained on the tile of the hallway as you walk. "It's not like he's gone."

"Getting picked up by... Pierre," Max tries, carefully monitoring his neutral tone. God, you thought you could handle it but you can't, stumbling over your own feet with only Max's grip on your arm to catch you.

He'd dance with Vic tonight, and probably countless other women, his hands drifting over their bodies like they'd done on yours only days ago. You'd be forced to watch from the sidelines and make small talk that no one would remember come morning, utterly unable to do anything about it. At least Daniel’s girlfriend would be there to be the voice of reason, if you could peel her away from Daniel long enough to speak with her for any length of time.

Max was uncharacteristically quiet on the ride to the venue, leaving you to study the city as he drove. Few yachts were left in the harbor as the sun was swallowed by the sea, the owners undoubtedly set sail for a weekend getaway. Your gaze involuntarily searched for the slip that held Charles' Ferrari red speedboat that you'd visited countless times with Pierre. The eyesore was hard to miss when surrounded by its monotone brethren, memories flooding back in droves at the sight of it.

Sighing, you turn away to glimpse what you can of the city through the ridiculously tiny sliver of windshield. How anyone could confidently drive the Acura while having so little field of vision was beyond you. It was probably second nature to Max, who weaves through the narrow streets with practiced ease and barely lets off the gas through the corners. 

The city of Monaco rarely slept, and tonight was no different. Soft yellow fluorescent glow seeps from high rise balconies, the occupants soaking up the last dregs of sunlight before heading out to the casinos and clubs. People spilled out of cafes onto the sidewalks, their laughter lingering on the breeze as you speed past.

The list of people you trust enough to get in the car with and let them drive with such intensity is short: Max and Pierre. Not even Daniel made the final cut, not when his then not-girlfriend had recounted the tale of him losing the rear of his McLaren 570s at a track day and nearly sending them into the wall. According to her, he'd been too busy ogling her to keep his full attention on the road, but it was enough for you to question his judgement at times.

If you close your eyes, you could pretend it was someone else next to you, cutting through the gears like a hot knife through butter and coaxing every inch of performance out of the car that he could with the light traffic. You draw a surf-scented breath deep, lungs aching with the effort. 

Max joins the queue of cars waiting to park outside the venue, your attention trained on the guests stepping out of cars and climbing the wide set of marble steps leading to the sleek glass building. The modern structure is slightly out of place among the Roman-esque buildings surrounding it but the air of importance it exudes overrules any who dare say it doesn't belong.

"I can't tell you how glad I am that there's an open bar," Max remarks, hanging his head out the window to wave at someone. "It makes these events so much easier."

"You're telling me," you mumble, searching involuntarily for a familiar head of dusty blond hair in the droves of people arriving. Instead of sight, it's the unforgettable rumble of his Civic Type R's exhaust that alerts you to his arrival. Your head whips around, eyes eating up the pearl white paint of Pierre's favored car as it slides in behind you. You silently thank whatever deity is listening that his windshield is tinted, protecting you from seeing the smirk you are certain is playing on his lips.

Once upon a time, the cockpit of that car had been your favorite place in the world. You'd spent countless hours inside it eating shitty gas station cuisine and singing along to the radio at the top of your lungs as Pierre drove you to whatever adventure he had planned for the day. 

Max waves at your- his friend, you remind yourself sharply- and revs his Acura in response. He leaves the keys with the valet, picking up on the tension in your shoulders as the white car parks behind you. Max tugs your arm in attempt to turn you away, but your feet are rooted to the spot. 

“I see you found another date-” The flash of a grin on Pierre's face as he steps out is immediately dashed when he notices you on Max's arm.

If looks could kill, Max would keel over then and there. A muscle in Pierre's jaw flutters as he takes in the sight of the two of you together, your hand on the Dutchman's forearm and your matching attire looking for all the world as if it was purposefully coordinated. 

Max lifts his chin, spine going straight under Pierre's threatening glare. “Her airfare was already paid for and she already had the dress. Someone had to take her.”

Your stomach sinks; the last thing you wanted to do was become a point of contention between the two boys, but you refused to apologize for at least attempting to enjoy yourself. 

Pierre doesn't speak again, only nods to Max and pointedly avoids your stare. He tosses the keys to the smart-dressed kid serving as his valet, coming around to open Victoria's door. With his back turned to you, you take a moment to study the crisp white suit he's chosen for tonight. You had always told him black wasn't his color and he seemed to have taken it to heart. White was what you loved seeing him in, and the tight cut brought back memories of a different type of suit in an entirely different city only a few weeks ago. You'd peeled him out of that Alpha Tauri race suit the moment he made it to the trailer, eager to worship him after his podium. You'd be lying if you said it hasn't been the best sex of your life.

"Come on," Max urges, placing a chaste hand on your upper back and turning you around. He leads you up the stairs, his comforting touch never leaving your skin for a moment. The callouses were all wrong, the fingers too broad to be who you wanted it to be, and yet you couldn't help but imagine it was Pierre leading you up, stopping to smile for the few cameras scattered around.

Flashes spot your vision as you pull your face into an expression of excitement. Max murmurs something in your ear that you think is encouragement but the din of reporters is too deafening to be sure.

"How come you aren't with Pierre?"

The shouted question comes from an unknown assailant but it strikes you like a physical blow. You freeze, mouth going dry as you search for a suitable excuse. Max grants you the space of a single heartbeat to respond before he does so on your behalf.

"How about you mind your own damn business and worry about your cheating wife?"

The man who had bombarded you goes slack jawed, Max's wild guess clearly somehow hitting him just as hard as he had hit you.

"Keep walking," he urges you, leading you through the blinding sea of flashing lights. When you hear the same question directed at Pierre, his flippant laugh grates on your nerves.  

You don't have it in you to appreciate the grand architecture of the entrance hall, too busy trying to keep your breathing in check. Max steers you off to the side and places his hands on your shoulders.

"Look at me," he demands, and you drag your eyes up to his face. "Breathe. He's hurting just as bad as you, only difference is he's better at hiding it. Just enjoy the night okay? I'll grab you a drink and we can find Daniel and his friend and you two can catch up."

You nod, placing a hand on your throat. The delicate chain of the necklace is a vice around your neck, the reminder of him pulling it tight. Your pulse hammers beneath your fingers and you focus on it until it slows. "Get me whatever you're having."

Max disappears in the crowd, and you take a seat at the bench tucked in the corner. No one pays you any heed as they walk past, entranced by the elegant decor and fragrant florals. Your head falls forward to rest in your hands and you struggle to take deep, calming breaths.

Pierre was here. Inhale.

He looked happy. Exhale.

He was getting by. Inhale.

You could get by, too. Exhale.

Renewed, you glance up in time to find Max standing before you with a drink of dark liquid adorned with maraschino cherries in each hand. He extends one glass to you and you don't bother to question what it is before swallowing half in one go. "Better?"

"Much." You stand and brush out the wrinkles in your dress. "Where are we sitting?"

"Er, about that," Max starts, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "They put two teams at each table. We're at the Red Bull Alpha Tauri table."

"I see." You take another deep, steadying breath, letting the anxiety ebbing in your veins fade out with the exhale. It was times like this that you channeled Daniel a bit. It sounded silly and you would never admit it, but the slogans on his helmets worked if you focused on them hard enough. All good, all ways.

If Pierre could get through tonight, so could you.

“I can try to see if I can switch tables-”

"It's fine," you say and down the rest of the drink. “I can handle it.”

Max shifts on his feet, his discomfort something you rarely see from him. He usually excelled at keeping a straight face in uncomfortable situations but it seems that your unease rubbed off on him. “We should get going then, dinner will be served any minute.”

You once again take the arm he offers you, the liquor in your veins already granting you false courage. “We would have time to mingle if you hadn’t taken the scenic route.”

“It was nice out,” he protests, and pulls you to a halt when he spots Daniel across the hall. His girlfriend waves at you with a sad smile. She gestures between the two of you to indicate that you’ll talk later before Daniel pulls her towards the McLaren table. That boy was punctual to a fault and would be caught dead before he was late to anything.

Thankfully, the two of you arrive before Victoria and her date and are able to secure seats that ensure there’s a buffer between you. By some small miracle Christian Horner and his wife were absent and instead a few engineers and their significant others sat at the packed table. Max greets Gianpiero while you take your seat, happy to observe.

“Hey!”

You twist in time to see Yuki’s short frame emerge from the crowd and point to the empty seat to your right. “This one taken?”

You shake your head, standing to give him a quick hug. “How are you doing? Where’s your date?”

“Ah, she couldn’t make it. Had some family stuff to take care of. You look great, by the way.”

You dip your chin in thanks, unsure how else to respond. He was in a white suit that you were sure would wind up stained five minutes into dinner. “Did they mandate that you wear white?”

He shakes his head with a rueful smile. “Honestly, it’s the only one I own. I haven't been to enough events to build up my closet yet."

"Well I think it's…"

You spot Pierre before he sees you. His brow is slightly creased as he hunts for the correct table using the same focused determination as when driving his Alpha. For a split second, he meets your gaze. The cacophony of the event fades to background noise and suddenly it's just the two of you and you damn near lift your hand in a wave. You're positive he can see your heart beating out of your chest like in an old cartoon as you curl your fingers into a fist in your lap. Your restraint proves fatal, the floor falling out from beneath your feet when he drops your stare. This was your new normal, you remind yourself. Stolen glances were all you would get.

"I can move," Yuki says, starting to rise. You grip his wrist, holding him in place.

"Please don't." The only other open seats were across the table, and at least then you didn't have to worry about brushing elbows with him all night long.

Yuki nods, slowly settling back in. Max finally takes his seat after giving your shoulder a supportive squeeze.

"You don't have to say anything to him," he reminds you, barely audible over the scrape of chairs and various chatter.

You find anywhere else to look as Pierre pulls out Vic's chair for her and makes his rounds to greet everyone. Daniel and his girlfriend are seated a few tables away and you distract yourself by attempting to read their lips. You manage a few minutes of tenuous peace, catching snippets of Daniel's cheesy jokes and her disapproving, yet flirty, responses.

"Damn, we clean up well, huh?"

You squeeze your eyes shut at the sound of home. His words are honey and you lap them up like you'd never tasted anything sweeter. They weren't even directed at you and yet somehow you twist them to fit your narrative.

Pierre stands at the bottom of the stairs like a chaste high school prom date patiently waiting for your grand entrance. He checks his watch and rakes a hand through his messy hair. You stifle your laugh with a hand, amused by his unnecessary nervous energy.

Taking mercy on him, you clear your throat. His gaze snaps up to you, mouth falling open. You take your time gathering the orange fabric of your dress and descending the stairs, savoring the way he eats you up. He was resplendent in his crisp white tuxedo and you had half a mind to make him late for the gala and strip him out of it then and there and devour him.

Your heels clack on the marble floor of his entirely too fancy apartment and you pause to do a little spin for him, earning you an appreciative whistle for your trouble. A laugh bubbles out of you and you place your hands on his shoulders. His own settle on your waist to pull you flush against him, his body heat soaking through the thin fabric of your dress to warm your core.

"Damn, we clean up well, huh?"

You start when knuckles graze the back of your bare neck. The touch is there and gone but you know immediately that it's Pierre. It's slight enough to be brushed off as accidental to anyone else, but nothing was accidental with Pierre. The barely there contact conveys more than any words ever could. 

He still loved you. You looked stunning. He wishes you were still his so he could prove it to you. All this and so much more contained in a half second brush of his skin to yours.

It all comes back to you in a rush, the emotion you'd so carefully tucked away in a locked box in the back of your mind finally set free. His touch ignites any other thought in your mind that isn't him, burning it away until it's ashes on the wind. 

Despite your better judgement, you lean into him, giving him permission to unravel you. This time you sigh when his fingers ghost over your skin, electricity sparking in their wake. You didn't care who might be watching; the tiny touches were slowly repairing your shattered heart. Your traitorous mind replaces his fingers with the brush of his lips to your nape, imagining the heat as he slides the strap of your dress off your shoulder, lips moving to follow.

You bite your lip to stifle a groan when his heat is withdrawn, leaving you feeling inexplicably naked. You open your eyes to find Victoria's pitying stare paired with an apologetic smile. Max nudges you with his elbow, and you realize someone has addressed you.

"Um, what?"

"I said I like how you guys coordinated outfits," Pierre repeats and openly prods your shoulder. "Obviously Max chose the color."

His tone is playful, but his words are clipped in a way only you understand. Craning your neck, you twist to look up at him. His eyes are cloudy and his smile doesn't reach them, more for show than anything else. "It was an accident."

"Doesn't look that way."

Your retort is ready on your tongue but he doesn't give you a chance to reply before retreating to his seat. His ability to act as if nothing has changed astounds you, as your head is still reeling from the pinpricks of his skin on yours. Instead of being rendered speechless, he strikes up a conversation with Yuki about the Alpha's performance, leaving out the confidential details but giving enough away that it surprises you.

The sheer fact that he can so easily switch off whatever feelings he harbors is unfair. The sensation of his fingers on your neck still lingers and it's all you can do to keep from stepping around the table and slotting yourself between his legs like you had in that bar in London. Your nails bite into your palms, listening in if only for his voice to wash over you and calm your racing heart.

When he mentions the rake angle, you know it's just to mislead anyone who might be eavesdropping. He'd told you the exact angle in the past, and it certainly was not one degree, and it did not cause the level of understeer he was describing.

"The understeer comes from improper tire selection," you blurt. "And driver error."

All eyes turn to you and you straighten. You knew enough about the construction of a Formula 1 car to be positive your assessment was correct. You were almost as certain that he'd said it to force you into speaking to him whether you liked it or not.

"What was that?"

If Pierre could torment you with his subtle touches, you could do the same and call him out when he was wrong.

"Driver error caused the rear end to slide out around that turn in Japan, not the rake angle. That's got nothing to do with it. Your tires were blistered because of you taking an imperfect racing line and they were old. You miscalculated the level of traction they'd give you."

Why no one else had pointed it out was beyond you.

"So you're an engineer now?" Pierre challenges, crossing his arms. Something about the arrogance radiating from him rubbed you the wrong way. You let all the emotion of the past few days surface and add fuel to the fire.

"No, but I've learned enough to see through the bullshit drivers spin to mislead other teams."

Max murmurs your name in warning but your frustration is boiling over. He replaced you tonight, didn't even pause to consider going alone and instead choosing to take Victoria. Sure, it had been your fault that he was dateless, but that didn't give him the right to hurt you too. He knew it would destroy you to see him with anyone else even if it was completely platonic, but he did it anyway.

"Why don't you tell me where I should brake on turn ten since you're an expert all of a sudden?" Victoria lays a hand on his arm but he yanks it out of her grip. "What crack in the pavement? Or is it a mark on the barrier? Drive one lap in my car and then you can tell me how to drive."

It wasn't your analysis that had upset him. You'd done so plenty of times and he had always taken your criticism with an open mind, using it to tweak his driving style to improve his lap time or turn it into a teaching experience so you could learn. No, judging by the way his eyes are lined with silver that he fights to blink away, it's your betrayal that upsets him and rightfully so. You glance around the table but no one is willing to meet your eyes save for Max, who angles his head as if to say fight for it.

But you can't. It's monumentally easier to let Pierre win and sweep it under the rug than to address the deeper issue. "I was trying to help," you say lamely, picking at the salad in front of you.

"You don't get to do that anymore."

The venomous words hit like knives, knocking the breath out of you. Your mouth hangs open like a fish gasping for air but any reply you think up dies on your tongue.

As the music fades out and a man climbs up onto the stage, Pierre gets up and leaves. You track his progress as he weaves through tables, noting Daniel reaching for him as he passes. You flinch when the balcony door slams behind him, an astonished murmur rocking through the crowd.

"You should probably talk to him," Max whispers.

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. You had no idea what you would say. 'Sorry' was insignificant and 'I love you' would be cruel when the barest of thought regarding how the media treated you made your stomach churn. 

Max pulls his phone out under the table and you think you see Charles' name on the screen. Good; someone had to make sure Pierre didn't do anything he would regret in the morning and if it wasn't you, Charles was the next best chaperone. A minute later, the Ferrari driver leaves his seat too, exiting the same way as Pierre. 

Focusing on what's said on stage proves fruitless. Try as you might, your attention is trained on the side door Pierre had disappeared through, praying he returns despite knowing it would mean more barbed words hurled at you. Neither he nor Charles return at any point during the presentation. His absence was quickly becoming a gaping black hole, swallowing up any semblance of sanity you had managed to gather in preparation for tonight.

"Try to have some fun," Max says, nudging you with an elbow. "As soon as this guy shuts up I’ll get us some more drinks and then we can eat and get out on the dance floor and forget about everything, yeah?"

You nod. You already feel the buzz of the first drink, and one or two more would push you thoroughly over the edge into blissful forgetfulness. "I don't wanna be sad anymore."

**********

He didn't know where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get away from you before he said something that would tear whatever hope he held of repairing what was between you to ribbons. He registers Daniel's low, "Gas, you good?" as he breezes past, but doesn't pause to answer. His sights are locked on the wide, carved oak doors that lead to fresh air.

The breath whooshes out of him when he flings open the balcony doors. They slam behind him and he winces. Chalk that up as something else for Helmut to pick him apart for on Monday.

Pierre rakes a trembling hand through his hair and rests his elbows on the railing, sucking in lungfuls of air like he'd just surfaced from a dive in the harbor. 

When you'd agreed to come to the gala with him, he had been overjoyed. You hadn't made it to the winter gala earlier this year due to a last minute exam and he had sulked the entire night. He still had the place card embossed with your name in the fishbowl by his door, the sizable container nearly overflowing with memories of you. Everything from forgotten earrings to plastic hotel key cards filled the bowl and it was a bright reminder of your adventures together. His plan had been to add another place card to the mix after tonight but after what he'd just said to you, he'd rather forget today ever happened. 

He fucking hurt. Everything just hurt, from the shirt collar scratching at his neck to the bone deep ache that had started when he laid eyes on you on those steps, arm locked with Max's. You'd stolen the words from his mouth, the jab he'd planned to toss at Max dying at the sight of you. 

He hadn't expected you to come tonight. Despite anyone's objections, he'd been fully prepared to get completely shit faced to the point that the ghost of your skin no longer haunted his fingertips and your voice no longer sang in his head. But seeing your damned face had shattered the false reality he had constructed, the one where you never broke him and left him scrambling to piece himself back together.

The universe had dealt him another low blow when he discovered Red Bull and Alpha Tauri would be at the same table and he'd be forced to endure your presence at arms length, close enough to touch but absolutely not allowed to do so. It was his own personal hell, constructed solely to punish him for whatever transgressions he'd made in his life.

And that fucking dress. 

The orange painted the aquamarine charm at the hollow of your throat in sharp relief, showing it off like he somehow still owned you. If you had arrived with him, he would have already led you back to the Civic and bunched that damned dress up past your hips to drag his favorite sounds from you with his tongue. If he could just get you alone, he's sure it wouldn't take more than a single touch to have you crashing into him and begging for more.

Seeing you with Max tonight paints an entirely different picture.

It's Max he sees tearing off the dress at the end of the night when you get back to his apartment. Max's hands slide over your hips and you laugh, walking back so you can keep your lips on his as he slams the door shut behind you. You dip your head back when he presses you to the wall, Max unfaltering as his lips and teeth trace the curve of your exposed throat and he slips the straps of the matching dress of your shoulders to let it pool at your feet. Max's name breezes past your lips on a shaky exhale as you become putty beneath his fingers.

No matter how loud Pierre calls your name, you don't hear him, instead cupping the back of the Dutchman's head and pulling him in for a heated kiss. When you do finally notice him observing from afar, agony wracking his body, all you do is grin. It feels real, even though Pierre is certain it's a crazed fever dream, his mind spinning his worst fear to life: you seeking comfort in the company of someone that wasn't him.

Pierre starts when the door squeaks open, the nightmare thankfully dissolving. Charles steps out clad head to toe in blazing Ferrari red and instantly he knows who sent him. The thought alone stokes rage in his chest, the image of your lips on Max's still fresh.

"Not as easy as you expected it to be, is it?" He asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Fuck off," Pierre growls and immediately regrets it. Beyond you, Charles was his closest friend. They had known each other for ages. It wasn’t a friendship he was willing to sacrifice just because he felt like shit. Pierre sighs and throws him an apologetic glance. "No it's not."

"Why don't you talk to her?"

"She doesn't want to fucking talk, Charles. Take one look at her, she's hanging on Max like she can't get enough of him." Pierre hangs his head in his hands, emotions shifting faster than he did on race day. "I can't go back in there and watch her choose him over me."

"You don't really believe that bullshit, do you?" Charles asks, joining him at the railing.

Not entirely, but he still struggled to understand your thought process. He thought he knew you, but you being here tonight when he had been certain you wouldn't be proved he didn't. 

"I don't know what to believe anymore. I thought it would be forever, that I'd finally found someone who didn't mind my lifestyle and accepted it for what it was, who loved me unconditionally. I thought she was my forever."

"You think she's done with you just because some assholes invaded her privacy?" Charles shakes his head. "She's loved you for a long time, years even. You haven't seen the looks she gives you, but the rest of us have. You hung the moon in her sky, Pierre. That kind of thing doesn't just get swept away by the breeze."

His shoulders curl inward in an attempt to hide the frustrated tear that escapes him. "What am I supposed to do?"

Charles shrugs. "I don't think there's a right answer to that. Try giving her some space. She didn't grow up in the spotlight like we did. It's not an easy adjustment for some people, mate. And blowing up on her when she tries to make conversation doesn't help anything," he says gently. "Let her figure it out and come to you when she's ready."

The concept of letting you go even temporarily was terrifying to him. Waiting on you to make the first move was even worse because he was setting his fate in your hands. 

"I miss her," he murmurs, turning his face to his friend.

"I know." Charles throws an arm around the taller man's shoulders and follows his gaze out over the tiered streets of Monaco's city center. "My suggestion is to throw yourself into the season. Show her you know how to fight, y'know?"

Pierre nods. He could do that. It was how he normally handled his problems anyway; let the track wick away whatever was on his mind and force him to hone in on the details surrounding him in each moment. 

"You ready to head inside?" Charles asks.

"I don't think I can go back just yet."

"Want me to hang out here with you?"

"No. I'll be back eventually."

Charles' hand falls from his shoulder after a short squeeze, the sound of a tinny voice over the speakers temporarily flooding the balcony as Charles returns to the banquet. Pierre allows himself a few more moments of reprieve before slipping back inside just as the applause starts. Rather than returning to the delicately portioned meal that sat cooling before his empty chair, he orders a drink. Whiskey on the rocks, his go to in times of crisis. He takes one sip before the reminder of you ordering it for him in London makes holding the glass of caramel liquid unbearable and he downs it in a single swallow, going back to order a beer instead.

He nurses the green bottle of Heineken as he leans against the wall until the meal is finished and the chit chat starts. You stand with Max, practically pressed against him as you snatch a flute of champagne from a passing server. You search the crowd, brows drawing together when you don't locate your quarry. Pierre had made sure that he was tucked out of the low lighting, unsure if he could survive you stealing worried glances at him all night. 

Charles winds his way over to pass off a roll he snagged from dinner, practically forcing the Frenchman to eat it before returning to his date. He nibbles at it absentmindedly, entirely too focused on you to divert an ounce of focus elsewhere.

Your dress is a glowing sun in a sea of earth tone garments, drawing his eye as you pull Max out onto the wood platform serving as the dance floor before the tables are fully cleared. The flush in your cheeks tells him you're deeper in your cups than you should be; Max didn't know your limit as well as he did. Three drinks was all you could manage before you got tipsy, five if you wanted to be completely blitzed. 

The lights dim and his hiding spot is no longer quite as good as the party lights sweep over him from time to time. Max places one hand on your hip and you place one on his shoulder and grin up at him. Judging by the fit of giggles that requires you to lean into Max for support, you were teetering dangerously on the edge of being wholly drunk. You throw your head back and laugh at whatever Max says in response to your fit, Pierre straining to hear the musical sound over the band. 

"Hey," Victoria says, breaking his concentration. "You wanna get out there?"

Pierre grimaces. He had managed to completely forget about her, too stuck in his own head. "Sorry, Vic. I don't think I'd be a very good partner tonight."

"No worries," she says, a soft, understanding smile on her lips. "I can keep myself busy."

Pierre nods his thanks, his attention immediately returning to the dance floor. Daniel and his girlfriend steal the show, both laughing as he dips and twirls her across the floor. 

