#though two options are godfather fics

[lostloveletters]

Thank you so much for tagging me @thoughpoppiesblow and @wexhappyxfew 🖤

Rules: Make a 24hr poll listing the titles of every WIP you want to work on. (It's fine if you only have one, still make a poll for the vote count). Whichever WIP title gets the most votes, write 1 sentence for every vote received.

No specifics besides the titles (though it’s obvious what chapter 18 is for lol) it’ll be a surprise🤭

No pressure tags: @frstcorinthians @6thofapril1917 @shoshiwrites @sharielle @elysian-crow @thebiggerbear (please make a new post, don’t reblog)

[thehaemanthus]

tangled cable car wires (3/3)

It’s still July 23 where I’m at! 

Delighted to present the final chapter of this fic for the ACOTAR Writing Circle, organized by @azrielshadowssing. Had so much fun doing this event, and learned that I can write passable smut on demand if needed (though I think the readers will be the final judge of that). 

Thank you to @thelovelymadone and @bennylavasbuns​ for setting me up for success with your previous chapters! I hope this last chapter is a happy, sweet, sexy, and most of all funny ending because I can’t hear someone is six foot five inches without shaking my fist at the sky at the inconvenience of living next to such a height

Enjoy!

Elain was soaking wet, exhausted, out 50 bucks because she stupidly hopped into a taxi to escape her nemesis, and, oh yeah, really fucking horny.

She dumped her things just inside the door to her apartment, stripping her clothing there too before hustling to the washing machine. The wet pile of clothes landed on top with a splat.

Getting settled at home kept her mind off of other things. Elain had planned to get some take out, watch a movie or two, light a scented candle and maybe even take a bath. Now she had to start a load of laundry, dry off her work bag and pray nothing was too damaged, take a shower, then make her own dinner.

Not a very auspicious start to her coveted staycation, but maybe she could still fit in the bath. And relax. Relaxation only. No errant thoughts about an inconvenient tall, tanned, red-headed menace who apparently liked her—

Nope! No thoughts about his hands on her ass or the way he had felt between her legs. Strictly off limits.

Maybe she would pen in an appointment with her vibrator after a bubble bath. Orgasms were relaxing, right?

Elain eyed her phone, suspiciously silent after texting her sisters. They had nothing productive to say about her momentary lapse in judgment. Elain had needed to tell someone, feeling like it was a secret burning her throat. The cab driver hadn’t been an option, but maybe telling Feyre that her son’s godfather nearly fucked her in an elevator wasn’t the smartest thing.

But what else was she meant to do?

Dressed in a large t-shirt and leggings, Elain twisted her hair up into a bun and wandered into the kitchen. The whirls and hums of the washer filled the apartment, punctuated by the sound of the storm outside. Rain fell steadily, accompanied by the rumble of thunder.

A perusal of her pantry revealed very little. The fridge, even less. Elain had planned to go shopping the next day, spending the morning at the farmer’s market getting all sorts of fresh produce to experiment with. She had a list of recipes to try during her vacation, part of a plan to decide what to cultivate in her own garden.

Oh, everything was going absolutely wrong, and it was all Lucien’s fault! As always!

The loud shriek from her apartment’s buzzer made her jump. No one ever used it. If it was a friend, they sent a text. If it was a delivery, it was left downstairs.

Elain tiptoed to the intercom, pressing the button to speak. “Hello?”

“It’s me.” An awkward cough. Elain suddenly felt very warm. “Um, Lucien.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Can you let me up?”

“Why are you here? How do you know where I live?”

“Elain, I can barely understand you through this thing.” That was true. The system seemed to have been installed when the apartment was built and left alone after that. “Let me up. I have food.”

Oh. In that case. Elain pressed the button to buzz him in for a few seconds. She stood by the door, wondering whether she should open it or wait for his knock. Then she remembered she wasn’t wearing a bra under her shirt and she dashed to her bedroom in search of a sweater.

Lucien’s polite but firm knock came when she was stumbling down the hall, shoving her head through the neck hole. “Just a second!” Elain rightened herself, smoothing down her hair and straightening the sweater before opening the door.

“Hi,” Lucien held up a paper bag with a familiar logo. “I got your favorite.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know what my favorite is?”

“I called in a favor with Feyre,” he said. “Cacio e pepe, bruschetta, butternut squash ravioli, and the house salad?”

Elain crossed her arms. “I don’t like cacio e pepe.” Well, that wasn’t entirely true. But it wasn’t her favorite!

“Yeah, well, I do. Let me in?” Lucien raised an eyebrow.

She was tempted. However. “How did you find out where I live? What HR rules did you violate?”

“Elain, I hardly have to violate HR rules when Feyre is one of my best friends,” Lucien sighed. “Now, please, let me in.”

She could grab the food and lock him out. It would serve him right. But she had a feeling in the tussle for the bag, he would win or the food would become a casualty.

Elain stepped aside. “Fine. Kitchen is over there.”

She snuck glances at Lucien as he unpacked the bag and she took out dishes and silverware. His long hair was damp from the rain, but he looked much the same as he had before they parted ways earlier that evening.

“Did you go home at all?”

“No,” Lucien shrugged, taking a seat and helping himself to the food. “I’m starving.”

Elain’s stomach grumbled. Sharing a table with Lucien wasn’t super appealing, but she was hungry too. Reluctantly, she sat across from him at her tiny round four-seater and served herself. It was quiet except for the sound of their eating and the occasional request to pass a dish or a napkin.

She waited for Lucien to say something. He was the one who came over, he must have a reason. If all he wanted was to pick up where they left off, he would’ve spoken before he started dishing out the food.

“Eat, Elain,” he said without looking up.

She scowled. “I am.” Asshole.

“You’re spending more time glaring at me than chewing,” he said. “And you’re going to need energy for what I have planned.”

Elain sputtered. “Excuse me?”

“I want you,” he admitted. His fiery gaze made her squirm. “I also want you happy and able to keep up so—” He waved his fork at her then shoveled more pasta into his mouth.

“I didn’t realize this was a quid pro quo,” she seethed. “Food for sex?”

Lucien flinched a bit, coughing as he choked down his food. “Food for talking. Which I think will lead to sex.”

“Cocky.”

“Elain, your thighs were wrapped about me like two hours ago,” he pointed out. “I want you. You want me. I’m going to feed you, clear the air between us, and then do what I should have done years ago.”

“Which is?”

“Show you how much I care about you.”

Elain sniffed, stabbing her salad. “I see no reason why we can’t eat and talk.”

Despite herself, she was curious. Lucien had been a real menace. He had to be a true idiot not to realize how his actions back then bothered her. Maybe he thought they had a friendly rivalry now, but Elain’s real dislike of him wasn’t just going to go away.

“I told you I liked you,” he started. “And I was stupid about the way I went about it. I must still be a little stupid, because I didn’t realize what I was doing was bothering you that much. All this time, I thought I was making you better, Elain. I wouldn’t give critique to any other colleague that way, but we have a history. You never told me to stop.”

She opened her mouth to argue then had to abruptly shut it. Was he right?

Maybe. Every criticism, every suggestion did actually make her work better. Even if Lucien wasn’t right all the time, he made her think and defend her decisions. He needled her, sure, but she gave it right back.

A mature adult would have told him to stop, would have said she didn’t appreciate his comments or even gone to a supervisor. She didn’t, was never even tempted to.

Elain frowned, taking a bite of her ravioli so she could stall. Finally, she said, “This is how you normally charm people? You bicker with them?”

“No, that seems to be a you-thing.” Lucien leaned back in his chair with a chuckle, rolling his sleeves up. And damn her if those forearms didn’t make her a little hot. If he noticed, Lucien didn’t say anything. “I am sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. And I’m here with dinner and dessert to say that I still like you, Elain. A lot.”

“Dessert?” she asked, as if that was the most important part of the conversation. He brought out a container of tiramisu. Elain hummed in approval, but didn’t say anything else.

What now? An obscenely tall man sat across from her, finishing the dinner he brought her for the chance to confess that he’d like to get in her pants. Okay, and he probably wanted to…what? Date her?

Elain mopped up the remnants of the sage browned butter sauce with a piece of bread, plate clean. “You busy on Saturday?”

“Uh, no,” Lucien said.

“I was planning to see a movie by myself, but I supposed you can tag along.” Elain stood, clearing the dishes from the table. “I’ll buy the tickets, you buy us ice cream after.”

She didn’t think Lucien was that stunned, though she didn’t hear an answer from him as she started loading her dishwasher. Instead, she heard the sound of the fridge opening and closing. Then two very large, very warm hands were on her hips. Elain’s damp hands froze in midair.

“I’d love to see a movie with you Saturday.” His breath stirred the top of her head. Damn, he was too tall. “I’ll take you out for dinner too, someplace where we don’t have to do the dishes.” Lucien’s nose trailed down her neck. “But what about now, Elain?”

“I didn’t get dessert,” she said breathlessly.

“I put it in the fridge.” He kissed her neck and she nearly melted. “Midnight snack. If you aren’t too worn out.”

Elain could never back down from a challenge Lucien put in front of her. She spun, using his body for balance as she popped onto her tiptoes. He leaned down, meeting her halfway in a passionate kiss. Their first encounter had been savage and angry, but this one was just desperate.

Lucien’s hands wandered to her ass, giving it a firm squeeze. Elain squeaked into his mouth and retaliated with a nip. His hands traveled a little further down, and this time she didn’t hesitate in gripping his shoulders and jumping.

Face to face with him, Elain grinned. “I could get used to this view.”

“I hope you do.” It was the typical smug answer she would expect from him, but without the mean edge.

Lucien’s little smile was so sexy she had to kiss him again. Her hands combed through his silky hair, enjoying the handfuls that slipped through her fingers. Lucien groaned, stumbling a bit before he placed her on the counter. Once again she was a little shorter than him, but he quickly fixed that by bending to kiss from her jaw down her neck.

“How do you always smell like fucking flowers?” he groaned.

Elain wiggled on the counter, grabbing her sweater and t-shirt and pulling them off at once. Lucien helped her tug the material over her head and the bundle got tossed on the floor.

“Fuck.” Lucien wasted no time in cupping her breasts, thumbs flicking over her nipples as he watched her reactions. “I’ve fucking dreamt about your tits.”

Elain laughed breathlessly, head tilted back and heart pounding as each caress sent electricity between her thighs. “You have not.” She kicked him. Gently.

“I’ll tell you all about it.” He practically buried his face in her chest, murmuring against her flesh between kisses. “You can decide what we reenact.”

Any thought of joking flew out the window when he took her nipple in his mouth and sucked, teeth gently biting down. Elain cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as he lifted his head, teeth scraping against her sensitive skin. She dragged his mouth back to hers, opening his mouth to hers. Lucien’s hands went back to her breasts, unable to leave them unattended for even a moment.

“Shirt off,” she gasped, hands clumsily pulling at the material where it was tucked into his pants. Together they wrestled the shirt off, then Elain attacked his belt. Her efforts were thwarted when Lucien tugged her closer, ass nearly hanging off the edge of the counter. Again, she felt his cock against her core, hot and big and all for her.

Lucien lifted her again, walking out of the kitchen. “Bedroom?”

“That way,” Elain pointed while she took her turn in kissing his jaw, eager to taste every inch of that bronze skin. She traced the edge of his ear with her tongue and he nearly ran them into the door frame.

Abruptly, Elain felt herself fall. She landed with a bounce on her bed, staring up at the giant rubbing his cock through his pants as he gazed at her.

“Come here,” she held out her hands.

Lucien took off his pants and boxers, and Elain sat up like a spring. She was never really one to call dicks pretty or anything, but his was too enticing to ignore. One hand gripped the base as her tongue darted out, licking a broad stripe up the underside.

“Fuck!” Lucien cursed. His hand landed on the back of her head, before he snatched it away. “Elain, later.”

“Now.” She glared up at him then resumed her work. She warmed up by licking him, then took the head in her mouth and swirled her tongue. She took Lucien’s hand and put it back on her head, but though it stayed there it was frozen. Lucien’s cock was so thick her mouth burned with the stretch. His cursing and babbled praise punctuated the roaring in her ears.

“Enough, enough, Elain.” Now his hand fisted her hair, tugging to get her off. She released him with a pop and a pout. “Shit, I already know I’m going to embarrass myself and come too soon, you don’t have to make it harder for me.”

“I think you’re plenty hard.” She didn’t get the chance to laugh at her stupid joke before Lucien pushed her back on the bed, kissing her thoroughly. She shivered and moaned at the feeling of so much hot body on hers, the way his muscles rubbed against her soft curves.

Lucien impatiently kissed down her body, dedicating just a bit more time for her breasts. He nibbled on the skin above her waistband before Elain squirmed and started to peel off her leggings herself. They joined the pile of clothes on the floor.

He kneeled on the floor, pulling Elain to the edge of the bed by her hips. Her gasp of surprise turned into a cry of delight when Lucien licked her pussy, no teasing or agonizing build up.

She never understood the true meaning of eating out until that moment. Lucien devoured her, hands digging into her skin to keep her hips down, to keep her cunt accessible to his mouth. She couldn’t close her legs, couldn’t wiggle away from the assault.

“Lucien,” she gasped. “I — oh.”

His response was a groan. That was fine. Why use his tongue for words when it could keep circling her clit, flicking as his lips coaxed every drop of pleasure from her body?

Elain gripped his auburn hair, shivering at the way it brushed against her thighs. Lucien grunted at a particularly rough tug, but he didn’t tell her to stop. She arched against the bed, cries getting louder until Lucien reached up, tweaked her nipple, and she broke.

Practically sobbing through the aftershocks, Elain’s grip on Lucien’s hair loosened as he brought her down with slow licks. With one final shudder, Elain nudged his side with her foot. He rose, wiping his smirking mouth with the back of his hand. The sight made her core clench again.

Elain rolled on the bed, stretching to open the drawer of her nightstand. Behind her she felt Lucien climbing on the bed. He kissed her shoulder. Then he swatted her ass.

“Hey!” Elain abandoned her search for a condom to glare.

“Sorry,” he said, not looking very sorry at all. “Too tempting to resist.”

While he kneaded her ass, Elain rooted through junk until she found condoms. Together, they wasted no time in rolling it on Lucien.

“This okay?” he asked when he found himself hovering over her.

Elain wiggled a bit on her back, smiling as she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Perfect.”

He leaned down to kiss her sweetly. “Tell me if I need to go slow or anything.”

“You’re going too slow right now,” she grumbled, pulling his body towards her. “I’m ready.”

Lucien’s eyes on her were intense, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away as he lined himself up and slowly pushed into her. Elain’s eyes fluttered and her breath got caught in her throat. She was entranced by the hard line of his jaw, the way his lips pressed together as he slowly rolled his hips and penetrated deeper and deeper. The stretch was exquisite.

When Elain thought he had no more to give, Lucien proved her wrong. She made a choked sound, throwing her head back.

“Elain?” he grunted.

“Keep going.” She bucked her hips. One of his giant hands held onto her thigh, the other arm supporting his weight as he completed a few more gentle thrusts—and then she knew she had taken all of him.

Elain moaned. “Holy shit.”

“That good, huh?” Lucien’s voice was strained as he moved steadily, head falling.

She didn’t give the smug asshole a verbal answer, choosing instead to grab his face and place a sloppy kiss on his lips. Elain purposefully flexed her inner muscles around him to jerk Lucien out of his controlled movements. It worked. With a groan, his hips snapped against her, rhythm slowly increasing.

“Elain.” He lowered his body more, at her urging. “Fuck, Elain, you…”

She could only respond with her cries of pleasure, arms and legs holding him closer.

With a growl, Lucien reared up. Elain whined, but he ignored her as he knelt and hauled her back on his cock. Her back arched, heels digging into the mattress. In this position he could fuck her with more power. She gripped his wrists where his hands were clamped on her waist, needing something to grip. Lucien’s gaze jumped from where they were joined to where her breasts bounced wildly.

Elain bucked. “Lucien…I need…”

He brought his thumb to her mouth. She sucked, nipping his salty skin before he pulled it out. Lucien rubbed his thumb against her lips, smearing her spit. He looked entranced for a moment before he brought his thumb down to her clit. A few circles, then Elain was flying apart.

She screamed, flying with pleasure until her body went limp. Lucien kept a steady pace until she began to come down, then he moved faster and faster. Head thrown back, biceps flexed with the effort it took to keep her on his cock, Lucien thrust deep one more time before coming with a cry. His hips jerked in a few more powerful thrusts before he released his grip on her.

Elain was undone. Her chest heaved and she was sure she was an unattractive splotchy red. Her tug on Lucien was weak, but he leaned over her without much coaxing. The kisses they shared were sweet and sated, unhurried.

“Lemme get rid of this,” Lucien murmured. Elain hummed, pressing one more kiss to his lips before pulling back. They cleaned up quickly, falling back into back wordlessly.

Well, mostly wordlessly. “Let me know when you want that tiramisu,” Lucien murmured against the back of her head.

Elain giggled. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“I can’t convince you to go for round two?” He brushed aside the hair on her neck, brushing his lips from the sensitive skin there down to her shoulder.

“‘M tired,” she sighed. “Tomorrow.”

“Bright and early then,” he said. “Some of us don’t have vacation.”

“Sucks for you.”

He chucked. Elain was almost asleep when he spoke again.

“Elain…”

“What?” she grumbled.

“I don’t want to leave you but…”

That woke her up. Elain rolled onto her back, swiping her hair out of her face. “But?”

“But I do have to work tomorrow and…” He looked very sheepish. “Elain, I don’t fit on your bed.”

She sat up, ready to berate him for being stupid. But the words died in her mouth. Unless he curled up, his feet did hang off the bed. He could perhaps sleep diagonally and fit on her bed, but not when she was in it.

“Never mind,” Lucien said. “I’ll be fine for one night.” He kissed her cheek and lay back down. Elain got up. “Elain?”

“Get dressed.” She pulled a tshirt and then found a backpack, stuffing it with a change of clothes. “You can have your bed and your round two if you make me breakfast in the morning.”

“Are you sure?” He looked much too sexy splayed in her bed, bedsheet just covering his hips but leaving plenty of muscled body for her to peruse.

Oh yeah. She could go for a round two.

“Hurry up.” She bent and threw his pants at him. “And don’t forget my tiramisu.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

[drabbles-mc]

Miles of Red String

An OG Narcos & Narcos MX Crossover fic (ft. OC Diego Ramírez)

For @ashlingnarcos as part of the Candy Hearts Exchange

Warnings: 18+, language, smoking, alcohol, angst, the typical Narcos Universe Things

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: Taking all of my OG Narcos S3 faves and giving them my beloved mess of an NMX man Walt Breslin. Pobrecito Expressway making its first stop at this fic. I have so many feelings about all of this and idk how to articulate any of them. I love all of these messy, messy men so much. Catching me adding yet another layer to the Diegoverse for none other than one of Diego's other parents.