Being together was so fucking easy for them, effortless in a way it wasn't for you and Pierre. They never once paid any heed to the photographers that swarmed them or the headlines printed about them, they just laughed the rumors off and carried on. No one could question their love for each other because they were vocal about it- sometimes annoyingly so- and Daniel was rarely seen in public without her at his side. They were always touching, holding hands or stealing kisses or even the near scandal of his hand blatantly on her ass at the podium a few races back, and neither of them cared.

Their love was all that mattered. They didn't care who knew it.

But you and Pierre were far too private to be like that, at least not when you were still trying to figure things out yourself. The first sign of outside pressure had you cracking, and he wouldn't stand for knowing he was the source of your pain.

He tries and fails to convince himself he isn't jealous of the way Dan's hand so easily glides under the navy blue silk of her dress to caress her back without a second thought, wishing he could do the same to you. If he's being honest, he's living vicariously through Daniel for the next few songs, pretending he was someone else observing you and himself on the dance floor instead. It almost works; the way she shudders when his lips graze her ear is strikingly similar to how you'd react. The smile she flashes up at him is agonizingly close to your own wicked grin.

When her mouth finds his, Pierre gathers his wits and turns away. Their blatant public affection flipped a switch inside him, disgust rocking through him for a split second before he pushed it away.

He was happy for them. He knew what a long, rocky road it had been for them to become lovers instead of friends, had firsthand knowledge of the stress they'd gone through before they'd finally admitted their feelings to each other, put their pride aside and got together. Pierre had been the one to offer her advice on a night not much different than this one months ago, helping repair the damage Daniel's idiotic, thoughtless words had caused. 

But Pierre had since become the person who was sickened at the sight of others in love. It reminded him that part of himself was missing and he hated it.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep his eyes from wandering back to you. You still occasionally scan the room as Max struggles to lead you through a dance. By some stroke of bad luck your gaze snags on him just as a spotlight illuminates his face and he grimaces. A slow blink is the only surprise you let show before laying your head on Max's shoulder. Jealousy spikes through him like wildfire, igniting his blood and tinging his vision with red.

He wants to march over and rip you off Max. He wants you tucked safely against him as his thumb rubs circles on the bare skin of the small of your back. He wants, more than anything, to take you to his apartment and half carry you up the stairs, having to shush you because you're giggling loud enough to wake the dead, and lay you down in his bed. He wants to help you out of that stunning dress and into a pair of his sweats and curl up against you, letting you sleep off your hangover until noon.

He'd fucked up that chance though, hadn't he? He had slipped up and driven you straight into your friend's arms, who he trusted not to make a move on you but not enough to negate the jealousy coursing through him.

In that moment, he hates you. He hates the hold you have on him, the way a simple gesture between half-drunk friends could send him into a spiral so steep he didn't recognize himself. He hates that he can't keep his eyes off you, your gravity too strong for him to resist.

Most of all, he hates that he doesn’t know how to quit you.

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max​ @sunshinesewis​ @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval 

[champion-leon-imagines]

Chronicles of Galar - Chapter 3: A loss & Gain of trust

This chapter is kinda sad at first. As a warning, a minor (and non-canon) character death that hit you hard and you don’t know what to do.. then you meet Leon and everything changes. Your level of friendship increases and he gives you comfort in a way, no other person would ever be able to give you. Comfort!Fluff.

"[Y/n]..", Cynthia's voice was sad and battered and that alerted you directly. Cynthia rarely called, and only when it was important or bad news. Her pitched voice suggested the worst. "I hate to have to say something like that over the phone .. ... Grandmother died .."

Your eyes widened and tears began to run down your cheeks. You had expected all sorts of things, but this news threw you completely off the mark.

"W-what ..? W-How ..? She was very healthy and not yet that old .. ", you mumbled sadly and clutched your smartphone tightly while more tears ran down your face. Professor Carolina, the village elder of Celestic Town and grandmother of Cynthia, was like a mother to you. Carolina had cared for you since the beginning of your trainer career. Since you lived in Sinnoh for several years and lived with her, the two of you cultivated such an intimate and harmonious relationship. Her death news had torn the ground from under your feet.

"She had a heart attack .. Caused by an allergic reaction after she had been exposed to the poison of an aggressive Roserade .. Roserades release a special toxin that has so far remained undiscovered by researchers, as they only eliminate it when they are really feel cornered and have to protect their offspring .. Grandmother had found a nest and wanted to study it from a safe distance, but one of the Roserades has lost its nerve. She fought for survival in the hospital for days, but .. ", Cynthia said and could no longer speak through her own tears .

"For days ...? And you call me NOW ..? Cynthia, I would have left everything and gone to Sinnoh .. "

"I didn't wanted to ruin your adventure in Galar. None of us expected that Grandmother ... would not survive .. The doctors also said at first that she was recovering nicely, but then her condition deteriorated so rapidly .... And then I was just too occupied and sad that I forgot to call you earlier. I am so sorry.."

You felt terrible. Not only because of the loss, but also because you screamed at Cynthia like this for not letting you know sooner. "Don't apologize .. I'm sorry if I sounded harsh .. I .. can't believe it .." you mumbled sadly and wiped your face.

"We all feel that way in Celestia Town.. Believe me .. The .. funeral is next week .. on Wednesday ... Are .. are you coming ..? "

"Of course I'll come .. Cynthia, thanks for everything you've done for me. I'll never forget Carolina .. I'll see you on Wednesday .. I love you, big sister, okay ..? "

"I love you too, little sister .. take good care of yourself."

With these words, Cynthia hung up and you dropped to your knees to completely give in to your emotions. You were crying so loud that your brother and his fiancée ran from the study straight to your room and wanted to know what was going on.

It wasn't long before you felt overwhelmed by the comforting hugs and words of your real family. You gently pushed the two of them away and stood up. "Sorry .. But I would like to be alone for a moment .. I'll go for a walk ..", you said and walked to the door.

"Now..? Do you took a look outside? It's raining cats and dogs. Take an umbrella with you at least. ", Aki said , worried and crossed her arms.

"I don't mind .. It's just water .. I'll .. I'll come back later, okay ..?", You smiled sadly and raised your hand to say goodbye before you just stormed out into the rain. Aki shook her head and collapsed onto the hotel couch. You and them currently stayed in Motostoke.

“I never realized how close the relationship was between her and Professor Carolina. Her death hits her as hard as if a family member had died. ", Aki said quietly.

"She was a family member for her." Mamoru began sadly. “When [Y/n] lived in Sinnoh after our parents started to argue daily, the professor behaved like a mother to her. She raised [Y/n] without hesitation, and became more or less like a little sister to Cynthia. Professor Carolina was the caring mother, our mother couldn't be at that time. So I understand that her death takes [Y/n] with it ... ", he explained.

"Shouldn't we then follow her and be there for her?", Aki insisted. Mamoru shook his head slightly.

"No. She said she wants to be alone. My sister is strong. She won't do anything stupid. Let's give her some time. And when she has recovered, she will come back and then we can still be there for her. ", he smiled confidently.

"If she hasn't caught pneumonia by then.", Aki sighed slightly. Mamoru smiled sadly.

“Then we mustn't blame her. This is what she needs least of all at the moment. "

You ran around aimlessly in the rain for a few minutes until you lost your strength and sat down on a wet bench. Your clothes were soaked and your hair was stuck to your face so that you could barely see anything. But you didn't really care about that at the moment. You pulled back your knees and put your arms around them as you leaned your head on your drawn knees and sobbed softly into them. You couldn't even say goodbye to Carolina .. You wanted to tell her so much, show her so much .. So many things were unsaid .. For example, how grateful you were that she welcomed you so warmly .. How much you appreciated you had learned and how much you  loved to bake Christmas cookies with her one last time .. that was all over now. That thought just didn't go into your head.

Minutes passed. The minutes turned into hours and the rain just wouldn't stop. It was like the heaven cried for her too. Not that it helped in any way, because your own tears just wouldn't stop. At some point you could only hear the rain, but the droplets didn't seem to hit you anymore.

'Have my senses become so numb that I can no longer feel the rain on me ..?' You thought bitterly and then looked up. You blinked perplexed when a red cape was stretched over you. You saw Leon, who was holding his big cape over him and you and protecting both of you from the rain.

"You didn't choose a good day to sit out here." Leon laughed slightly until he saw that it wasn't just rainwater that had moistened your face. Your gloomy eyes made his smile fade and he held the cape over you more generously. "Did you .. cry ..?" He asked quietly. Normally you would have been happy to meet him here, but under the current circumstances, you couldn't utter a single word. Instead, you bit your lip to hold back more tears. Unsuccessful as it seemed, because more tears ran down your cheeks again and made you sob softly in response.

Leon seemed a little overwhelmed. How should he behave now? Nobody has ever cried in front of them, especially not a woman. The purple-haired man looked around for help until he noticed that his hotel was not far from here. "You don't have to speak right now, but we should get dry first, don't you think so?" He smiled and you nodded slightly when you got up. Then, under the protection of his cape, you ran to the hotel. As he entered, Leon called the receptionist to bring fresh clothes and a towel to his room. And a hot tea. You two went to an elevator and drove to the floor where his room was.

Once there, Leon took the towel and rubbed your hair dry. Then there was a knock on the door and the room service had brought a sleeping gown that you could slip into for the time being. Leon gratefully accepted the  gown and handed it to you.

“I'm going to have a look after the tea. So you can change in peace. ", He smiled and patted your head lightly before he got up and left the room. You looked after him slightly. The tears finally stopped, but you still felt miserable. Although another emotion was budded in your heart. A warm, pleasant feeling.. You were glad that someone was looking after you at the moment .. and he was so thoughtful.

A few minutes passed before there was a knock on the door. "It's me," Leon called. "Can I come in?" He asked, not wanting to burst in while you were changing. You thanked him very much for his courteous manner.

"Y-yes. I've already finished dressing. ", You said a little broken. The door opened and Leon held a small tray with the tea on it. He saw you on the hotel bed. The towel around your shoulders and in the hotel's white night gown. He smiled a little, because you didn't seem so exhausted anymore. After placing the tray on the bedside table, he sat down next to you.

"How are you?" He asked.

"Terrible .." you replied quietly. "But better than before," you added after seeing Leon a little worried.

"Would you like to talk now about what happened?" He asked further, looking at you.

"... The woman who practically raised me ... and was like a mother to me ... died." You wiped away the new tears and sobbed softly. "She was such a wonderful person .. Why did she have to die so early .."

Leon was silent for a moment and then looked sadly at the floor. His hands clenched into a fist and he didn't even know how to react.

"Professor Carolina ..?" Leon didn't even had to guess, since he already knew a lot about your past. You nodded sadly and Leon's face grew sadder. "I'm really sorry about that .. My deepest condolences .." he said sadly.

"Thanks ..", you mumbled and hugged yourself, trying to find some warmth.

"If I can do anything for you .. Tell me.", He offered you and you looked next to you. You swallowed lightly and sighed.

"Can you .. just hug me ..?" You asked softly. Leon blinked slightly. Although you had met a few times, both of you hardly had any physical contact so far. Except for a short, half-hearted hug as a greeting. This time it was different.

"Of course," he replied immediately and put his arms around your trembling body to pull you close. You buried your face right in his jersey and wrapped your arms around his stomach.

"Thank you ..", you whispered softly and muffled when you felt how he caressed your back soothingly.

"Don't mention it." he said and hugged you to give you the greatest possible comfort. You and Leon lingered in that embrace in silence. Your sobs grew quieter and your breathing became calmer. At some point the purple-haired man noticed that your eyes were closed. You must have fallen asleep. Leon smiled a little and laid you on the bed properly before covering you and caressing your cheek. Then he looked at his smartphone, which was about to remind him of an appointment. He got up and wanted to go when he noticed how you grabbed his hand and prevented him from going. "[Y/n] ..?"

"Please don't go now .. I .. don't want to .. be .. alone ..", you stuttered with half-open eyes. Your [e/c] irises shone from all the weeping and Leon looked at you desperately. He thought about his appointment and sighed. Then he put his other hand on top of yours and smiled.

"Alright. I'll stay with you. ", He said and sat down on the bed again. You smiled gratefully and pressed his hand to your cheek.

"Thank you ...", you mumbled softly and then held up your other hand, asking that he lay down next to you. Leon smiled and lay down next to you to pull you into his arms and hug you. You both looked at each other for a while before closing your eyes and falling asleep.

On the next morning, Leon's voice woke you up. He didn't sounded angry, but a little louder than usual. And he seemed to be talking to someone. You opened your eyes and blinked when you saw Leon pacing up and down the room.

“I told you Oleana. I couldn't meet with President Rose on this appointment because there was an emergency. ... a private emergency. No, it didn't concern me personally, but ... ... Now please listen to me. ", Leon sighed and rubbed his face in annoyance. You just couldn't talk sensibly to this woman. “Of course, I am aware of the consequences if I fail to keep important appointments for no good reason. But the reason was important to me. And I don't care if you see it any other way. … Yes, then tell President Rose that we will postpone the appointment until next week. ”He hung up and sighed deeply again. "I wouldn't want to work with this woman .." he mumbled quietly and turned around. He saw that you were awake and looked at him in shock. "Oh..“

"You had an appointment with President Rose yesterday ...?" You asked and Leon averted his gaze guiltily. "Why did not you say anything..? I wouldn't have held you here if I had known that you had an important appointment .. ", You said ashamed and straightened up.

"You needed someone.", Was his only answer when he looked at you again. His words only made you more shocked.

"You had put my well-being over your appointments ..?", You asked incredulously and put your hand over your mouth. Leon smiled and walked towards you when he put his big hand over your head.

"Of course. I can always make up or postpone appointments. But you cannot control your feelings. That's why .. it was more important to me to be there for you than to give Rose another stupid interview about why I'm the unbeatable champion. ", He said with a charming smile.

You felt like you were about to start crying again. This time, however, not from grief. The warmth of this man simply took in every fiber of your body and you literally threw yourself into his arms after these words. Leon blinked in astonishment before putting his arms around you and hugging you again as you buried your nose in his neck.

"I-I'm sorry, only because of me...Because of me your schedule got messed up .. I'll make it up to you, I promise," You said quietly. Leon laughed softly before pulling away a little and caressing your cheek.

“If you want to make it up, then .. I know of a small, cozy ice cream parlor. That serves the BEST Alcremie sundae in Galar. How does that sound? ”He asked and winked. You smiled and your grief was almost forgotten for that moment.

"Sounds good."

Since that day the friendship of you had reached a new, more intimate level.

[ijustwant2write]

Estranged-Fred Weasley x Malfoy!Reader

(GIF credit to @genterie​)

Tags: @obsessedwithrandomthings​

Masterlist

Prompts List

Requested by anonymous: 'Love your writing it’s amazing! I was thinking of a Fred Weasley imagine where he doesn’t die. And after the war, he falls in love with Draco’s twin. And like her parents accept it because all they want is for her to be happy. (They learned from their past mistakes)'

Characters: Fred Weasley x Malfoy!Reader, Molly Weasley x Reader (platonic), Lucius Malfoy x Reader (father), Narcissa Malfoy (mother)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Swearing, mention of death, mention of abuse/bad childhood, estranged family relationships, judgement, reconnecting, lots and lots of fluff

                                   *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(Y/N) Malfoy felt people staring at her as she walked down the street, some in disgust, others just intrigued as to why she would show her face after all these years. Her platinum hair gave away her identity, as well as her fine clothes that were clearly expensive. She didn’t want to flaunt, but she had earned these items now, after working to build up a reputation again since...since the battle.

Why couldn’t it be normal for her now? Yes, she had been on the wrong side, but she and her brother, Draco, didn’t have a choice. Their last few years at Hogwarts had been miserable, all because their families had made ties to the Dark Lord. (Y/N) had always been quiet, almost mute when she was younger; although she wanted to speak up about many things, defend anyone her brother was bullying, explain how she didn’t agree with her parents views on wizards who weren’t pure bloods. But she was always too scared, she didn’t want her father to yell at her like he did Draco, or that one time she tried saving a house elf from a beating (that had caused many nightmares to occur). The only time she did use her voice was when she convinced her brother to spare Potter, to lie, to make sure that their fellow classmates could live; although taught from a young age that they were superior, she realised how wrong her families’ beliefs were.

Shops turned silent when she entered, conversations were only whispers, the shop keepers not serving her with the same warmth as everyone else. As usual, she kept quiet, quickly paying for her things then leaving. Deep down, (Y/N) had always known she wouldn’t be normal like anyone else, but she could try. 

As she left, keeping her head down again, someone bumped into her with such a force that it sent her flying to the ground. She yelped out, instantly feeling pain shoot up the arm she landed on, her shopping falling out of the bag and scattering around. No one helped her, they walked past as she struggled to gather everything.

 “What a bunch of twats.” someone snapped, and she recognised the voice.

Looking beside her, out of all the people in the world, Fred Weasley had bent down to help her.“Fred?”

He sadly smiled, helping her to her feet as he held her bags.“In the flesh. You alright?”

“Yeah.” she breathed out.“Thank you.”

“No problem. I haven’t seen you for years.”

She ducked her head.“Yes, it’s been a while.”

He sensed her anxiousness.“Are you sure you’re OK?”

She cleared her throat, ignoring the pain in her arm.“Now I am.”

“Hey, why don’t we go grab a drink? You know, catch up?”

She looked up in surprise.“Y-you want to hang out with me?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

Flashbacks to all the times her brother spoke down to their family, the moments where she didn’t stick up for them or tell Draco to back down. And when her family fought against the Weasley’s at the battle. She had heard from witnesses that Molly Weasley was the one to kill her aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange (although it didn’t sadden her, Bellatrix had always made (Y/N) uncomfortable and scared). Yet here Fred was, kindly offering a hand. Sensing her hesitation, he nodded, understanding now.

“I don’t hold grudges (Y/N), especially against those who haven’t done anything wrong.”

(Y/N)’s tense posture relaxed, thanking him once again as she went to take her bags from him. However, he retracted his arms, holding them away from her. 

“So, are you coming?” he grinned.

Surprisingly, (Y/N) nodded straight away, laughing as she tried to grab her bags again. He laughed with her, already walking away as she caught up. She recognised the route, they were heading towards Diagon Alley, soon stepping into The Leaky Cauldron. Luckily it wasn’t full of people, they had come at a quiet time, though she still chose a table in the far corner, slightly hidden away. Fred went to get their drinks, leaving her alone with her thoughts. He was being so nice, no one had been like that in a long time.

“I can’t believe how long it’s been.” Fred sighed as he settled back in his seat, handing (Y/N) a drink.

“I don’t really want to think about the last time we saw each other.” she mumbled, looking down at her hands.

“No, me neither.” he quickly changed the subject.“Well, what’s been happening in your neck of the woods?”

“Not much I’m afraid. No one wants to be around a Malfoy.”

“I’m here aren’t I?”

She bravely looked into his eyes.“You’re just being sweet.”

“What about your brother?”

“Draco is fine. He’s actually met someone, it seems serious.”

“Wow, Draco Malfoy is settling down?”

“Yep. I’m happy for him.” she asked the next question before she could think about it.“Have you found anyone?”

He scoffed a laugh.“No, still stuck with my brother at the shop.”

“You know, I only ever went in there once. Draco caught me, he dragged me out of there.”

“What a prick.” Fred closed his eyes, sighing when he realised what he said.“Sorry, just used to saying that.”

She giggled, making him smile.“No, you’re right. He used to be the worst at times. But he’s better now, more understanding. He has a lot more respect for people.”

“And you’re talking more.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“You used to be so quiet. I remember the first time you spoke, it’s all anyone ever talked about.”

“I had always been told to keep my mouth shut or face a consequence. It comes and goes, though I’m happier now. Much happier.”

“Me too.”

That first meeting turned into another, then one more after that, before they found themselves seeing each other every week. These ‘catch-ups’ became much more than that. (Y/N) had laughed more than she had in her entire life, and Fred found it easier to open up to her about the past. They no longer met up in public, Fred mostly visiting her small home (not the lavish Malfoy Manor he had heard so much about) as it was more private and further away from anyone else. Drinks phased into dinner, dinner moved onto staying the night; both couldn’t wait to wake up next to each other, loosely snuggled up before tightening their embrace as they stirred. 

They got away with keeping it a secret for months, except from one individual. George wondered where his brother disappeared to, teasing Fred when he came to the shop late and dishevelled. He dared to follow Fred one night, shocked when he saw (Y/N) kissing him. George gently brought it up, at first upset that Fred had been bewitched by a Malfoy. After the three sat down, George saw (Y/N) for who she truly was; she was scared about what George thought, though when he saw how they lifted each other up, he knew this was the right thing.

George had been accepting. But what about everyone else? (Y/N) had thrown up the day of meeting the Weasley family. Fred convinced his parents to not invite anyone else, just let it be the four of them. He also forgot to mention that (Y/N) was a Malfoy. She had to refrain from crying the whole way there, breathing deeply and thinking about something else to avoid a panic attack. She recognised the shock look on Mr and Mrs Weasley’s faces as she walked into the Burrow, their lovely smiles vanishing almost instantly. 

“Mum, dad, this is (Y/N).” Fred proudly said, not afraid to wrap his arm around (Y/N)’s waist.

“H-hello.” (Y/N) shakily said, desperately trying to stop her nerves from getting the better of her.

The sound of the poor girl’s voice made Molly’s heart break. Everyone knew of their quarrel with the Malfoy’s, but seeing such the young, intimidated and quiet girl made her forget all of that. It had been slightly awkward at first, but Fred helped ease everyone into conversation, and by the end of the night, there were smiles on everyone’s faces. As they said their goodbyes, Molly had a chance to pull (Y/N) aside, seeing her son and husband deep in conversation.

“Thank you for tonight Mrs Weasley, it’s been lovely.” (Y/N) said, finally feeling comfortable.

Molly had seen (Y/N)’s surprised expression when they had been welcoming to her (once the shock of being a Malfoy went away). This girl had never received this type of attention, Molly imagined the only time the family was together was for silent dinners and public outings. But her personality around Fred was calmer, she looked reassured. (Y/N) needed love, she needed that experience of being part of one big happy family.

“You are welcome here anytime dear.” Molly smiled, squeezing (Y/N)’s hands.

When Fred managed to get (Y/N) away from his mother, she had been gushing about everything that had been said that night.

“Did you hear what she said to me?!” (Y/N) exclaimed.

“Yes, you’ve repeated it many times.” he chuckled.

The happiness remained until Fred brought up the question (Y/N) had been dreading.

“So when can I meet your parents?”

Although (Y/N) desperately wanted to skip that milestone in their relationship, it seemed unfair that she had met the Weasley’s, and Fred wouldn’t meet the Malfoy’s. (Y/N) hadn’t kept much contact with her parents, mostly letters to her mother, even though there wasn’t much to talk about. One night when she was writing one of the said letters, Fred had been looking over her shoulder, convincing her to mention the relationship. (Y/N) found it incredibly hard to put pen to paper, not writing Fred’s name, but explaining how far this relationship of hers had gone. Her mother penned back, expressing how much she wanted to meet the mystery man. It was finally time to do so.

“Should I have got a different suit?” Fred stressed as they made their way to her parent’s house.

“No, why?” she asked.

“Because...well, it’s nice, but not as nice as the ones your dad wears.”

“I don’t want you to dress like my father. I want you to be you. And are you sure you’re alright going there?”

“Are you?”

She thought about it.“Not really. I just keep telling myself that it’s just a house, there’s nothing more to it.”

As they stood outside Malfoy Manor, (Y/N)’s heart rate increased, She felt Fred’s hand become sweaty, but that could have been her’s too. Now looking at it, it felt much more gloomier, more haunting. But they only had to be here tonight, no longer than that. Of course her parents didn’t greet her straight away, the door opened by itself, and the couple cautiously walked in. (Y/N) flinched as the door shut, remembering how much she hated this place. It was so different to the Burrow; (Y/N) knew she should have been grateful for a manor as a home, with lavish decor and large amounts of land, but that could never replace the safe feeling you were supposed to feel at home. 

“(Y/N).” her mother, Narcissa, gasped as she entered the room.

(Y/N) crumbled at the sight of her mother, knowing that she wanted their relationship back to how it used to be. But she still didn’t rush to hug her, casually walking over. Narcissa took in (Y/N)’s features, smiling as she thought about how beautiful her daughter was. Hugging her like only a mother could, she didn’t let go early, hating how long it had been since they saw each other. When they pulled away, Narcissa noticed the man, hiding her surprise when she saw he was one of the Weasley boys. (Y/N)’s shoulders ached from how tense they were as her mother approached Fred, opening her arms to him. Her mouth almost dropped open, as did Fred’s as he returned the hug. Narcissa no longer cared about being part of a ‘superior’ family; (Y/N) was happy with this man, and he had managed to bring her daughter back to her.

"Come you two, we have drinks waiting for you." Narcissa smiled, gesturing for them to walk ahead of her.

(Y/N) grasped onto Fred's hand again, feeling her breathing become deeper at the thought of seeing her father. Fred didn't want to push any boundaries in front of her parents, but he would be damned if he let (Y/N) become upset. He wanted to come to ensure that her family gave their blessing, it would feel wrong not to come; but if this was the last time she wanted to see them, then so be it.

Walking into the drawing room, (Y/N) unintentionally gripped onto Fred's hand harder, almost digging her nails in. There were no complaints from him as Lucius Malfoy turned around. He looked a lot better than the last time he saw him, though he had definitely aged, and being part of Voldemort's army hadn't helped with that.

"(Y/N), welcome home." Lucius said, his usual cold tone in his voice.

"Thank you father." she whispered, going back to her quiet self.

"So, he's a Weasley then?"

"Yes sir." Fred spoke, not afraid anymore.

(Y/N)'s head whipped up to look at Fred, then to her father. Lucius narrowed his eyes, stepping forward until Narcissa stopped him.

"Lucius." she warned."We've just got them back."

"Them?" (Y/N) questioned.

"Draco visited only last week. We met Astoria." Narcissa explained.

"He finally did it."

"What? You knew about her?"

Fred squeezed (Y/N)'s hand, silently encouraging her to go on."I send letters to Draco too. We've both been petrified to come back."

"Why?" Lucius had the audacity to ask.

"I'm with a Weasley. You belittled them for years. And it pains me to say that I stood back and did nothing. Never did I imagine that I would be forgiven by them, let alone fall in love with one."

She couldn't believe how forward she was being. But they were all listening intently.

"I've grown since I've left here. Fred has helped me to change, change for the better. I have missed you both, but you can't deny that we weren't a normal family."

Lucius and Narcissa exchanged a look, a wave of sadness washing over them. They had been caught up in the Dark Lord's work, wanting to fulfill the purpose they had been taught from a young age. They assumed their children would follow in their footsteps. Oh how wrong they were. And they regretted every second of it.

"(Y/N)," Narcissa calmly started, slowly stepping towards the couple,"we cannot express how much we regret abandoning you as a child. We weren't focused on raising our family. Losing you and Draco was the worst pain I have ever felt in my life. Your letters have been the only thing bringing us a small amount of joy each week."

"Your mother is right."

Though his face was stern, anyone could see that Lucius meant what he said. He just didn't know how to express that.

"I can no longer tell you what to do or who to be around." he said."Your mother and I have had many long conversations about this particular topic, about you and Draco. We want you to move on, be with someone who will give you a good life and treat you better than we ever did."

This was too much for (Y/N), this was the longest they had ever thought about their feelings ever. She was frozen, unsure if this was a cruel trick. Were they really going to be happy for her?

"A-are you..." she steadied her shaky breath as tears fell from her face."Are you being serious?"

Narcissa's eyes widened at the thought of this being fake."Of course darling. I can't lose you again."

"(Y/N), we are happy for you both." Lucius added.

That sent her over the edge. She made up that she needed a minute, rushing out of the room. Fred didn't hesitate to run after her, calling her as she ran outside. (Y/N) collapsed onto the steps to the door, head in her hands as she sobbed.

"(Y/N), hey, it's alright. I'm here, I'm here with you." he gently said, sitting beside her.

She felt him pull her hands away."I just...I just can't process...did they really say all of that?"

He smiled, wiping away the tears on her cheeks."Yes. They love you. I know you've been through all those hard years, and this is a huge shock. It's going to take time to get used to."

"I'm so happy you're here with me."

"Be a bit awkward if you said you had a boyfriend and didn't show up with one, wouldn't it?"

She let out a short laugh, and he knew that she was calming down."Let it all out love. If you want to, we'll go back inside. If not-"

"No, I think I need to do this. You're with me, that's all I need to continue."

He held her face in his hands, slowly leaning in and pressing a small kiss on her lips."I love you."

"I love you more."

"We've got this, we're in this together, always."

[moonyblackwerewolf]

Betrothed Ch. 1 - Sirius Black

Sirius Black x fem!Reader

Word count: 2.653

Summary: Sirius and Y/N meet at a family dinner and have some fun, later she finds out she is betrothed to some pureblood boy so Sirius comes up with a mental idea to save them both. 

warnings: Kissing, hints of sex, 'aggressive' parents, underage drinking, idk my writing and English? lol

a/n: so this is just an idea for a possible series!! i never published anything before so i’m kind of scared but i really hope you like it!! :) xxx

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch. 2.5 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch. 5 

(not my gif)

Diner party

The Royal Manor of Watson was a cold palace, stone walls, rich decorations, sumptuous, but intimidating. The Watsons were cold people, living in a house too big for five people, but Y/N thought it was only fitting, since her parent’s ego was as big as the manor itself. Their pureblood mania deep in their minds, untouchable, which made their daughter’s life miserable. They were the perfect family on the outside but rotten in the inside, three children, Diana, two years older than Y/N, beautiful, smart and most importantly just as purist as their parents and William, tall, handsome, sophisticate and serious, he was the older sibling, three years older than Diana, he was already working with their father on the Ministry of Magic, daddy’s favourite. Home was big, impressive, a dream home if you saw it, libraries, uncountable bedrooms and living rooms, ball rooms, huge gardens, and everything you could ask for but it was far from being a welcoming home.

Though, all of her miserableness went away once she first went to Hogwarts. Of course, being sorted in Slytherin and having good grades was minimal when it came to living up to her parents’s expectations, which were high and if not complied there would most certainly have severe consequences, but still Hogwarts was more of a Home than the Watson Manor ever was. 

Throughout the years, Hogwarts had become her first true home. There she felt the warm winds, the familiar feeling in the great halls, friendships, all she ever hoped for was there, a home, but not quite yet. She met Elizabeth Greengrass a blonde, tall thin girl with deep grey eyes and enviable beauty, Katherine Abbott who looked almost like Diana, but shorter, longer darker hair, blue-green eyes and thiner face. The three girls became best friends right after being sorted into Slytherin. Later on her second year she met Elijah Lestrange, through her sister, he was a year older, handsome and had a polite appearance. Y/N loved her friends but they shared the same blind beliefs her parents do, she’d always nod when they talked about mudblood, choosing not to create conflict, she couldn’t help but feel a little out of place, her parents couldn't disagree more, controlling they way they were, they were more than satisfied to know that their daughter’s inner circle contained only close family friends’s children.

The Marauders were quite famous for their pranks since first year, Y/N always admired their courage and wit, but her siblings and friends didn’t share the same opinion. When she was around them she’d always get a look from her sister, her brother or her friends would push her away, which only made them more interesting. Although, with time, she stopped trying and just kept living her life the way her family wanted her to.

Until summer break before 5th year, at least. 

By then Sirius had already gained his bad boy reputation. Y/N had known Black for a long time, only by sight, his family was friends with hers and his cousin, Narcissa, hangs out with her sister, she’d see him in the pureblood elite parties they were forced to attend, they’d exchange glances but never talked. Sirius was once again being forced to go to some snobby party from snobby people. He couldn’t count in a thousand hands how many other places he’d rather be, but there he was sitting in a huge room full of people he despised, until a certain girl he recognised from other dinner parties and Hogwarts caught his attention, she was Remus’ partner in DADA, though he wasn’t sure, he never paid much attention in classes, pranking the student body was much more entertaining.

She caught his eye from a couch across the room. She was stunning, he thought, her slightly wavy H/C hair matching her S/C skin, freckled rosy cheeks and her alluring E/C eyes. Sirius only hoping she was different from the other brainwashed people in that house.

“Hey” Sirius said softly while he approached the girl that was, apparently, just as bored as he was, to his luck. “Not your scene, love?” He asked with his signature smirk on his face, wanting some good company for once at these afternoons.

“Not really” she chuckled, not knowing exactly what else to say, they weren’t close and she was a bit shy. But she was being honest, these parties were hell, full of families who thought too much of themselves, she didn't feel much like them, but she could fit in she was quiet and not nearly as loud as Sirius was about her beliefs. No one knew. 

“By any chance would you know whose death palace are we on? I mean it’s huge but it looks like Salazar himself lived here, it gives me the creeps” he paused laughing “and my house it’s not a Hufflepuff common room or anything” Sirius said mockingly, not knowing exactly who he was talking with.

“Well” she chuckled awkwardly “It is my parents’, but i know, it’s not very homey, looks like a dark theatre or something and Salazar did live here, family heirloom” she laughed for real this time, she didn’t take it as an offence, if anything she couldn’t agree more.

“How come we never crossed each others path before?” Sirius asked wondering why they never talked on one of those parties or at school.

“I guess I usually just stay in the corners, like today” she chuckled.

The two of them bonded after talking for a while, they discovered that both of them hated these things, Sirius couldn't get how she managed to hide her feelings so well, she looked so much like them. After laughing, talking about school, Sirius was a part of the infamous marauders, telling stories and joking around, for the first time any of them could think of, they had fun in a family party, since Sirius’ friends weren’t pureblood except for Potter but his family had been banished from the sacred twenty-eight for being “blood traitors” and Y/N’s friends’ parents kept them at their side the whole time for “good image”. 

Y/N stole a bottle of fire whiskey from the cellar and started showing the house to Sirius, while the two of them drank more than their bodies could handle, who was just as pleased as her for making fun of the paintings and carpets and the fancy but useless stuff their families valued so much. As they entered a room, particularly big and empty, Sirius had to catch his breath, Y/N and him started running through the halls before entering the room they were now on. He had only now realised that he had grabbed her hand, and apparently she hadn’t noticed until now too, making her blush furiously, releasing each other’s hand quickly and Sirius teased.

“getting comfy are we?” He smirked, as she blushed at his comment. They were very close, he could feel her breath catching. “Where would we be now, love?” He asked inching closer to her.

The both teenagers weren’t thinking straight anymore, the alcohol in their system already influencing their emotions. All they could think about, was how their touch felt electrical and the magnetic pull they were feeling towards each other, wondering how would their lips feel like. They just wanted to have fun, not caring about consequences that moment.

“Ball room” she said innocently but still a bit teasingly, not backing away from him as he inched closer to her “East wing, third floor, far away from where the party is going on, on the first floor” she bit her lip “But still very close to a room-” she said boldly wanting to see his reaction to her suggestions “-two doors away near a window at the end of the hall next to a beautiful painting of my favourite flowers” she said voice husky and breathy, making Sirius groan.

He chuckled low, “And may I ask you whose room is that?” They were now so close that their lips were slightly brushing.

“Why don’t you take me there and see for yourself” she said feeling a flip on her stomach and with a swift motion he lift her up bridal style, making her shiver at the contact, but then laughed, his hand gripping her body and legs tightly as he followed her instructions to get to her room. Once there, he settled her down on her bed and admired the girl in front of him, lust in his eyes. She smiled and bit her lip, she knew Sirius’ reputation, only one night stands, he was a ladies man, but she didn’t care, she wanted him, the fact that her mother would murder her if she ever found out only made it all more exciting.

Sirius took a look at the room, it wasn’t dark as the rest of the house was, it was still sophisticated, but nicer, the detailed wood on the wall was white and, above, the wall it self was light lilac, the room had big windows covered by delicate curtains and even had a balcony, and everything matched between the lilac and whites tones, she had a few paintings and pictures, and flowers, probably fake but still beautiful, the same flowers as on the darker painting outside, her four poster bed that matched the couches by the windows had delicate semi transparent white curtains and her silk white sheets were under a soft lilac blanket, she had a lot of silk pillows with subtle embroidered details on the corners, it was certainly appealing he thought, a beautiful room fit for a princess. Then he was brought back to reality.

“Do you think our parents are wondering where we are?” He asked with a still semi amazed look, it made her laugh, she patted the sheets next to her, inviting him to sit, he sat closely to her and then suddenly she went to the middle of the bed, which was big, pushing his wrists and they sat there, her legs crossed.

“They probably are” she affirmed giggly, she hadn't let his wrists go yet, she was holding it gently. “But, they won’t find us here, even though it’s pretty obvious that i’d hide in my room. Mom and dad wouldn’t leave the party” She paused and laughed “And well your parents certainly won’t come up here to my room i guess” He chuckled at her commentary.

“Well, well, miss perfect pureblood daughter escaping a dinner-party with the rebel Black son, who’d have thought” Sirius said dramatically, she laughed at him.

“Guess this Black here is just a bad influence on me, or… I just put on a good facade” she said more serious this time, voice low, eyes fixated on his. Her hand tracing their way up his arm, his gaze fixed on her movements. “And the fact that if mommy finds out i brought a guy to my room, and that he’s in my bed with me, would make her go crazy, only turns me on” Sirius let a little breathy moan escape his throat.

When Sirius looked at her she was already looking at him, lust all over her eyes. He trailed off just a little and asked, voice low “Y/N… are you sure you want this?” She nodded so he grabbed her waist and pulled her to his lap, he was holding her waist, lips brushing, he finally kissed her, the kiss felt electrical, it was slow and passionate at first but then I grew more heated. One of her hands was wrapped in his neck, the other was holding his chest going slowly lower, he was pulling her impossibly closer, the both couldn't get enough of each other. They had to pause for catching a breath, in the mean time Sirius leant over pushing Y/N down onto bed earning a tiny moan form her. They started kissing again, but this time was less passionate, more lustful and heated, Sirius started fiddling with her dress’ zipper and took it off slowly, undressing her, tracing kisses in each piece of newly exposed skin until she was only in her underwear, She, then, pushed his blazer off then started unbuttoning his shirt while kissing and sucking his neck making him moan. Once they were both in their underwear Sirius looked at her searching for a final consent, when she nodded, he took the rest of their clothes off.

“What do you want princess?” He asked kissing his way down from her cheek, to her jaw, neck, breasts and she moaned a little louder, the nickname turned her on even more. “Hmm??” He groaned waiting for her answer. “I want to her you say it”

“I… want you” she said between moans, after that she pulled his boxers down kissing him desperately, waiting to feel him against her in the most intimate way possible, the feeling was ethereal.

——————————

They laid in her bed legs tangled under the silk sheets, her head laid in his chest, his hands caressing her back while the other wrapped around her waist pulling her closer, making her shiver, the both of them catching their breaths while he stroke figure eights on her back inhaling her delicate floral floral scent. It felt heavenly to be there by his side, neither of them wanting to let go of one another, enjoying every moment before reality came back to them, but they knew they’ve been gone for too long, the party was probably ending.

“Sirius” she said voice as low as a whisper “This was nice” he smiled at her and pulled her to a kiss.

“Yes, it’s nice to have some fun in these events, and you love, are the most fun I could've had today” he said trailing his hand on her lower back “I mean, this is certainly the best place my parents could’ve dragged me to”. It made her chuckle. He never thought he’d fuck a girl his mother would approve and in one of their elite parties, but here he was, proof that Sirius Black always managed to corrupt girls, anywhere.

“Glad you liked it then” she said chuckling while she buried her head in his neck. But they couldn’t go on with this any longer. “You should go first” she said “Your parents are probably looking for you and it would be suspicious if we showed up together” she advised “Since the fact that we’re both missing from the party is already very much suspicious” she said laughing this time.

“Sure, love” he helped her get dressed before dressing himself and gave one last peck on her lips before getting out of bed. “See you” with a wink and that signature smile of his, he left, leaving her there with her thoughts about the events of this evening and the captivating boy, while rubbing her hands lightly where he left love bites on her neck, knowing she’d have trouble walking tomorrow and a bad headache from all the drinking. She decided it was best if she took a shower, changed into her pyjamas and if her parents show up there, she’d say she wasn't feeling well and wanted to sleep.

On his way back Sirius kept thinking about Y/N and how much they’re alike, she was the only nice person he met in one of those parties, she was a good kisser too. Starting to get confused on why he was thinking so much about the girl and the strange feeling she caused on him, but then assumed it was because of all the drinking, he didn't realise his mother, father and brother were waiting for him in the foyer and their faces weren’t kind, he knew it’d be a long night back home. But he didn’t care his only thoughts were about going back to Hogwarts and seeing her again.

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Can’t Lose You

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Summary: Y/N, a servant in the palace, and Zuko, the prince of the Fire Nation, never should have been allowed to be friends growing up but after three years, things have changed for the both of them. 

Warnings: Descriptions of burns/ injuries (the scene where Ozai burns Zuko)

Word Count: 7300 (it’s a long one y’all)

A/N: I know that they never once mention cards in A:TLA but I had a hard time figuring out how to do the scene with Azula with something like Pai Sho pieces. 

Part 2 out now! Can’t Get Rid Of Me

________________________________

It was a beautiful day on Ember Island, with the sun shining brightly, the waves crashing in beautiful roars, and the lizard-birds cawing overhead. The sun warmed your skin as you carried your basket full of blown glass beaded jewelry into the marketplace, small glass orbs of every color swishing around like liquid almost in the woven basket. The normal crowd bustled around you in three categories: 1) The Rich Kids: These were the teenagers whose parents were generals or socialites in the Fire Nation military. They were either here on vacation or enjoyed living in an exotic place. Their lives revolved around partying, shopping, and drinking. 2) The Merchants and Artisans: Another set of locals, just much less affluent than the former group. These were the people who lived on Ember Island full time and were the only reason things ran. They provided services from cooking to clothing to furniture. 3) The Tourists: These were the citizens from the mainland that came to Ember Island to take in the sights and relax. You were a part of the second of these categories. 

Creating glass beads was never something you saw yourself doing. Especially not several years ago. Artisanal work was something that seemed so far out of anything you could do. See, you’d grown up in the palace… sort of. Your parents had been servants in the palace prior to your birth which led you to a life of servitude yourself. 

It was a miserable life no matter how much your parents insisted it was better than living in one of the poorer villages outside of the palace, where people were treated like they were from other nations. Every day from the age of eleven, you’d been bossed around by anyone who had a title. “Get me water!” “Get me food!” “Wash my clothes!” “Make my bed!” You were nothing. Most of the time, they didn’t even use your name. Most of them didn’t even know your name. But that wasn’t even the worst of it because there was always Azula. 

**

The sun shone brightly in the little courtyard full of flowers and the little pond with turtle ducks that you and Zuko loved to play with. Zuko had been your best friend since his mother had allowed you to play with the royal children. Both of your parents were servants in the palace and, in the early years of your life, you were too young to work around the castle when you weren't in school. When Ursa found out, she insisted that you play with Zuko, Azusa, Mai, and Ty Lee, despite Ozai's insistence that his children should not associate with people below them. It was the one debate that Ursa ever seemed to win.  

Despite her victory though, it didn't mean that your 'play dates' were much fun. At first, you gravitated towards Azula, Ty Lee, and Mai, as they were the girls and who Ursa first introduced you to with the assumption you guys would be friends. While Mai and Ty Lee both loved you and treated you well, Azula took after her father and treated you like scum. She'd feign niceties and then turn on you and do horrible things. She treated Zuko very similarly so the two of you bonded over your mutual dislike of his sister. 

The two of you became best friends and did everything together. You ran around the halls of the palace but always made sure to hide away from Ozai, fearing he'd do something to you or your parents if he found you with his son. Although nothing was outright romantic between the two of you, Ursa saw the little sparks between you two when she was with you. She noticed the way your guys' little cheeks would burn red if your hands accidentally touched or saw the way your gazes would linger a little longer on each other when the other looked away. Unlike her husband, she had no problem with your little unspoken crushes. Thankfully, Ozai was never involved in his children's personal lives much anyways so he didn't notice but it wasn't long until Azula caught on. 

She would corner you and pretend to want to have "girl talk" about boys and crushes. It was never long until she brought up her brother. "I know you like Zuko. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. I think it's cute that you think you have a chance. But you know he's a prince right? And even though you get to play royals with us, he could never marry someone of such low class." Even at ten years old, her words stung. You'd always had little fantasies that maybe he'd sweep you away from your predestined life of servitude one day. He didn't even have to sweep you away to a life of royalty, you just wanted him to sweep you away to anywhere. But maybe Azula was right. Zuko was royalty and you were far from it. 

So your friendship continued for the next several years until his banishment. In secret, he taught you firebending from a young age. As a servant, it didn't matter much if you were a firebender, you didn't get training because your parents neither had the money or the time nor were either benders. He taught you the basic moves and, though he wasn't as skilled as his sister, you were greatly appreciative of his teaching and actually knew almost as much as he did.

One day, just days after your eleventh birthday, you and Zuko sat at the edge of the pond, trying to oure turtle ducklings to you with pieces of bread. "I've almost got him!" Zuko whispered excitedly, the baby duck only two or three feet away. 

You couldn't wait to pet him! They were so soft when they were ducklings! 

"Hey, Y/N! Come here!" Azula called from across the grass field. You stood up and looked cautiously at her, already distrusting all of her motives. 

"Why?" You asked skeptically. 

Her eyebrows furrowed, "My mother may let you play with us but I am still a princess and you obey me! Besides, it's just a card trick." Azula's personality switched quickly, which scared you as a young child, but after a quick look of fear to Zuko, you walked over. 

Mai and Ty Lee stood back, both watching as you came over to their group and leaned down to look at the cards Azula lied on the rock. "What's the trick?" You asked, hoping she really did just have a magic trick. 

She sprawled them out, "Pick one and look at it but don't show me. You can show them though." She waved her hand to her other friends as if they didn't actually matter. Without much thought, you picked one that was buried slightly and looked at it. 8 of diamonds. 

"Now put it anywhere in the deck." You did as she instructed and handed her back the deck. She closed her eyes tightly and threw all the cards up in the air before swinging her arms in controlled movements, ropes of fire coming from her hands. One rope singed a single card from midair while the other wrapped around your calves, sending a searing hot white flash of pain through your body. 

"Y/N!" Zuko yelled when he saw the flames wrap their way up your legs and he ran towards you. You crumpled to the ground, tears falling freely as you cried in pain. Mai and Ty Lee gasped at what their friend had just done but didn't say anything out of pure terror of what she'd do if they did. 

Azula reached down and picked up the single singed card, a hole burnt straight through it. She inspected the card, "Eight of diamonds. Was this your card?" She asked as if you weren't on the ground, sobbing in pain with blisters forming up your legs from something she'd done. 

"Mom!" Zuko called out as he sat there beside your crying form, unsure of what to do or say, anger flaming up within him.

"Oh calm down, Zuzu," Azula rolled her eyes, "Your girlfriend is fine. It's a second-degree burn at most." 

"She's not my girlfriend!" Zuko hissed, throwing a fireball at his sister that she easily dodged, "You're a monster!" 

Ursa came running out quickly at her son's plea for help, "What on earth is going on here?!" She crouched next to you and could see the skin on your legs already boiling up from between the seared tears in your pants, "Azula, what have you done!?" Ursa was furious as she picked you up. 

Azula scoffed, "We were only playing, mother. It was an accident." 

"No it wasn't! Azula hurt her on purpose!" Zuko defended you, jumping up to stand beside his mother. 

Ursa looked at Ty Lee and Mai who looked terrified and didn't even make a move but the look in their eyes confirmed what Zuko said. Ursa held you close to her body before gripping her daughter's wrist roughly, "You have no idea how much trouble you're in." 

And she did. Azula had never gotten in so much trouble in her life, though, of course it did nothing but fuel her hatred for her mother and you and make her side further with her father She blamed you entirely and had harbored resentment against you for having the nerve to return the next day (something you did only because Zuko had begged you to since he wasn't allowed at your house.) Since that day, you never feared her again. You hated her. You didn't think it was possible to hold so much resentment for some as you did for her but you swore one day you'd get your shot to firebend her ass into a pile of ashes without receiving capital punishment, the only thing that kept you even remotely professional over the years. 

**

You shuttered at the thought. The scars that crawled up your calves like vines tingled whenever you thought about that day. It was far from the last time that Azula was ever mean to you but it was the worst thing she’d ever done to you physically. Mentally, well that was another story. 

That was why you’d run away to Ember Island. Even though you too were a fire bender, you could never retaliate against Azula, who took a sick pleasure in torturing you. At one point, you thought it would be worth the inevitable death or imprisonment that was sure to come with retaliation but when you got close, so close that Azula could sense that you were about to fire at her, she brought up your parents, and what she could do to them. It was enough to make you stop that day but it was that night that you left the castle, leaving only a note for your parents to briefly explain before disappearing. With the impending war and attacks, Ember Island seemed like a good enough place to set up. It was far enough away from Azula to be safe but vacationing didn’t seem high on anyone’s priorities list. 