Narcos/NMX/Diegoverse Taglist: @garbinge @narcolini @hausofmamadas @mysun-n-stars @nessamc @thesandbeneathmytoes @anditsmywholeheart @winchestershiresauce @sizzlingcloudmentality @alm0501 @panagiasikelia @616wilsons @hauntedforsst @mirabee @buckybarneshairpullingkink @boomclapxox @southotheborder @supersanelyromantic @padbrookcottage @raincoffeeandfandoms @justreblogginfics @marrianena @passionatewrites @artemiseamoon (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

The death of Escobar didn’t mean that the work in Colombia was over. Far from it, actually. All the death of Escobar meant was that Escobar was dead. The other cartel leaders, the Cali Godfathers, had been operating almost completely unchecked in the meantime because the country, the world, was so obsessed with catching and stopping Escobar.

However, even though there was still a seemingly endless amount of work to be done, it was very evident that the previous years, the chase, all of the loss, had taken a toll on everyone. While in some cases people would assume, “Well, you’re already in Colombia, you might as well stay here and start working on the next thing,” that wasn’t the case when the shift from taking down Pablo changed to taking down the Cali cartel.

Everyone met with their superiors when it came time to discuss options and make decisions for the next move. A lot of people left, too exhausted to go right from one brutal manhunt to the next. A lot of agents, a lot of officers, transferred or went back home shadows of their former selves. No one was the same after all of that.

Steve went home. He had a wife, a family, and still managed to keep a few shreds of his humanity. He cut his losses and went back to the states. No one could blame him for that. Peña, despite his less than desirable slap on the wrist and suspension over Los Pepes, was asked to return to help with the Gentlemen of Cali. The ask was surprising, as was his agreeing to do it.

Search Bloc wasn’t what it had been. The rules of engagement for tackling the Cali cartel were different than for Escobar. Having a massive, police-based hit squad on deck at all times wasn’t going to be necessary the way it had been in the years prior. That being the case, Colonel Martinez was still around, and still very much involved with the police and the plan going forward to continue dismantling the next cartel that was on the chopping block, but it wasn’t the same as it had been before. In truth, he was probably beyond thankful for that, because it wasn’t something that he had ever really wanted or asked for.

Then, there was one person who, through no choice or real fault of his own, existed in a very strange limbo between the CNP and the DEA. Again, something that he hadn’t ever planned on or asked for. Diego Ramírez had spent the better part of the last few years pinballing back and forth between Search Bloc and the DEA. No longer a true part of the Bloque de Buscada, not an actual member of the DEA, he had been on an island between the two. All of the danger with almost none of the camaraderie.

Diego met with Martinez to discuss next moves. The two were professional—after all, Martinez was always professional. But the advice and insight that Martinez could try to provide was coming from a more distant place than when he advised his other men. It wasn’t the Colonel’s fault. It wasn’t Diego’s either. Colonel Carrillo, for better or worse, was probably one of the only people who could’ve given Diego real advice on what his next move should be. But, even if the man had still been alive, he probably wouldn’t have offered up much. The man never did learn how to let go of a grudge.

But now Diego was sitting across from Messina. He hadn’t expected to be pulled aside by her. He assumed that whatever they were about to talk about, it was going to be about what his plans were. He wished that he had a concrete answer to give her.

“Officer Ramírez,” she finally addressed him as she looked up from the folders in front of her.

“Yes, ma’am?” He looked more confused than anything else. “What can I do for you?”

“I was talking with Colonel Martinez, with Agent Murphy before he left. The word around town is that you haven’t decided what you’re doing next.”

He shook his head. “No, I haven’t.”

“Any particular reason for that?”

He took a deep breath, trying to figure out if he knew how to articulate exactly what he was thinking. He had a hard enough time sorting out his thoughts for himself, let alone getting them in order enough to explain them to someone else and have them get it.

“I don’t have any intentions of leaving the force…or Colombia,” he told her with certainty. Of all the things he was unsure about these days, he had that. “This is my home—I don’t want to leave it if I don’t have to.”

“But?”

He leaned forward slightly. “We all lost a lot because of Escobar,” he said honestly, allowing a small fraction of the pain from the last years to shine through for a moment, “and I don’t…I don’t know if I want to put myself right back into that position again. I was lucky last time, but no one gets lucky every time.”

She nodded. “I’m not here to strong-arm you into making one decision over the other. Hell,” she laughed dryly, “I’m not long for Colombia at this point. But,” she paused, her tone sobering back up, “you’re right—this is your home. You’ve done a lot of good so far, and I think that you could keep doing a lot of good.”

There was a long stretch of silence between them. Messina was watching Diego, and Diego’s eyes were glued to the top of Messina’s desk even though he wasn’t really looking at anything in particular. All of the papers and folders blurred together as he tried to think about the ramifications of whatever he ended up deciding to do. Messina studied his face, seeing the slight shifts in his expression as he thought it all over. She didn’t rush or prompt him to say anything. He’d come to his own conclusions eventually.

Finally, Diego let out a deep sigh, his eyes refocusing as he looked directly at Messina. “Who should I talk to about Cali?”

She smiled, feeling a small sense of triumph over the whole thing. She gave a small wave, an almost dismissive gesture without it being rude. “I’ll take care of it. I have all of the paperwork here.”

“Is that what you were filling out when I came in?” he asked, a bit of a grin tugging at his lips.

She shrugged but there was a knowing look on her face. “I had a feeling.”

He stood up, and she did the same, Reaching across her desk, he held his hand out for her to shake. “Thank you, ma’am. I know it hasn’t been easy, but I appreciate everything that you’ve done.”

She nodded, giving his hand a firm shake. The only person in the entire office that could call her ma'am and it didn't make her skin crawl. “You’re a good kid, Ramírez. Truthfully, I wish more of my guys could be a little more like you.”

He laughed and shook his head. “I have some people who would beg to differ.”

They both chuckled for a moment before she nodded to him as she sat back down in her chair. “I’ll make sure all of your paperwork gets put through. They’ll be reaching out to you about Cali ASAP, I’m sure.”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

“Stay safe.”

The small laugh he let out was mostly genuine, but a little heavy. “I’ll do my best.”

He was reaching out for the handle of Messina’s office door when she said, “I’m sure that Peña will be glad to see at least one familiar face when he comes back.”

Diego’s eyes popped a little wider as he froze for a moment. Half-turning, he looked back. “Peña?”

She looked up from the paperwork that she’d already begun filling out for him. “Yea. Stechner pushed it through himself.”

“Huh.” He didn’t know what else to say. Messina gave him a short nod, and Diego finally got himself back on task and pulled the office door open so that he could let himself out.

Diego wished that she was right about Javier being glad to see him. He knew that that wasn’t going to be the case, but he still hoped. New case, new location, mostly new team—Diego hoped that maybe the two of them could have something resembling a fresh start. It was a pipe dream if ever there was one.

The only saving grace of it all was that Javier wasn’t overly chummy with anyone upon his return. It made his coldness towards Diego less noticeable. Javi didn’t dislike the two new agents that he had on his team, but change was hard. He understood why Steve didn’t stick around, but as he sat in his glass-walled office, he really wished that he had.

Diego liked the two new agents well enough. They were eager, a little green in some respects, but they were good men. He could work with that. The dynamics were completely different now than they had been in Medellín. The job itself was also very different. The stakes were still high, but the feeling of immediate danger wasn’t as intense as before. It created a false sense of security that none of them could afford to fall into.

It was early in the morning—everyone was just getting settled. Diego, Feistl, and Van Ness were all in their own little area. Not the same cramped quarters that Steve and Javier had been given back in Medellín, something that still made Diego chuckle to himself when he thought about it sometimes. It was still close quarters, but it wasn’t bad.

As the day went on, Diego found himself listening to the two of them talk about all sorts of things between actual work tasks. He always listened to the banter—every now and then one of them would try and rope him in to break some sort of tie, end whatever debate they were locked in. Not that it ever really mattered because they would always just pick something new to bicker about.

He was shaking his head at the two of them when Javi’s office door slid open. All of them stopped and looked over to see him leaning out the doorway, bracing himself against the frame of it. He gave a small nod in greeting before locking his eyes on Diego.

“Ramírez, a minute.” He nodded in a gesture to beckon him over.

Diego didn’t hesitate, standing up and heading over to Javi’s office. By the time he reached the doorway, Javier was already back in his seat behind the desk.

Javi waved him in. “Shut the door.”

Diego did as he was asked before walking and sitting down in one of the two chairs on the opposite side of Javi’s desk. “What’s going on?”

“I need you to do a pick-up for me.”

He couldn’t hide his confusion. “A pick-up?”

Javi was looking at the paperwork that had been dropped off on his desk earlier. He was talking to Diego without really looking at him, something outsiders might see as a bad habit but the two of them knew was a calculated move. “Got a guy flying in from México.”

That only made his confusion intensify. “Who?”

He looked up only to hand Diego the folder with the man’s file in it. “DEA Agent Walt Breslin.”

Diego opened the folder, giving it a brief glance. “Is he transferring here?”

“Nope.”

Diego looked up from the pages in front of him and over at Javi. He waited for the man to elaborate on his own, but when he didn’t, he asked, “So…why is he here?”

“He thinks that his guys in Juárez and our guys in Cali are keeping each other in business.”

Diego frowned in thought as he mulled over what Javi had just said, what he was seeing on the pages in front of him. He looked back over at the agent behind the desk even though he knew Javi wasn’t going to look back at him. “Just him coming in?”

Javi shrugged. “Last I heard.” He looked at the time on his watch. “Better get going—plane gets in soon.”

Diego knew he was going to regret asking the question but he did it anyway. “Why can’t Feistl or Van—”

“I got them doing other shit today,” Javi said before Diego could even finish the question.

Moments like that gave Diego little flashbacks to their hunt for Escobar. Reminded Diego that Javi and Carrillo had more similarities than differences, some of those similarities being how they felt about and spoke to him. He’d love to say that it wasn’t personal, but it was. Still, he didn’t let it bother him. Not anymore.

“Alright,” he said as he flipped the folder shut. “Anything else?”

Javi shook his head. “Nope.”

“Okay.” He got up and stepped towards the door. “I’ll be back with Agent Breslin, then.”

Javi nodded but didn’t say anything else. Diego shook his head as he slid the door open and slipped out of the man’s office, the folder with Breslin’s information tucked underneath his arm. When he looked back at the area where their desks were, he saw that Feistl and Van Ness were looking at him, trying not to look too eager or curious and failing miserably at it.

“Everything okay?” Feistl broke the silence when Diego walked back over.

The officer nodded, grabbing his jacket and searching for the keys to one of the government-issued vehicles, not really wanting to pick up a visiting agent in his own beat-up car. “All good. Peña said we got another agent flying in—gotta go pick them up.”

“Who?” they both asked in unison.

Diego chuckled, setting the folder on Feistl’s desk. “He’s been working on cartels in Mexico. Started off in Texas first, El Paso. Then moved across the border.”

“Now he’s moving down the continent?” Feistl said as he read the pages in front of him.

Diego nodded. “Seems like it.”

The airport was busy the same way that it always was. It struck Diego that this guy wasn’t even going to know who he was looking for. The risk level was lower now than it had been in years past for agents coming and going. Even still, Diego kept a close eye and his head on a swivel. Just in case.

Then, right on time, Diego saw him. He was smaller than Diego had imagined based off the tiny headshot photo in the man’s file, a little shorter, too. He had the same haggard look that everyone who was chasing down cartel leaders and sicarios and massive amounts of drugs seemed to have. That, at least, was exactly what Diego had been expecting. He watched as the man scanned the area, giant duffle bag hanging off his shoulder.

“Walt?” he spoke up, flashing a smile and waving him down.

His head snapped in the direction of someone saying his name. His expression got a little less intense when he saw the Colombian police uniform, when he saw the bright look on Diego’s face. Walking, over, Diego held out his hand for Walt to shake. A little bit of the tension disappeared from Walt’s body—at least this guy was safe.

“Agent Breslin,” Diego said as he shook his hand. “Beinvenido a Colombia.”

He let out a dry chuckle as he nodded, giving Diego’s hand a firm shake. “Gracias.” He paused for a moment. “Lo siento, pero, quién eres?”

Diego laughed, shaking his head at himself. “Diego Ramírez. Lo siento.” There was a split-second pause and when Diego saw that Walt was looking for a little elaboration, he said, “Trabajo un poco con la policia aquí, un poco con la DEA.”

Walt nodded, taking it all in. “Busy guy.”

Diego shrugged, a smile still on his face. “Most times.” He waved for Walt to follow him. “C’mon, I’ll take you to the base to meet everyone.”

Despite how exhausted Walt was as he sat in the passenger seat of the car that Diego was driving, he was still sitting up, looking out the window and windshield as the officer drove them through Cali. Colombia had never really been on Walt’s list of places to visit, but now that he was here, he figured he might as well try to take as much of it in as possible with what little time he had there.

“Your Spanish,” Diego commented as he turned off one road and onto the next, “it sounds good.”

Walt chuckled. “You sound surprised.”

Diego laughed and shrugged, sparing a glance at the agent sitting next to him. “Last gringo with a drawl that transferred down here didn’t know any Spanish. I don’t get my hopes up anymore.”

Given what the kid must’ve been through over the last years, Walt was surprised that he was still able to be as light-hearted as he was. He tried to match the energy, a tinge of humor to his voice as he said, “All us white guys are the same, huh?”

Diego’s grin grew a little wider as he laughed again. “Más o menos, sí?”

Walk shook his head, a smirk on his face as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “Yea, more or less.” He held the pack out to Diego. “Want one?”

He shook his head. “I’m good, thanks.”

Walt shrugged, tucking the pack back into his pocket before flicking his lighter. Neither of them said much more for the rest of the ride, Walt assuming that most of the questions that he had for Diego would be answered by him or someone else when they got to the base. He bided his time by smoking his cigarette and flipping through stations on the radio.

When they got to the floor where Javi and the other agents were, everyone turned to look as the elevator doors opened. By that point, everyone around knew that another agent from Mexico was being brought in. No one really knew the full scope of why except Walt—even Javi still had some pressing questions. Even so, the layers of unknown to it all made it an even bigger piece of news to everyone else who knew next to nothing.

For a floor full of agents, one would think that they’d be better at subtlety, but they weren’t. Walt felt himself getting defensive before anyone had even said anything. He tried to hope that those stares didn’t mean the same thing in Colombia as they did in Mexico, or back home, but he didn’t get his hopes up too high.

Javi walked up to them once they got closer, instantly extending out a hand to Walt. “Agent Breslin,” he shook his hand, “I’m Javier Peña.” He turned and motioned to the two other men standing by. “This is Chris Feistl, and Daniel Van Ness.” He waited for them to exchange their handshakes and “Nice to meet you’s”. Then he nodded towards Diego. “I’m assuming Officer Ramírez already introduced himself.”

Walt nodded. “He did.” He looked around at all of them for a moment. “Appreciate you guys making the time for this. I know collaborating to actually get shit done isn’t the government’s strong suit, so…” his voice trailed off.

The comment got a few knowing smiles and chuckles out of the group. When they all fell quiet, Javi spoke up, nodding towards his office. “C’mon, let’s get some stuff straightened out. Then we can all start trying to string all this shit together.”

Walt nodded as he followed in Javi’s footsteps. He gave another nod and said, “Nice meeting you,” to the rest of them as he walked off.

Once the office door was shut, both agents immediately turned and looked at Diego for answers to questions that they hadn’t even asked yet. It was in all of their natures to be curious, nosey even, but their obviousness and eagerness still got a laugh out of Diego as he dropped the keys onto the surface of his desk and sat down.

“Yea?”

“So?” Feistl asked, leaning so that his palms were flat against the top of Diego’s desk.

Diego was trying to tone down the smile fighting its way onto his face. “So?”

“What’d he say? What’s going on? What’s he here for?”

Diego shook his head as he opened his desk drawer and pulled a few of the files out. “You think we got into all of that on the drive from the airport to here?” He leaned back in his seat. “It’s not like he’s going to get into that with me before talking to Peña anyway.”

“Yea, but you’re, you know,” he tried to say it like it was so obvious, “you’re Colombian Police. That ranks.”

Diego chuckled, but the repeated shake of his head spoke volumes. He was an optimist still, sure, because that’s just who he always was and who he’d always be. But the naivety that he’d been plagued with when he joined the CNP, joined Search Bloc, got beaten out of him over the years. “Yea, because it’s a well-known fact that all the police officers in Colombia are upstanding individuals. None of them would ever—”

“You wouldn’t, though,” Feistl argued.

Diego shrugged. “I know that. You know that.” He nodded towards the office. “Agent Breslin does not know that.” He saw the way that both the men were shaking their heads. “If the two of you flew into Mexico, would you tell the cop who picked you up everything about why you were there?” He sat silently, waiting for the answer. When neither of them said anything, he nodded. “Exactly.”

Feistl knew that he’d lost the argument, but it didn’t stop him from wanting the last word. Being wrong didn’t mean that he didn’t still want to be right anyway. “Still, though,” he said flippantly as he sat back down at his desk.

Meanwhile, Javi gestured for Walt to take a seat in his office. Refocusing once again, he said, “What can I do for you, Agent Breslin?”

Walt didn’t want to get into all of it. He knew that he was going to have to be some kind of honest if he wanted to get answers and information, but he wasn’t ready to start poking and picking at the wounds that were still incredibly fresh. He wondered how little he could divulge and still get what he needed.

“I know that your cartel here in Cali is connected to my cartels in Mexico through at least one guy.”

“The pilot,” Javi said with a nod.

“Yea,” Walt tried not to sound as hollow and bitter as he felt, “Amado Carrillo Fuentes.”

“Like I told you on the phone, we’ve been more focused on the godfathers than anyone else. I’m not sure if any of the information that we have would be of any use to you. We know that our guys make layover stops in Mexico before getting their shit across the border into the states. But anything going on on the ground there is your area of expertise, not ours.”

“Help me paint a bigger picture, then. Whatever you’ve got. Hell,” he shrugged, the action looking much less desperate than he felt, “maybe what I’ve got could help you guys out too.”

Javi knew that there was more to it than that. He could tell by the look on Walt’s face that there was plenty that he wasn’t privy to. Javi knew better than to take the secrecy personally—he’d spent years doing the same thing. Most other people in Javi’s position would’ve pressed until they got all the details they wanted, or would’ve sent Walt on their way. But there was something in his apparent exhaustion that made Javi trust him.