So this was your new life and you loved it. 

The trip to the market was a quick one. You only had to drop off the beads to the artisans who made jewelry from them- you were only the bead maker. The rest of the day was open for you. As you walked back, you came to a split in the road. One, you knew led directly back to the house you were staying at. The other, you couldn’t recall having ever taken in all your time here.

“Let’s see what’s down here.” You hummed to yourself, looking for a little something to change up your routine. This was what you loved about no longer being a maid in the palace. Freedom. Freedom to go where you want, when you want, with who you want, to do whatever you want. The road itself was dirt with the occasional rocks around. It was lined with the large tropical plants found all around the island. At first, there were scattered stores which began to mix with houses before becoming entirely residential. These houses were quite a bit nicer than the houses in the residential area you lived in. Fire Nation flags hung from many of them. “Generals?” You questioned aloud to nobody but yourself. 

Down the road just a bit further, maybe a quarter mile down, the dirt road became much less maintained but there was still a path. After a while of walking, you saw that it led up a small hill to a large house that seemed hidden away from almost the entire island. It was large and beautiful, with traditional architecture built up in red tiles. The walls were practically windows, which you figured would be fantastic considering the wonderful view of the ocean from here. 

The road dead ended into this one home so you knew you should turn around now but the curiosity was killing you. This house looked luxurious but abandoned. The windows, though not broken, were dusty and looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in years. You couldn’t imagine anyone who owned such a magnificent vacation home allowing it to get so dirty unless it hadn't been used in a long time. 

Figuring you probably wouldn't get caught, you decided to check out the house and walked around the building. Heck, if it were abandoned, maybe you could even move in and fix it up. That wouldn’t count as stealing right? 

You wandered around the house until suddenly-

“Guys, someone’s coming!” A girl’s voice exclaimed from the side of the house that faced the beach. Your heart stopped and before you could even jump to hide in a bush, there were running footsteps coming towards you. Within seconds, a group of people about your age were staring at you. 

Your hands flew up in defense, “I am so sorry. I thought the house was abandoned and-” As you spoke, your eyes scanned across the faces until you noticed one in particular that made everything stop, “Z-zuko?” You couldn’t believe your eyes. Your best friend in the world, even after all this time, stood ahead of you, looking so different than you remembered but also exactly the same. His hair that you’d always known to be tied up to perfection and his royal clothing always neatly pressed, a desperate attempt to be as perfect as he could for his father, was now ragged and relaxed. His hair was down, grown long and dangling over his eyes in some spots. His clothing was that of commoners instead of royalty but you couldn’t help but notice the taut muscles and small scars that he’d acquired over the time of his exile. 

“Y/N? Is that really you?” Zuko’s eyes were wide with total shock and his skin paled as if he’d seen a ghost. He honestly never thought he’d see you again but there you stood, looking more beautiful than ever. He almost didn’t even recognize you. All throughout your childhoods, you’d always looked the same, day in and day out. Your hair was always down with the exception of the signature Fire Nation bun and you wore off-red servant’s garbs. But now, now you looked exquisite. Your hair was similar to how it was, still flowing down with the bun on top, save for the two small braids that framed your face. Instead of robes, you now wore a crimson crop top that crossed around your neck with an asymmetrical skirt of the same color over black capris. But the thing he noticed most of all was the gold arm band around your bicep that he’d given you for your birthday the year before he was banished. 

You nodded fervently and almost ran towards him but your knees nearly buckled when you collided. Thankfully, Zuko had his arms wrapped tightly around you, hugging you so tightly he lifted you to your toes anyways. You couldn’t help the overwhelming surge of emotions. Somewhere between relief and love and fear and confusion. When Zuko was banished, you were terrified you’d never see him again.

“How is this possible? Azula told me you were dead.” Zuko finally set you down and looked into your eyes. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “What? No… I’m-” You struggled to figure out where to start, “After you were banished, I stayed for another two years but without yours or your mother’s defense, she just got worse and worse. One day, I just- I almost snapped. I could feel the warmth in my hands. I almost attacked her but she began to threaten my parents. Deep down, I knew I couldn’t beat her. I haven’t had a teacher since you left. I didn’t hurt her but I ran away that night. After a while of wandering, I ended up here. I don’t know why she told you I was dead but it sounds like something she would do.” 

Zuko looked away angrily, “She’s always been a monster to you. To both of us. When I went back to the palace, I asked about you and she told me that you’d gotten sick and died shortly after I left. She only said it because she knew I’d be devastated and I fell right into the trap.” 

A part of your heart twinged from the feeling of being loved. Even after all this time apart, in which you were scared he’d forget about you, he just admitted to being devastated when he’d thought you’d died. 

You were unsure of how to respond to the look on Zuko’s face, a strange mixture of anger and relief. Pure bitterness for Azula. After a brief moment, you reached out for him and pulled him in for another hug, again holding onto him like you’d never let him go again. The very thought of losing Zuko another time made your heart jump to your throat in the worst of ways. “I’m here now though. No matter her threats or lies, here we are.” 

“You know her?” A young bald boy with arrows on his head asked from back with the rest of the group. You’d forgotten there were more people there but when you looked back, you noticed the rest of the group. 

Zuko turned to face the group but kept his hand placed on the small of your back, keeping you close to him, “This is Y/N. She was my best friend back at the palace. Y/N, this is Suki, Sokka, Katara, Toph, and Aang. Aang is the avatar.” 

The boy named Sokka looked suddenly distressed, “You’re just going to tell a friend from the Fire Nation palace that Aang’s the avatar?! What if she tries to kill him?” 

You shook your head at the accusation, your eyebrows raised in a desperate attempt to convince them that you were being truthful, “Oh no! I’ve never agreed with the Fire Nation’s goals! If you’re the avatar, you need to stop Ozai.” 

“I can vouch for her. Even when we were kids, she told me in secret that she didn’t believe that there was any superior element and that the Fire Nation shouldn’t be invading the other nations. Even when I did….” Zuko’s face fell with guilt for what his past self believed, “But I promise, if anyone from the Fire Nation would be on our side, it’s her.” 

Suki stepped forward, her face kind and curious, “You said you ran away from the palace? Are you royalty too?” 

You snorted and Zuko actually cracked a small humorous smile as well, “Oh no. A servant actually.” 

“A servant?” Katara questioned, “I don’t mean to be rude but if you’re a servant and Zuko was a prince, how were you friends?” 

Zuko stiffened up a little bit while you tried to hide the sadness you felt revolving around the circumstances, “My parents were the only royal servants to have a child. Zuko’s mother saw that I didn’t have any friends in the palace and allowed me to play with Zuko, Azula, Mai, and Ty Lee.” The memories of Ursa were all fond. Aside from Zuko, she was the only member of the royal family who treated you with any kindness. When she disappeared, you and Zuko mourned your loss of her together, even though you never did find out the truth about what happened to her that night. 

“You were forced to play with Azula? That must have been traumatizing.” Toph chimed, genuine apology in her sarcastic tone. 

You shifted awkwardly from side to side, one hand shooting up to rub your opposite bicep as those scars that snaked up your calves seemed to burn with awareness, “Yeah, it kind of was.” Your voice was lower than it had been, as the incident had been somewhat of a sore spot for you. 

Katara followed Zuko’s inconspicuously downcast gaze to where your legs were visible beneath your tight black pants that you wore beneath your asymmetrical red skirt. She was automatically hit with a pang of guilt when she saw the ever so slightly raised red vine-like scars that trailed up your legs and disappeared beneath the pants and immediately had an idea of how you’d acquired them. “I’m so sorry. We didn’t mean to-” 

“It’s okay, you didn’t know,” You insisted sincerely, “Besides, they don’t bother me much anymore.” 

Eager to shift the topic, Aang jumped into the conversation, “Well I don’t know if you’ve got a home here or anything but you're welcome to stay with us.” He offered cheerily. Everyone else seemed in agreement, or at least didn't outright object, and how could you possibly say no to getting to spend time with Zuko again? 

"I'd love to. Thank you." 

Later that night, you and Zuko left the group by the campfire to disappear into the house. "So, this is the infamous summer house you'd always leave me for." You chuckled in remembrance, memories of having to watch your best friend disappear for weeks at a time while having to pretend you didn't care for the sake of keeping your friendship 'appropriate', especially after Ursa disappeared. 

"I always wanted to take you here. It's so much different now. Everything's different…" he trailed off, coming to a stop in the middle of a large, mostly empty room. The moonlight streaming from the windows cast a nostalgic shadow on the room and you couldn't help but remember the last time you saw each other. 

**

It was sickening. The entire arena was filled to the brim with people, mostly Fire Nation elite, all surrounding the main floor. Servants weren't supposed to be permitted but Iroh had snuck you in. Iron had taken you in as much as he could, seeing how important to Zuko you were. In a way, you too felt like he was your uncle. When you'd gone to him, begging him to stop the Agni Kai, he insisted that he'd tried to talk sense into his brother but was unsuccessful and that the most he could do to help was sneak you into the audience. 

So there you stood, surrounded by hundreds of animals who cheered for the murder of their thirteen year old prince by a well experienced war general, all because Zuko thought it wasn’t right to sacrifice hundreds of soldiers. “I’m not afraid to face the general,” Zuko had told you as he practiced his firebending with you all day before the Agni Kai, “I meant no disrespect, but I refuse to take back what I said. If this is what it takes, then this is what I’ll do.” 

When Zuko walked out into the open arena, the room went silent. Nobody would dare boo their prince but you were sure that if he were anyone else, they would have. He knelt down, facing away from where his opponent would take his place, staring at the ground. Your heart was in your throat with fear for your best friend. Although Zuko was your secret firebending teacher and much better than you, he had a tendency to crack under the gaze of people he was desperate to impress. The general he was supposed to fight was definitely not someone you’d imagine was one to take it easy on a kid, even if he was the prince. 

Zuko’s opponent came out in the shadows and shadowed his kneel, facing away from Zuko. When it was time, they both stood up and stepped towards each other. When they did, everyone gasped. Where the general was expected to be stood Ozai himself. An audible gasp and murmur ran through the crowd. 

“Oh no-” You stopped breathing entirely, “What’s happening?” Even from your obscured seat, you could see Zuko’s eyes widen in shock and panic. Confliction was written all over his face. 

The man beside you chuckled sadistically, “By speaking out in the Fire Lord’s war room, he has not only disrespected the general but the Fire Lord himself. This should be good.” You turned away from the man in utter disbelief that someone could say something like that about a literal child about to be harmed by his father. 

Ozai stepped forward, hands up and ready to deflect any attacks from his son but the way he moved showed that he didn’t expect his son to make any move. He was testing him and Zuko had failed to impress. Zuko fell onto his knees, shaking in fear. He hung his head low, “Please, father! I only had the Fire Nation’s best interest at heart. I’m sorry I spoke out of turn.” 

“You will fight for your honor.” Ozai continued to step towards him, an unyielding expression on his face. 

“I meant you no disrespect. I am your loyal son.” Zuko begged, laying all of his dignity on the line in front of the nation’s most influential people. 

Ozai wanted no part of it, “Rise and fight, Prince Zuko.” 

Zuko’s forehead laid on the ground as Ozai came to stand above him, “I won’t fight you.” 

His father stood tall and loomed over his small child, “You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher.” 

When Zuko looked up, tears streamed down his cheeks, knowing that his father had no consideration of mercy. All you could hear were Zuko’s screams and the roar of flames leaving Ozai’s fist as you watched your friend be brutally burned. Your tears were unstoppable and unconsolable as you genuinely thought he killed Zuko. When the flames stopped, he was on the ground, holding his face and sobbing in pain. Ozai turned his back, something between pride for winning and embarrassment for the way his son reacted to the duel on his face. 

“The way you have behaved during this Agni Kai was more disgraceful than speaking out of turn. You have brought shame on yourself and the royal family. The punishment is banishment. Unless you can capture the Avatar, you are no longer welcome in the Fire Nation.” You gasped at what Ozai had said before he turned away and left, head straight and lips tight.

You began to run and push your way through the crowd, thanking goodness for your smaller stature compared to the adults all around. You had to find Zuko and make sure he was okay. You didn’t care if you’d get caught or in trouble, you just needed to find him. Being a servant had its perks in knowing the palace inside and out. It became obvious that nobody was going to help the prince until, while on your way through the halls, you ran into Iroh who too was looking to help the boy. 

Finally, you’d made your way to him and Iroh carried him to a washroom. You quickly ran over and retrieved a bowl of cool water while Iroh leaned him back. “Pour the water on the burn.” He instructed. 

“Close your eyes.” You told Zuko, although his eyes were already shut tight in pain. The cool water flowed from the bowl and onto his face, which looked red and blistered already. This was by far the worst burn you’d ever seen. Zuko struggled slightly against the liquid but stopped crying and calmed down when the water became soothing. 

Iroh had located bandages and began to bandage his nephew’s face. 

“I-I can’t believe what happened.” Zuko stuttered out, “He banished me.” You weren’t sure you’d ever seen him so pale. “Where do I go, Uncle? What do I do?” He began to work himself up again as the weight of the last hour really settled. 

Iroh turned to put down the gauze, “You must leave the Fire Nation, Prince Zuko,” He began and Zuko looked panicked again, “But I will go with you.” 

You both turned to Iroh, “Uncle, no! You’re whole life is here.” 

“The world is no place for a boy to wander alone. And there is not much here for me in the Fire Nation palace anyways.” You all knew he was referring to the rumors of him being the weaker brother, the disgraced general. “I will accompany you.” 

Zuko placed his hands on his knees and braced himself as he thought through the situation, “I must find the Avatar. It’s the only way to regain my honor.” 

Both you and Iroh looked apprehensive but you were much more vocal, “Zuko, what your father did you today was not what fathers are supposed to do. Someone behaved shamefully today but it was not you.” You insisted, heart aching for him. 

“I need his respect. My honor is the most important thing. I’m going to find the Avatar and when I do, my honor will be restored and I will regain my rightful spot as prince.” Zuko looked pained and troubled. It was clear he knew what he wanted to do but had no idea how he would do it, not that he’d let that stop him though. 

You got quiet, looking down at where his knuckles were turning white from the tight grip on his own knees. Gently, you placed your hand on his and waited for him to look up just enough for you to make eye contact, “I’m going with you then.” You said finally. 

Zuko’s uncovered amber eye met yours before he shook his head, “I can’t let you do that. Your parents are here.” 

“I hate it here.” You insisted desperately, “I’ll come back for them some day but I can’t leave you. You’re the only person that cares about me here.” 

Iroh placed his hand caringly on your shoulder, “Zuko is right, Y/N. This is his journey but I do not think it’s yours. It’s best if you stay.” 

“But… but…” The tears were threatening to spill over as you managed to choke out, “I can’t lose you.” 

There was barely a moment between when the words left your mouth and when Zuko’s lips met yours. At first, you were taken off guard and almost pulled back but when your brain registered what happened, you leaned into the innocent kiss. Your brain ran wild. Was this heat of the moment or had he really felt the same way you did? When he pulled away, you felt cold, “I’ll come back for you one day. I promise.” 

** 

“So, speaking of different, you sure look like a different Zuko than the one I knew. Last I heard around the palace, you were super intense and obsessive about finding the avatar.” You asked, teasing towards the end. 

Zuko inhaled awkwardly, his hand coming to rub behind his neck, “Yeah… I was. Until I realized that my father was a monster and that the Fire Nation had caused nothing but harm and destruction. It took a lot of convincing but they actually let me join them and become Aang’s firebending teacher.” He gestured back to the group who was all laughing, most likely at something Sokka said. 

“Well, he’s got the best teacher around.” You giggled, hitting his arm gently. 

Zuko turned to look at you, “What about you? Things look pretty different for you too.” 

A boulder sat just ahead of you, perfect for the two of you to use as a seat. You leaned back against the stone and Zuko did the same beside you. “Well, when I left the palace, I didn’t know where to go. But then I remembered you telling me about Ember Island and figured that it was far enough away to get me away from Azula but still in the Fire Nation so I wouldn’t have to create a whole new identity. When I got here, I saw an old lady struggling to make it to the market and asked if she needed help. Turns out she’d been making glass beads for years and needed an apprentice. After spending the day together, we ended up striking up a deal. She’d teach me how to make the beads in exchange for room and board. So this is where I’ve been for the last year.” 

Zuko sighed, “I really did mean to come back for you.” 

You exhaled heavily. It had been a sore point for you for a while. You waited for him for two years, over which Azula told you lies about him being killed or disappearing. It was just another fuel for her mental abuse. “I honestly was really angry about it for a long time. But-” 

“No, you had every right to be. But believe me when I tell you it was probably best that you didn’t come. Searching for the Avatar made me someone I didn’t recognize. I became a monster.” He looked away from you, most of the last three years worth of misdoings coming back to haunt him. 

You squeezed his hand, “I doubt you were as bad as you think you were and I’m sure Iroh would tell you the same. Where is Iroh anyways?” 

He sank even deeper, “Another one of my many mistakes.”

Your heart immediately dropped, “Is he…?

Zuko shook his head, “No, no. He’s alive. I’m just sure he hates me.” 

“Zuko, I don’t think you could do anything that would actually make your uncle genuinely hate you. That man holds so much love and respect for you.” Iroh’s love and devotion to Zuko was undeniable and you weren’t lying when you said that there was probably nothing that would make Iroh’s feelings change. 

“I hope you’re right.” Zuko looked off into the distance before looking back at you, “But for what it’s all worth, I’m really glad to see you again.” 

A smile blossomed on your face, “I’m really glad to see you too. I missed you so much.” Even after all the years, it felt as if no time had passed. He was still your Zuko. 

You hadn’t realized that the gap between your bodies had closed to just a mere inch or two until you found yourself leaning your head onto his shoulder without thinking about it. Zuko stiffened up a little bit at the contact, looking around paranoid. He knew logically that there was nothing saying you two couldn’t be friends - or more - anymore. But his gut reaction was to be on his guard, just like when you were children, trying to hide your frowned upon friendship. 

Zuko had always looked back fondly on those memories while he was banished and not one day went by when he didn’t think about you.

**

Iroh walked onto the deck of the large ship to see his nephew standing against the railing and staring into the distance over the ocean. It was like he had the sixth sense for his nephew, always able to see what was going on in his head better than Zuko did. Iroh approached the prince and stood just behind his shoulder, “You’re thinking about Y/N again?” He asked, though it really was more of a statement. 

Zuko looked back over his shoulder towards his uncle, “I just wish I knew she was okay. She’s stuck there with Azula and you already know what she’s done to her! But now I can’t protect her. I should have let her come so I’d know she’s safe.” He looked away angrily, hanging his head, upset with how he’d handled everything. 

“You care for her, Prince Zuko.” Iroh began before getting interrupted by the eager and emotional prince. 

“Of course, I care for her! She’s my best friend.” Zuko had never really had any other real friends. Sure, Mai and Ty Lee were cool when they weren’t around his sister but none of them were you. 

Iroh could see the conflict in the boy’s eyes, “But you care for her as more than that, don’t you?” 

Zuko’s eyes widened. It shouldn’t have come as a shock to him but hearing his secret feelings spoken aloud finally felt like it was actually real. With anyone else in the world, he would have denied it but Iroh was different. “We can never be together.” Zuko confessed, heartbroken all over again. This was why he didn’t admit it to himself. 

“Why’s that?” Iroh asked, as if the answer weren’t obvious like it was to you and Zuko. 

His face scrunched with distress, “Because I’m a prince and… well she’s not even the daughter of a general. I don’t care about her wealth or status but it’s not allowed.” 

“Well, lucky for you, for once, you’re banished. I don’t think anyone would care much if you were to be with her now.” Iroh pointed out. 

Zuko groaned, “I’m not even allowed into Fire Nation territory let alone the palace. I’d never be able to take her away like this. I need to find the Avatar, have my honor restored, and then I’ll find her again and I’ll never let her go.” 

“True love will find a way, Prince Zuko. Remember that happiness and love is more important in this world than titles.” 

** 

Now, you were beside him, your head unashamedly laying on his shoulder and was it his imagination or was your leg touching his now? Zuko cleared his throat, “Y’know, I can’t help but think about how we left things off three years ago,” You shifted to look up at him when he spoke. 

You knew he was talking about the kiss - that one forbidden kiss that had haunted your lips since he left. It had consumed many of your nights as well. “I think about it too. A lot.” You confessed, much less embarrassed than you ever would have imagined. 

Zuko tried to hide the little jump in his chest when he heard the way you agreed, like it wasn’t a bad memory but far from it. “You do?” 

You nodded with a warm smile on your face (or maybe it was just your cheeks burning from the confessions), “I liked you for so long, of course it was something to remember.” 

“Liked?” Zuko questioned nervously, “As in past tense?” 

“Yeah, as in past tense.” You began and Zuko’s heart dropped. 

“Oh…” 

“‘Cause now… I think- I think I fell in love with you a long time ago.” You looked up directly into his eyes, heart in your throat as you waited for a response. 

Zuko’s jaw dropped in disbelief and he stuttered over his words, “There wasn’t a single day I didn’t want to come back and take you away so we could be together.” 

You and Zuko stared into each other’s eyes as the weight of what was being said sunk in. Everything felt heightened right now, like else in the world mattered but Zuko. All you could see and hear and feel was him from his scent of woody spices and smoke to the way the moonlight reflected off his perfect skin - scar included. You could literally feel the warmth radiating from his body, a warmth you had a feeling hadn’t been there in a long time. 

“What’s there to stop us from being together now?” In all the futures you’d imagined with Zuko, this wasn’t really a scenario you’d thought of. The two of you sitting on a rock at Zuko’s family summer house after years of not seeing each other- Zuko, a banished and disgraced prince and you, a former servant runaway- but now seeing each other without the shroud of all the barriers of titles and statuses. 

Your lips had already been dangerously close when you were talking, making the ever so slight move inwards to close the gap feel effortless. The question you’d posed was responded to with a long, deep kiss. Zuko’s lips had changed so much since the last time you’d kissed them. The smooth soft lips that had lingered in your memory were now rougher and slightly chapped, weathered from years of hard work like the rest of him, though still soft enough to be familiar. 

Zuko’s hand came up to rest on the point where your jaw met your neck to guide your lips to his just ever so slightly deeper. He was lost in you, in your lips, in your scent, in your tase, in your touch. This moment was everything he’d dreamed about almost every night on his quest for the Avatar. Like everything else, this felt so different yet so familiar. 

Finally, you pulled away and this time you didn’t feel guilty or immediately look over your shoulder. You got to just be with Zuko. It was as if you were entranced by him, unable to take your eyes away. If you could’ve picked one moment to last forever, this would be it. 

That was until Zuko sighed and turned his face away, “There’s a war.” 

“So we’ll fight together.” Your hand that was still on his squeezed tightly. 

Zuko turned back to you and gripped your other hand, holding them close to his body, “Losing you the first time was hard enough. I can’t lose you again, Y/N.” 

You swallowed hard, “I know I’m not the most skilled Fire Bender in the world but that doesn’t mean I can’t hold my own. I don’t plan on dying in this war and you better not be planning on it either.” 

“That’s not what I mean. I just… I love you Y/N,” He confessed, his typical Zuko-esque flusteredness creeping into his tone, “But now after knowing you feel the same way and knowing what we could be, I just don’t know if I could handle risking losing my best friend and the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.” 

Your breath abandoned you when those three words left his lips, I love you. They were the three words you’d dreamed of hearing him tell you for years. But now he was using them as an excuse to not be with you. “I love you too, Zuko. I’ve loved you for so long. But what difference does it make if we fight this war as a couple or as friends? If we love each other, the pain of losing the other would be the same.” 

Zuko’s gaze fell to where your fingers were interlaced and he brought them up to his chest, looking at the contrast of his larger calloused hands to your smaller, slightly softer ones. “I can’t lose you.” He repeated, closing his eyes, but this time it sounded like a final decision. 

You pulled your body closer to his, your intertwined hands pressed between your chests, as you looked up at him, “Then don’t push me away.” Your plea was low, barely above a whisper, but by the way Zuko looked, you could tell it had some affect. “Please, let us do this together.” 

Zuko found it difficult to argue with you because it was like arguing with himself. You were the vocalization of everything he wanted deep down. “Okay,” He answered finally, “But only if you help me rebuild the Fire Nation when it's all over. Together.” 

[snelbz]

The Ranch {4}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @tacmc x @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty

Cassian rode until the sun had gone down, and after he had everything put away and Daisy was in her stall to rest for the night, he was crashing into his cabin, still filled with frustration and anger. Beau jumped off the recliner and met Cassian by the door, tail wagging. 

After kicking off his muddy boots, Cassian grabbed the bottle of bourbon out of his fridge and slumped down into his recliner before putting the cool bottle to his lips. 

As he was out riding Daisy, he felt guilty, at first, for the things he had said to Nesta in the kitchen. He hadn’t been fair, and he knew it. He was pissed, and felt stupid for the entire ordeal, and as usual, he had let out those feelings by way of smartass comments in hopes to get a rise out of her.

It had worked, of course, but a little too well. She had threatened to fire him. He, who had dedicated almost a decade to this ranch, who had put his heart and soul into everything he had done over the last eight years. He loved working the ranch, and she wanted to fire him? Why? Because what they had done was inappropriate.

It was utter bullshit. 

They were both there that night, and she had wanted it every bit as much as he had. He remembered the fire, the longing, in her eyes, the soft whimpers escaping her lips as his tongue explored her body. He hadn’t imagined it. She wanted him, all of him, but then she left.

Inappropriate.

The word rang through him, repeated in his mind, like a fucking joke.

He grabbed his phone and called Azriel. It rang three times before his brother answered with a breathless, “Hello?”

Cassian gave a quick glance to the clock on the microwave, seeing it was 9:58 on a Saturday night. The one night that both Elain and Azriel are off work and together. And have given their families strict instructions not to call unless it was an emergency.

“Shit, fuck, it’s Saturday, y’all are- well, you know I know what you were doing, but I don’t want to say it because then I’ll think about it and-.”

“Cassian,” Azriel laughed, cutting him off. “I’m at the gym.” He laughed again as he heard Cass breath a sigh of relief, but explained before he could ask. “They needed El to work a double in the NICU today so she gets tomorrow off. So maybe don’t call tomorrow, yeah?”

He cleared his throat and scratched at the back of his neck. “Right, sorry about that. This would have been real awkward.”

Az snorted on the other end of the phone and the telltale echo Cass could hear in the background told him he’d made his way into the locker room. “Less awkward than that time you took a buckle bunny back to the room in Houston, didn’t tell me or Rhys, and we walked in right when you were about to-.”

“Okay, yes, less awkward than that,” Cass mumbled, all by himself, but still feeling the tips of his ears burn.

He could hear Azriel’s deep laughter on the other end of the phone and when he returned the phone to his ear, he asked, “So what’s got you so out of sorts that you called me on a Saturday night?”

Cassian debated on giving him a little bit of back story, but he’d seen how they were last night. Maybe Az could try and give him a little insight, since he had successfully figured out one of the Archeron sisters.

“I almost fucked Nesta last night.” There was absolute silence on the other end. Cassian pulled the phone from his ear to make sure he hadn't dropped the call somehow. “Az?”

“Rhys and I will be over in twenty.”

The line went dead and Cassian sighed, looking over at Beau. The pup ran over and licked Cassian’s outstretched hand as he said in a singsong voice, “Dad’s in trouble…”

Beau barked as if to say, Trust me, I know. And the pup’s following grin said, And I can’t wait to watch you get your ass handed to you.

Cassian sighed as he fell back in his recliner and waited - waited for his brothers to come give him hell.

Maybe he deserved hell.

He didn’t know.

He took another gulp from the bottle. 

Beau jumped up on Cassian’s lap and Cassian let out a long string of curses as he almost spilled his bourbon. Beau was a massive puppy and didn’t understand that he wasn’t a lap dog anymore. Cass didn’t have the heart to tell him either.

Beau was still sprawled across Cassian’s lap, getting his belly rubbed, twenty minutes later, when the cabin door was thrown open.

Azriel was still dressed in his sweaty gym clothes. Cassian assumed he had stopped by to pick up Rhys on the way, who was wearing old sweatpants and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. 

Beau hopped off Cassian, at last, to greet his uncles as Rhysand said, “Feyre says fuck you.”

Cassian blinked. “Wh- you told her?”

Rhysand shrugged, shutting the front door. “I had to let her know where I was going.”

Cassian groaned. “Couldn’t have said you were just coming over for a drink?”

Azriel chuckled as Rhysand said, “I could’ve, but then I couldn’t watch her kick your ass the next time she sees you.”

Cass leaned back in the recliner, covering his face with his hands. The words were muffled as he said, “She would have figured out a reason to anyways, she always does.”

He heard the couch next to him groan as one of his brothers sat down, but Rhys’ voice came from the kitchen when she replied. “Yeah, but now I don’t have to get my ass kicked when she finds out that I knew, and didn’t tell her.”

Cass moved his hands away to see Azriel shaking his head as he threw his sweaty tennis shoes across the room. Beau immediately chased them to the corner, but a whistle from Cassian had him begrudgingly trotting back to his place on the floor in front of the recliner. He flopped down with a huff.

Azriel, deciding to no longer beat around the bush, asked, “Dude, what the hell? You said you two couldn’t even be in the same room without wanting to scream at each other when you called me the day before yesterday.”

Cassian leaned forward and dropped his head into his hands. “I don’t know, I just- she just gets under my skin.”

“She’s Nesta Archeron,” Rhysand announced, finally appearing from the small kitchen. There was a bottle of cheap whiskey in one hand and three glasses in the other. “The Cauldron made her with the sole purpose of getting under people’s skin.”

“Rhys,” Azriel warned.

He placed the contents on the small table between the couch and recliner and held up his hands in surrender. “Now, Cassian, because you’ve chosen to make yet another stupid decision, and because the three of us chose to make that stupid pact at seventeen-years-old, we’re here to be miserable with you.” He cracked the seal and put the plastic bottle of liquor to his lips, the burn of the alcohol damn near painful. He handed the bottle to Cass and he blew out a harsh breath and shook his head.

He happily took it and chugged much more than most humans typically would. When he put the bottle down and opened his eyes, Azriel and Rhysand were watching him.

Azriel let out a low whistle. “You’re in worse shape than I thought.”

“I talked to her about it this afternoon, too,” Cassian said, head already feeling light. “It didn’t go well.”

“Did you….expect it to?” Rhysand asked, brows raised as they passed around the bottle.

Cassian didn’t reply. He didn’t have a good answer. Yes, he had, but he wasn’t sure why.

“Well,” Azriel went on, clearing his throat. “We’re here to take your mind off of it.”

“Drink,” Rhysand said, handing the bottle to Cassian, once more. He did, but not quite as deeply as the first. “And start at the beginning.”

Cassian handed the bottle back to him. “You both may want to start drinking, too,” he said, closing his eyes and reclining back in the chair.

Rhys did as he was told, but Azriel asked, “And why’s that?”

“Because it all started with me walking into the kitchen in the main house to find her perky, little ass up in the air, in the tightest pair of jeans shorts I've ever seen, and ended with her legs wrapped around my waist and her tits in my mouth, against that wall.” Cassian gestured towards the doorway, eyes still closed.

He heard two more heavy swallows.

“I assume something happened between those two moments,” Azriel muttered. 

Cassian kept his eyes closed as he said, “I blame the alcohol.”

“Bullshit,” Rhysand said, the couch creaking as he shifted his weight. “Your alcohol tolerance is impressive, to say the least.” 

“We did run into each other, literally, after our shower yesterday afternoon,” Cassian muttered. “That didn’t help.”

A pause, then Azriel said, “Our? As in...together?”

Cassian opened his eyes just to roll them. “No. She was getting ready in the main house, too, I didn’t know.”

Rhysand gave him a knowing look.

“I didn’t know,” Cassian repeated, words clipped. 

“Alright, alright,” Rhysand mumbled, laughing quietly as he took the bottle from Azriel. “Not to mention that you drove her to and from the bar last night.”

“We came back here, I invited her in,” he went on, taking the bottle from Rhysand and fiddling with the label. “We drank a little, got to know each other a little… She wanted it.”

“You think every woman wants to fuck you,” Rhysand said, as Cassian took a sip of whiskey.

He leaned forward, setting the bottle on the side table and rested his knees on his hands. “Yeah, well, when you’re playing Twenty Questions, and someone says ‘If given the chance, would you fuck me’, what the hell would you think?”

They were both quiet.

“She...asked you that?” Azriel asked, reaching across Rhys for the bottle.

“Swear on my mother’s grave.” Cassian stood up and began pacing in front of the television. “Gods, I tried to fucking not, too. I took the drink instead of answering the question and then I left her out here.” He ran a hand through his hair, pulling it free from the tie it’d been in all day. “I went back into my room and I was going to let her leave and give her some bullshit story about getting sick or something this morning whenever I saw her.” He paused and looked over at that empty recliner, looked at where she’d been sitting just a night ago. “But then I thought, what if I don’t get this chance again? This woman, she’s all that I’ve thought about for the last three days and I just…”

Cassian trailed off and Azriel, without looking away from his brother, nudged Rhys’ arm. “I think we might need that second bottle you left out in the truck.”

“Yeah,” Rhysand said, blinking, before hauling ass out of the cabin. He came back a minute later, with an unopened bottle, as Cassian continued to pace in his little living room.

“Okay,” Rhysand said, settling back into the couch and twisting open the bottle. “Continue.”

Cassian sighed, running a hand, frustratingly, through his hair. “It got a little out of control, for a while...things were getting heated….really fucking heated. Then, she heard my phone vibrate, thanks to you assholes, and I wasn’t going to get it, because, obviously, my phone was the last thing on my mind, but then she kept telling me to answer the fucking phone, so I did.” The words rushed out of him, and as he took another step, he swayed, then cursed. “I looked at the texts, quickly, then when I looked over my shoulder, the front door was open and she was gone.”

“Shit,” Azriel muttered, Rhysand nodded. “She didn’t say anything?”

Cass scooped the near empty bottle from the table and slumped back into the chair. Beau sat up and rested his head on Cassian’s knee. He scratched behind his ear and shook his head, putting his lips to the bottle. He drained the rest of it.

“Should I offer you this before I ask how this morning went?” Rhys asked, extending his hand.

Cassian again shook his head, but stood up and made his way to the kitchen, grabbing a few bottled waters. Didn’t matter if he got shitfaced drunk tonight, he’d still have to be up with the sun to start his day. He sat back down and handed the other two bottles to his brothers.

“It wasn’t this morning, it was about, oh,” he glanced at the clock again. “Three hours ago, give or take.” He took a swig from the cool bottle and set it down. “I gave her space, all day, so she could come up with whatever excuse she wanted, and then when I finally run into her, she’s in this extravagant fucking kitchen, cooking the most delicious looking damn steak I’ve ever seen, and the sun was lighting up her eyes and…” Cass reached for the whiskey again. “She said, it was inappropriate.”

“So she apologized?” Azriel asked, clearly confused.

“Fuck, no, us, what we did, that was inappropriate.” Cassian sighed and dragged a hand down his face. “She says since she’s ‘technically my boss’, we can’t.”

A look of understanding passed between them both.

“What?” Cass asked, noticing the two of them.

“Absolutely not,” was all Azriel said, when Rhys turned to look at him.

Rhys said, “If he’s getting into this thing, he needs to-.”

“Okay, but he’s clearly not getting into it, since Nesta shut him down. I don’t know about you, but I like my balls being-.”

“Oh, shut up, you aren’t even engaged yet, you think you’ll have it bad?”

“Hey!” Cassian said, loudly. They both looked at him. “Someone wanna tell me what the hell you’re talking about?”

Rhysand looked at Azriel. “You brought it up.”

“Fuck you,” he mumbled under his breath, but sighed and looked at Cass. “You didn’t hear this from us and if Elain or Feyre ask, you sure as shit didn’t hear this from us.” Cassian, eyebrows raised, nodded. Azriel looked at Rhys one more time and when he gestured for him to go on, Az sighed. “Nesta nearly got kicked out of the most prestigious culinary institute in France for having an affair with her instructor.”

Cassian stilled.

No one said a word as Cassian stared at Azriel. Even Beau could sense the tension, as he whined quietly, breaking the silence. 

“Sorry, what?” Cassian asked, at last. 

“Happened a few years ago, at the end of her final semester,” Azriel continued, slowly, cautiously. “She was of age, of course, and he was in his late-twenties. She was in love with him, apparently, but when the board found out...well, it didn’t go well. She had to beg and plead to be allowed to finish school and receive her diploma, and she obviously broke it off with the guy, too. And, considering you are technically under her employment…”

Cassian opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. It suddenly all made sense - at least, it made more sense than it had hours before. 

And he had been a complete dick to her, then. 

“Fuck,” Rhysand breathed, “you look like you’re about to puke.”

Azriel slowly rose to his feet and hurried into the kitchen. He came back to the living room with the garbage can, and tentatively set it down in front of Cassian. 

Who still wasn’t saying a word.

“Dude, do you think you should-.”

The sound of retching is all that could be heard in the small cabin.

“Oh shit!” Rhys cried, jumping back into the seat Azriel had just vacated as Cassian emptied the contents of his stomach into the trash can.

He coughed, bracing his hands on the edges of the can. “I’m a piece of shit.”

Rhys mumbled, “Well…”

“Rhys, shut the fuck up.” Azriel said, and handed Cass his water bottle. “Cass, you’re not a piece of shit.”

He groaned, and fell down to the floor as he opened the water bottle and took slow sips.

He should go apologize to Nesta.

But he also knew he had no right to do so. Even if he tried, she probably wouldn’t give him the time of day. 

And he didn’t blame her.

His head was pounding, his stomaching rolling. He closed his eyes and put his face into his hands. 

“I need to go to bed,” he muttered, talking into his hands.

Azriel whistled for Beau, who was instantly by his side. He then walked to the front door and let the pup out for his last potty break of the night. 

“Go get cleaned up. I’ll let Beau in and lock the door behind us.” Azriel leaned beside the wall next to the door and smiled.

Cassian nodded and stood, stumbling back toward the bathroom. He flipped Rhys off as he went.

The second he flipped on the bathroom light he cringed. His eyes were glazed, his eyelids heavy. After grabbing a rag and drenching it in water, he wiped off his face then brushed his teeth. As soon as he walked out into the hall and into his bedroom, he was falling into his bed. He could hear Beau running through the living room, his tail was wagging as he jumped up next to Cassian on his mattress.

Azriel was scolding Rhysand as they walked out. The last thing Cassian heard him say before they shut the front door was, Way to be a prick, dickwad. 

Once Cassian was left alone in the silence, though, his guilt only worsened.

He laid there, listening to his ceiling fan rotate and running his hand down Beau’s belly, and he groaned.

He should text her, tell her that he was sorry for being a dick and-.

He didn’t even have her fucking number.

For a split second, he considered going to her house, apologizing, kissing her, he hadn’t decided yet. But then he realized what a stupid idea that was, and likely to get him fired.

So he laid there, room spinning around him as fast as the fan above him, and waited for the sunrise.

[wouldpollyapprove]

Whiskey Lullaby

Request:  Could you do something where reader goes to Tommy after Arthur gets drunk and scares her?

Requested by Anonymous

Arthur Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: mention of alchol, violence, mention of abuse, language

A/N: If any of you are formiliar with Whiskey Lullaby by Brad Paisley, this is not based off of that, I just liked the name. It’s not super sad, so don’t worry. I hope to have the second part of It’s Quiet Uptown out soon cause I don’t like waiting for the next part of fics and I know you guys don’t either. I hope you guys enjoy this and feedback is always apperciated.

Masterlist

A sigh escaped her lips as Y/n glanced up at the clock. It was nearly two in the morning, she should have gone to sleep hours ago, but that couldn’t be done when the space next to her would lie empty for hours. She wanted to believe her husband was finishing up work or helping Tommy with something but she wasn’t a fool, she knew exactly where he was. Arthur could be found at the same place every night and it most certainly wasn’t at home.

Y/n couldn’t put her finger on when it started, everything seemed fine for a long while. Arthur would go to work and come home right after. Then he started coming home a little later and it sprialled from there. Where he once came home an hour late turned into four hours or not at all. There were mornings Y/n woke up to a call from the Garrison, some poor barmaid informing her that her husband was passed out in a corner. Being the kind soul she was, she said nothing. Lips tight, Y/n didn’t complain, what would come of it? So, she’d get dressed and march over to the pub and drag the drunk man home. 

It had become their new normal. The tired wife and the drunk husband, not one Y/n liked but she didn’t verbalize her thoughts. If she prayed enough it would all be fixed, right? That’s what she’d been taught as a child. But as she prayed and prayed and prayed nothing got better. In fact, it got worse.

And that is how she ended up, wide awake, at two in the morning. 

The front door creaked open, something tumbling through it. Y/n didn’t have to take a guess at what as she stood from the bed and walked through the house. Leaning against the doorway, she watched Arthur struggle with his coat and shoes. Had they gone out drinking with his family, Y/n would have been giggling, struggling with her own coat as well. Instead, she glared at him, hurt in her eyes. Often she wondered if she had done something to drive him to drink so heavily.

“What kept you so late?” Her voice was a flat line, no emotion present.

Arthur whipped his head up, a small smile peeking out under his mustache. “There you are, love,” he slurred, nearly tripping over his feet as he approached her. Before he got the chance to wrap his arms around her, Y/n escaped his embrace and walked back into their room. “What’s wrong?” he frowned.

“What’s wrong?” she sighed, the late hour starting to get to her. “What’s wrong is my husband comes home at two in the fucking morning shitfaced and thinks nothing of it!” Y/n spat, careful eyes scanning the man in front of her. Y/n almost rolled her eyes, almost, when she caught the hint of anger in Arthur’s eyes. 

“Ya saying I can’t go out?” he raised his voice, his suspenders falling off his shoulder.

“No, I’m saying you should be home at a reasonable hour,” she huffed. It was silly she even had to have this conversation with him. There was a point in their marriage where Arthur wanted nothing more than to spend time with his wife. Oh, how those times had disappeared. 

He huffed. “At least I’m home! I could not come home at all!”

“Then don’t!” Y/n yelled to match his volume. Who cared if the neighbors were being woken from their sleep, listening to the marital problems that could no longer be hidden.

In a fit of rage, the man threw his weight against their dresser, throwing all the belongings on to the floor. Y/n was no stranger to Arthur’s temper, he’d never done anything violent in front of her. Eyes wide, with the dressers contents scattered across the floor, she knew it would only get worse. Quickly, without much thought, she scurried past him, fleeing the room. There was no telling what he would do next and a part of her feared that she would be hurt in his rage. 

It broke her heart that the thought crossed her mind. 

“Yeah, fucking leave!” he shouted at her back.

Shivering in the damp morning air, toes frozen without the protections of shoes, Y/n knocked on the big wooden doors in front of her. She never wanted Arthur’s family to be aware of the issues she dealt with. What happened in their home stayed in their home, but she couldn’t live with it any longer. So, there she stood in front of Tommy’s door, waiting for someone to let her into the warm house. There wasn’t anywhere else she could go, her family lived in a different part of the country and she didn’t know anyone who could talk sense into her husband besides his brother. 

“Mrs. Shelby, what are you doing here so early?” One of the maids asked, opening the door and escorting her in. The woman didn’t even bother to ask Tommy or Grace if they wanted a visitor, not when she saw the state Y/n was in. She must have looked miserable from the look she was given. “Come in here,” the maid guided her into the parlor. “I’ll inform Mr. Shelby of your arrival and fetch you some tea.”

Y/n nodded and sank into the soft fabric. She would have fallen asleep, something her body was screaming for, if two figures hadn’t walked into the room.

“Y/n, what are you doing here? What happened to you?” Grace asked, rambling off questions she didn’t have time to answer as her friend came to sit beside her. Wrapping her arms around Y/n’s cold frame, the woman pulled her against her chest, allowing her to soak up some of the warmth. “You’re freezing!”

Standing in front of her, Tommy eyed the redness around her eyes, worry in his own as he paced around the room. “Does Arthur know you’re here?”

With a sigh, Y/n shook her head, the memories of the events from hours before playing before her. Shutting her eyes, they disappeared. “No.” Y/n winced at her voice, sounding like a child that had disobeyed her parents. “He’s the reason I’m here.”

“What’d he do?” The blonde beside her asked. 

Y/n and Grace had been friends ever since the Irish woman had moved back to England. Though she understood why some members of the Shelby family were hesitant about allowing her back in their lives, Grace had never done anything to her and was like the sister she had never had. For the most part, they were inseparable. Spending most of their free time together since their husbands didn’t want them to be in harm's way when it came to the family business. Even with them being so close, though, Y/n had never even alluded to the fact that she had become trapped in an unhappy marriage. But Grace wasn’t a dumb blonde, the fact could be seen in her friends eyes, the way her lips turned into a frown at the thought of going home. 

“He came home late, real late, again,” she sighed, thinking about the countless times she waited up for the man to make sure he was still alive. “And then we got into a fight and he threw things a-and… I was afraid he was gonna hit me.” The last bit was barely a whisper but both Tommy and Grace caught it.

With a sigh, Tommy ran a hand down his face. Someone had mentioned that Arthur had been drinking more, but he thought nothing of it. His older brother drank, it was fact everyone knew, so the information that he was drinking more didn’t faze him. But clearly, it should have. “I’ll take care of Arthur,” he said as he turned for the door. “Grace, why don’t you get her in bed?” His wife nodded, brushing a few loose hairs out of her friend's face. Standing from the sofa, Grace gently pulled Y/n up beside her and guided her to an empty bedroom. With exhaustion starting to set in, she needed all the help she could get to find her way. With the touch of a mother, a warm hand helped her under the covers and pulled them over her cold body. Before she knew it, her eyelids grew heavy and she was drifting off to sleep when a figure slipped into the room, a cup being set on the bedside table.

A stream of light peaked between the curtains, the brightness causing the man in bed to stir. Blinking awake, Arthur stretched his arms, turning over to wrap his arms around the body that was absent. Pushing himself up on his elbows, the events of the night before… well, the hours before, flooded his memories, causing his lips to turn down. He thought, a now foolish thought, that Y/n would have come home. She wouldn’t forget their argument, but he thought that, at least, she’d come home and sleep in their bed. Fully sitting, Arthur thought that perhaps she had done that, come home that is. 

He threw his feet over the edge, knocking the bedding off, and began to search the house. It wasn’t as massive as his brother’s, only a few rooms to be checked, and he checked every one of them. There was no sign of his wife in the parlor, the sofa tightened as it had been the day before, or in the kitchen, there was no sign of a fresh pot of tea. Standing in the hall, the man caught a glimpse of the coat that hung on the hook, light pink, matching the shoes that lay abandoned below it. Alone with his thoughts, Arthur feared what had become of his wife in the dangers of the night.

Once dressed, throwing on any fabric within arms reach, the oldest Shelby brother didn’t care how presentable he looked as he rushed out of the house. The neighbors raised their brow as they watched him run down the road like a mad man. They’d all heard what had been said in the early hours of the morning, there was no pretending it hadn’t woken them, but they couldn’t help but feel pity for the man. Just like so many others, he was left to pick up the pieces of what he’d broken.

Tommy was leaning over a pile of paperwork, trying to focus on the work he had been putting off, when the office door flew open, hitting the wall with a bang. Unimpressed, he glanced up to meet his brother’s eyes, regret pouring out of them. 

“Have you seen Y/n? We fought and she left and she didn’t come. She's never not come home,” he rambled, face red as he forgot to breathe from both his run and his worries. Leaning back, Tommy rolled his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. “You know where she’s at,” it wasn’t even a question when he could read his brother like a book. 

The man across from him shrugged, staring at the desperate man in front of him. “I do.”

Blowing out a breath, Arthur tried to calm himself. It wouldn’t get him anywhere to blow up on anyone else with the damage he’d already caused. “Where is she, Tommy?”

A sigh parted his lips as the brunette rested his elbows on the hard wood of his desk, disregarding the papers he had once been working on. “You need to quit the whisky.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, that wasn’t the information he was looking for. He could ask a stranger on the street and they would say the same damn thing. All he wanted to know was where Y/n was and whether or not she was safe. That was all he was asking for. “What does that have to do with?” As the words left his tongue, his face fell, the gears clicking into place as he pieced together why such a statement would be relevant. 

“It has everything to do with it, Arthur, since you’re wife  was found on my fucking doorstep this morning, fucking crying and freezing, all because of something you did!” his brother shouted, shooting out of his chair. 

Arthur sighed, defeated, and took a seat in one of the chairs in front of the large desk. He wasn’t even going to argue, there was no argument. His drinking had become a problem, one he liked to push aside. It wasn’t a problem unless he believed it to be, right? Wrong. Clearly, wrong. “I know.”