“My guys are gonna have a lot of questions for you,” he said as he nodded towards the glass. And, sure enough, two of the three men sitting out there were blatantly staring at Javi’s office, trying to read lips, trying to figure out what was going on.

“You don’t?” was all Walt said in return.

He sighed, shaking his head once. “You’re the one who flew all the way down here for answers—not me.” He gave a few seconds for Walt to say something else. When he didn’t, Javi stood back up. “Come on.”

Javi got up and walked to the door, Walt following close behind. When the two of them stepped out, they had three sets of curious eyes on them. Javi hardly looked at the men on his team as he waved for them to all get up and follow. “Let’s go.”

Notebooks, folders, and pens in hand, the three men all but jumped up and strode quickly to play catchup with the two agents in the lead. Feistl and Van Ness kept looking back and forth at each other, Diego trailing just a half-step behind them watching all of the men in front of him, wondering what was going to happen next.

The room they all walked into, making sure to shut the door behind them, had been a conference room at some point. Now, though, it was a hub for any and everything about Cartel Cali. Photos were arranged into hierarchies, some with x’s through them, others with notes written off to the sides of them. There were maps hung up, folders and photographs and transcriptions scattered all over the table.

Walt looked around, a little bewildered by it all. It made the shitty abandoned warehouse he and his team had been meeting up in look like…well…a shitty abandoned warehouse.

“Shit,” Walt said as he walked up to the wall that housed the web of photos.

“Yea,” Javi said nonchalantly as he leaned back against the desk and stared at the row of photos at the top of the godfathers. “Welcome to Cali.”

Walt turned around to look at the other men in the room. He saw the way that even though they must’ve been looking at the pictures and information in that room nonstop for weeks, or months, they still looked at it with just as much scrutiny and determination as if they’d just walked into the room for the first time. He knew that feeling.

Walt walked up and tapped the photo of Amado that was taped to the wall. The pilot and his fucking shades. “This is the guy that my team and I had started focusing on.”

“The pilot?” Diego asked, clearly curious.

Walt nodded. “He’s not just working for your guys here in Colombia. He’s making deals with the guys in Mexico too. He’s knee-deep with a lot of shit going down in Juárez.”

“Makes sense,” Diego said with a nod. “He’s just transportation, right? Why not get paid by two cartels to do the same shit that he’s been doing? He’ll be able to retire and disappear across the globe somewhere with his best plane while the rest of these guys rot.”

“Yea,” Walt said bitterly, “not if I can do anything about it.” He folded his arms across his chest as he started to explain, with a little more detail, how Amado was their link to the guy that his team was really after. He knew that the men in the room weren’t going to give him Felix Gallardo. But they could still help him get Amado. “I’ve got it on good authority that the last shipment he moved was seventy tons.”

All the eyes in the room widened. Feistl shook his head, “That’s a shitton of coke.”

“I know.” Walt nodded slowly, anger still etched into his features. “And now it’s lost in the fucking wind. Thanks to some fucking,” he shook his head, almost shaking with anger, “some fucking cop playing both sides.”

Javi shook his head, sadness crossing his face for a moment. “Same shit everywhere.”

The group of them all gathered around the table as they dove into their discussion. Walt outlined what he and his team had been doing and looking into, got into the details of what he thought the extent of the Cali cartel’s involvement was with his targets in Mexico. They were two different spots on the same map, two different levels of the same game. There were a few connecting threads, but a lot of the chaos in Mexico was happening with or without the help of the men in Colombia.

“How long are you in Colombia for?” Van Ness asked when they all hit a lull in the conversation.

Walt shrugged and shook his head, tucking his chin down for a moment. “Through the weekend, at least. If we get somewhere with this I might be able to stretch it a little longer, but…” his voice trailed off.

Javi’s brows knit together at that. It was the first real inkling he got that maybe Walt was operating outside of the DEA’s knowledge. Javi wasn’t one to judge, but it would be something that was good to know.

“Why don’t we get back to this tomorrow then?” Javi asked, looking around at all of them.

Everyone was nodding in agreement, but Diego was the first one to speak up as he looked at Walt. “We’ll get you a car you can use for now. Let you get to your hotel, unpack, sleep, whatever. Come back tomorrow with everything you have and we’ll see what we can do.” He gestured vaguely to the wall of photos. “Red-string it.”

Walt couldn’t hide the relief at the thought of being able to lay down for a couple hours after being on the go for as long as he had been. “Alright, yea. That works.”

“We should grab drinks,” Feistl suggested as everyone was getting ready to leave the room. He saw the looks everyone shot his way. “Tonight, I mean,” he clarified.

Everyone exchanged looks and shrugs, no one necessarily looked opposed to the idea. Some of them were expecting Javi to shoot the idea down, but apparently he was trying to extend some hospitality, and he agreed. They picked a time, and a place. It was the same place as always, but Walt didn’t know that.

Walt also didn’t know what to expect when he showed up at the bar that evening. He knew how he’d been with his team, the dynamics there, but he didn’t know these guys. Nothing that had happened made him think that he was going to have any kind of problem with them, but he still didn’t feel certain.

When he walked in, he saw the four of them already sitting at a table together. Javi had been sitting facing the door, so he saw Walt the second that he walked in. Javi held his hand up slightly to get his attention, nodding slightly for him to come over once they made eye contact.

He pulled out the seat at the end of the table, feeling the creeping sense of awkwardness coming over him. He’d hardly sat down all the way when the waitress appeared asking for his drink order. He rattled it off, one of the things in life that he had committed to memory. When she walked away, he finally took a second to breathe and take in the scene in front of him.

They instantly pulled him right into the conversation. They talked a bit about work, but most of it was just them bullshitting around. It was a less-intensive way for Walt to get to know them, and vice-versa, than doing the whole twenty questions routine. It also allowed Walt to do more listening than talking, which was something that he would always be grateful for no matter where he was or who he was with.

Walt was shaking his head at something the other DEA agents had said when he reached to pull his pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his shirt. He went to grab his lighter from his jeans pocket when he realized that he didn’t have it. He frowned for a moment before looking at the men sitting around him.

“Anyone got a lighter?”

He was 0 for 3 by the time he got to Javi, but luckily he was the one person who always had one on him. He handed it over, nodding in response to Walt’s quick Thanks before turning back to Van Ness and asking, “What happened to your fanny pack? Thought you kept everything in there?”

It wasn’t as though anyone in present company really had any right to be criticizing the others’ fashion choices, but the fact that both Feistl and Van Ness played so heavily into the tourist shtick because it made the most sense for them definitely made them the easiest targets. The comment from Javi also ensured that the conversation wasn’t going to get too heavy for the time being.

None of them had been keeping track of the time until Diego looked down to check his watch. When he saw the hour, a smile crept across his face. He wasted no time in standing up from his chair at the table. “I gotta run.”

Despite the more than pleased look on his face, the sudden change still prompted Javi to ask, “All good?”

Diego opened his mouth to respond but Feistl beat him to the punch. “He’s fine. Ramírez is just high-tailing out of here because his girl is coming to Cali for the weekend.”

Even though Javi didn’t give much of a reaction one way or another to the information, it got laughs out of Walt and Van Ness, and Diego too. It wasn’t the first time that either one of the new DEA agents gave him grief about it, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. It was all in jest, and Diego didn’t mind it—it was a welcome change.

Diego walked around the table, clapping his hand onto Walt’s shoulder as he leaned down, almost like he was telling him a secret even though he was purposely talking loud enough for the whole table to hear, “Ellos solo están enojados porque yo tengo una novia que me visita.” They laughed as Feistl and Van Ness waved him off. Diego spoke to the two of them as he turned to walk away, “Try not to need me.”

Diego’s early departure didn’t mean that the night was over for the rest of them. Feistl and Van Ness were happy to have someone new around to talk to. And, for as closed off as Javi tended to keep himself these days, he had to admit that he was enjoying himself much more than he thought he would. Most of his late-night drinks were solo now, but having their company and being able to listen to the banter that was apparently an all-day, everyday affair, was amusing. He also took the opportunity to try and piece apart what he thought the deal with Walt really was. He didn’t think that the agent was lying when they spoke earlier, but he also didn’t think that he was telling the full truth, either. Javi understood it—he would’ve played it the same way if the roles were reversed.

Eventually, both Feistl and Van Ness took off as well, leaving just Javi and Walt sitting at the table together. Neither of them was in much of a rush to leave. Javi didn’t want to go back to his empty apartment, and even though Walt was still exhausted he wasn’t that eager to head back to his small and very empty hotel room. Usually he had his team in the rooms on either side of him, but now it was just him. He didn’t want to think about that.

Things were quiet between the two of them for a moment—all the chatterboxes had left the building. Walt sipped on the scotch that was still in his glass while Javi worked his way through another whiskey. Both were watching everyone around them now more than they were watching each other.

“Can I ask you something, Breslin?” Javi asked, still not looking at him.

Walt looked at him from across the table. “Shoot.”

Javi finally locked eyes with him. “Why are you here?”

His face scrunched in confusion for a moment. “What?” He shook his head, setting his glass down on the table. “I told you, Amado—”

“I know, I know,” he took a sip of his drink, “you’re connecting the dots. But that could’ve been a phone call. A few phone calls. We could’a faxed you some of our intel and that would’ve been the end of it. You didn’t have to come all the way down here.” He paused. “No one comes to Colombia when they don’t have to. No way you ran out of shit to do in Mexico.”

Walt tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible. “I’m just looking for answers, man.”

He was waiting for Javi to come back with something, another question or a comment about how he was full of shit, but he didn’t. Javi just sat and stared at him. Javi knew how to play the waiting game. Hell, he was more than content to sit there for another hour in silence and order another whiskey while he waited. He wasn’t the one on a time crunch—Walt was.

Walt swirled what little was still left inside his glass around once, twice, before bringing it to his lips and finishing off the entire thing. “I lost,” he exhaled sharply as he set the glass back down, letting it clatter against the top of the table, “about ninety-nine percent of my fuckin' team trying to get this guy. And I’m no closer to—” he stopped himself short, shaking his head. “I need the fuckin' win.”

Javi nodded. If there was anyone on the Cali team who understood that type of loss, that type of desperation, it was him. However, if the hunt for Escobar, if all the political hoops and bullshit with the Cali Godfathers had taught him anything, it’s that no one ever really gets a win. Judging by the look in Walt’s eyes, Javi had a feeling the man might’ve had an inkling about that already.

He waited for Walt to look at him, but when he didn’t, Javi spoke up, his tone not gentle but not as harsh as it could’ve been either. “Hey.” He sighed. “I can’t promise you the win that you’re looking for. Wish I could. Hell, wish that any fucking one of us could get a win these days. But,” he shook his head, “I can’t.”

“I just need enough to hurt these guys.”

Javi could feel how personal this all was for the man sitting across from him. He knew that feeling. He remembered the feeling of futility as the number of dead officers kept going up and up and up. He remembered what it felt like after Carrillo was killed. Losing your partner, your team, that was something that you never really shook off. It put a different tint on everything. All the steps you took after that had a new depth to them. Everything felt personal. Everything felt painful.

Javi knew what Walt was feeling. He also knew that whatever warpath the man was set on, wasn’t going to work out the way he thought it was going to. Javi had been there, done that, gotten the suspension paperwork to prove it. Still, he didn’t listen when people tried to warn him. He had the feeling that Walt wasn’t in the mood to be heeding any warnings either.

“Me and my guys will tell you what we know, whatever you wanna hear,” Javier told him, “but we don’t really know shit about Mexico.”

Walt shook his head. “Leave that to me. I’ll take whatever you’ve got.”

“Alright.”

There were a few beats of silence before Walt said, “Your guys…they’re good?”

Javi chuckled dryly. “Pfft. Yea,” he shook his head with a tired smile, “annoying and eager as all hell. But they’re good.”

Walt laughed quietly. “Eager is good.”

“Don’t tell them that. Can’t afford to give them any more leash than they’ve got.”

“Your boss say the same about you?” Walt asked, the knowing smirk on his face said that he already had the answer.

“Probably. Begs the question, though, of how you got enough leash to get all the way down here to Cali.”

“Oh,” Walt laughed, “that’s because I don’t ask anymore. They want me? They can fuckin' fly down here and get me.”

Javi smiled a little at that. It wasn’t so long ago that he was doing and saying the same kinds of things. Part of him missed that. The other part of him vividly remembered the fallout of it all—bureaucratic bullshit pouring salt into the wounds left by things that actually mattered. He had a feeling that Walt probably knew about that, too.

“Think they will?” he asked.

Walt shrugged, toying idly with his glass on the table. “Keep me down here long enough and I guess we’ll see.”

Javi nodded, feeling more amused by the notion than he should’ve. “We’ll see.”

[danpuff-ao3]

shipping asks! a couple of random ones: i’d like to hear your thoughts on snape x any other lightning gen character (positive or negative - you pick!), & if you had to ship every one of the marauders with one lightning gen character each, what would your pairs be? as much or as little explanation as you’d like 😂

Oooh!!!! Hello there! These are fun!!!!! You know I love those age gaps so this is perfect. 😍

Let's see...

Snape x any other lightning gen character

I'm guessing by "other" you mean "other than Harry" since obviously Snarry is my one true love. 😂

For Hermione/Snape, while I understand why people ship them, I more so friendship them. For Ron/Snape, a fic with this ship was recently brought to my attention, and while I don't see this pair at all, I really need to check out that fic to see what all the fuss is about. (Seraphim Beneath the Christmas Tree, for the curious.) On the darker side, I can appreciate Ginny/Snape where Ginny is a Lily replacement. I see lots of gorgeous Luna/Snape art and while I appreciate the visual contrasts, I'm just...unsure? (Though there's a great Snape & Luna friendship fic I love, also a Christmas fic: Nargles at Christmastime.)

But the two Snape ships I'm most intrigued by would be Draco/Snape and Neville/Snape.

For Snaco: Head of House and one of his own students? Hot. Even hotter if you like the Godfather Snape headcanon. So Head of House/student and godfather/godson?? Yes, please. There's also the same visual contrasts that Snuna has, only it's slash!! There's also the fun "pureblood rich boy falls for older, poor, ugly man" which is my kink.

Do I see a genuine, healthy relationship? Absolutely not. Is it even love? Ehhh. I see this as more sexual, especially on Snape's end. Draco is young and pretty. And especially after Dumbledore's death, when they go on the run...perfect time for sexy shenanigans.

Specifically I like to think of existing Snarry, then Snape kills Dumbledore, Harry is angry and betrayed, Snape is stressed and heartbroken, and he uses Draco as a second best option. Whether Harry and Snape ever reunite, who knows. It's a sadder story if Draco and Snape stay together and Snape just settles for Draco, and Draco stays because...Well. I can see Draco falling for Snape before I see Snape returning his affection.

One Draco moves past being fussy and particular, if he can see Snape as a protector and a hero, I think that would do him in. Recognizing his strength and bravery; respecting his intelligence and his power; finding appeal in his protectiveness and possessiveness; appreciating the hidden romance, and mystery. I think the war could really do a number in demolishing whatever reasons Snape is the "wrong choice" for Draco. I think he'll take what he can get. Maybe fall into bed with Snape for the sex, catch feelings, and by the time he realizes Snape doesn't actually return them...well, he holds onto hope and sticks with it.

Even in a world where Snape would rather be with Harry, but Harry is either dead or doesn't forgive him...Draco will at least take comfort (and smugness) in that he does have Snape.

(I wrote some unrequited Snaco in Midsummer if you like angst! But cw for implied mpreg.)

(Other Snaco rec: Custard Tarts for the Tart by iamisaac.)

For Sneville: Another case of unrequited love (which I explored some in Romantic Notions.) During school years, I can see the case of a fear/crush on Snape. But I especially see it postwar when Neville deals with complicated feelings of his unpleasant history with Severus combined with now seeing him in a new light, as a hero. Think of events they might meet at! Snape the spy, Neville the snake-slayer.

Another super unhealthy dynamic. In my eyes, the imbalance of their personalities on top of their troubled past just makes this not work out in any decent way. Even when Neville comes into his own more and gains more confidence and strength, there will always be something a little off about his dynamic with Severus. This is another one where I see "in a world where Harry is dead or doesn't forgive Severus, Neville is the one he settles for." (Sorry, Snarry truly has rotted my brain.) It could be cute in a very questionable and angsty way. They share a garden. Neville supplies ingredients for Severus' potions. They have a little cottage and a quiet life. And really kinky sex.

(Humiliation kink helloooooo.)

I do have a Sneville + Snarry fic I've considered. Wartime fic. Harry asks Neville to look after Severus (as if he needs it 🙄) and...things happen. Very sad. Very hot. Just how I like it.

(Other Sneville rec: Night-blooming heartease.)

I'm feeling very exposed right now, let's move onto the simpler questions!

Marauders x Lightning Era

Let's go hardest to easiest, hmm?

Peter...Jesus lord idk. Hmmm. 🤔 I almost wanna say Ron because of the Scabbers of it all. 😂 Oh the questionable smut potential! Instead, let's go...Zacharias Smith. Sorry, I can't get rid of iffy Peter feels, so we stick him with the jerkface. OR...for Death Eater-y reasons...Crabbe or Goyle???? Sorry, anything I think of for Peter feels wrong and/or mean 🙈 And all of my ideas belong on the darker side of fic.

Unless we're going the time travel route and I can imagine Peter in better days as a better person...in which case...huh. Colin, maybe?? I wanted to say Neville, but I like Neville better for Remus.

James: huh. The first ship that came to mind was Hermione because of my dear friend @bluesundaycake, but I've never actually read Hermione/James or thought about it too much. I've never really thought of James with Lightning Era characters at all. I can see the case for Hermione. Smart as a whip, brave as all heck. But also...Ginny???? People laugh that Harry/Ginny is basically Harry hooking up with his mom, so here it's like...James hooking up with his late wife/ex wife (whichever the situation calls for. 😂) Unless it's time travel and he just shifts his crush on Lily to Ginny instead?? Plus they can bond over Quidditch! (Bonus points if Lily and James are divorced, and Harry and Ginny once dated and are broken up.) (For maximum drama and weirdness, y'know?) (Super hot.)

Remus: okay I really like Draco/Remus. Similar to Snaco for all the contrasts. Rich pureblood boy with his poor half-blood werewolf boyfriend?? Daddy will be so mad!!!! And I love it. Plus how calm and patient and charming Remus is with bratty, demanding, spoiled Draco?? Killer pair. Draco will feel safe with Remus; Remus will be excited by Draco. And I know I've mentioned before, somewhere, that this ship reminds me of me and my partner, so I have extra soft feelings for them! 🥰 Just think of Remus smiling fondly/indulgently while Draco paces around, ranting about his day, talking with his hands. Or pouting for one reason or another. Or Remus having to defend Draco and getting all calm-angry with attackers and Draco being all dreamy-eyed over it!!!! (Only One Word by EntreNous.)

I also really like Neville/Remus. A very drama-free pair. Two soft boys just doing life. Very calm and quiet. They garden together and read together. The very stable, healthy couple everyone else looks up to and goes to for advice. Better as a background pair, but cute all the same! Though there is a very good fic for them by swtalmnd called Flora and Fauna.

Sirius: there can only be one, and it's Draco/Sirius. I'm stupidly into it. I like it, I love it, I want some more of it. They're cousins! The age gap! The proper pureblood and the rebel! Opposite sides of the war. Yadda yadda yadda. Both are drama queens. Both are hot. Sirius teaches Draco how to properly let loose and have fun. But he also cleans up well (surprisingly) and can play the part for Draco as needed. Meanwhile, Draco brings a challenge into Sirius' life, and gives him someone to chase and bicker with. They'd have a lot of fun together I think, and a lot of passion! (Old Dogs and New Tricks by youcantseeus.)

ship asks

other answers: here

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Give her the life I never had; Harry Potter x child reader

*Author’s note*

So this came from my Wattpad requests and this is my first Harry potter (character not fandom) fic that I have written so I hope I didn’t mess this up for any hardcore Potterheads out there.  So this takes place during the Battle at Hogwarts so expect some death and violence involved, other than that not really much anything really. I know it’s been awhile since my last update but I hope to pick up the pace and post up some more stuff and then HOPEFULLY open up requests here since I know you all have been waiting patiently for that.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@ixchel-9275​

@psychosupernatural​

@queen-paladin​

_____________________________________________________________

It was finally over. All of it.  Voldemort was now dead, the Death eaters defeated, and now the Elder wand was destroyed and lost to the sea.  I looked towards the ruins of Hogwarts knowing that the stone and walls can be rebuilt, some of our friends would be able to heal their physical wounds, however some mental wounds won’t.

The Weasleys they’ll always have to live with Fred’s death for the rest of their life and grieve over the fact he’ll never come back, especially George.  I had seen just how close their brotherly bond was, even when they had nothing they had each other, now George was gonna have to make do on his own, if he could.

And Hermione, while she doesn’t want us to know I had a feeling at what she had done to protect her muggle parents, thankfully with her and Ron seeming to repair their growing relationship, I know the Weasley’s will welcomingly be the family she needs now more than ever.

As I walked along the school grounds that’s when I came across (Y/n) getting looked over by one of the healers.  When she looked towards me, she gently smiled and I smiled softly back at her thinking back on how I found her in all this chaos.

The battle was pure hell.  Spells and curses being blasted, bodies dropping like flies, and rubble from the school walls crumbling down as repercussions from the spells firing out.

I had pushed back a Death Eater with an Stupefy spell which sent him flying all the way across the Great Hall.  Another death eater soon came right at me but I quickly disposed of his wand first before giving him the paralyzing spell.

That’s when I heard it.  The sound of a young girl crying.  I quickly ran around the corridor and saw just down the stairs where I once found the Mirror of Erised, a young girl around maybe her 1-2nd year hovering over an older girl who looked almost like her but had longer hair.  The young girl with shorter hair was weeping hysterically as she kept crying.

“Liz? Lizzie. Get up sis. Oh please get up.” From the pale skin and the soulless eyes that Lizzie had, I knew immediately she had been hit with the Killing curse. Cautiously I walked over to her and said.

“Are you alright?” the young girl looked up at me and she sniffled.

“Yes. But my sister she—she won’t wake up yet her eyes are open.” Knowing how I hadn’t learned of the 3 unforgiving curses until my 4th year at Hogwarts, she must’ve not known what exactly happened to her sister.

“What’s your name?”

“(Y/n). (Y/n) (l/n).”

“Well (Y/n), I…….I’m afraid to tell you this but……..your sister’s—she’s dead.”

“What? No but….if she were dead her eyes would be shut, the spell that hit her just made her collapse. Like the paralysis spell.”

“But it wasn’t a blue light that hit her, was it?” she looked back down at her sister and touched her cheek.  “I’m afraid it was the most dangerous of all unforgiving curses. The Killing Curse.” She sniffled and hugged her sister’s corpse and choked out.

“But—she was…..she’s all I have left!” I looked around and two more Death eaters spotted us.

“Get behind me.” I urged (Y/n).  Without question she got behind me and I held out my wand and as they charged toward us I called out, “Stupefy!” which sent one Death eater flying backwards but then I felt a shock to my hand which sent my wand flying towards the second Death eater’s hand.  She sneered at me but then a voice exclaimed.

“Petrificus Totalus!” the female Death eater soon went stiff and fell to the ground.  I turned and saw that it was (Y/n) who had casted the curse.  I ran over and took my wand back from the witch and told her.

“Come on. We can’t stay here.” She took one last look at her sister.  I knew she was hesitant to leave her but if she remained here, she’d be a sitting duck.  “Your sister would want you safe (Y/n).” she turned to me and nodded before taking my hand and we raced out of the hallway.

Together the two of us worked together to fend off the oncoming Death Eaters, but one Death eater used an Inferno spell which burnt (Y/n)’s arm pretty bad.  I shielded her from the next oncoming Inferno attack but the heat of the flames was almost too strong for me to hold back.  That’s when a wave of water came and extinguished the flames and the Death Eater was flown backwards till his back hit a column and he collapsed dead.

We turned and there stood Professor McGonagall.

“Professor.”

“Harry, Ms. (L/n) are you both alright?”

“I am, (Y/n) however got burnt on her arm.” She walked up to us and she examined (Y/n)’s arm. She let out a painful hiss and the Professor said.

“I’ll take care of her from here Potter.”

“Thank you Professor.” Just as I was about to leave, I felt a hand grab the sleeve of my shirt and I saw that it was (Y/n).

“Thank you, Harry Potter.” I smiled down at her and nodded to her.  She released my sleeve and I ran off to finally end this once and for all.

I walked over to her just as the healer cleared her off and moved onto the next student that needed medical treatment.  I sat down beside her and asked her.

“How are you doing (Y/n)?”

“Shaky but—alive.” She softly scoffed.  “But at what cost? My sister’s dead. She was the only family I had left. Now the ministry will probably put me in the Magic for Orphans facility, and with me almost being a teenager, no one will want me.”

I was probably the only one who knew what she must be going through.  Even though we were orphaned in different circumstances, we still lost our loved ones to Voldemort.  Now I must be crazy because I had no clear idea of what to do next but what I did know was that I couldn’t leave (Y/n) alone anymore.

“What if—” I started off by saying.  “What if you…had someone to look after you?”

“But, but Harry I—I have no other living relatives. It’s always just been me and my sister since our parents died three years ago at the Quidditch world cup.”

“I know, but what if there was someone who wanted to help you out. Give you a home so that you wouldn’t have to suffer any potential abuse or neglect.”

“And just who would that person be?” I sighed softly before telling her.

“You’re looking at him.” Her eyes softly widened before she let out a soft gasp.

“But-but why? I mean no offense Harry but…..why would you want to help me out?”

“Let’s just say, from one orphan to another I know how lonely it can be. I had no clue about the magic world till I was just your age, and though I may not know how the Ministry of Magic deals with orphaned wizards, I do know a thing or two about living in terrible conditions. I lived practically my whole childhood in a tiny hall closet in my aunt and uncle’s place. And I wouldn’t want you to potentially go through that type of abuse in a stranger’s home.”

(Y/n) was silent for a moment, taking in what I just said.  Weighing out her options before thinking about what answer she would give me.

“If not I’ll understand, I’ll check in whenever I can. But just know you won’t go through the rest of your life alone.” She looked up at me.  Her eyes that were once filled with tears, but now filled with courage and strength as she said.

“If it won’t be too much trouble with you, I’ll go with you.” I softly smiled at her and told her taking notice of her robes.

“Spoken like a true Gryffindor.”

After that, the Weasley family, Hermione, myself and (Y/n) returned to the Weasley’s old home the Burrow and decided to rebuild it, a symbol as a fresh start to all our lives after this whole war.

We also had a memorial service for both Fred and (Y/n)’s older sister, each of us speaking for both Fred and (Y/n)’s sister before finally burying them and summoning a beautiful garden around them of their favorite flowers and plants.

As the sun was starting to set I saw (Y/n) still standing over her sister’s grave.  I walked out to her and said.

“Mrs. Weasley’s prepared supper for all of us. She says you best come in before it’s all gone.” (Y/n) remained silent.  I softly sighed and without another word I just stood there beside her.  She may not want to talk, but she should at least know that someone was there when she was ready.

“I—never thought I’d have to face this world without her. Even through our fights, especially after mom and dad died, she was always there for me. She especially liked to tease me about my crush on Joey Matarazzo, saying we’d get married one day and have kids of our own. Now she won’t ever see me grow up, or achieve any dreams I’ll have for the future.”

“Let me tell you something my Godfather once told me. He told me that the ones that love us never really leave us. And we can always find them, in here.” I pointed to her heart.

She looked up at me and finally for the first time I saw a true, genuine smile.  She came closer to me and wrapped an arm around my waist and rested her head against my ribs.  I wrapped an arm around her and we stood there for a few more minutes before walking back inside the Burrow to join the Weasley’s for dinner.

*FF 19 years later.*

It was like any other year, but this time it was my second son’s first time doing this.  I could already see from the look on his face that he looked anxious about his first year going as we came up to platform 9¾.

“Together.” I assured him as we took hold of his cart and we both ran straight through the brick wall and found ourselves right by the Hogwarts Express.  As we walked closer to the train, we soon found Ron and Hermione with their kids, I spotted Draco and his wife and son bidding their goodbyes.  He and I looked at each other, neither of us speaking a word but he gave me a point nod, and I nodded back to him.

“I was beginning to think I’d have to write my own brothers up for detention already.” A female voice soon spoke up and coming right towards us was (Y/n), all grown up and in her Professor robes.

Since the battle she continued on her Hogwarts education and excelled in both Magical creature knowledge and potions making.  By the time she was in her 4th year at Hogwarts, Ginny and I had agreed to legally adopt her as our own child and she was beyond thrilled at the news.  After graduating, she worked with me at the Ministry of Magic to focus on potion brewery before enrolling to be the next Potions Professor and this would be her second year teaching that class.

I’m told she’s kind but firm when it comes to students goofing off in that class, but she is always there to make sure no student messes up a potion and causes injuries either to themselves or others.

“Not in the slight.” I assured her.

“Good. I would hate to have to write them up to Headmaster McGonagall.” She told me.  She looked down at her brothers and asked them, “So boys, you ready?”

“Oh yeah!” exclaimed James while Albus was more reserved and didn’t really say anything. Instead he walked away and sat down with his arms hugging his legs close to him.  (Y/n) and I looked at each other and I told her to get James onto the train as well as herself while I talked to James.  She nodded and guided James as well as his things over to the train while I walked over to Albus and knelt down beside him.

“Dad,” he spoke. “What if I am put in Slytherin?”

“Albus Severus Potter. You were named after two Headmasters of Hogwarts. And one of them was a Slytherin. And he was the bravest man I had ever known. But if it means to you, you can choose Gryffindor. The sorting hat does take that into consideration.”

“Really?” I nodded. “But how would you feel? If I was sorted into Slytherin?”

“Then Slytherin will have gained the best wizard they could ask for.” He smiled and embraced me and I hugged him back.  “Now come on, off you go.” We then walked towards the train and Albus got himself situated inside with his brother and Ron and Hermione’s kids, and riding alongside them to keep an eye on them to Hogwarts was (Y/n).

As I stood by my friends and we watched the train leave the station, waving goodbye to our kids I couldn’t help but feel like we had done it.  The war ended almost 2 decades ago and now our children can learn magic in a better world, a world without Death Eaters, a world without darkness and death, a world without a Dark Lord.

A peaceful time in our world.

[write-orflight]

Settle Down: Prologue

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev -  Next

Pairings: SpencerXReader (kinda enemies to lovers) 

Rating: M

Words: 2.5K

Warnings: None, will be smut in eventual chapters

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Y/N and Spencer don’t get along but turn to each other for the one thing you need someone else for... A baby. You can plantonically start a family, right?

A.N: this is a bad bio but idk how else to put it. it’s a baby fic! I wouldn’t say this is enemies to lovers but they certainly don’t like each other at first so it kinda is. comment on this chap or message to be on the taglist. much love, Cia

                Prologue:  A Powerpoint, Really? 

If you had told 16 year old Y/N that she’d be working at the FBI, she would’ve called you batshit. 

Not only, did you not have any respect for authority or any inclination for rules in that matter, working for the FBI was never in the forefront of your mind. But when given the option of Jail or a full time job with benefits, it was fairly easy to make a choice. You remember the first day when you met your work partner and now best friend Penelope Garcia or specifically the day she caught you. 

You were waiting tables like you did every weekend to stay afloat. Today was unreasonably slow so you were just finding small things to do. That’s when she came in, an extremely brightly dressed woman, sat at the bar of the diner. 

“Hi, how can I help you?” You smile at the woman who looks up at you and smiles. 

“Yes, I’m looking for the Emerald City.” She says, smirking at you. Your face drops, you knew what she was talking about. 

When you started hacking it was only supposed to be a one time thing. You grew up poor, spent most of your life poor so when you saw your childhood home was set to be demolished to build a fancy new headquarters for Scotty Realins, an upcoming asshole tech CEO, without a cent going to your parents.  Something in you snapped. You had already been pretty decent at code and you flirted with a couple of guys in your STEM classes to learn how to hack so you would say you were pretty good at this point. So you hacked into the website and made sure all the Revenue for that day actually was wired to lower-income housing. At the end of the day, it was only a couple hundred thousand dollars but what was pennies to Scotty Realins changed some people's lives. 

So you started doing it more, to different companies under the pseudonym OZ. The money always went to different places that needed it whether it was paying the rent for a bunch of families or anonymous large donations to food banks or soup kitchens. You gained a bit of fame in the hacker community as a modern day Robin Hood. 

All good things come to an end though. And the end was standing in front of you in clunky, rainbow colored jewelry. 

“You don’t look like a cop.” you say, crossing your arms. 

“I’ll do you one better.” She says, pulling her FBI badge out, showing it to you briefly. You curse under your breath. “I’ve been following you for a while, OZ. Though I wasn’t expecting the man behind the curtain to be a woman. I will say, having my computers route back to a loop of “We’re not in Kansas anymore.” everytime I tried to track your IP was impressive. I couldn’t even be mad about it.” 

“Clearly not that impressive because you found me.” 

“Still took me longer than usual, which is saying a lot.” 

“This is a really long winded conversation if you’re just here to arrest me.” You say, taking off your apron. No use in keeping it on if you were going to be in handcuffs soon. 

“That’s because I’m not here to arrest you. I’m here to offer you a job, to work under me as a Tech Analyst in the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.” Penelope says. 

“And if I don’t want to?” 

“Then you’re going to want a lawyer and my very good handsome friend outside is going to arrest you. You’re smart and you have a chance to help people which is why you started hacking in the first place, right? Please don’t make me do that.” She looked at you pleadingly like she really cared and didn’t want you to go to prison. You didn’t say anything but something told you she’d been in the same boat as you before. 

“Hmmm…. I’m tired of waiting tables anyway.” 

So you uprooted your life and moved from Philadelphia to Quantico. Garcia took you under her wing and pretty soon the two of you functioned in her batcave like a well oiled machine. You could do without the constant gore that filled your screens but at the end of the day, you loved what you were doing and you wouldn’t change that for the world. 

The team was an added bonus, it was nice to have your own little found family. Garcia, of course, taking on the role as best friend mere days after your first meeting. You met Derek Morgan right after you agreed to take the job, he’d been there to arrest you and was very glad he wouldn’t have to do that. He told you often about how you reminded him of his sister and he regarded you in the role of younger sister from that day on. The next person you met had been Aaron Hotchner, your new boss. It took him a couple of weeks to warm up to you, you guessed he had a difficulty trusting new people and when he would call you guys for information he would always ask for Garcia instantly instead of you, not very trusting in your skills yet. Though that changed when you had been the one to track down the Unsub once. 

Rossi was easily won over when you told him about your Italian side of the family, specifically your grandmother who loved to cook and left you a lot of recipes. You and him often went back and forth in sharing dishes. Emily and JJ had also been easily won over with one bottle of tequila and a regrettable girls night. 

Then there was Dr. Spencer Reid.     

You had a lot of opinions on Dr. Reid, most of them weren’t good. It wasn’t like you hated him in fact, you’d consider him a friend but the two of you seemed to butt heads on well, everything. Both of you needing to be the smartest in the room and neither of you wanting to admit when you’re wrong will do that though. You still respected Spencer though, he was an extreme asset to the team and he was your best friend’s other best friend so you couldn’t really hate the guy. 

You also didn’t have to like him. 

So you had a good job, good friends, a nice house to live in. You were finally happy, content even. So why did it feel like something was missing? 

The something missing came in a stroller pushed by JJ the next week. 

The last case had been rough. Really rough. So while the team was on their way back you and Garcia hatched a plan for JJ to come visit from maternity leave and surprise everyone with the baby. While you guys were waiting for them to land, Garcia wanted to show JJ something she had gotten her godson so JJ asked if you could watch him and feed him until she got back, which you obviously agreed to. As you were feeding the child his bottle, and his ravioli sized fist wrapped around your finger you realized what had been missing. 

Fuck, you wanted a kid. 

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

You told Garcia first, it slipped when she noticed how off you were being. You wanted to have a kid bad now and you knew you didn’t want to wait. Penny tried to convince you that you’d “find the right person” but let’s face it, with this job, long term relationships were few and far inbetween. Plus you didn’t need a man, you had a good job and insurance, you knew you could provide a child with a life full of love it deserved. So you made an appointment at a fertility clinic. As the doctor was talking to you about your options, you felt yourself feeling more and more down about your decision and that only increased as you looked in the book of sperm donors in front of you. You looked at too many serial killers daily that it made you uneasy, carrying a stranger's baby. Maybe Garcia was right and your best bet was to wait for ‘the right guy.’ Even though you really didn’t want to. 

You walked into work later, a little sullen. Heading immediately towards the coffee machine. Penelope, who had been at Derek’s desk, makes a beeline towards you.  

“So how’d it go?” She says, smiling. “Did you make an appointment to be baby-fied?” 

You sigh. “I couldn’t do it, Pen.” You say, frowning. “I just-- We see so much here that I don’t want to accidentally end up with a sociopath’s baby because I couldn’t wait.” 