The man across from him scuffed. “You know? Then why don’t you fucking act like it!” his voice rang through the room. God knows those on the other side of the door were listening closely to the conversation being had. “You love her. You have since you fucking met! And she loves you! Y/n doesn’t deserve to wait up all night for you to return, you should know to come home! You scared her, Arthur,” the last sentence was low, soft compared to his previous shouts. “She thought you were going to hit her.”

The room was silent as the words hit his ears, hurt evident in his eyes. Arthur had promised Y/n that no one would ever hurt her, lay a fucking finger on her. That promise was to be held until the day he died. For to believe he would break that promise, being the one to do her harm, broke his heart. Never had he wished to heart her in any manner, whether physical or mentally. It would break him, shatter everything that the war had left untouched.

“I fucked up,” defeated he rested his head in his hands. “I fucked up.”

Watching his brother wither at his words pulled at the gangster’s heart strings. Though there was no one to blame but himself for his actions, Tommy felt he was partly responsible, ignoring the problems he saw as they were being created. “Y/n at home with Grace and Charlie, you should go talk to her and fix what you’ve done.” 

Almost an hour later, Arthur stood in front of the grand doors of his brother’s house, shifting from foot to foot. The ride over was nerve racking. All he wished to do was mend the damage he’d created, but he feared his wife wouldn't want to see him. That Y/n would be informed of his presence and wish for him to be sent away. Arthur couldn’t blame her if that was to be her reaction, but he wanted a chance. All he wanted was to be able to become a better man and that couldn’t be done without her by his side. 

The door opened, exposing one of Tommy’s longest housekeepers, Mary. “Oh, Mr. Shelby, what a surprise, please come in,” she opened the door wider as he stepped in.

Fiddling with his hat, the man felt like a young boy about to go on his first date. “I’d like to see my wife if you could fetch for me,” he asked, words meek as his eyes darted around the room.

“If you’d like to sit in the parlor, I’ll go get her,” she smiled. Arthur couldn’t tell if she was aware of the fight the couple had that morning, it wouldn’t surprise him if she did. Maids were aware of everything, though, they pretended to only know how to dust and make beds. 

Nodding, he let himself into the parlor as the woman disappeared down a hallway. She must have been gone barely five minutes, but it felt like an eternity as he bounced his knee, waiting for the woman he loved. 

“Hi Arthur,” Y/n greeted, words almost a whisper, as she entered the room, arms wrapped tightly around her waist, securing the robe she wore.

“Y/n,” he breathed, lips turning up in a smile. Though, it had only been hours since he’d seen her, it felt like a lifetime. He didn’t dare step closer, letting her keep the distance. “I… I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, love. For everything,” Arthur clarified. “I’m sorry that I’ve been worrying you so much and that I’ve caused you to stay up waiting for me. It’s not fair to you. And I’m sorry…” Tears pricked at his eyes. “That I made you fear I would hit you.”

By the end of his sentence, tears had escaped his eyes, racing down his cheeks. Y/n was by his side in an instant, holding him and letting him cry. As much as she wanted him to learn, to change, she didn’t want him to hold that kind of pain in his heart. No one deserved that. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she cooed, rubbing his back as he rested his head against her shoulder. “We’ll get through this, I know we will.”

Arthur pulled away, eyes red and puffy. “What if it’s not?”

“It will be, love. We love each other and I know you can beat this,” she smiled up at him, using her thumb to wipe away his tears. “You have me and your family, we’ll help you. I’ll help you. I’ll always help you.”

It would be a long road, but Arthur wanted to get better. He wanted to fight the demons he pitifully attempted to drown every night. He wanted to kick them to the curb with something other than whiskey or vodka. With the help of his wife, perhaps that could be accomplished. He wanted it to be.

*~~*~~*

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[blogulianatish]

Manager

When you were in junior high school, you saw the Japan women's national volleyball team play on TV. Your old man loved this sport, because of this, when the matches were played on TV, he did not miss the opportunity to watch.

Their strong pitches and graceful bunches that took your breath away and tightened every minute; their strong blocks that kept the ball from falling like an iron wall, were so amazing that it took your breath away and you wanted to play like them. Because of this, you went to the volleyball team in elementary school, with the intention of being one of the best in the team and getting into the volleyball team.

Every year you improved your skills in sports more and more, but there were always people who were stronger, more technical, faster and more resilient than you. You, of course, understood that you need to try to be better. But above the head, as they say, you can not jump.

By the end of high school, you decided that you would no longer play volleyball, but would do something else, but, fortunately or unfortunately, the love of volleyball did not go away, and you definitely decided to link yourself to this sport.

On the first day of school, you applied to the volleyball club for the post of manager, but the women's team rejected it, citing the fact that they are doing fine without him. Without thinking twice, you went to the men's club with your head held high.

Having described to the coach all his knowledge and skills in volleyball, plus why they should take you, he agreed.

So you became Inarizaki's manager for the entire year of your training.

At the end of school, you went to the Sports Institute at the Faculty of Management (management in the field of sports). After finishing it, you began to submit resumes to different volleyball teams, go to interviews and get calls that they would not regret if they took you.

And in the end, your prayers were answered. You were taken to MSBY by the Black Jackals, and you became the official manager of this club.

On the first day you met with the entire team, which already consisted of the Shugo Meian . When you met him, he wasn't a captain yet, he won't be a captain for another year, but you've already remembered him as a reliable, responsible and strong player, with fine features and a strong masculinity.

As a player, he was amazing, as well as a lover, but you'll find out later. His strong serves, powerful blocks, concentration and calmness during the game excited all the time when you watched the jackals ' matches.

When you started working together, Meian was married, but after 2 years of dating, he divorced. The reason was banal, he did not give his wife the time she so wanted, which served as the end of a 5-year marriage.

You don't remember the exact day and time when the chemistry started between you, but it definitely didn't happen after he got divorced. Your communication, and soon your intimacy, was gradual. At first, just socializing, then getting together in hotels during away games, and then, after one of the victories, you drank to the winnings and talked so much that everything ended up in your apartment.

You didn't advertise the relationship, because there's nothing to advertise. As such, you did not have a relationship. You just slept together.

For you, it wasn't just a hookup, you realized that you felt much more for the captain of the Jackals than just the need for intimacy. You've learned this during conversations, press conferences, and games. His blocks were breathtaking, and his punches on the ball made him squeeze the fabric of his pencil skirt and bite his lip to keep from making a squeak of admiration.

Once, you dared to talk to Shugo about a relationship, but he was unwavering.

— What's the point?" Meian shrugs. — If you're afraid I'm sleeping with other people, I'm afraid to upset you, but you're the only one."

You nod your head and smile. Lifting your head from the man's chest, you get out of bed and start picking up your things to go home.

Maybe, under other circumstances, you would have scored and agreed with him enjoying it, but your relatives expect a husband and children from you.

— Do you have someone?" — asks the mother.

"Yes," you said, picking at the salad with your chopsticks. — But I'm not sure.

— In what way is not sure?! Whether or not there is a man next to you! Honey, I don't want to remind you, but at your age, I already had my first child.

"Mom —" you froze and looked up, praying to all the gods that she'd drop the subject. - It's difficult there. I don't want to talk about it, let's change the subject.

You hated the subject of your personal life because you hated uncertainty. And with Meyan, there was only ignorance. 

***      

The match with Schweiden ended with a victory for the Jackals and a new serve for Atsumu, whom he had coached for a long time.      

Everyone on the team was happy to beat those pompous Eagles, and you were no exception.      

You went into the locker room and congratulated the team on the victory and a job well done. Shugo, as always, pretended that there was nothing between you but a business relationship.      

On the way out of the locker room, you were stopped by Atsumu. You turned your head and raised an eyebrow, waiting for his question.       

— Still valid?" As agreed?— What is it? " he asks excitedly.   

—When did I ever go back on my word?"  you cover his hand, calmly answering the question with a question. "A deal is a deal. So I'll be waiting for you at 18:00 near my house. And without delay.       

"I won't let a single minute go to waste," he drawled sweetly, and with his trademark smile, Mia lets go of your hand.      

You looked up from it and met the captain's displeased gaze, which was still asking:  

"What's going on?"      

You tossed your head and walked away from the locker room.      

With Atsumu Mia are you familiar with since high school when you were a Manager at Narazaki and studied in the second year of training, came the famous brothers Mia. And from that day on, the ambiguous suggestions from Atsumu began. You usually ignored or rolled your eyes and said no to his suggestions. It's not that you don't like Atsumu, no, he's a good player, he has amazing charisma and looks are not inferior to her, but for you he is an eternal child who is in love with volleyball.

When Mia came to MSBY, his suggestions continued. 

***      

- Can we go somewhere? "blocking your way," he says, smiling slyly.

"I have a lot of work to do," you say without looking up from your phone screen and walk past.

***

— I have two movie tickets, but I don't have a pair, " he said, holding up the two tickets, the corners of his mouth starting to curl up.

— I have a headache, " you sigh, already tired of these suggestions.

***

"Come on, let's go somewhere, Y/N -chan," Atsumu begins to whimper.

"No," you say less often than you'd like.

— You're breaking my heart."

— When will it finally break, Tsumu?!"

"That's rude!"

You look at Atsumu's sad face, and you feel terribly sad. You feel like a beast that had hurt that the ladder.

"All right —" you sigh miserably and look at him. - Let's make a deal.

He looks up at you and starts actively nodding his head.

— If you win the match and you master the hybrid serve, we'll go on a date, and if you don't, you can stop talking about spending time together."

A sly smile appears on his face, and a twinkle of excitement appears in his eyes. You knew he could do it, he just couldn't not do it.

— Don't make any plans on this day, because we're going on a date, " he chuckled and walked towards the exit.

And what? You are a free girl, no one restricts you, plus Tsumu has been offering to meet for a long time, why not, there is nothing to do at home anyway.

***

Satisfied, the guy went to his seat, simultaneously taking off his T-shirt. He was drinking something under his breath and shaking his head.

— Why are you so happy? - the captain decided to ask, - it's just amazing.

"Just going on a date." "Don't miss the opportunity to brag," Atsumu says.

At this moment, Shugo was numb, his entire appearance was not visible, but he was boiling. When he came to, he decided to find out more.

"Really?" — What is it? " he asks in a calm and confident voice, not looking at his teammate.

"Anyway, we had a bet with Y/N-chan that if I mastered the hybrid serve and we won the match, she would agree to go out with me, and if not, I would never ask her to go out with me again."

"Well, congratulations," he says, forcing a smile, and slaps Tsuma on the shoulder, then squeezes and shakes her a little.

"Thank you, Meian-san, but now I need to hurry so I won't be late."

"I understand.

Atsumu ran to the shower, still smiling with 32 teeth.

The muscles in Shugo's face tightened, and he began to squeeze the bag down to the white bones.

"What do you want to prove with this?!"

A thought flashed through Meian's mind.

He put down his bag and began to change.

***        

The next day, as if nothing had happened, you were walking down the corridor, looking at the documents that were handed to you. While reading the orders and various accounts, you didn't notice the jackal captain passing by.

"Hi," Shugo says calmly.

"Oh —" you say, not expecting to see Meian, " hi."

He put his hands in his pockets and looked at you seriously. You were unaccustomed to the captain's penetrating gaze.

- How was the date? "What is it?" he asks unexpectedly.

Smiling, you grabbed the bridge of your nose with two fingers and closed your eyes, remembering yesterday's date. Mia was emptied by a pigeon, and then to get the droppings off his head, he ran to the first car and stopped near the side mirror. While he was cleaning up the litter, the tinted window in the car rolled down, and from it the girl handed Tsumu a new napkin.

You started laughing, covering your mouth with papers and remembering the date.

"I see," he says, adjusting the strap of his bag.

There was a moment of silence, and he began to squeeze the bag, not daring to ask anything.

You look at him expectantly, seeing that he wants to say something, but doesn't know how. You opened your mouth to ask what was wrong.

— How about in bed?" looking up at you with his brown eyes, he asks.

— I don't know, " you say, raising one eyebrow in utter confusion. — I didn't keep a candle under his bedroom door.

— You didn't have anything?"

- No, but should it?

At this moment, it's like a weight is being lifted from Shugo's shoulders. He takes a sharp breath and realizes that he has said something stupid. Biting the inside of his cheek, he turns his head away from you.

— Do you care at all?" - folding your hands in front of your chest, you ask. — We are still not together, we are free people and have the right to do what we want. I told you about the relationship, and you said it didn't make sense. If you want, you can sleep with anyone you want.

There was another silence. You dropped your hands and shook your head in different directions, not understanding what all these questions are for, since he himself does not want to. Realizing that it's over, you move away from the captain, continuing to read the lease agreement.

— I don't care…

You paused, your eyes fixed on the documents, but you were no longer paying attention. Starting to turn to him, dropping the papers and opening her mouth to protest.

"You're right," he said calmly. — You don't owe me anything, and neither do I, and we can do whatever we want, but when I found out you were going with Mia "- he ran his hand through his black, spiky hair, which you knew was very soft, though it looked tough — " and knowing how he felt about you, damn it, like a jealous boy, I got angry, realizing that I didn't want you to be with anyone but me." And I'm afraid to start a relationship, most likely because I'm afraid that you will refuse or leave because I pay you little attention or am very busy with volleyball, and so we are free and do not owe each other anything.

— I'll tell you that Atsumu, that now you - I see you more often than with my family, and given the fact that we meet even after hours, it is simply impossible to think that you will push me away or not spend time with me. After all, am I your manager or not?!

Shugo threw his head back and laughed in a velvety voice that was maddening and made his legs wobble. Lowering it, he licked his lower lip and looked at you.

"Then," Shugo began to move closer. "Can we go out tonight?"

Her heart was pounding, and her cheeks were flushed. You turned away from him and walked to the office, and when you reached the door, you said:

- I'll meet you at my house at 19:00. If you're late, I'll go to Atsum's house to cool your curiosity.

Going into the office and simultaneously closing the door behind you, you lean on the wooden surface, covering your face and starting to smile with happiness, not believing that this has happened.

The captain grinned and walked towards the locker room, smiling and greeting everyone.

[worlds-smallestviolin]

Mother

Masamune x MC

genre: angst/fluff

word count:2208

summary: retelling of Masamune’s love’s union gacha story from MC’s POV

a/n: It always bothers me how MC just decides to stay in past without care about her family, so for stories sake let’s assume Sasuke went back to the future.

           With everyone asleep, Aoba was a quiet place; quite a contrast compared to how loud and lively it was during the day (it is Masamune’s castle, after all). Having changed into my sleeping robe, I was sitting on the futon, waiting for my lover to join me ( I’d say to sleep, dear reader, but we both know that would be a lie.).And my handsome Masamune was still at his desk, working despite the late hour. He may be a wild tiger, but he took his responsibility as a head of the clan very seriously. He did everything he could to make life easier for the people of Oshu. And I’m not just talking about him going to war or battling demons of paperwork. I mean little things as well, like cooking a meal for his men on patrol, or writting letters to his vassals to thank them or simply talk about what’s been going on lately. “You shouldn’t write in the dark. It’s bad for you’re eye.”, I broke the silence hoping to convince him to put down the brush for tonight. “I know, I know. I’ll be done in a second. You just wait for me like a good kitten”, he said, raising his head to flash me a smile that made my heart skip a beat or two. “Meow!”, My god, I’m such a dork. I hugged my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth. Masamune returned his attention to the letter he was writing, and again silence settled in.

Having nothing else to do but wait, I soon got lost in my own thoughts. Some time has passed since I started living here in Aoba. It still surprises me how quickly I’ve gotten used to the life here. Masamune encouraged my worked as a seamstress. He had a room prepared for me, where I could sketch and make clothes; I already had a few clients. He would often keep my drawings to hang on the wall, always repeating how much he loved my art. I’ve made friends with maids, and Kojuro and guys were always there to lend a helping hand. I spent my free time with Masamune, getting into all sort of adventures, and sometimes troubles. We would go for a ride, or a walk around town, we ate delicious food, we cooked together, we laughed and we made love. All in all, life was good. I remember how nervous I was in the days before we left Azuchi, worrying if I would be accepted in Oshu as I was among Oda. Not to mention that I’m still not completely used to the life in Sengoku period. Yes, things are great so far. But from time to time, I can’t help giving voice to my old insecurities. What happens if this doesn’t work out? The picture of my parants forms in my mind, only to slowly morph into that of Masamune and I. And their insults and shouts fall from our lips, that so far know only sweet kisses and sweet nothings. No, I don’t want to think of that.

I quickly try to banish those thoughts back into the dark corners of my mind. Luckly for me, a voice calls from outside our room. “Pardon me for the intrusion this late at night, my lord. There is a letter from Lady Yoshihime.” Masamune receives the letter and tells both man to get some rest. Once we are alone again, I couldn’t help voicing my curiosity: “Who’s Lady Yoshihime?” “My mother.”, he says, and something about his indifferent voice makes me feel uneasy. “I’ve noticed she doesn’t live in the castle with us…”The first day I came here they held a feast to celebrate Masamune’s return and my arrival, where Masamune introduced me to a lot of people that are important to him. You’d think that his mother would be among them. “She poisoned me when I was young. There’s messy politics with her side of the family, so it seemed best we live apart.”, he said it as if he was informing me about the weather outside.“I’m sorry, WHAT?” I misheard that, right? He did not just say his mother tried to have him killed. I stared at him, trying to process what he just told me. “It’s not that strange. When it comes to the succession of a clan, things often get ugly. With the loss of my eye, she must have thought I wasn’t fit to be the head of the Date and decided to take matters into her own hands.” Shock quickly turned into anger. She tried to kill her own child because of something that wasn’t his fault, something he couldn’t change. For a moment, I thought of my own mother, who believed motherhood to be the most sacred and joyous role a woman could have, who loved and supported unconditionally and would give up anything and everything for her children. I could not imagine how difficult it must have been for Masamune, being sick and losing your eye. And the one person who was supposed to love him more than anyone betrays him like that. My heart filled with sorrow. It must have shown on my face, because Masamune tried to reassure me with a smile: “I barely remember it. Must not have been that bad, or I wouldn’t have forgotten, right? If I let it trouble me, I wouldn’t be fit to be a lord, and that would only prove my mother right.” His words reminded me of what Master Kosai told me about Masamune. “One who would stand above others must be most strict with oneself. They must work as hard as their hardest workers and be always deserving of the praise their station affords them. Their pain they must learn to bear with on their own, for they will at times be alone. Those were the lessons I instilled in that young child. He survived by embracing what I taught him. So much that he no longer needs to ‘act’ to be the ideal leader from his lessons. But our nature is unchanging. In the deepest part of Masamune’s heart that injured young child remains.

Having read the letter, Masamune joined me on the futon. Smile on his face, he patted my head. But for a moment, a mere second, I saw something in the depth of his eye. You never tamed you’re demons, Masamune, you just kept them on a leash. And the wounds of heart are never quick to heal. You could try to ignore them, you might even forget them. But they remain there somewhere, waiting for a chance to overwhelm you. And if you cannot entrust them to anyone else, at least entrust them to me. So I pulled him down to bed with me, holding him close to my chest, his cheek resting against my breast. I run my fingers softly through his hair. “I want you to listen carefully to what I’m about to say. I love you, so you don’t ever have to hide how you feel when you’re around me. You’re not my lord, Masamune. You’re the man I love; a fun guy who acts all cool but has the most adorable blush, the one who can kiss my heart into a full stop and then restart it with a touch, someone who always protects me and encourages me. And I will always be here for you. So leave the perfect leader outside this room, and just be my Masamune.” He tried to protest but, I wouldn’t let him. Then he turned his face from me, and for a moment I thought he might cry. But after a while he met my eyes again. “I’ll try.”, he said with a smile. I guess old habits die hard. “That’s a start.” I kissed his forehead and continued running my fingers through his hair. Eventually I felt him relax as he drifted to sleep. But my brain was too busy for that. I was angry at Lady Yoshihime, I was sad for Masamune. And in the stillness of the night, my mind wandered to that dark corner again. I was afraid.

Hearing about Masamune’s mother made me think about my own parents. I knew they must be worried about me. Sasuke promised to deliver my letter. Hopefully, that will ease their hearts. It wouldn’t be the first time I disappeared of the radar. They were good parents, for the most part. Well, when it comes to my father, the best I can say is that he tried. He never failed to tell me he loved me. I never once doubted it. But he wasn’t the easiest man to get along with. He had his opinions and his expectations, and those were set in stone. Being his eldest child, the bar was set especially high for me. He worked two jobs to save money for my education. And though he never understood my passion for fashion, he supported me, so long as he didn’t have to listen to me talk about it. He never raised his hands on us, but his anger was something to be feared. My mother, on the other hand was a saint. I’ve never heard her raise her voice. No matter what troubled her, she always wore a smile. She was the one who took care of us when we were sick, fed us, helped us do homework or study for exam, attended every parents meeting, every school play… She was there to listen to us for hours and comfort us. She was there for every tear and every smile.

But as good as they were in their roles as parents, they were the worst couple I’ve ever seen. I could count the times I remember seeing them being affectionate towards each other on the fingers of my hands, if those hands were in a terrible accident and were missing a few fingers. Instead, there were fights and shouting, and then days of them ignoring each other, and us walking on eggshells around them. They would act more affectionate towards me and my brother, as if they were competing for our love. And it was always about something small and insignificant, a misplaced item or misheard word. It always ended with the ‘talk’ where my father would insist they just forget and move on. There were never any apologies, they never talked things through.

My parents didn’t marry for love, or at least if they did it was quickly spent. They did their best not to let their fights affect the kids. My childhood was for the most part a happy one. But the older I got, the more I noticed the cracks that began to show. They were not happy, although they stubbornly maintained that illusion. What makes someone choose to stay and live a life next to a person that makes them miserable? Why don’t you just leave him? I heard my aunt say to my mum one time. I do it for my children. I could never leave them. They are my everything. Maybe that was the moment when the fear was born, squeezing my heart each time she smiled. I was causing her pain just by being, a cage to a bird who otherwise could simply fly away. And I started to wonder if one day I too will be like that. “Mom, I love you. But I don’t want to become you.”, I said on the night before my cousin’s wedding, when the conversation inevitably turned into wedding talk, and I tell her I don’t ever want to marry. I see a heart breaking in those eyes. A single shard of glass melts and runs down her cheek; on its way, leaves my heart bleeding as well. Still she smiles: ” So long as you’re happy, I’ll be happy too.”.

The sky is still pale yellow-blue. I stared at the eye of a calm sea, and I felt calm as well; last night’s shadows fleeing before the morning light. Or maybe it’s Masamune’s touch that chases them away. He was always good at that, erasing my insecurities. Though I now know he was plagued by them too. Both of us are with hidden corners in our hearts, echoing with the words “You’re not good enough.” A doubt dwells in the back of the mind; his slumbers deep within, mine lingers just beneath the skin. Still I believe we’ll be alright. “ I want you’re face to be the first thing I see in the morning. Whether we’re at war, or everything is peaceful. I want that tomorrow, and the day after, and forever more.”, he brushed his finger along my cheek. I knew it won’t always be easy, I knew many things will try to break us apart. Still I believed in us. Whatever we might face, with you by my side, I was confident enough. “ My love for you will never change, Masamune.” He drew me to his chest, I felt his tears touch my head. The beating of his heart told me they were not tears of sorrow. I remained quietly in his arms, as another tear slides down my cheek. Mother, I’m happy now.    

[krisanderwrites]

Malachite and Sparrow 02

My second summer there was a mix up in the paperwork and I had to vacate the dorms for two weeks until it was sorted out. None of my classmates lived close enough to make couch surfing a viable option, so I eventually swallowed my apprehension and called my mother. Although I attempted to keep the conversation short, she was elated to hear that I would be coming home this year. When I finally hung up, I knew that there was no way Malachite had not overheard my given name. Of course she was considerate enough to not mention it.

The long trip home was peppered with anxiety attacks and countless worries. By the time I finally arrived in the airport, I was exhausted. Thankfully that gave me the excuse to ignore the way my parents did not recognize me until after a second glance. They shuffled me into the car, berating my tardiness and how it was messing with my sister's schedule since she had an important meeting. Everything felt dull and far away, much worse than my depression ever was while at college.

I took it easy, as much as someone going to Elsewhere University can on break. Unable to break the habit of watching every word I uttered, I found solace in furthering my research online and at the local library. I cleaned out my old room, throwing away most of the things I had no use for anymore. I visited my great-aunt Hazel in her nursing home. When she pressed a plastic bag full of small boxes into my hands, I gave her a strange look.