“But you don’t want to wait, do you?” She says softly, empathizing with you. 

“No, I don’t.” You sigh again, finishing making your cup before walking back out into the bullpen. JJ had brought Henry again for the others to see on the slow paperwork day. You tried not to look bitter but it was like she was flaunting the one thing you couldn’t have, even if it was unintentional. You watched as she handed the baby to Spencer, who instantly smiled and made faces at the laughing baby. 

“Spencer is actually a surprisingly good godfather.” Garcia says, smiling at the exchange in front of you. “Kinda makes you wonder what he’d be like with his own baby geniuses.” She says before walking over to the group and scooping her godson out of Spencer’s arms, Spencer still held on to his fist with his pinky, smiling down at the child. 

“Yea…” You say, to no one in particular. 

You had an idea. A probably bad one. 

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

You were sitting in the coffee shop, nervously fiddling on your laptop while waiting for Spencer. You were surprised he even agreed to meet with you for coffee though you were sure he was just doing it out of curiosity because you told him you had something important to talk about. You weren’t even sure if you were going about this the right way. Hey Spencer, I know we’re not even friends but how would you feel about fathering my child? God, this was going to be terrible. 

You looked up when you heard the tell-tale bell on the door indicating someone walking in. Spencer gave you a small wave before going to the counter to get a coffee. You took that time to nervously sip yours. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, it was now or never. 

“Hey.” Spencer says, when he finally gets to the table, coffee in hand. “Why are you all the way in the corner?” 

“This isn’t really a conversation I want overheard.” 

Spencer tilts his head confused at that. “So what is the conversation we’re supposed to be having. I asked Garcia but she seemed to also have no idea.” 

“Yea, I didn’t tell her on account of this maybe going extremely bad.” You say, before sighing and turning your laptop around so Spencer could see the Powerpoint screen you have on it. When he reads it,  he chokes on his coffee.

“A Powerpoint, really?” He chokes, still coughing around the coffee. “Y/N, what is this?” 

“This is Reasons Why You Should Make a Baby With me.” 

“Yea, I got that from the title, Y/N.” He says, still shocked. “Is this a joke?!” 

“I wish it was, Reid.”

“Can I at least ask why you thought a Powerpoint was the best way to ask?”   

“Because I felt you’d be more inclined to consider it if you knew I spent time on a presentation.” 

“That’s true.” He leans back, taking a sip of his coffee, gesturing for you to continue. You hit the next slide. 

“Ok, reason number one is we both want kids.” You say, looking at him. “Garcia told me the other day that you were talking about how much you wanted a kid and I also want a kid.”  

“I did tell Garcia that.” He muses. 

“Reason two, an offspring between us would probably result in another genius. As you know, you are smart.” 

“Yes.” 

“And I am smarter.” You say, Spencer opens his mouth to protest but you keep talking. “A child between us could probably be the next Einstein.” 

Spencer nods and you continue. “Reason three, I’d be a great mom.” 

“That’s a debatable fact.” 

“No, it’s not. You’ve seen me around kids, have I ever given an inclination that I wouldn’t be?” You ask, he shakes his head. “Plus, I happen to think you’d be a great father. Which brings me to Reason 4.” You say clicking through the next slide. “If you don’t want to be involved in raising that’s fine. I’m perfectly fine raising the child myself an--” 

“What?! No!” Spencer says, sitting up. “If I do agree to have this baby, which I’m not completely doing yet. I want to be involved, I want them to know I’m their father and that I didn’t abandon them because I know what that’s like.” He says, seriously. You nod, already knowing this about Spencer. 

“Reason 5: I’d be the perfect platonic co-parent, I won’t ask you for anything unless it’s pertaining to the child and if you decide that later down the road you want your own family, I’d be supportive and help you along the way.”

Spencer nods. “We’re never home enough for a baby.” 

“That’s where you’re wrong because I’ll be here. I mainly stay here anyway and if there’s ever a case where you need a tech analyst to fly out, Garcia’s already agreed to have it already be her when I floated the baby idea around last month.”  

Spencer hummed, silent for a second. “You really want a kid, huh?” 

“Yes.” You say. 

“So much so you’re asking me?” Spencer says, matter-of-factly. “A Coworker you barely speak to?”

Well, when he says it like that. 

“Yes. I’m asking because while we don’t get along the best you are still one of the most compassionate, understanding men I know. And I know that if I have to raise this kid with somebody, you would love them just as much as I would.” You say, Spencer nods at that. “So, please?” 

Spencer sighs. “When’s your next appointment? At the fertility clinic?” 

You didn’t even want to ask how he knew about that. “Next tuesday.” 

He nods. “I’m going with you.” He says, standing, pulling the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder. “This isn’t a yes.” 

“It’s not a no, either.” You point out. 

“No, it’s not.” He says, leaving you behind in the coffee shop with a huge grin on your face.

Taglist: @moonshinerbynight​ @crimeshowtrash​

Message/reply to be tagged!!

[noforkingclue]

Happy Sunday! Hope you’re well ❤️ can I request #4 from the angst list or #5 from the fluff list with Star Trek’s Bones? Whichever writing mood you’re in! Thank you 😊

I went for angst that ends in fluff! You know me, never pass up the opportunity for angsty fics!

Prompt 4, angst: “Why are you lying to me?”

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary

You groaned when you opened your eyes, the bright white light of the med bay assaulting them. You tried to raise your arm but it felt like it was made of lead. You heard the sound of rushing feet and a firm hand was placed on your shoulder.

“Easy,” said a familiar voice, “You’ve been hit on the head.”

“Bones?”

“Yeah,” there was something off about his voice, “I’m here.”

Eventually you managed to open your eyes. You smiled softly when Bones’s face came into view but it quickly fell when you saw his expression. He was determined not to make eye contact with you and a sinking feeling in your stomach quickly appeared.

It was clear the he knew.

“So I’m alright?” you asked, “Nothing major?”

Bones remained silent.

“I can leave soon? The injury-“

“Why are you lying to me?”

You flinched at how cold Bones’s voice was. Bones seemed to realise his mistake and he winced at your reaction. The two of you waited in an increasingly awkward silence before Bones sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. You shifted to make room for him but he put a hand on your knee to stop you.

“Did you really think that you could hide this?” he asked

You bit your lip and looked away.

“I didn’t know how you’d react,” you said at last, “I didn’t know if you wanted this and when I found out…”

“How long have you known for?”

“A week.”

“And you still went out on a mission? For Christ’s sake y/n, this is our child we’re talking about!”

“Don’t talk to me as if I don’t know that!” you hissed, “Why do you think I didn’t tell you!”

Bones’s eyes widened at your statement and you flopped against the pillows.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked eventually

“Because I knew you’d act like this.”

When Bones didn’t immediately reply you continued,

“I didn’t think you’d want anything serious, that what we had was just a bit of fun, just casual sex. I didn’t think that you would want another child and I was thinking over my options. I thought that you wouldn’t want this, wouldn’t want me, if you found out that I was pregnant. I didn’t want-“

You cut yourself off, not able to finish your sentence. You didn’t realise you were crying until Bones brushed away a tear. You looked at him in shock as he said,

“Do you really think that?”

You nodded shakily and he sighed. Bones ran a hand through his hair and looked away.

“You have no idea how hard it’s been for me,” he said quietly, “Acting as though this… relationship is just about sex. Pretending that you aren’t the best thing that has come into my life.”

“Wh… what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Bones moved so he was gently cupping your face, “That I love you and I’m not going to leave you. Unless,” he added quickly, “You don’t feel the same way.”

“I do.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“And the baby?”

“Well,” you rested your forehead against Bones’s, “You know Jim will want to be Godfather right?”

[dramaticnerdwithanxiety11]

Ectober (Week) Day 1 - Headstone / Boo

*Art for Hearts of the Cursed, where Sam is a Witch (i mostly just say this for context of sam’s whole.. thing goin on, frankly this looks more like a fight than danny pranking sam while they explored the Zone and them being startled, but thats what you get when you can’t draw faces ig)

It didn’t come out how i wanted to, and i’ll probably edit the post later and add a version with better shading and lines (i usually do them last and im so drawn out today haha) but until then, there’s a fic below the read more line!

Look, when you’re on your way back from your ghost godfather’s tower and you see your soulmate/partner/best friend flying through the ghost zone, you have two options.

Say hi, or prank them, and obviously Danny was going to prank them.

Danny grinned, his sharp fangs glinted in the green mood lighting of The Zone. Sam was about to fly past one of the smaller islands, in which possessed a slightly transparent quality (possibly the ghost was destroyed or something.. rip ig).

So, Danny quickly tapped into his invisibility (thankful Sam was still in the process of learning their invisibility detection spell), and flew to the edge of the island. He worked hard to create an ectoplasm-based ‘BOO’ in the air in front of him, and then popped into visibility the moment Sam flew past.

Sam definitely screamed, though we all know they’re going to deny it later, and fell back onto the little cloud their glowing witch shoes summoned. Their big, glowing purple eyes widened and three long, sharp, glowing purple arrows appeared before their hands.

Danny had burst into laughter, the ectoplasmic words melted and fell into the void below, “Damnit, Danny!” Sam squawked, the Arrows poofed into light and eventually faded away completely. 

“You should’ve seen your face!” Danny cackled, failing to keep his balance on his toes and falling back onto the island floor.

“You’re gonna pay for that, Fenton!” Sam yelled, and Danny abruptly stopped laughing. A high pitched squeal abandoned his throat as he saw them flying towards him at full speed.

“Jesus fucking christ, Sam!” he laugh/screamed, he lept off the platform and broke into flight to escape their enraged partner.

*** (Sam ended up tackling Danny midair, and tickling him until he threatened to blast her the moment he got a chance to breathe, Tucker was incredibly regretful he didnt join either of them on their trips to the Zone.)

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Valentines Day for Nerds (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Spencer’s favourite holiday is often taken up mostly by work, but this year his enjoyment doesn’t seem to be as disruptive in the BAU bullpen. The team soon realise why.

AN: It’s a bit late- who am I kidding? IT’S ALWAYS HALLOWEEN IN OUR HEARTS! This was a part of @imagining-in-the-margins fic swap, for the brilliant @agntprentiss <3 

For my smut fic from the swap, check out A Little Indulgence (18+ only!)

Reader uses she/her pronouns!

Word count: 1.7k words

Gif credit to @imagining-in-the-margins​ <3

Your name: submit What is this?

The first breach of boredom was Penelope practically skipping into the bullpen, her arms cradling a bouquet of flowers as if it were an infant. The bold orange roses contrasted with the dyed black petals of its counterparts as they were planted upon Spencer’s desk.

“Delivery for Doctor Reid!” trilled Penelope, clapping her hands now that they were free of said delivery. Dropping his pen onto his unfinished paperwork, Spencer pivoted the base of the bouquet before he found a small black envelope.

It held a little card with two pumpkins, happy faces carved into them both. Inside were the following words:

 Black is for new beginnings,

Orange is for enthusiasm,

Spooky times are afoot tonight,

Watch out for ectoplasm!

I spent ten minutes trying to think of a rhyme for that. Happy Halloween, Cara Mia!

Y/N xxx

Spencer beamed as he placed the bouquet at the edge of his desk, next to the fake severed hand that now held the card in its stiff fingers. He scratched his bristly cheek. Less than a day until he could shave this off. It’d be worth it though.

“Is it from Y/N?”

He looked up to see Penelope had lingered like a lost spirit, waiting to see if her trials of passing on the bouquet had been worthy enough for her to move onto the next world – her Batcave. She was poised with a hopeful expression.

“Yes,” Spencer said, watching Penelope lean up on her tiptoes as she tried to rein in her delight.

She clapped her hands, her purple painted nails clicking as they tapped together, “Are my two favourite ghost hunters up to much this Hallow’s Eve?”

“We’re going to see the Phantasmagoria re-enactment after we go trick-or-treating with Henry tonight.”

It was hard to ignore the absolute glee with which Spencer spoke. Even if one completely ignored the way his voice carried a light excitement, the way his eyes lit up and his broad smile almost fell off his face was enough to connote that he was very excited for tonight. It was also hard to ignore the mild bemusement on the faces of everyone who heard.

Glad to be back and bearing witness to his elated behaviour regardless, Emily cracked a smile, “Maybe she’ll cling to you when she gets scared.”

A heat crawled up Spencer’s neck and he tried to return to work now in hopes that his gift’s display would be cut off. He’d rather sit in the glow of receiving the flowers without mockery.

To the team’s credit, no one ribbed him for it.

The flowers were not the last gift though.

Soon Penelope reappeared, “Your Cupid has returned with another gift for you!”

As he tore at the paper and revealed an Edgar Allen Poe pin – the titular Raven he instantly attached it to his satchel strap – in pride of place, just like the bouquet.

Derek was the one to notice how Spencer’s sandwiches had been cut into little pumpkins. Some digging and Spencer revealed that he had gotten Y/N to order a cutter online. He held his lunch in one hand, his collection of classic Halloween short stories in the other, with a childish glee that no one wanted to squander.

When Spencer climbed the steps to drop off a file to Hotch around mid-afternoon, Rossi walking behind him noted the brand-new socks. A classic odd pairing, and obviously they were Halloween themed. This kid left no opportunity untaken when it came to celebrating Halloween – more than his own birthday.

But Rossi was not closed enough to get a good look at them, and no one else was as close. So, he recruited Emily and Derek to discover what the pattern was. It was Emily and Derek who upped the stakes by wanting to get a glimpse without arousing suspicion. Now that outright asking Spencer was not an option, the game began as they dropped several pens as an excuse to bend over and strain for a flash of those socks.

Derek eventually resorted to a pantomime attempt at tripping in front of Spencer’s desk and gave the jig up straight away by shouting to a stressed Emily (whilst also catching the attention of Hotch through his office’s blinds): “IT’S IT!”

A few language barriers hurdled later, and hindsight brought them both clarity. The red splodge on Spencer’s ankle was officially defined as a balloon.

“So tell us! What’s the other one?” Emily said, her voice strained with how much she was invested in this single sock.

Spencer hiked up his trouser leg to display the skeletal zombie sewn into the sock. “It’s Curtis Danko from When Good Ghouls Go Bad. Y/N had it commissioned for me!”

JJ was watching nearby, unaffected by the tensions of the sock bet. She knew the film because Y/N had wanted to show it to Henry the other week when she babysat him. But upon further inspection, the R.L. Stine film – while intended for kids – might be a little intimidating for Henry to watch without his profiler mother and godfather, police officer father, and favourite auntie there to protect him from the cursed statue.

No one else in the bullpen knew the film.

The team soon discovered that Spencer was not the only one to be on the receiving end of such gifts. Six o’clock rolled around and Y/N entered the bullpen. She was wearing a fuzzy black scarf, some sparkles shining within the wool. At the tail of it, a lucky black cat patch was sewn onto the end. It caught Rossi’s eye and he hid behind a folder as he smiled. The three times that Spencer had forgone a card game with him (in favour of knitting the scarf on the flights back from cases) had been riddled with playful teasing. It was good to see that it was worth it.

Especially when Spencer saw Y/N wearing it and his back snapped straight up. His chair flew backwards, spinning around with the effort that Spencer had launched himself from it, and he and Y/N embraced each other with casual affection.

“How was work today?”

“Not as boring as I thought. But, I have to say: I’m meant to call you Cara Mia.” Spencer’s eyes darted to the card Y/N had sent that morning.

Y/N caught onto his meaning, “Should I stop?”

“Never.”

She rubbed her nose against his and Spencer went pink again, giggling like a teenager. True, he was as smitten with Y/N as Gomez was with Morticia. Then he remembered he was in the workplace as Y/N went to greet the rest of the team, and Spencer’s pink became a scarlet.

“Aww, Pretty Boy,” Derek grinned at him from his desk chair, “You’re so cute!”

“It’s like Sergio!” Emily said, admiring the scarf with her thumb rubbing over the stitches around the cat patch.

“Make sure he’s safe tonight,” Y/N squeezed her hands for a second.

Then JJ appeared from her office, coat and bag over her arm, and she, Y/N, and Spencer wished the bullpen a Happy Halloween before they left.

They had three hours before the Phantasmagoria started. Plenty of time to get ready.

Henry was right behind the front door of his home. The second it opened, he bounced at Spencer’s feet, his tiny hand clutching onto two of his fingers to drag him inside. He was babbling away at such speed that Y/N could barely keep up. She gave Will a wave across the ironing board where he was diligently ironing Will’s cape.

“Well don’t you look handsome!” Y/N beamed at Henry while JJ combed his hair back, slick with gel. It was something he agreed to but only if Spencer was doing the same. Which he was, occupying the downstairs bathroom as he prepared his own costume.

The moment Spencer had finished shaving everything bar the moustache, he was plonked in front of the television. Henry smoothed out his cloak and put in his plastic fangs in to watch the rest of his new favourite Halloween film, The Little Vampire. He mumbled along with Rudolph’s lines and sat enraptured as he pointed out to Spencer the flying scenes. Luckily for him, Will and JJ were getting dressed as Frederick and Freda Sackville-Bagg upstairs to join in the Halloween spirit – last year’s Halloween date night disaster long forgotten.

Henry put in his plastic fangs and hissed at Y/N who emerged in her long sleek black dress. As she stepped across the room as elegantly as Morticia, Spence spied that she was wearing the black spiderweb tights he had bought her today.

“Hello, Gomez,” She smiled radiantly at Spencer, smoothing out his suit jacket as he stood before her. He presented her with a red rose that matched her lipstick to a tee.

As she breathed in the flower’s scent, he kissed her cheek, enjoying her giggle at the bristle of his ‘stache, “You’re stunning.”

“Thank you, and you’re handsome as ever.” She swung their linked hands between them in the opposite way she poised on her tiptoes. “Maybe we should have taken a tango class.”

And she laughed loudly at Spencer’s wincing at such a thought.

“It’s ok, Cara Mia. I’ll settle for a kiss instead.”

Oh, that was something he could do forever. He brought her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles then the inside of each wrist.

Unfortunately, Henry interrupted the stream of kisses that were headed in Y/N’s way. “Ready to go!” He skipped his way between the happy couple.

It was hard to be mad at Henry, especially with how adorable he looked beside his parents and with his bright orange pumpkin bag ready to collect candy. He felt safe with his four favourite adults guarding him.

“Tonight,” Y/N whispered into his ear and he could hear the smirk in her words, “After the Phantasmagoria.”

Spencer beamed, his dimples delightfully framing that smile. One day maybe, they would have their own Wednesday, Pugsley, and Pubert to join them. And maybe then Derek would dress up as Uncle Fester.

[inpizzawecrust]

Deaf Harry Potter AU

I’ve been learning American sign language and I was just thinking of an AU where Harry is Deaf. Here’s the headcanon I came up with :)

edit (july 2021): this is basically an outline for a fic I’ve been writing titled Stars In His Eyes. it doesn’t have a release date yet, but will be posted to my ao3 as soon as possible!

Harry Potter was Deaf and perhaps if his parents had lived, things would be different, but that wasn’t the case. 

But Harry lived with his relatives ever since his parents were killed by Voldemort and when he was placed with his aunt and uncle, the couple scoffed and refused to learn sign language for the sake of their nephew.

They got hearing aids for Harry, but didn’t bother looking into other options.

So Harry learned to be satisfied with his hearing aids even though sounds were muffled and he still couldn’t hear much with them. He didn’t like them very much, but Harry knew better than to complain.��

During primary, a teacher’s aid taught him how to sign and Harry quickly found sign to be much more enjoyable than using his hearing aids. 

When he got his letter for Hogwarts, he was thrilled to learn magic, but the excitement was almost immediately drowned out by fear of not being able to learn it to the fullest extent as someone who can hear.

His nerves subsided when he arrived at the castle and was introduced to Sir Nicholas, a ghost who knew sign and would be his new interpreter.

In first year, Harry befriended the redhead boy and the girl with the bushy brown hair after meeting both on the train.

Neither knew sign but when they found out how much Harry hated his hearing aids, both were adamant on Harry never having to use his hearing aids again.

Hermione quickly learned a charm that would write the words they spoke above their heads for Harry to follow along and Ron discovered a similar charm that allowed Harry to write words in the air with his wand.

The first student Harry met that knew sign was the blonde boy in the Slytherin house. He was a bit rude to Harry on the train, but during their first class when he realized Harry was Deaf, he immediately apologized.

You know sign? Harry quickly signed.

My mum is Deaf, but she has cochlear implants. One of her cousins is also Deaf, but we don’t see him much. The blonde boy nodded, I’m Draco Malfoy

Harry Potter

I know, Draco signed, then laughed at Harry’s confused reaction—not that Harry could hear the laugh, though he wished with everything in him that he could—I could tell from your scar

And so Harry made a new friend. An obnoxious, loud, arrogant toerag sort of friend, but a friend nonetheless.

Having been raised with sign language, Draco Malfoy would occasionally know signs that even Harry didn’t, but he was always more than willing to teach Harry.

Ron and Hermione quickly picked up on the basics of sign language, but weren’t nearly as fast as the other two.

In second year, Harry was accused of being the Heir of Slytherin, solely because he was The Boy Who Lived. The only people who believed him when he told them he wasn’t the heir were his friends.

Luckily, people were more scared of Draco’s wrath—“How could he even be the Heir? He doesn’t use his aids and he can’t hear at all without them, how would he even be able to talk to a snake?!”—than they were of Harry, though they still avoided Harry like the plague, meaning the two spent most of their time together.

They helped each other with assignments, picked on each other mercilessly, and laughed until their lungs hurt. Harry spent countless days and nights laughing with or at Draco, secretly saddened he could only watch the blonde laugh, still wishing he could hear it as well. 

Draco would always teach Harry about things he didn’t quite understand about the wizard world, so naturally Draco was the one who told Harry about his Godfather, Sirius Black.

He’s my mother’s cousin, but he was best friends with your father, Draco explained sometime during their second year. Mother doesn’t mention him much. He was 16 when he ran away and lived with the Potters. Mother hasn’t seen him since.

What Draco failed to mention was that Sirius Black was in prison for betraying Harry’s parents, resulting in their deaths.

In third year, Harry had his first teacher who knew sign language.

Professor Lupin was quite fluent in sign and would always sign as he talked, though even Harry knew you weren’t technically supposed to do that, but he appreciated the effort nonetheless.

When Sirius somehow escaped prison, it seemed as though everyone Harry met had something to say about his Godfather and if it wasn’t that Sirius was best friends with the Potters, then it was about his betrayal. 

Harry tried to remain unbiased towards the man, that was his Godfather after all, but when they finally met in the small shack, anger took the lead and Harry dragged him to the ground, holding his wand to the man’s throat until his Godfather raised his hands.

You look just like James, but you sign like Lily

My mum was Deaf?

No, your father and I were the only Deaf students in our year, but we taught our friends sign, Sirius grinned, How do you think Lupin knows it?

So Harry took it all in as Sirius explained exactly what happened on Halloween night 1981 and Professor Lupin eventually filled in the gaps.

In fourth year, Harry was chosen for the Triwizard Tournament and nearly died during the first task with dragons. 

Harry’s three friends, though Draco was the most aggressive, forced him to wear his hearing aids, though they still only muffled the sound so while the three other champions were able to hear the dragons, Harry could not. 

He was just barely able to avoid the flames the dragon shot out from behind him.

His Godfather nearly came out of hiding to yell at the Minister of Magic upon reading about it in Harry’s letter.

The second task wasn’t nearly as bad as the first—Harry’s egg merely contained a written version of the riddle since he can’t hear at all underwater, which became an advantage when he had to save Ron from the mermaids. 

He was the only champion to escape the shrieking voices of the sea creatures.

The third task was just as dangerous as the first, but he made it through, only to encounter Voldemort himself in the graveyard. 

Since his hearing aids had died halfway through the task, Harry missed the entirety of Voldemort’s monologue and was petrified when he was let off the headstone and forced to duel. 

His friend’s father didn’t say a word, but was barely able to finger spell Expelliarmus to the boy just in time. 

Harry’s parents saved him in the graveyard and he was able to accio the portkey and get back to Hogwarts. 

In fifth year, Umbridge reluctantly allowed Sir Nicholas to attend her class, only after a letter from Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy Professor McGonagall, Hermione, Ron, and Draco reminded her of the disability act, stating that Harry had the right to an interpreter.

When at the Ministry of Magic at the end of the school year, Lucius demanded Harry hand over the prophecy, but he signed differently to Harry, Pass it over and I’ll pretend to fumble with it, please Harry.

Lucius’ sister-in-law, Bellatrix, sent a killing curse his way—that he just barely missed—when she just caught sight of the “please Harry” that he had signed.

Harry did as he was asked, but Lucius didn’t even have to pretend to fumble with it, for the Order appeared and Lucius actually fumbled with the prophecy when Sirius punched him.

When Sirius fell through the veil, Harry nearly jumped in as well and had to be held back by Remus.

He sobbed into the blonde’s arms that night, petrified at the realization that he would be forced to fight a war he never wanted when he had already lost his parents and the next closest thing to a father.

In sixth year, his friend was forced to take the mark and Harry cut him off immediately.

I didn’t have a choice, Harry. He would kill me, Draco sobbed.

So your life matters more than mine, Malfoy?

I never said it did!

You did when you took the mark, Malfoy. Forced or not.

Months later, Harry watched with a pain in is heart as Draco faltered and lowered his wand, too scared to go through with the task. 

In what should have been seventh year, Harry was on the run with Ron and Hermione. 

They hunted horcruxes and did their best to avoid snatchers. 

One of their first nights they were almost caught because Harry forgot where the concealment charm ended and had his back turned from his friends.

He quickly ran back when Ron threw Hermione’s satchel at his head.

When they were caught and brought to Malfoy Manor, Harry was certain Draco and his parents knew it was him under the jinx. 

But none of them confirmed it when Bellatrix asked.

When in the basement, Harry was grateful he couldn’t hear. He didn’t think he could handle the screams from Hermione upstairs or the ones from Ron at his side. 

When Dobby helped them get back upstairs, it was Draco who dueled Harry after he practically handed the wands over.

Stay safe, the blonde signed just before Harry apparated away. 

Harry won the war and shortly after was asked to return to Hogwarts to finish school. He didn’t want to and no one forced him. 

He didn’t want to return to the Wizard World, he wasn’t certain he belonged there anymore. He didn’t want to be known as the boy who escaped death. He didn’t want to be known as the hero. He didn’t want to be known. 

He settled in a muggle town, choosing the house far from everyone else and fixed it up to have Teddy over whenever Andromeda let him.

One of the first things Harry did when in muggle life was get cochlear implants.

It wasn’t that he wanted to hear or wanted his ears to be “fixed”. Harry liked being Deaf and liked signing. 

But he wanted the option to hear. He never truly had the option with his hearing aids since things were muffled and quite frankly did more harm than good for him.

So he got the cochlear implants and liked having the ability to almost fully hear whenever he chose. He still couldn’t hear as clear as someone who wasn’t Deaf, but he could hear a great deal more than before.

Harry spent years rediscovering himself and learning who he was without magic. Eventually, he wanted to learn who was with magic as well.

So Harry fully returned to the Wizard World nearly ten years after the war had ended and he found himself back at Hogwarts by popular demand of a particular transfiguration professor, who was now the headmistress.

He took over the Defense Against the Dark Arts position and was the first to last longer than a year. 

Going into his second year as a professor, Harry asked the headmistress if he could start a Sign Language club. She immediately agreed. 

A few years later with the Sign Language club in full swing, Harry was approached by the headmistress just before the start of the new term. She asked if it would alright if the new Potions professor could join. 

Baffled that a colleague, especially a new one, would want to join, Harry agreed and was nervously excited to meet whoever it was.

And on the morning of the start of term before the students arrived, Harry’s heart raced at the sight of familiar blonde hair. 

With half the staff being new that year, the headmistress asked that the returning professors mingle with the new ones to get comfortable with everyone.

The new Potions professor, the one with the now curly blonde hair that stopped just past his shoulders, waltzed up to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Draco Malfoy, the blonde finger spelled with a smirk.

Harry Potter, though I think you knew that from the scar.

Harry’s heart overflowed at the sound of a laugh he had spent twenty years wishing to hear.

[tomicaleto]

24 + 38 for trope asks

Oh, difficult one! Well, while not being exactly a soulmate AU, this fic I wrote a while ago works pretty well for this I think!

But let’s think something new!

24.  Soulmate AU & 38.  Grief Fic

Well, I would go with an AU where Padmé was Anakin’s soulmate but she passed away :( leaving him to raise their two children on his own (with help from his extended family but still). Grief quickly takes over him so Bail, Leia’s godfather, recommends him a place where people that lost their soulmate go to heal together. 

It takes him weeks before he swallows his pride, his anger and his sadness and decides to go there. He doesn’t think it’ll help much though. 

Obi-Wan is also someone who has recently lost their soulmate. And even thought they were platonic soulmates (maybe Quinlan or Luminara) he still is super depressed about it. So he learns about this place where people that lost their soulmate meet to heal together and goes to give it a try. 

Anakin and Obi-Wan meet. Slowly, they become friends, until they feel comfortable enough to let the other learn more about their lives outside this healing place. Anakin introduces his children and eventually talks about Padmé, and Obi-Wan tells him how his relationship with his own soulmate worked. 

It’s very gradual, but they finally learn to let go of their grief. They still love and miss their soulmate, they will never forget them, but their grief is no longer ruining their lives. (And of course, at that point, they realise their feelings have turned from friendship into love, but this part could be optional) 

Basically a healing story! 

---

Thanks for sending this! Grief fics are hard to write or think of tbh but I’m glad I could think of something :)

Fanfiction Trope MASH-UP

[the-actual-loch-ness-monster8]

So, what was your inspiration for House of the Rising Sun? (I feel like you've told us before, but PLEASE go off and get deep with it!) Like why'd you chose the mafia setting/AU? What made you decide that Evra would be a bartender and The Cirque would be a bar? Just ALL that, I love knowing those deep details that don't always transfer from the mind to the page~!

WARNING GUYS: YOU MIGHT WANNA READ THIS LATER IF YOU HAVENT READ TO AT LEAST ABOUT CHAPTER 10 OR 11 I BELIEVE

Oh boy, I love this question. Thank you Nom, I always love an excuse to ramble. So there's a few set of factors that led to House of the Rising Sun, and I think one of the first would be my bizarre obsession with The Godfather in middle school. (Side note: Who the hell put that book in a MIDDLE SCHOOL LIBRARY???) This developed into a fascination with mafia history, no doubt fueled by my friendship with @evil-dad-evil (Thanks Lucien lmao), and one strange story about Jon Gotti from my dad, but thats a text post all its own. Regardless I just always thought it was neat is the basics.

The mafia au for Cirque du Freak just seemed like it would work well with a mafia au already, the vampires/vampaneze being rival families, all that jazz. It was one of those things that just clicked in my head. Of course, I thought was going to be perfect. Obviously, it wasn't, it saw two different rewrites before it got to where we are now, without a truly solid plot, it was bad. Probably because the first two attempts happened when I was in 8th grade. It wasn't until after I graduated high school and quarantine kicked this fandom up into high gear that I got it to actually be a decent fic.

This go round was the first time I had titled it "House of the Rising Sun", named for the song by The Animals, because it gave me the vibe of "I am in the mafia and i just shot my best friend and betrayed him and now im driving away from the funeral" and yes I know that is so, so weirdly specific. But the biggest help was when I had a thought of, "What if Wester and Darren met?" and what really kickstarted it was talking with an old rp partner (@maculaxsanguinis I love you and I miss u homie) and i had the thought of "Hey you know what would be fucked up? Wester framing Darren for Alicia's murder" and I got so stuck on that, that HoTRS had to be written. The "Darren gets framed" chapter was the thing I had looked forward to writing the most and I had been so excited about it, you have no clue how hard it was not to spill the beans in the discord. I actually wrote that chapter before the fic had even had it's first chapter thought through, though the original draft was not the chapter I ended up posting. It was the whole reason I ended up making the fic to begin with, and credit to my old friend as they were actually the one to come up with the "I do not know what you are capable of anymore." That hurt both Darren's and my own feelings.

Of course deciding to write that meant I had to figure out how to get there to begin wity, and with the vampires and vampaneze serving as rival families, I had to figure out what to do with The Cirque itself. Making it a bar seemed like this easiest option, giving a place for the story to start, and making Evra a bartender was bc... Well, I wanted Bartender!Evra but also, it gave Darren a way in. Darren talks to Larten at his suggestion, and Evra has no clue the amount of chaos that that will lead him into. That, and seeing as Darren's friendship with Steve has quickly been yeeted, (I made HoTRS!Steve kind of unhinged now that I think about it lmao) he's a good support for Darren, even if I'm not confident in how I write either of them. Not to mention someone who was on the outside of it all who still knew what was going on, which made for some great banter in certain chapters. (The exchange between them before the hit on Murlough is still gold to me.) But also, it's someone close enough not be too effected by everything, but still close enough to get hurt somehow.

But that's the story for how HoTRS ever ended up even so much as an idea in my head, and we've got @evil-dad-evil to thank for fueling my weird mafia obsession, and @maculaxsanguinis to thank for helping me plan one of the most dramatic, and possibly best scenes I ever wrote.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: The Rose and the Thorn: Chapter 5 (Mafia AU)

Summary:   So where was Blue while Rus was off getting kidnapped and how did he end up with Red, anyway?

Tags: Spicyhoney, Mafia AU, Flower Shop AU, Violence, First Meetings

Warnings: Some violence. A wee bit of unwanted touching and some innuendo.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

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It was barely afternoon and Blue was already tired. He’d spent the morning coaxing a variety of flowers in their garden into bloom, gently forcing them to quickly travel through their growth cycles until they were ready to be cut and added to a bouquet.

Normally, their garden had a rigid schedule to keep from pushing the plants too much; stimulated growth could only go so far, after all. But losing most of their stock was forcing Blue to abandon it. Using so much magic in such a short amount of time was exhausting and when Blue parked in their assigned spot, the elderly van wheezing to a stop, he took a moment to sit in the sagging driver’s seat, ignoring the spring pushing through the cheap vinyl to poke at his coccyx as he closed his sockets for just a moment.

There really wasn’t time for a rest. Papy was waiting on these flowers, likely working hard since this morning readying the baskets for Blue’s delivery. There were funerary floral arrangements to be made, birthday gifts, romantic gestures, and every one of them added desperately needed profits back into their coffers.

Rest would have to wait. Instead, Blue pawed through the glove box, past the yellowed owner’s manual and an odd collection of fast food napkins to find a granola bar in its depths. Tastelessly stale, the chocolate chips cast in a white haze and Blue ate it anyway, chewing without tasting. It would help revive his magic and he’d be able to paste on his sunniest smile for Papyrus when he got inside.

His little brother was working so terribly hard, so many long hours on his own. Blue’s soul was so tight with pride, it felt as if it were ready to explode and shower his Papy with it, even as he kept the underling guilt hidden away, tucked back where his brother wouldn’t have to deal with it.

This was his fault. Papy shouldn’t have to deal with the brunt of the stress. He’d abandoned his own faint hopes for college to help Blue with the business, worked hard without a fuss. He learned to make flower arrangements from bouquets to corsages, how to run the registers, how to smile and charm their customers into buying more than they intended. This was Blue’s dream, not his, but he’d thrown himself in entirely, and Blue didn’t want him to know about the bills rubberstamped in red ‘past due’ ink. He didn’t want Papy to worry about their dwindling savings.

The insurance money would help, quite a bit if the representative he spoke to yesterday was correct, and they only needed to last the few weeks until it came.

A little hard work hadn’t dusted him yet, Blue told himself as he got out of the van and retrieved the first heavy bucket of cut flowers; lilies, for the funeral arrangements. A few weeks more wasn’t going to do any harm.

When he got to the shop door, for a moment Blue didn’t understand why it wouldn’t push open. Then he realized the open sign was off, the door was locked tight. The shop was closed, on a Friday afternoon when all the lovesick swains got their paychecks and were ready to pick up flowers in hopes of a romantic weekend and they’d be purchasing their bouquets elsewhere because his shop was closed.

Later, Blue would be ashamed his first instinct was largely irritated; had his silly brother forgotten to leave the door open for customers, they did have some stock! But that was not for more than a startled second, long enough for him to see the broken mug scattered across the stoop.

He leaned down to pick up a shard of the plastic, absently noting the tremble in his hand. It had been his brother’s favorite travel mug, a silly thing he’d gotten it at the thrift shop, leftover from some Halloween or another. The skeletons that danced around it would dance no more, the piece Blue held had lost its legs, and he took very little comfort in the fact there was no dust on the broken pieces because there was a single splotch of redness, a near-perfect circle of dried marrow.

Someone had hurt his brother, Humans, perhaps the same ones from yesterday and how had he ever believed in his naiveté that Humans would welcome them to the surface with open arms.

“now thems some pretty flowers you got there.”