"For exchanges," she said, smiling. Opening one, I found a kitschy set of matching topaz earrings and necklace. Realizing the gift, I gave a small gasp. She would not accept me doing anything for her in exchange, simply saying that she had no use for all of them anyway. I still have no clue how she knew about the Gentry. However, she had certainly given me ideas.

I began to talk to my sister and mother, telling them about Malachite's love of jewelry of all kinds- how she even made her own on occasion. In response, they gave me all of their old things that they no longer wanted to pass along to her. A few of my cousins even dropped off their old mismatched earrings and pendants and charm bracelets. I went to the nursery and picked up seeds of plants I had not been able to get my hands on while on campus. In the back of my closet I found my old fighting gear and packed it into an old gym bag my brother was going to throw out.

To make sure there were no debts I mowed lawns, weeded gardens, cleaned out gutters, scrubbed bathrooms, and bathed dogs. Each present got a chore in payment. Money exchanged hands as well, but I tried to reserve as much of that as possible for more important things than trinkets to trade. In the end I left with two more bags than I had come back with, full of all sorts of helpful things. I think somehow I knew even then that I was never really coming back.

"You know... you really have changed," my mother remarked as she dropped me off at the airport.

My mouth was dry, "Yeah, I think I have too."

"I'm not sure it is for the better," she snidely added.

"Well, I do," I shrugged and grabbed the last bag out of the trunk.

She seemed uneasy, "I suppose this is goodbye then."

"Yep," I said.

"Will you at least call?" she asked.

"Probably not," I answered, not even attempting to stretch the truth. "I think we both have very different ideas about who I am, and it would probably just hurt more."

There were tears in her eyes when she laughed, "You really have changed. I will wish you luck, then. Don't worry about your father; he already knows. He's considered you dead for at least six months now."

"That does explain the lack of conversation," I had quipped. "Well, I have to somehow get through security with all this."

I walked away without looking back even once. Somehow it felt like I was shedding my old skin. I checked my bags and got onto the plane with no troubles. Smooth sailing for the Captain. The feeling of overall sluggishness left upon entering campus again. Dropped off in front of the dorm building with my bags, I was delighted to see a greeting party of crows waiting for me. They were rewarded with the best sugar cookies my hometown had to offer. Overall it felt more like coming home than visiting my family ever had.

        *        *        *        *

Settling back down into a dorm room felt strange knowing that it was going to be just me on my own again. I planted all the seeds I had bought in trays that I placed upon the windowsill. I sorted through all the jewelry I had amassed and threw away the unnecessary packaging; it still filled most of a duffel bag. My old fighting gear was relegated to the back of yet another closet; I could not bear to throw it away but for now it served no purpose. Perhaps I could find a new group to practice with on campus later. I took a part-time job at a local veterinary clinic to help expand my knowledge and experience.

To be truthful, everything was just a distraction until Malachite returned. Without her nearby I felt the pull of the Else at my veins. Sometimes I would stare out at the forest with a longing- an urge- to simply walk among the trees and then keep walking. Realistically I knew that this was a terrible idea, but it was true all the same. The Fair Folk were more numerous on campus as autumn drew closer, all eagerly anticipating the return of the students as much as I was.

With no small amount of glee, I showed off my acquisitions to Malachite. She stared, wide-eyed, and asked what in the world I was planning on doing with all of that jewelry. I laughed her off, claiming that I was just going to save it all for a rainy day. It was mostly true. (I was something of a zombie-survival plan person anyway.) I did not tell her that my intuition said that there were storms coming.

Still, things continued on much as normal for quite some time, if perhaps a bit busier. I gave presents to Jimothy- as many beads as my cousins had managed to trade for me doing their chores. Clients at the veterinary clinic occasionally brought me gifts for helping to care for their animals, which I in turn gifted to fae or other students. My study group commandeered a room in the library where the time distortion was not too terrible. I set a broken wing for one crow and stemmed the bleeding broken beak of another.

Sometimes I attended parties just to escort people back to their dorms safely. Ever curious, I worked endlessly on ideas and inventions that I never intended to see the light of day. After all, knowledge of how to heal and soothe comes only after knowledge of how to hurt and break. The contraptions piled in my closet next to my unused fighting gear.

It took some time for me to realize that Malachite had plans of her own.

By helping others and trading in offerings of homemade bread or sweets for crystals and gemstones, she had amassed quite a literal treasure trove. Taking these precious finds, she then created jewelry from them. Homemade trinkets are always worth more to the fae than ones that you buy in a store. As I watched her collection grow, I suddenly understood her concerns with my own hoard.

Then one day I walked in during a break from classes and realized something had happened. Malachite was burning sage in the room which showed evidence of a recent bout of furious cleaning. When pressed, she simply said that the salt lines had been worn away over time and needed replacing. The fearful glances to the corner of the room, however, spoke a different story.

I decided that though my hands were often burned with silver nitrate (so useful in stopping small bleeds), perhaps having the Sight was something I should keep around more often. Just in case. I began wearing a mood ring on my middle finger. It immediately turned to black and then remained that color whenever I wore it. I tried not to feel anxious about this and failed miserably.

        *        *        *        *

Right at midterms there was a brief flurry of activity before things settled down again. Hardly anyone got taken over midterms that year, as there were several days that were designated safe due to the school fair. Then there was a night where all the signs were there for A Hunt. There was a new moon and strange yelling that could be mistaken for baying. Everyone kept to their dorm rooms and locked the entrances.

What came knocking at our door was our new RA, who was a nice enough woman studying business and law.

"Captain," she had said.

I had tilted my head and informed her that was not my official nickname.

"No," she laughed, "but it suits you well. You're already rather well known as a Knight." Something about that title rang true in my bones and I had to suppress a shiver as she continued, "Anyway, there is a bit of a situation. They are asking for you to come out and see to one of their hounds."

"What they?" Malachite had demanded.

"You know, the Fair Folk," she explained.

"Absolutely not."

Blinking, we both turned to the side. Malachite pushed forward to stand in the doorway, hands on her hips.

"I'm not letting Sparrow take one step outside on a night of A Hunt. Even if it were not suicide, the chances of being stolen are far too great."

I laughed, "All my new surgical tools are made of steel. I doubt any of Them would want me."

Despite her protests, we both ended up following the RA to the threshold of the dorm hall. Standing there was a perfectly respectable attempt at a humanoid form, albeit with an extra limb or two. At least they were trying. The hound itself was, as typical, an eldritch abomination that could possibly be construed as canine if you were on LSD and also only had ever known dogs from the story of The Hound of the Baskervilles. However, the long, hungry glances the Good Neighbor kept sending towards Malachite were disconcerting.

"I will heal, for that is what is right," I offered readily, "but should you attempt to take or harm my companions, I will fight, as that is also right. Do we have an understanding here?"

The hissing reply was not pleased-sounding, but not being attacked outright was a good sign. When finally it nodded petulantly, I stepped forward to the heaving mass on the grass and kneeled down. Luckily it turned out to be a small favor. The monster had thorns in its hide from a hawthorn tree dipped in iron. Snarling at the wicked items, I palmed them with the thought to destroy it later by fire. A small salve applied to the wounded areas and the Hunt was once again ready to leave.

"Freely given," I said as they vanished into the mists.

"You're foolish," noted the RA. "You should have asked for something."

"Asking for payment is more foolish than being a good person," I replied. "All my aid is freely given, and I won't charge the Gentry any more than the crows. I am a healer, after all."

"Talk softly, treat others kindly, and carry a big damn stick," supplied Malachite.

"Exactly," I smiled as I closed my fist around the iron-tipped thorns.

        *        *        *        *

The hungry eyes of the Gentry were long forgotten as time slipped past. There was too much to do and too many who needed aiding for paranoia to set in fully. It did not catch my attention at the time that my plants were starting to grow a little too well or my newly acquired pet fish seemed more colorful than was natural. I did not notice when I began to avoid eating my food with excess salt.

No, my first sign that something was terribly wrong was an itching, sore rash across the back of my neck.

It took some time, but eventually we figured out the trusty iron chain that our talisman rested upon was causing the problem. For a few days, neither of us spoke about it. Suddenly developing an allergy to iron was greatly concerning. And telling. We both knew what it meant, despite trying to ignore it.

Slowly, things began to change. The salt lines in the doorways and windows became complex symbols and runes. The gemstone satchels somehow migrated away from my side of the room. I began to take my coffee with creamer and sugar, despite always having had it black before.

"Fae-touched," someone told us when they noted me sitting on the grass to avoid the iron bench. "Not quite a Changeling, but not entirely human either. You've gained a lot a favor with the Gentry. Or a lot of ire, I suppose."

"Don't listen to her," another student rolled their eyes. "Everyone knows Captain Sparrow's a knight and a healer. The Good Neighbors like you just where you are."

It explained a little, we supposed. My family was mixed, but both sides had come from areas steeped in tales of the Fair Folk. Those with links to the old countries always were a little more at risk. So we simply decided to take more care and discuss our options. And we agreed. Neither of us would leave for the Else without the other. We would remain together through thick and thin.

Thus our third year at Elsewhere University ended with us just as close as before.

[fluffykitty1999-blog]

Burned Chapter 17

Morning found Roy awake and downstairs before either of his boys, nursing his first cup of coffee and ambling down the road, wallet in hand.

There was a newspaper vendor at the corner of his street, always had been, and he was one of the early birds that morning, purchasing a paper as he'd promised Ed.

'SUSANS WINS ELECTION' was the headline, and Roy smiled slightly at the news- Ed would be pleased to read about it later.

'CENTRAL SLASHER STILL AT LARGE' was the next headline down, and Roy frowned, carefully tearing the paper in half at the crease so only the article on Susan's victory was visible. He left it on the table for Ed to find when he wandered downstairs, heading up to his study and scanning the article on the killings with fresh eyes, hoping that reading about it would jog his memory, give him some significant detail he'd missed before... No such luck.

Hughes was probably still at the office. Roy morosely wondered if he'd even been home- probably not. He couldn't exactly blame the man. Still, it was disheartening, knowing Hughes was spending so much time on this and Roy couldn't really help.

He found himself picking up the phone and dialing the familiar number anyways.

"Hughes here." his friend picked up on the fourth ring. He sounded exhausted.

"It's Roy. How are things?"

"Not good enough." Hughes said, tone sounding clipped. "I've interviewed everyone at those talks but the politicians themselves at that talk. Susans came in yesterday, but she didn't have anything helpful, and Trevors is coming this morning. I can't reach Xavier though, we've been calling every hour for who knows how long. The election is over, he has no excuse to be unreachable right now-" Hughes sounded thoroughly pissed, which was unusual for him. "Besides, any politician who gives a damn about their voters would want to keep them safe."

"Hughes, how long has it been since you've slept?"

The line was quiet for a moment. "I took a nap a few hours ago." he said simply.

"For how long?"

"Three hours. I've got coffee, Roy, I'll be fine."

"Right." Roy didn't sound convinced. "How are Gracia and Elicia holding up?"

Another pause, this one tinged with pain. "Good, I think. I haven't really been home. Gracia calls every few hours to let me know they're still alright, I told them both they aren't to leave the house with this freak still at large... Gracia seems alright, but I know she's miserable."

"Yeah, and so are you." Roy supplied. "Look, I'm not trying to be an ass here, but you're exhausted and could use the help. And Gracia and Elicia could use some company. So- hear me out here- let us help you."

"What are you proposing?" it was a testimate to how tired Hughes really was that he was even considering the offer.

"Ed and I have to go into the office today. But once we're done with that, I'll take Ed and Al over to your place. The boys can watch Elicia and I can escort Gracia out to do some shopping. We both know she hates being cooped up in the house. And on our way home we'll stop and visit you. You can have some time to talk to Gracia, and I'll look over your case notes. See if a fresh pair of eyes finds anything new. What do you think?"

"That's a good plan. You sure you don't mind?"

"If anything, it'll give me an excuse to duck out a little early this evening. You know I despise paperwork."

"Right. I- thanks, Roy, I really appreciate it. I'll call Gracia and let her know. She doesn't complain, but I know she's getting cabin fever. See you tonight."

"See you then."

Roy hung up the phone, thoroughly satisfied with himself.

That day at the office was uneventful, although Ed had discovered he could sneakily drop pens into the slots in Alphonse's armor when his brother was engrossed in a book, much to his younger brother's annoyance and Ed's merriment.

"So- why are we babysitting again?" Ed asked as they drove down the road towards the Hughes residence, looking bored.

"Because- Hughes has been at the office for days, and Gracia needs as escort to go shopping and she wants to see her husband. We shouldn't be too long- and even if we are, it's a favor for Hughes."

"Oh- alright." Ed didn't complain, probably because he didn't mind it if it was a favor to Hughes.

They arrived at the house without much fanfare- Gracia smiled when she saw them, but the smile didn't exactly reach her eyes. She explained that dinner was in the fridge for all of them, and that Elicia would probably like to listen to her favorite program on the radio and then play board games in the playroom.

She gathered her purse, looking happy to be going but a bit nervous as she scrutinized the boys. "We shouldn't be long. Are you boys sure you don't mind watching her?"

"Psh- piece of cake." Ed waved her off, beaming a reassuring smile. Elicia was already attempting to climb on Al's suit of armor like a jungle gym behind him. "We totally got this."

"You know the office phone numbers- both of them- in case of emergency." Roy said to reassure her, nodding to Gracia.

"Right, of course. Well- have fun! Elicia- be good!"

"I will, mommy! Big brother, why don't you stand still so I can climb better!"

"Because I'm not a jungle gym! And I don't want you to fall and get hurt!" Alphonse protested.

Ed was laughing to himself, watching the scene, amused, as Roy and Gracia left, being sure to lock the door behind them.

"Do you think they're alright?" Gracia asked, as she picked through the produce nervously at the store, Mustang standing beside her in his uniform, hands in his pockets.

"I think they'll be fine. Ed's more than capable, and even if he is a little reckless, Alphonse is always there to be practical. They have the phone numbers if they need anything."

"Of course." Gracia placed some apples into the grocery basket, still looking downcast. "I'm sorry- I didn't mean to question their abilities. I know Ed and Al are fantastic. It's just... this is the first time we've left Gracia alone with someone other than my mother to watch her. And with everything going on lately and Maes being at the office so much... it's been hard."

"I understand. It's a stressful time. But the sooner Hughes gets this case done, the sooner you all can rest easy. Besides- we'll be over to see him shortly. He's looking forward to seeing you- I could tell just by talking to him on the phone."

"That's true." Gracia brightened significantly at the thought of seeing her husband, and even gave Roy a wane smile. "Then I suppose I'd better hurry and finish this shopping so I can see him sooner.".

"Horsey, horsey! Faster horsey!" Elicia chanted from where she sat, perched atop Ed's back. Ed, for his part, was on all fours on the playroom floor, a rather degrading position, if you asked him, but still, it helped keep Elicia amused and from breaking flower vases, so he'd go for it.

"Al-" he groused, walking around as fast as he could muster without knocking his rider off his back. "Isn't it your turn to be the horse?"

"No. He's metal and too big. You need to go faster." Elicia said matter-of-factly, digging her heels into Ed's ribs.

"Yah!" Ed started and jumped, before starting to run around faster.

Alphonse snickered.

Fifteen minutes later, Ed was lying sprawled out on the floor on his stomach. "No more. No more."

"Aw. No more horsey?" Elicia looked saddened.

"No. Horsey has retired." Ed admitted, tired.

"Huh. My Daddy always is a horsey longer than that." Elicia looked disappointed, before pointing at the clock. "Big brother, what time does that say?"

"7:30." Alphonse supplied helpfully.

Elicia gasped, green eyes growing impossibly wide with excitement. "That means my radio program is on!" she grabbed Al's leather hand in her own, tugging him towards the stairs. "C'mon! You have to listen to it with me! You too, little brother!"

"'M not little." Ed mumbled halfheartedly from where his face was smushed into the carpet. "An' I'll catch up-"

He could already hear the metal clanking as Elicia pulled Alphonse downstairs.

Ed sighed, gathering himself and walking down slowly after them. Elicia was already laying on her stomach in front of the radio, feet in the air and chin perched on her hands, elbows on the ground as she stared excitedly at the radio.

Al had carefully selected the channel she asked for, and now the crackling radio-operator's voice announced the start of 'The Littlest Pony" radio show.

It was hard for Gracia to hide her excitement at seeing her husband- even if it was only in the office. Maes, too, looked excited, wrapping his wife in a bear-hug and not letting go for nearly a full minute.

Roy let them talk and settled himself behind Maes desk, eyes scanning the gore-filled pictures and casefiles with intense scrutiny.

While the couple talked at length about each other- how they'd missed one another, how Elicia was doing, how Gracia was holding up- the conversation eventually circled back to the case.

"Do you think it'll be over soon, Maes?" Gracia asked, looking hopeful.

"I'm doing my best, sweetheart. Roy was kind enough to come help me look over these case files..."

"Any leads?"

"No. Well, yes." Hughes ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. "We've interviewed everyone except the politicians. Susans came yesterday, she didn't have any useful information, and Trevors today, nothing new, but Xavier we still haven't been able to get ahold of anyone but his secretary. I'm afraid he may be a dead-end too- and then- I don't know what we're going to do." Hughes admitted, looking defeated.

"You're brilliant, honey, I'm sure you'll think of something."

A knocked sounded at the door, and they all looked up from their respective places.

"Come in." Hughes said, sounding weary.

The door opened to reveal a rather slight woman with honey-blond hair, carrying a small gift basket. Roy recognized her from her picture in the paper today- it was Susans, the woman who'd won the election for representative today.

"Hello Lieutenant Hughes." she offered him a warm smile.

"Miss Susans. Hello. Nice to see you again. Did you remember anything since our interview yesterday? Any new details?" he looked hopeful.

Susans shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I didn't. I just won the election, though- and I know how invested you are in this case. As my first move as our official representative, I brought you a small token of thanks for all your hard work." she nodded to Gracia, offering the basket to Hughes. "I hope I didn't intrude."

"Not at all. We were just discussing the cooperation of the candidates. Or lack thereof. You were the easiest to get ahold of." Hughes admitted.

"Oh, you've been having trouble reaching them? That's a surprise. I talked to Trevors today- he was disappointed to have lost, but agreed to work as one of my assistants. Good man. And Xavier said he'd be visiting you today. I'm surprised you haven't heard from him."

"You've heard from Xavier?" Hughes looked excited. "He's the only witness we haven't been able to reach for an interview. His testimony might crack this case!"

"He's been meaning to stop by for awhile, it sounds like. He's a rather... odd fellow, though. He seemed to nervous on the night of the last debate. He even went missing for awhile- I suspect he was in the bathroom. And then- when he was leaving for the night- well, I don't want to embarrass him..."

"Miss Susans. Any detail you remember could make or break this case. Please, I need to know." Hughes had already snatched up a nearby notepad and pen, staring at her intensely. Roy had now abandoned his casefiles and was watching the exchange as well, as was Gracia.

"Well- he- when he left after the debates, he was carrying a pink handbag. He has a wife, but she wasn't there that night, so... I suppose it could've been from a lover..."

The notepad and pen fell from Hughes slack hands and hit the floor.

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that please?" Roy was on his feet, shocked and disbelieving.

"He was carrying a pink purse that evening that he didn't have when he came in." Susans admitted, looking surprised by the intensity of their reaction. "I didn't think it was a big deal, in fact, I'd completely forgotten about it until you asked. Why? Is something the matter?"

"That's our man, Roy! Xavier is our man!" Hughes boomed, looking excited. "The purse! Ed mentioned the purse! It all makes sense!"

"No wonder your office has been having trouble reaching him, he's the one!" Roy thundered, looking equally excited.

"Is this significant to the investigation some how?" Susans asked, looking surprised.

Hughes was animated enough he might have sprung across the room and hugged her.

"Yes! Yes, Miss Susans, I think you've cracked our case!"

Susans smiled, looking pleased with herself. "Well, I'm afraid I don't understand how, but I'm glad I could help. Still, I'm surprised Xavier hasn't gotten in contact with you. I just spoke to him today on the phone. I gave him the same offer as I did Trevors- to work as one of my assistants."

"And what did he say?" Roy asked, still interested.

"He turned me down. Said he was disappointing by the results of the election, but he wasn't going to let it bother him any longer. He said he had to pay a visit to one of his greatest supporters and thank him in person today..."

"And who was that?"

Susans looked surprised. "You mean you don't know? He said his biggest supporter was YOU, Lieutenant..."

"Of course. Because I've been investigating the case this whole time... But why hasn't he been here yet, then?" Hughes asked himself softly.

"Oh- he said he didn't want to bother you at work. Said he'd rather visit your wife and daughter as well. I think he was planning on going to your home."

I need a lotta lattees to make it through these days....

Just kidding! But donations are always welcome at https://ko-fi.com/fluffykitty12

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Revelation

Harry Potter Marauders Era-post Hogwarts 

Summary:  After James and Lily's deaths, you have to face secrets from your past. Secrets that caused a lot of pain are going to be brought back from the furthest corners of your heart. You have to learn to care for your nephew in the midst of a war that no one wants to deal with.

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: M- sensitive themes 

Shout out to @regulusheadcanons for some kick ass ideas

________

Home again...it should be a happy occasion but it wasn’t. You had received word from Sirius that James and Lily had been killed. Your older brother and sunny sister-in-law and best friend were gone and your sweet nephew was an orphan.

Y/n, I have Harry but I need your help. Remus and I need you and you’ll need your family in the coming days. Please come home.”

You had read the letter multiple times on the flight from the US back to the UK and felt even more guilty with each second. If you had just stayed home and didn’t run off to the state after your break up with Regulus; maybe James and Lily would still be alive.

Whether you were home or away if James and Lily were destined to die it would happen.

Remus’ words came back to you from the night before. You had spent an hour before bed last night crying to Remus over the phone. As usual, Remus was the one person that could calm you down. It could have been Regulus but he totally shot that to hell.

Regulus was still a sore subject for you...a secretive sore subject. The two of you had dated “in private” since the fifth year. You thought that the two of you were in love but Regulus wasn’t ready to “let his parents down.” Those were his words, not yours. You were under the impression that after graduation the two of you would begin a life together as Jams and Lily did. When Regulus ended the relationship because he knew that his parents wouldn’t support it. There was no way that Walburga and Orion Black would be happy with their heir dating a Potter that was in Gryffindor.

To deal with the pain of the breakup, you packed a bag and took off to America. You had left your brother and close friends in a state of confusion. They couldn’t wrap their minds around why you would just vanish in the middle of the night with literally no explanation. You played it off as some kind of “getting to know yourself” adventure and everyone seemed to believe it.

Now here you were going back home to rejoin the order that Regulus was apparently now a part of. You were trying to think of ways that you would be able to be in the same room with him and not act as if the two of you once had a passion-fueled relationship. Did you still have feelings for Regulus? Yes, you knew that there was no sense in denying it. You also knew the first time that you laid eyes on him all of those feelings would multiply...I’m screwed.

(1 hour later)

Regulus stood beside Sirius and Remus waiting for your plane to land. He had no idea what he was doing by tagging along with his brother but here he was.

You’re here because you love Y/n and are desperate to see her. You want to tell her that you were a fool for not manning up and telling mum and dad to bugger off.

Regulus thought as he tried to calm himself. The thoughts were truthful. He never should have let his family’s reputation affect his decision on how he handled the relationship that he valued the most...but he did. Now here Regulus stood a miserable lonely bastard with a brand on his left arm that he couldn’t get off.

Life sucks.

He had no family, no prospects of a successful future, and no lover. The life that Regulus knew so well had gone down the all-mighty porcelain shit hole in the course of one year. After finding out that her “heir” switched sides, Walburga banished Regulus from the family. Lucky for him, Regulus drained his Gringotts vault before his mother could leave him poor and penniless. Regulus could deal with the whole not having a successful future part. Working for the order should provide him some kind of satisfaction (eventually...maybe) The not having a lover part was the worst of all the three.

Regulus hated the way that he felt over the past year that you had been gone. He had attempted to date other girls but it always went south. There was something wrong with every girl that Regulus went out with.

This one talks too much.

This one has no personality.

This one bit me when giving me a blowjob.

None of them was the one girl that he wanted the most. Not one of the girls was the one that Regulus knew...the one that he loved.

“Hey grumpy, are you okay over there?”

Regulus looked up when Sirius spoke. Rolling his eyes, Regulus turned to face his brother with a sneer.

“He’s so charming.”

Sirius said with a smirk as he elbowed Remus in the side. Remus was used to the banter between Sirius and Regulus. It was mostly Sirius nagging Regulus and Regulus either rolling his eyes or calling Sirius a twat.