Startled, Blue turned towards that voice, ready to tell them with as much forced politeness as he could muster that they were currently closed, and would the police even come if he called them, would they even care, who else could he possibly—

Then he caught sight of who spoke, and his soul felt as if it froze right in his rib cage, icy fingers digging in and oh, his little brother was in far worse trouble than Blue could have ever guessed.

He’d never met the Fells, neither on the Surface or below it. The Underground was a big place and the madscrabble life they’d grown accustomed to in Ebott did not lend itself to making new acquaintances. Not that Blue frequented the sorts of places where one might meet the Fells. No, he’d never met them, but he knew them by reputation. Thugs, whispered along the gossip-line, loan sharks, racketeers, even murderers said the quietest rumors, though not for very long.

This one could only be the older brother, Red. He stood only a bit taller than Blue and nearly twice as broad, with little resemblance past the fact they were both skeleton Monsters. His teeth curved into a jagged, shark grin, unlike Blue’s blunted smile and his eye lights were the burning crimson of an ember. His dark expensive suit with its rich scarlet shirt boasted of handsewn silks, and the fingers holding his cigar were circled with gold rings whose stones were too garishly large to be anything but real. His other hand was tucked into his pocket, oddly threatening for its nonchalance. Flanking him were two large Dog monsters, white on white ties and shirts, and Blue was suddenly struck by the absurdity of it all.

His little flower shop along with his brother had somehow been transported into some ridiculous Godfather-esque alternate, only proved by Red exhaling a billowing cloud of smoke as he said, “but it looks t’me like you’ve got a lil’ trouble bloomin’. lose somethin’? or mebbe someone.”

Inappropriate laughter bubble up, choked away, and Blue heard himself say, “I suppose I did.”

Red nodded as if Blue had offered not a stream of wisdom, but an entire glistening fountain. He started pulling his hand out of his pocket and Blue tensed, angel-only knew what thoughts about guns or knives shooting through his mind. But that hand was empty and Red only plucked one of the lilies from the bucket, running a razor-tipped finger along the satiny petals.

“Are you here to help with that? My…my missing person?” Blue asked at last. Not that he wanted to, he didn’t, but his options were few, any choices dwindled away. There was no one else to ask and with every second that went by, the danger his brother was in could only be growing. This had something to do with yesterday, Blue was sure of it, and he couldn’t even imagine what sort of trouble his sweet, funny brother had gotten into to cause all this.

Rumor had it Red never broke his word, that he had a twisted way of keeping it, a monkey’s paw wish. But for his brother, Blue would have bargained with the devil incarnate.

He wondered if he was.

“could be,” Red said idly. He twirled the flower stem between his fingers. “you got quite the green thumb, dontcha.”

“Yes?” Blue agreed, warily. He’d heard that before when they’d first come to the Surface, and his refusal to grow drugs had been a costly one, losing him possible allies. He wondered dismally what conundrum he was about to be balanced on for his brother’s safety.

“hm.” Red gave the lily a considering sniff, “might have to see if we can drive your posy sales a lil’ better, after we get past this oopsie daisy.”

Blue didn’t know what that meant but he was sure he wouldn’t like it.

“tell ya what,” Red gave him a conspiratorial wink and a finger gun, as if they were close pals and not a known criminal chatting with a simple florist, “me and the neighborhood watchdogs here, we’ll take care of it. you hang tight and we’ll get your bro back to you.”

Blue didn’t ask how they knew it was his brother. He didn’t ask a thing. He simply crossed his arms over his chest and said, “No, I don’t think so. I’m coming with you.”

That earned him a deep frown, “baby blue, i think mebbe you didn’t hear me so good.”

“I heard you perfectly well,” Blue told him and didn’t bother with any astonishment over what this…this person might know or not know about him. Nicknames and whatnot were not important. Papy was. “And I don’t care. I’m coming with you and I’m staying until I see my brother.”

A low growl came from one of the Dogs, silenced instantly when Red held out a hand. Those jagged teeth curved into an unpleasantly wide grin, “you think so, eh. and if i say no?”

It was not particularly difficult to work up some tears, they’d been hovering thickly beneath the surface the moment Blue found that broken coffee mug. He let them loose now, wailing as loudly as he could, “How can you leave me like this!” Fat droplets rolled down his cheeks, huge sobs gasped out, “and with a baby on the way?”

Red froze, his cigar drooping in his teeth as his grin fell away so abruptly Blue half-expected it to shatter on the stoop with the remains of Papy’s coffee mug. All around them the people on the sidewalk who’d been previously been looking discreetly away were abruptly watching with avid interest, aghast and greedily outraged as Blue wept loudly, one hand pressed against his apron to his belly over their nonexistent child. A few people were shuffling their feet as if considering playing the hero, weighing their odds against a cruel wealthy ex-boyfriend and his friends casting aside a tiny pregnant clerk.

“get in the fucking car,” Red muttered. He tossed the lily on the ground, trodding on it as he turned to do the same. Blue tried not to see the mangled flower as a metaphor and followed, hopping through the open door that one of the Dogs closed firmly behind him.

He settled into the enormous leather seat, buckling his seatbelt to at least make it more difficult if Red decided it might well be easier to simply shove him out of the car on the next block.

Not that Red seemed to be considering it. He was rummaging through a small bar installed in the side door, pouring a finger’s worth of what was probably very expensive whiskey into a crystal glass, knocking it back in a single gulp. He poured another then settled back in his seat with it, crimson eye lights targeting Blue.

“you got some balls, kid,” he grumbled. It almost sounded grudgingly admiring but there wasn’t time to worry about that.

“Can you promise me you’ll get my brother back to me? Safe and sound,” Blue hastened to add.

“sure, toots. we’ll get your bro back in mostly one piece,” Red said. He grinned again, all jaggedly sharp teeth as Blue’s gorge rose, purring out, “nah, he’ll be all safe and sound. got someone on it right now, and not one of the usual mutts, neither. he’ll get your bro. meantime, we got some things we can discuss, you and me.”

Blue lifted his chin defiantly. He’d known what he was getting into. If there was a price to be paid for saving his brother, Blue would offer his own soul on a silver platter. But there was no reason for Papy to know. “I’m sure we do, so long as it’s a private discussion between us.”

Those crimson eye lights gleamed and Blue could very nearly hear the invisible chains of fate closing around him. “good boy. now, let’s talk about you, baby blue. how’s business?”

-fin

Read Next Chapter

[bixgirl1]

New Fic - Glompfest!

Title: Life Lessons Author: Bixgirl1 Pairing: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy Rating: Heh. Explicit. Word Count: 68k Content/Warnings: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Wandless Magic, Banter and flirting and snark - oh myyy - UST!, accidental kissing, intentional kissing (just really a lot of kissing), Epistolary elements, Auror Harry, Humor, dancing, weird plotty stuff ‘cause I can’t help myself, mentions of childhood trauma and previously-made sexual threats, wanking, oral sex, anal fingering, anal sex, rimming (omfg I just realized I forgot that in my AO3 tags!), intergluteal sex, semi-public sex. Summary: On the cusp of a promotion, Harry needs a little help with his image. Enter Draco Malfoy — who doesn't really do that, Potter — to whip him into shape… and make him feel things he hasn't for a very long time. Featuring: odd jobs, surprising chemistry, lots of accidental kissing, the Prophet living up to type, owls exhausted by the carrying of dirty letters, a secret no one can talk about, a merry band of Slytherins (none of whom really approve), and an enchanted mirror (who really, really does).

Author’s Notes: For @m4g0rtz. I’ve wanted to write for you for the LONGEST time, sweets.  Your comments before we met always made me absolutely light up, and then I got to know you and I realized you’re just as fabulous as you seemed. Your friendship has meant so much to me from the beginning, and this fest gave me the perfect excuse to say so in fic; I hope you can forgive my sneakiness while I wrote this for you. lolol.

A huge thanks to my lovely betas, @lqtraintracks and @coriesocks. You guys were both so effing patient with me and both so encouraging and helpful - you made this like a zillion times better than it would have been otherwise. <333333

And a huge thanks to the mods, too, for running such a fun, wonderful fest!

Excerpt (under the cut):

It was one of the most fundamental truths of Harry’s life: as soon as things were going well, everything would turn to shit.

You’re a wizard, Harry — just be on guard for that murderer hunting you. You have a godfather, Harry — but be careful not to get too attached to him. From his relationship with Ginny (which never got back off the ground after the war) to his life after defeating Voldemort (which would never resemble anything approaching normal), there was always some sort of caveat. Privately, he called it “End of the School Year Syndrome.”

The fact that this time it had actually been scheduled for late June was simply ironic.

“That’s not even six weeks away,” Hermione said, frowning.

“Your confidence in me is inspirational,” Harry said. “And the maths isn't really what I’m having a problem with.” He took the invitation back from her and re-buried his face in one of the sofa pillows. It smelled a little like feet and Ron’s deodorant, as though Ron had Transfigured it into a footstool and then only had time to hastily return it to form and freshen it with a charm before Hermione saw and got on him again about just using one of their existing footstools. Harry tossed it to the floor, face smooshing against the sofa cushion as he blindly reached out in search of another pillow. He heard Hermione huff just as one hit him on the back of the head. Harry shoved it under his face. “Thanks,” he said, muffled.

There was a beat of silence, and then Hermione sighed and rested her hand against the back of his head. “How long do you need to sulk?” she asked, stroking her fingers through his hair.

Harry slumped a little deeper. “Five weeks.”

“I’ll give you until Ron gets back with dinner,” she said, more to herself than him. "And for goodness’ sake, Harry, at least take off your glasses.”

Harry managed to take them off without lifting his head or breaking them — proof, he supposed, that he wasn’t entirely incompetent. Hermione took them from his hand and rose with a final, fluttering pat on his shoulder blade. Harry exhaled and tried to consider his options, but was quickly lulled by the drum of the rain on the windowpanes and the pop of the fire. He listened to Hermione putter around her kitchen and relaxed; more than for the advice or commiseration, this was why he’d come, if he was honest. Ron and Hermione’s cottage was homey, calm, most of their furniture crafted from Ron’s magic, the air inside scented by the lavender Hermione had planted in the beds below their windows. Harry missed the company, and the lived-in quality of the tiny flat they’d shared before Ron and Hermione moved out, the distracted mess of three people training for unrelated careers, always someone either there or about to be.

He liked the flat he'd moved into on his own just fine, but working the hours he did left it with a silent, sterile quality he could never seem to get rid of, even when he left the wireless on or avoided laundry for a few days. He’d tried to spruce it up more than once, but Neville wouldn’t even let him buy plants anymore, not after the Solicitous Succulents he’d brought over on Boxing Day — When they bloom, they emit soothing pheromones! You can’t kill them, they barely need any attention! — had weaponised their thorns within an hour of Nev’s arrival; a defensive measure they took when they were in danger of drying out, Neville told him later, and one he’d thought was a myth.

The sound of Ron’s Apparition to their front door roused Harry from his reverie, but he didn’t get up. He heard the rustle of takeaway being opened and dished out, a low hum of murmurs, and his own name — and then Ron shouted, “What the bloody fuck?” and stomped, fuming, into the parlour. “They’re not going to give it to you?”

Harry pushed up from his prone position and shrugged as Ron glowered down at him. “They might,” he said. “Robards said they might still.”

“Give over,” Ron said, and Harry dutifully scooted to make space. Ron threw himself down onto the sofa. “It’s utter shit, Harry.”

“I know.”

“He’s been telling you that job’s yours for… for years!”

“I know.”

“You’ve worked longer hours and closed more cases than anyone in the entire department!” Ron said. His outrage was soothing, both to Harry’s temper and his self-esteem, and a grateful smile tugged at Harry’s lips.

“I know,” he said again.

"You should just run," Ron spat. "Hermione's been saying it, we'll organise a campaign--"

"We'd have no time to prepare for it now. Besides, even if I wanted to, it would look… wrong. Robards would step aside, but… He didn't even have to run in the last election five years ago, and and no one's ever won who wasn't backed by both the exiting Head Auror, the Minister, and at least half the Wizengamot," Harry said, shaking his head when Ron took another deep breath and opened his mouth. “And anyway, Robards said it's not as simple at that.”

“The age thing again?”

Harry scowled. “I wish.”

Twice before, Robards had put off retiring when certain members of the Wizengamot had made it plain that, no matter Harry’s accomplishments to date, they had no intention of promoting someone barely into their twenties to the position of Head Auror. Trying not to take issue with their reasoning — or the extra work Robards piled on him to make a point of his capabilities — Harry’d not made a single complaint as his twenty-third and twenty-fourth birthdays ticked by. But with every successfully closed case since, Robards had assured him that by his twenty-fifth he’d have his promotion.

And then he’d called Harry in for a meeting today, offering Harry a drink before he’d even sat down.

Ron made a disgruntled sound and folded his arms across his chest. “What’s the problem this time?”

“As I was trying to tell you, husband-mine,” Hermione said dryly, walking in and levitating three plates behind her, “It's supposedly Harry.”

“What's Harry?” Ron asked, shooting her a sheepish look. He lifted two of the plates from midair, passing one over to Harry. The salty grease of Ron’s selection — fish and chips — teased at Harry’s senses and he tried to recall when he ate last. Breakfast, probably.

“The problem,” Hermione said, taking her own plate and sitting between them. “It’s Harry.”

“And I’m supposed to be the tactless one,” Ron stage-whispered to him.

“I’m not a problem,” Harry said, pulling a wounded face at Hermione.

She made a little sound of protest. “I didn’t—”

“Arguing with her never ends well,” Ron said. “You might as well just get on board with being a problem, capital P.”

“I don’t want to be a Problem,” Harry said. He turned beseeching eyes at Hermione. “Couldn’t I be something like Trouble instead?”

Ron nodded sagely. “You’ve got enough experi—”

“Oh my god, fine!” Hermione said, dropping her utensils on her plate. Cheered by the clear exasperation on her face, Harry laughed and looked at Ron, who popped three chips in his mouth and quirked her an unrepentant grin. Hermione rolled her eyes and elbowed Ron, but the look she shot him was fond and warm. “Hush, or you’ll end up with your own problem — with a capital P,” she said warningly. She turned back to Harry. “There is a point to be considered about your image, that's not wrong.”

“Hermione!” Ron said, but Hermione looked at Harry steadily, waiting. Expectant.

Harry frowned, effectively distracted from distracting himself. He squeezed a lemon wedge over his fish and opened a packet of vinegar, sprinkling it over his chips to buy some time.

“Well, it's not right,” he said at length.

“No, I know,” Hermione said, gaze softening.

“All right, can someone actually explain then?” Ron asked, waving his fork at each of them in turn and then stabbing, a little viciously, into his fish.

“It’s me. My conduct outside of work isn’t ‘befitting a senior Ministry position,’” he quoted, sounding sullen to his own ears. “The way I talk to the press, or the way I avoid them. Maybe both. The Head Auror is responsible for releasing public statements, and you know me.”

“So?” Ron said, brows drawing together. “You’re a little short-tempered with them, so what? S’not like they’re ever asking you about cases, are they? It’s always about who you’re seeing, or was that really your bum in those pictures. It’s been almost three years since you hexed one of them. Just write up the statements and release them that way.”

“There’s other things, too,” Harry said. He flushed. “The way I am with the public—”

“You’re great with the public!” Ron said, starting to look angry again. “You talk to every kid you meet, you donate, you—”

“I lose my temper with people, though.” Harry took a breath. “I arrested that man last year who wouldn’t leave me alone—”

“He was trying to shove his hand down the back of your trousers!” Ron sputtered.

“—and that whole thing in the Prophet questioning how much of an asset I could be to the Ministry when my name got in the way of my job… Well, it got a lot of traction,” Harry said. He looked down at his plate, stomach suddenly churning. “And whenever I go to public events, I stay on the sidelines, or I’m accidentally rude to some diplomat—”

“That happened twice!”

“Four times.” Harry grimaced. “More, really. Apart from little things like spilling wine all over Ireland’s Minister for Magic or insulting that envoy from Brazil by having to leave early when I got sick off the Firerolls they served at their event, apparently my dress robes are all wrong, I’ve not once used the correct fork, I may as well eat my feet for how often they’re in my mouth, and I refuse to dance, no matter who’s asking.”

“Well you’re not good at it!” Ron fairly yelled, getting so red in the face his freckles were barely visible. “How the bloody hell can anyone blame you after what happened last time!”

Read the rest on AO3

[celtics534]

Holiday Sins

This cute little Muggle AU one-shot came out of nowhere and I figured... after this week's Doom Day chapter some cute fluff would be nice. Huge thanks to @gryffindormischief​ and @thedistantdusk​ for their help with this fic!

Also Read On: FF.net or AO3

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Harry continued to scroll through numerous listings. He was looking for just a simple room, why was it so hard to find one? 

 “Are you sure about this?” Hermione asked for the fifth time in the last hour. Harry had to refrain from rolling his eyes for the fourth time. 

 “Yes, Hermione. I’m sure.” Harry clicked on a link. When then the screen loaded he instantly clicked the back button. That was not someone he had ever wanted to see. 

 “It just feels a bit --”

 “Hermione,” Harry interrupted. “I told you. I just need to get away for a bit.” 

 “Yes, but why not take a week at a hotel in Greece or something?” Hermione slid to the edge of her chair cushion. Her eyes were locked on him like she was staring down a hard math equation. “Why find a random room to rent in the middle of nowhere?”

If Harry was honest, he could just go to some fancy hotel on the island of Crete, but instead, he was looking through different rooms for rent in Scotland. There was no reason or rhyme to his decision, but the desire to get away was too much. There was so much happening in London for him to stay in it, and really, he didn’t want to travel far. He just needed out of fucking London. 

 His ex-girlfriend, cheating ex-girlfriend, was getting married to his ex-roommate. Those fucking pricks! Harry had never been overly fond of his roommate. If Zack hadn't been inches from homelessness, Harry would have turned him away. Alas, though, Harry wasn't heartless. Harry had let Zack into his house. Then one night after a huge fight, Cho (his now ex) had found solace in the arms of Harry’s new roommate. It had taken six months for Cho to admit how she had been sleeping with Zack every time she and Harry fought… and every time Harry was away on business… and any time Harry worked the night shift. 

So Harry had broken up with her, kicked Zack out, and buried himself in work. And now, his boss was refusing to give him any hours for the next month because he’d been working too much. Yeah, he needed to leave this fucking city for a bit.

 “Scotland is nice this time of year,” Harry muttered as he clicked the next link down. 

 “Sure it is, but it’s not really that far.” 

 Harry sighed. “Hermione, I just... “ He couldn’t explain it. When he had been going through the different places on AirBnb and Scotland had just stood out. He had already looked at fifteen different rooms, and none of them seemed right. He didn’t need more than a bed and a place to have breakfast. He planned on going out and wallowing on his own during the day. 