“There’s Y/n.”

Sirius quickly said before walking out into the aisle. He smiled as you finally met his gaze. You quickly threw your bag down before running to Sirius and jumping in his arms. What you didn’t see was Regulus watching the whole thing with a furiously jealous expression on his face.

Is there something that I’m missing? Of course, she likes Sirius. Why wouldn’t she? He is sooo good looking! He has such a charming attitude.

Regulus thought bitterly as Sirius held you a little longer than necessary. Were the two of you in some kind of relationship that Regulus didn’t know about and if so why hadn’t Sirius mentioned it? Regulus would go ape shit if the two of you were dating...you were his...used to be his.

What Regulus didn’t know was the hug was purely therapeutic and comforting for the both of you. Sirius needed you as much as you needed him (in a strictly platonic way). You were as good as a little sister to Sirius and seeing you after James and Lily’s death soothing. Sirius knew that you needed the support as much as he did.

Sirius didn’t want to think about the fact that Harry and yourself were the only Potter left now. His “new” family has quickly diminished before his eyes. Sirius had been so thrilled to finally have a family that loved him and now it was mostly gone. In Sirius’ mind, he had already made a personal pledge to make sure that nothing happened to you. He would make sure that both Harry and yourself were safe until the day that he died.

You let yourself slide out of Sirius’ arms as he smiled down at you. This was the first that either of you had smiled in a few days.

“Look at you. One year across the pond and you are still as adorable as when you left.”

Sirius said with a smile You rolled your eyes. This was typically Sirius Black. He always knew how to say something to make even the worst situations a bit better.

“And you always know what to say. It's good to see you...especially now.”

Sirius nodded, his face darkening. It was no secret to the two of you that the days ahead would be some of the darkest of your lives. Sirius pulled you into another hug. Pressing a kiss to the top of your head Sirius had to fight his own tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes.

“We are going to make it. We have to for Harry.”

You nodded in agreement. James and Lily made it clear that if anything should happen to them, they wanted Sirius and yourself to take care of Harry. The two of you, a couple or not, were the ones that would be the best fit to care for and love their son the most.

“We’ve got this.”

You said in agreement. Both Sirius and yourself sucked at making your true feelings known. It would be easier to say that the two of you were devastated and didn’t know how life would ever go back to normal...but you wouldn't...you couldn’t.

Sirius finally let you go before wrapping an arm around your waist.

“I have a surprise for you. I dragged Remus along with my grumpy brother. Don’t mind him, he just hates everyone equally.”

The moment that you looked up and locked eyes with Regulus, your mouth dropped. There he stood...he was so close that you could run to him.

He hurt you. He doesn’t deserve a moment of your time. Kick him in the shins if he tries anything.

The sassy voice in your head picked up as your brain went into over-protection mode. As much as you wanted to hug Regulus, you weren't. You would admire him from afar.

“Hello, Regulus.”

He nodded, not saying anything. Regulus had a feeling that if he spoke, feelings that he didn’t want Sirius or Remus to know would spill out. He would look like a fool in the middle of the airport.

Regulus wanted nothing more than to tell you that he had changed. He wasn’t the man that he used to be. If you would just give him a chance, he could prove it...or was he too late. Had Sirius stolen you from him for good? Would Regulus be able to watch the two of you as a couple? Hell no! Regulus would rather be killed or just die in some tragic way than watch you be his brother’s lover.

Sometimes dead is better.

Before Regulus was able to make a comment, Remus stepped in and pulled you into a hug. Regulus put his head down with an insolent frown. What he didn’t see was Sirius watching him with a suspicious frown. Why did Regulus suddenly look like a jealous lover?

Arriving back to Sirius’ house, you were thrilled to automatically be greeted by Marlene and Dorcas. Both of your friends took turns hugging you and cradling you like a baby.

“You look so pretty! Dorcas, doesn’t she look pretty?”

Marlene squealed. Dorcas nodded.

“Of course, she looks pretty. We’ve missed your face.”

“Um, you two are kind of hurting my face.”

You squeaked. Both Dorcas and Marlene backed away as Sirius stepped into the room with Harry in his arms. Your happy smile faded as you laid your eyes on your nephew that looked so much like his father.

Sirius smiled as he placed the baby boy in your arms.

“Harry, say hello to your aunty Y/n. She’s a doll, huh?”

Sirius smirked as he noticed Regulus step into the room. The younger brother immediately locked his eyes on you.

Crap….

He was dreading the moment that you met your nephew for the first time. Regulus dreaded seeing your tears and here you were cuddling the baby with tears in your eyes. He hated it even more that he couldn’t comfort you like he used to. When something was bothering you before, Regulus took care of it. He knew how to make everything better. Whether it be simply cuddling you, kicking someone’s ass in “secret”, or physical comfort...Regulus did it.

“Uh oh, I think someone needs a change.”

You stated, pulling Regulus from his thoughts. Sirius pointed to the little bedroom off of the kitchen.

“That’s his room. Feel free to do whatever you need to. I normally put him down for a nap about this time.”

You walked from the room with a smile leaving Sirius and Regulus alone in the kitchen.

The moment that you were gone, Regulus sat down at the table and reached for the newspaper in front of him. Sirius, meanwhile, decided to ask questions about his suspicions.

“So, Reg, I have a curious question.”

Regulus didn’t look up from the newspaper. His dark eyes were focused on reading. The less that he had to deal with his brother the better off he was. He was too busy trying to control his emotions over you and didn’t have the strength or patience to deal with Sirius and his nonsense.

“The answer is yellow and you are not a woman.”

Regulus replied with a small smirk. Sirius gave his brother an annoyed sneer.

“I’m aware of that fact and I have no idea what yellow has to do with anything. My question is what happened between Y/n and yourself?”

Regulus looked up, obviously surprised.

“Excuse me?”

Sirius glanced over his shoulder to make sure that you weren’t listening.

“I saw how the two of you look at each other.”

Regulus resumed his “cool as a cucumber” attitude. Turning the page of the newspaper, he went back to reading.

“I should ask you the same question.”

It was Sirius’ turn to look confused.

“Huh?”

Regulus snorted.

“The way that you two go gaga over each other. It's disgusting. I wish James would come back from the dead to kick your ass.”

Sirius blinked. The way that the two of you acted at the airport was typical “Sirius and Y/n” behavior. Anyone that knew the two of you would agree to that. It was playful fun between friends. Sirius didn’t look at you like…

Oh my god, Regulus is hot for Y/n!

Sirius’ mouth dropped at the thought. He quickly pointed at his little brother.

“You like her! Have you two...done dirty things?”

Regulus looked up. He placed his elbows on the table to place his chin on his hands.

“To answer your question, yes we have done dirty things. If you think that you are going to be half the lover to her that I was, you are sadly mistaken. I bet she hasn’t called you daddy before.”

The words left Regulus’ mouth before he could really think about what he said. Normally, Regulus typically was very calculating with what he said. This comment, however, just came out leaving Regulus feeling like a jealous 13-year-old girl who was deciding who could sit with him at lunch and who couldn’t.

“Huh?”

Sirius questioned. Regulus didn’t blink or move.

“What?”

Regulus replied, with a sneaky smirk. Sirius, meanwhile, stood with his mouth wide open as he realized exactly what his brother said. Regulus didn’t make any facial expression as Sirius scratched his head. How long had you been sleeping with Regulus? When did this happen and where was Sirius? How did he not pick up on this and you called Regulus “daddy.”

Sirius would never think about his little brother in that particular context. He still saw Regulus as his innocent quiet brother who he assumed was still a virgin but obviously wasn’t (and he was apparently good at doing the “deed.”)

Regulus-fucking-Black is a kinky dude... it's always the quiet ones.

Sirius thought before speaking gibberish when he tried to question his brother on when and where this all started and how did he miss the memo?

“Y-wh-she-where…”

Regulus smirked before going back to his newspaper leaving his brother to question everything about a world that he thought he knew so well. He only looked up again when you stepped into the room with Remus behind you. The two of you were talking quietly and stopped at Sirius’ strange actions.

“Sirius, what’s wrong?”

Remus questioned as you looked between both brothers. Sirius motioned to Regulus then to you and uttered a strange slew of words that were mixed together so much that no one could understand. Had you not been so confused, you would have found Sirius’ over the top dramatic motions to Remus amusing. He clearly expected Remus to understand what he was talking about but Remus just blinked and scratched his head.

“Uh-huh.”

Remus politely replied and decided that he was not going to try to decipher what Sirius was freaking out for the moment. Once Sirius got himself together, Remus was sure that he would hear about whatever it was.

Regulus stood up with a pleased smile on his face.

“My work here is done.”

You had a feeling on what happened. Sirius was just let in on the “big secret” and was having the reaction that you expected. If James was still alive he would either be doing the same thing or he would have Regulus in a headlock...it would be a real toss-up. Hopefully, somewhere in heaven, your brother wasn’t giving Lily too hard of a time.

Waiting a moment longer, you turned and followed Regulus outside onto the front step. He was in the middle of lighting a cigarette when you stepped out with no coat on. Rolling his eyes, he didn’t want to let his attention linger too long but couldn’t help it.

“Go back inside. It's cold out here.”

Regulus commented. He felt bad that the first thing that he said to you was an order. The last thing that he wanted was for you to get ill. You crossed your arms over your chest as the cold autumn air surrounded you.

“So the first words that you say to me is an order. Is that how it's going to be?”

You questioned as Regulus took a drag on the cigarette before turning back to you. He groaned before tossing the half-smoked cigarette into the waiting ashtray. Pulling his coat off he gently wrapped it around your shoulders.

You were clearly surprised by his action. Surprised and heartbroken was the exact feelings that you had going through you. The coat smelled just like Regulus always had from the time that you had gotten to know him. That comforting scent that always made your overly anxious nerves relax anytime that he was near you.

“Um...sorry. Hello, sorry that I’m an ass.”

Regulus offered, clearly confused as to what you wanted from him. You sighed.

“You told Sirius about our relationship didn’t you?”

Regulus shook his head.

“Not exactly. He asked if we did dirty things and I simply said that I bet you haven’t called him daddy before.”

All of the thoughts came to a screeching halt in your mind. Regulus had actually said that to Sirius and now Sirius knew! You blushed at the realization that you would have to explain this to Sirius soon. There was also the annoyance that Regulus didn’t seem to mind letting his brother in on the secret but he couldn't open his mouth to his parents. Maybe you were right all along? Perhaps the relationship was just about the sex to Regulus and when he said “I love you” he didn’t really mean it.

“You’re comfortable telling Sirius what we do in the bedroom but you don’t have the balls to tell your parents anything...lovely.”

Regulus’ face was unreadable for a moment.

“I don’t talk to my parents anymore. You would have known that if you hadn’t run off to America.”

“You broke up with me. I had nothing to stay for. As far as I knew, you were stuck on being a death eater and wanted nothing more to do with me. Did you honestly think that I was going to wait around for you to walk all over me again? I’m not dirt under your shoe just because I am not some member of some super elite club of pureblood morons.”

Regulus didn’t expect the venom to ooze out of your mouth the way that it did. Now here he stood looking at you with an annoyed expression.

“It looks like you’ve moved on just fine with my brother.”

You laughed at that comment...hard.

“Sirius and I? Wow, you must really be fucked in the head if you think that I would date someone who is like another brother to me.”

“I'm fucked in the head? Did you really say that?”

Regulus snapped. You nodded.

“Yep. Sure did. You know what, maybe I should date Sirius. At least, he was there for me. He wanted to make sure that I was okay and even offered to come to America to get me. You didn’t. In this whole year that we have been broken up, how many times have you tried to contact me? I’ll answer that...none. All that I have to say to you is, Regulus Black you aren’t getting your coat back.”

You turned on your head storming in the house and slamming the door behind you. Regulus stood looking at the place that you once stood with an annoyed frown.

“Fuck!

________

@amelie-black @regulusheadcanons @truly-insatiable @fandomsxxregulus @realgaytrash @quuenofblacks @lucasfilms77 @fific7 @hazncalsgal @teletubiswszpilkach @exhsle @acciosiriusblack @whymyparentscheckmyphone @criminalyetminimal @bennyberry @mimisparkle12 @jessyballet @knreidy1 @rubyroscoe1 @spiderxalmighty @brokencasbutt67-writer @authoressskr @fandom-trash-worth-it @summer-novak @hankypranky @emiwrites3reads @shaylybaby2032 @li0nh34rt @tas898 @stuckinsaudi1 @untoldshortsofthefandoms @sprnaturallover @deanwherescas @wontlookaway @shitfaceddaniel @mycuddlycorner @marichromatic

[calitraditionalism]

Arc Two: Chapter Two

(AO3 counterpart here.)

The next day came, and with it a patchwork of clouds that pleasantly cooled down the usually warm morning. True to their words, the brothers decided to take the half-hour trek into the center of the Territory's valley to visit their mother. Beetlefoot had silently stood nearby, shifting his feet, until Mistface took the hint and invited him to come with them. Beetlefoot had then made a point of agreeing with a reluctant tone of voice, as if he had much better things to do than see Nettlecloud. Greyleaf and Mistface knew by now to just humor his strange pride and say nothing else.

Beetlefoot seemed to forget that he was supposed to be sullen about getting dragged along almost as soon as they were out of earshot of the rest of the group by the border of the settlement. He perked up, his regimented soldier’s stride relaxing more and more the closer they came to where the Vultures were residing. By the time they could see a small group lazing about together, he was almost walking like a normal cat.

A dark-striped ginger tom was the first to notice them, being the only one actually sitting up. He turned to a plain grey blob behind him and said something.

The blob shifted, and Nettlecloud’s head raised up, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. Her fur was as droopy as usual, but it reflected what little sunlight poked through the clouds and shined brighter than Mistface was used to seeing on his mother. Her tired eyes lit up and she slowly rose onto her haunches as the three toms reached the group.

“Oh, and you even brought Beetlefoot,” she croaked, purring. “Greyleaf, love, where have you been?”

“Busy, Mama.” Greyleaf greeted his mother with a gentle headbump. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you what’s been going on – I was asked to help out in Clast. I meant to send a messenger, but…”

“I’m just happy you’re alright,” Nettlecloud said, and drowsily smiled at him. “And you’re so close by! I could even make the walk, if your brother would let me.”

“Or if Rushroot would let you,” the ginger tom said. He looked at Mistface. “We’re glad to have her, by the way. She’s a treat. Minnowpounce already loves her.”

At the name, a dull brown-and-white molly with an incredibly round belly half-rolled their way, resting on her back. She nodded to the trio of newcomers and yawned.

“She’s planning names for my litter,” she said. “I told her we don’t know what they’ll look like yet, but…”

“It’s the closest I’ll get to grandchildren.” Nettlecloud looked back at her and spoke with a pointedly sweet and indulgent voice. “I know my darlings here won’t do it.”

“Mama-!“ Greyleaf and Mistface immediately started.

“I’m teasin’, my loves, only teasin’.” Nettlecloud trilled a soft laugh at their joint flusterment. “Maybe Beetlefoot will, one day.”

Mistface looked at Beetlefoot and immediately forgot his own mood to stifle a guffaw at how large Beetlefoot’s eyes were. His fur on his back stuck straight in the air and he was stiffly standing like he was trying to join it and fly into the sky.

“I don’t- I-“ Beetlefoot said, and spluttered a few more starts to a sentence before giving up and turning away in embarrassment. It was a very amusing look on him.

The ginger tom snorted and shook his head. “You’re something else, Nettlecloud.”

“An old lady like me loses all sense of social niceties after a while.” Nettlecloud chuckled and added to Beetlefoot, “I’m sorry, dear, I was just pokin’ fun at your expense.”

Beetlefoot’s response was a delayed clearing of the throat and a nod like he had just been told he had escaped death.

To save him from having to say anything, Mistface said, “Don’t wear out your welcome too soon. If you’re mockin’ everyone-“

“Stars above, no!” Nettlecloud blinked and playfully frowned at him. Out of the corner of Mistface’s eye, Greyleaf winced. “I’d never point a single cruel word at such lovely cats.”

Mistface rolled his eyes as he affectionately rasped a tongue over her ear. “Whatever you say, Mama.”

The conversation mellowed out a bit, and the longer they talked, the more the other cats stirred from their sleep and watched them. Occasionally, they would offer a comment or laugh at a joke, but otherwise it was mostly Nettlecloud, Mistface and Greyleaf. Beetlefoot, still looking a little embarrassed, gave a response now and then, but he seemed to be just fine sitting within the small circle and listening.

Eventually, Greyleaf cleared his throat. “Well, I’m sure you’ve heard by now, there’s been a predator sighting or two around this area. They haven’t sent a patrol to look at it yet, but…”

Beetlefoot and Mistface’s eyes met in a silent understanding. The leaders had claimed that there were other animals in the valley to try and keep cats away from the Clast camp, and therefore away from Redheart. Adding to that, there was a patrol nearby, but they were assigned to linger out of sight yet close enough to the settlement that Beetlefoot could sneak off and give them reports, so that they could relay that message to the leaders.

“I’ll be fine, dear.” Nettlecloud lifted and lowered her paw in a gesture of reassurance. “You just worry about yourself and y’all in Clast. You’ve got a lot of work to do there!”

Greyleaf took a slow breath, his eyes reflecting something Mistface couldn’t name. “You have no idea, Mama. No idea.”

---

Laurelclaw was a little lost.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to others – he did, very much – but as he looked over the much shorter cats passing through camp, occasionally swiping at each other with a laugh, he couldn’t figure out for the life of him how he was supposed to make any friends without getting into a fight.

He had been sitting against the wall of one of the houses for half the morning, occasionally standing to take a step into the crowd and then shyly sitting back down when someone looked at him. He hadn’t even gotten any prey from the center of the clearing yet in case someone challenged him over food. Not that he was extremely hungry – Plage cats, who traveled back and forth from the sea to the Territory, were used to not eating more than one or two meals in a day, and walking besides.

Still, he thought, it would be nice to be a little smaller so he could walk through without grabbing attention. Cats were always staring at him because of his height. Perhaps if he-

“You there!”

Laurelclaw wanted to hide. He knew that challenging tone of voice.

Nervously, he turned his head to see a black-and-white molly looking up at him with her head cocked. Her eyes were slightly squinted, like she was appraising him.

“You’ve been here since yesterday, and you haven’t said a word,” she declared, as if revealing some massive secret.

Laurelclaw’s awkward laugh stumbled out of him and flopped miserably on the ground. “Right, uh… well, I’ve just been, you know, I…”

“Looking for a good fight?” The molly smirked at him. “Not many who could take you, I bet. Where you from? Plage?”

“Yes, but- see-“

“I’m Peregrinefang,” she said, marching right over his mumbling. “Best fighter in the Clast, or at least the best native fighter. Who are you?”

Not for the first time, he loathed his suffix. “Laurel…claw.”

“Ah!” Peregrinefang’s eyes lit up. “You’re worth scrapping with, then. You know, plenty of cats around here would be very impressed with-“

“Oh! Coming!” Laurelclaw leaped to his feet, grinning apologetically at the molly. “Sorry, friend I came with, must be looking for me, nice to meet you-“

He poured out verbal nonsense over his shoulder as he trotted away as fast as he could without actually running. Peregrinefang watched him go, visibly unimpressed.

Laurelclaw perhaps should have been looking where he was going, because right before he looked ahead of himself, he bumped into something small and heard it squawk in alarm. He halted in his tracks, even jumping back a bit, ready for another deluge of apologies, when he blinked in surprise.

He had knocked over a tiny fawn calico that he recognized.

“Excuse me,” he said quickly. “I wasn’t being careful. Are you okay?”

The apprentice shook her head and sat up. She looked a little miffed, but she smiled up at him. “It’s fine, I was, uh…”

She trailed off and tilted her head. She seemed to recognize him too.

“Sorry, but...” She squinted a little. “Are you Laurelclaw?”

Laurelclaw brightened up. “Yes! Hi! You’re Littlepaw, right? We met at the Coterie.”

Littlepaw actually seemed delighted that he remembered her. Her curly-furred tail waved back and forth. “I didn’t think I’d see you here!”

“Same to you!” Laurelclaw lowered his head quite a bit to touch noses with her in greeting. “I thought you were off training to be a seer in Hillock?”

“I quit!” Littlepaw beamed and puffed out her chest. “Well, I ran away, but I did technically quit. And now I’m here with a friend I met!”

“Oh!” Laurelclaw said, having no idea how to respond to this. He floundered in his mind for a heartbeat or two. “That’s… quite a change!”

“It is!” Littlepaw’s beam turned into a wide grin. “I mean, I’m not really any good at fighting, and I’m still learning how to hunt well, but-“

“Littlepaw, who are you talking to?”

Laurelclaw flinched like he was in trouble – he was always expecting to be – and looked up to see the ticked grey tabby who had won the fight yesterday approaching. She wasn’t exactly scowling, but there was a wariness in her eyes as she looked Laurelclaw up and down.

Littlepaw almost hopped in place to turn to face her. “Flyfang! This is Laurelclaw. I met him before I met you. He’s nice, don’t worry.”

Flyfang tilted her head a little, appraising Laurelclaw. Despite his size, he felt as though he was a tiny kitten under her stare. “Is that so?”

“Hello,” Laurelclaw said meekly.

“Flyfang found me when I ran from Hillock,” Littlepaw explained. “Actually, she was running too, so we decided to come here together.”

“Marish for me,” Flyfang said, and the more she looked at Laurelclaw, the more her posture relaxed. “You’ve heard about them.”

“I know it’s hard to leave,” Laurelclaw affirmed. “But not much else.”

“They’re a secretive bunch.” Flyfang rolled her eyes. “They don’t want whatever stupid things they think are worth hiding getting out, so you’re not allowed to leave. But I have, and now I’m here.”

“Well…” Laurelclaw fumbled for something appropriate to say again. “That sounds like it was brave of you.”

Flyfang’s smile was oddly subdued. “One could say that.” She huffed quietly and gave Laurelclaw a friendly look. “You came in yesterday with Greyleaf’s brother, right? I caught your group splitting up. What’s a blind cat doing here?”

Laurelclaw’s brain stuttered. What was he supposed to say about that that wasn’t technically a lie?

“Flyfang!” Littlepaw jokingly swatted her friend with her tail. “Blind cats can do what they want.”

“I never said they couldn’t,” Flyfang said, half-laughing and batting the tail away. “I was just curious why one would come to Clast, especially now.”

Right, Laurelclaw suddenly remembered, we’re not supposed to know about the rumors. “What, uh, what’s wrong with now?”

“You haven’t heard?” Flyfang gave him an incredulous look. “I thought everyone knew. Redheart’s been talking about leaving the Territory.”

Laurelclaw did his best to look surprised. “Really? Why?”

“Something about ‘being true warriors’ or whatever.” Flyfang dismissively waved a paw. “She’s waiting for more cats to arrive before she has a meeting about it, I guess. Frankly, I don’t know what to make of it until she gives more details, but plenty of newcomers are showing up to check it out. The Clast cats are getting annoyed, if you can believe it.”

“They don’t like that not everyone is here to fight,” Littlepaw half-whispered to Laurelclaw, in a stage voice. “So they’re not too fond of me either.”

“Huh.” Laurelclaw pulled his chin a little towards his chest, thinking. “Strange.”

“They like you just fine,” Flyfang said patiently to Littlepaw. She looked back at Laurelclaw again. “So what are you here for, if not for that?”

“Just-“ Laurelclaw rolled a shoulder as casually as he could. “Just looking for a change of scenery. Maybe, um, maybe not the best place for me to come, though. I’m not much one for fighting.”

“Then why are you a -claw?” Flyfang’s head tilted again. Before Laurelclaw had to answer, she shook her head. “No matter, don’t worry. You’ll get along fine with the newcomers. They’re not all fighters either.”

“Well, that’s good.” Laurelclaw sighed in relief. “I was worried everyone would challenge me. I haven’t really even gone over to get prey in case they did-“

Right on cue, his stomach made a low, threatening growl. He winced a little, but Flyfang simply chuckled and walk close enough to nudge him with a paw.

“Come on, then,” she said. “We were about to eat too. We’ll protect you from the crowd.”

“Much appreciated.” Laurelclaw knew he didn’t really need help, but he was very grateful for it. Flyfang took the lead and started for the prey-pile.

“Oh, Laurelclaw!” Littlepaw took up position beside him as they walked, though she had to trot pretty quickly to keep up with his steps. “You should see some of the cats we’ve met here. There was this one…”

Laurelclaw listened as she started on a story about a tortoiseshell with an underbite, feeling easier by the moment now that he had some proper, mission-separate company.