 He scrolled down past a few ominous titles before one caught his eye. Clicking the link, he waited a second for the page to load. The base photo showed off a simple bed and dresser, but as Harry filtered through the other five images his gut told him it was the one. The pond was positioned with the sun setting behind, and Harry couldn’t  imagine himself anywhere else on the perfect autumn nights that were upon them.

 Harry turned the laptop screen towards Hermione. “How about that?”

 Hermione used the mouse pad to look at the options. “I mean… it has a homey  charm to it.” 

 There was no doubting that. The blanket spread across the double bed looked warm and comfy. Perfect for snuggling under with a good book  The kitchen table had a worn look to it. In other words, it was just want Harry was looking for. Somewhere he could be lost to the rest of the world.

 Harry turned the device back towards him. He scrolled down to see the details."It's only ten pounds a night." It was also set in a quiet little village, breakfast was provided, and only one other regular person was on the property. The more he read, the better it sounded.

 "Harry." Hermione paused before taking a deep breath. "Do you want me to feed Hedwig for you while you’re gone?"

 “One scoop for breakfast and one for dinner, please and thank you.”

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 Harry stopped his car at the end of the long dirt drive. He double checked the address he had been given. According to user GMWeasley7, Harry was at the correct location. When the owner had said hidden gem, they literally meant hidden. 

 Shifting into first, Harry started bouncing down the rocky road. The base in the rent-a-car he’d chosen for the trip thumped in time with the bumps. The seven hour trip from London to the quaint village of Hogsmeade had been long but good. It had given Harry a chance to think over the past few months. Between work, Cho, and his personal life, it had been a while since he’d been truly happy. It wasn’t depression, per se, more of an acceptance to not feeling joy. 

 While driving through Bradwall, Harry had reflected on the last time he’d been happy. It had been before all this shit with Cho and Zack, it had been before Sirius had died. When his godfather had passed unexpectedly, Harry had done some rash things such as getting back together with his old uni girlfriend who came to the funeral. Instead of trying to work through his grief, Harry had distracted himself with the idea of a woman… Worst idea ever!

 A large pothole shook the vehicle, as he was forced to make a sharp turn. “This fucking drive needs signs,” Harry mutted under his breath as he steered back into the middle of the dirt road. Trees surrounded both sides of the path, making the natural light of the day disappear.

 After another minute or so the road widened into a decent sized plot of land. It was almost exactly as the photos had shown it. A pond sat with the slowly setting sun behind it. A cute red door marked the entrance of the cottage. Brown cattle fencing divided the rest of the road from the natural land.

 Harry pulled beside the only other vehicle he’d seen in the last hour. Now that he didn’t have to focus on the battered road, he noticed more detail. Flowers sat in little wooden boxes under the windows, a home-weaved football goal sat between two trees, and the little chicken coop sat on the left side of the yard. 

 He slid out of the car, closing the door behind him as he just stared at the house. It was beautiful and just want he’d hoped for. Simple and reclusive. And if this G Weasley bloke was as easy to get along with as he was online... Harry was never going to want to leave. 

 “Hello!” 

 Harry spun at the voice. A woman rolled out from under the Range Rover he’d parked beside. Harry’s heart jumped into his throat. The first thing he noticed was her eyes. A rich deep brown that he could have sworn possible to drown in. His eyes then drifted down to a crooked smile that was all too adorable-yet-threatening, because there was no telling the amount of sass that would spill from those lips. Even her simple black shirt and blue denims looked flawless on her.

 She stuck out her hand, which almost had as many freckles as cheeks. “You must be Harry.” The woman smiled. “I’m Ginny. Welcome to my home.”  

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 Harry had never really traveled on his own. He was typically with a girlfriend or some mates.The idea of traveling alone had always seemed so… lonely. Now he knew that was just a preconceived notion based on what he’d heard. Really, traveling somewhere where no one knew him was freeing. He didn’t worry about his messy hair (not that he had much of choice with his genes) or feel self conscious when he tripped over his own feet.  

 Or at least he wouldn’t have worried about any of that if his host wasn’t so bloody alluring. He couldn’t help but try to flatten his hair every time she waved at him. And don’t get him started on the number of times he’d tripped over his feet because he was distracted by her. Just the other day he stuck his elbow in the butter dish because he had been distracted by the way her tongue stuck out of her teeth while she was focused on flipping the fried eggs.

 In other words, Harry was ready to lock himself in his room for the remainder of his visit to avoid doing anything completely, unforgivably embarrassing. Except Ginny had taken to inviting him for walks, and to sit and chat with her while she made dinner. And she was entirely too interesting for him to pass up any opportunity to be with her. 

 The way Ginny told stories about her uni days, family, old football club, really anything, held Harry’s attention. She explained to him she was a writer by trade, but was helping her mother with the renter business for a bit. Harry could tell the tale of why Ginny was hosting was sadder than most. Everytime Ginny mentioned the business (which in turn meant her mother), her brow would furrow and her eyes would dim. Every time it happened, all Harry wanted to do was reach out and hold her hand, maybe pull her into his arms. Fortunately, his body didn't follow orders from his frontal cortex on those instances. 

 Just lying about the fire on a stormy day was entertaining to him. Ginny had plucked a random book off her shelf and started reading it aloud. However, Ginny didn’t just read the acts of Romeo and Juliet, she performed them -- in poor accents. 

 She had started off simple, flicking to a random passage and read a portion in some foreign accent. First had been Irish (it was odd to Juliet to declare her love in such an unusual timbre), then Scottish and now she was on American. 

 “O serpent heart hid with a flowering face!” Ginny raised a hand high into the air, “Did ever a dragon keep so fair a cave? Beautiful tyrant, feind angelical, dove feather raven, wolvish-ravening lamb! Despised substance of devinest show, just opposite to what thou justly seemest” — her hand came down and wiped across the empty air as if casting a spell—. “ A dammed saint, an honourable villain!”

 Harry snorted back his laughter. “I am literally from the home of Shakespeare and you read his work in an American accent?” 

 Ginny’s mouth fell open as she gasped dramatically. “Thou haveth no imagination, eh Potter?”

 This time Harry couldn’t hold back his amusement. His cheeks hurt from how wide his grin had become. “Trust me, I have a vivid imagination.”

 “Oh?” Ginny leaned forward in her chair, the book closing in her lap. “Pray tell! What have you been dreaming of?” 

 Harry’s mind drifted back to his dream the previous night. It had been him and Ginny by the pond. Ginny had claimed to be cold and that she needed Harry to help warm her. The way her hands had moved under his jumper… he could feel the heat spreading across the back of his neck. 

 “Oh, you know—” Harry cleared his throat. “I think I’m gonna turn in.” He stood from the sofa, hoping the blush hadn’t spread any further. 

 Ginny looked disappointed. “Oh well, then I shall leave you with a parting message.” She opened the book flicking through a few pages until she found the passage she was looking for. “Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be morrow.” She looked up from the pages, her teeth showing in her wide smile. “Good night, Harry.”

 Harry felt as if air rushed from his lungs... as if her smile had knocked the wind out of him like a sucker punch. “Good night, Gin.” He hoped he didn’t start having dirty dreams in Old English … 

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 “So, Potter, what’s your story?” Ginny rose up onto her elbows, her long red hair falling down her back like a waterfall. Harry hadn’t been able to take his off her the entire time they been out relaxing around the pond. The weather was what autumn was known for. A slight chill but the sun still giving the day warmth. The perfect old pair of denims and a light jumper day. Instead of working on home maintenance, that she had planned for, Ginny had asked Harry to come lay about the pond, something he had been more than thrilled to do. 

 “What do you mean?” Over the past few weeks, Ginny had interrogated him better than some of his fellow MET detectives. He had already told her about his piss poor childhood and all about Sirius. What more could she want?

 Ginny rolled her eyes at him, her smile countering the show of annoyance. “I mean, why did you decide to book a month in the middle of nowhere? People don’t come up here unless they’re on the run or running from something.” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “So which is it for you?”

 Harry let out a small laugh. “Well, as an officer of the law being a fugitive is frowned upon.”

 “So that leaves running from something.” Ginny’s eyes narrowed as she observed him as if she thought she could read his mind. After a few seconds, a self-satisfied smirk formed on her lips. “It’s an ex, isn’t it? She broke up with you?”

 For a moment, Harry considered changing the topic but there was something about Ginny that made him willing to talk about his least favorite topics, such as she-who-must-not-be-named. He sighed, sitting up and turning his body so he was fully facing Ginny. One free hand feeling around the fallen leaves they sat on. “I broke up with her actually, after I found out about her cheating on me with my roommate.” 

 Ginny’s jaw dropped, her body copying his position. “No fucking way! What a bitch!”

 Harry nodded. “Yeah and now they’re getting married. Actually,” he went through his mental calendar, “I think they got married yesterday.”

 If it was possible Ginny’s jaw got closer to the ground. “Harry,” her voice was soft as her hand reached out and clutched his. “I’m sorry for bringing it up, I didn’t think -- I mean, I tend to put my foot in my mouth, but this is extreme even for me.” 

 Harry shook his head, his focus divided between her words and the way her thumb kept brushing along his. “It’s fine. I mean it sucks and I never plan on speaking to either of them again but.” He shrugged his shoulders.

 Ginny’s nose scrunched as her lips curled in indignation. “No, that never should have happened. You’re too --” Her mouth moved without words coming out. She shut it, her eyes blazing like a bonfire. “You’re too good for her.” 

 Warmth spread from his chest through his entire body. Hermione had said the same exact thing, but hearing it from Ginny…  It was different, in a good way. He wanted to tell her how much it meant to him, but his mouth was never talented at expressing his feelings. So instead of the heartfelt speech he’d wanted to give her, all his traitorous mouth did was grin stupidly at her. “Thank you.”

 “Well, I mean it.” Ginny’s eyes held his in that intense inferno. Harry felt as if he was getting lost to the rest of the world, and he didn’t mind it for a moment. 

 Harry wasn’t sure how long they remained in silence, both seeming content in just watching the other. It was Ginny who made the first move. Her lips quirked in a mischievous smile. “So, I don’t know if you noticed but you left your book on the sofa last night. I didn’t take you for a romance bibliophile, Potter.” 

 Now it was Harry’s turn to have his jaw hit the ground. “W - What!?”

 “A Pound of Flesh, sounds scandalous!” 

 Harry took a handful of the dead leaves and threw it at her adorable laughing face.  

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 “So what’s the plan for today?” Ginny asked as she scrubbed the frying pan clean. They had just finished breakfast and now she was cleaning up the dishes. Harry took the clean but wet dish from her, using the towel to dry it. He hated dishes, but for some reason he kept offering to help her in the morning routine. It was either a sign of his continued journey of maturation, or evidence of the lengths a boy will go to when he fancies a girl. 

 “I was thinking about checking out that village down the road.” Harry checked for any remaining water droplets before putting the pan away. 

 Ginny nodded. “Hogsmeade is a cute place to go. Actually.” She turned off the water before reaching for a different towel. “I need to go get a few things. Why don’t we go together?” 

 Harry nearly dropped the final plate he was drying. His mind started working in overtime as he gently placed the plate down. Harry had always had a rather strong imagination when it came to women. And at that moment, his mind was concocting an image of Ginny pulling him aside near   a little shop because she was just so turned on by his suave and generous company that she couldn’t help but snog him. 

 “Harry?” Ginny’s voice and hand waving in front of his face brought him back from his daydream. “If you’d rather be alone --”

 “No!” Harry’s voice became way too loud. He cleared his throat. “No, it would be great to have the company.” 

 Ginny beamed at him. “Great. I’ll go get changed.” 

 Before Harry’s brain could pull away from the image of Ginny changing -- and perhaps him coming in to help -- one slender arm came around his neck. Ginny’s body was warm against his as her lips grazed his cheek in a chaste kiss. Harry thought he was about to explode . Fortunately, Ginny backed away from him before he did something stupid. 

 “I’ll be back in a minute.” 

 Harry sat down hard in the kitchen chair. Oh he was in trouble!

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 “So that’s when Ron screamed at the top of his lungs.” Ginny let out a laugh that seemed to warm the autumn chill. “And he ran straight into the pipe.”

 Harry joined in laughter. “Ron sounds like a real character.” 

 “That’s one way to describe him.” Ginny paused at the street intersection, waiting for the road to clear. “That’s how you could describe all my brothers.” 

 Harry glanced at her. They had been walking around the different village shops for a few hours, and he never wanted it to end. Normally he’d rather gouge out his eyes than spend the day shopping, but Ginny made it fun. Between her stories and challenge to race on toddler bikes, Harry wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was completely smitten by his cheeky redheaded host. 

 This trip was supposed to be him rediscovering himself… instead, all he wanted to discover was how Ginny’s lips tasted.

 When the final car crossed the intersection, Harry and Ginny started moving at the same moment. As his hand swung forward, it brushed against Ginny’s. He could feel the little scar he’d noticed on her knuckle against his skin. Just from her slight touch, goosebumps ran up his arm. He was like a lovesick teenager, and his heart felt lighter than it had in ages. 

 Harry tried to focus on the road but his gaze dropped to her hand again. Because he was so distracted, he didn’t mind the gap between the pavement and road. He tripped over the street, and would have eaten cement if Ginny hadn’t caught him around the waist.

 “Woah there!” She laughed lightly. “I’m not opposed to men groveling at my feet, but I’d rather it be without a broken nose.”

 Harry could feel his face heating. “Guess I should have watched where I was walking.” 

 “Maybe. At least when there is a chance of getting run over.” Ginny released him, disappointing his inner lovesick puppy. She pointed over at the local tavern. “Care for lunch?” 

 “Sure.” Harry kept his focus on the pub. He refused to trip again because he couldn’t stop looking at Ginny. 

 He kept his resolve until he felt that little scar against the back of his again. He couldn’t not look down. They way they’d paced themselves, their hands kept skimming against each other. Harry took a deep breath. He had to try it, he’d regret it if he didn’t. 

 Taking a deep breath, Harry slowly scooted his pinky to link with hers. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ginny’s head look down at their hands before looking back up. 

 “Took you awhile to take the hint, huh Potter?” Her words made him stop dead. She froze with him. When he looked at her she was grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

 “Take the hi—” Harry was sure this was another dream. There was no way she had been —

 Ginny fully gripped his hand, pulling him towards the side of a building. “I’m a pretty good host, but I’ve never been one to give out a deluxe package…to anyone but you.” Her free hand came up to run along the back of his neck.

 Harry thought his mind might explode. There was nothing for it. He leaned down and connected his lips with hers. The fingers on his neck slid up into his hair. He was the first one to pull back, his forehead coming to rest on hers. 

 Her eyes were alight with mischief as her smirk became coy. She released his hand and ran her fingers along his jawline. “Thus with a kiss I die.” And just like her dramatic proclamation, she moved her hand over her chest before falling back against the stone wall of the shop. Her eyes closed.

 Harry snorted. “Really?”

 Ginny slowly opened her eyes. This time when she spoke she used her poor American accent. “Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.” 

 “Well, if you insist.” Harry followed her instructions, his hand coming to rest on the wall as he leaned back over her. He had a full head of height on her, so connecting her lips to his took some maneuvering, but it was worth every second of the geometry puzzle.

 When Harry could finally tear himself away from her, he spoke in a husky tone.“I have another week of holiday time saved up, and I’d love to book a room with you again.”

 Ginny nuzzled his nose. “I think that can be arranged. How do you feel about having a roommate for a few nights?” 

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Baby Shower

Whispers can be read here.

Rated: T

Baby Shower

“This is stupid.”

“No, it’s not. I think it’s very sweet of them.”

“After all the hell they put you through when you first got pregnant? It screams of hypocrisy to me.”

“I think of it more as an apology. Come on, Nick. Eli’s put a lot of thought into organising this.”

“I’ve got work to do.”

“You always have work to do. You would never stop working if you didn’t need to eat, sleep and use the bathroom. In fact, sometimes those first two are apparently optional with you as well.”

“There’s a lot of work to do. Do you want this baby to see earth or not?”

“Nick.” Belle came over and pulled the chalk from between his fingers. “Sweetheart, I appreciate everything that you’re doing to try and get us back home, but you need to take a break once in a while. Think of how fraught things are going to be after the baby is born. I can’t have you working yourself into the ground now and then being good for nothing when I need you. Please come to the baby shower. It’ll only be a couple of hours, then you can come back here and scribble to your heart’s content.”

Nick glared, trying to grab the chalk back as Belle held it out of his reach, finally shoving it down her top.

“You did that on purpose,” he muttered.

“Well, I hardly did it by accident, did I? You can have a lot of fun looking for it later.”

The corner of Nick’s mouth quirked up in a split-second smile. “Strip search?”

Belle nodded. “Now that you’ve got something to look forward to, although how you think I still look good naked when I’m the size of a house is beyond me, will you please come with me?”

She grabbed his hand and began to drag him away from his maths corridor.

“All right, all right, I’ll come. I don’t have to like it though.”

“I’m not asking you to like it, I’m just asking you to be there. You can spend the entire time glaring if you really want to, but it might make your face ache.”

Nick rolled his eyes, letting her drag him all the way to the observation deck, where the others were gathered. Godfather-to-be Eli had done a grand job of decorating the place. With paper being a much sought-after commodity on board Destiny, he had been gathering the flowers and other unusable parts of plants from hydroponics for days in order to make some ‘paper’ chains, and everyone else had been busy with homemade gifts for the baby.

Belle sat down and pulled Nick down with her.

“He’s here under sufferance so be nice to him,” she announced to the gathered crew. “And I stole his chalk, so he’s even grumpier than usual.”

“That’s fine, we’ll just ignore him,” Chloe said cheerfully. “Now, we only have one sheet of wrapping paper, so please don’t rip it as it has to be reused for everyone’s gifts.”

“You could just dispense with wrapping paper altogether,” Nick pointed out.

“That takes all the fun out of it! Besides, you don’t want to be here, so you don’t get to critique the rest of our efforts.”

Belle batted Nick’s arm. “Behave,” she hissed in his ear. “Or there’ll be consequences later.”

“What kind of consequences?”

“Not the pleasurable kind. Whereas, if you stop being snarky and start being gracious, there will be far more pleasurable ones.”

“All right.” Nick leaned back against the sofa that he and Belle were occupying, folding his arms and scowling. Belle just rolled her eyes, and everyone else pretended that he wasn’t there.

The gifts ranged from the practical (Brody had put his engineering skills to the test and created a device similar to his still that could be used for sterilising nappies), to the thoughtful (TJ’s container of space-aloe-vera gel for the baby’s nappy rash and Belle’s stretch marks), to the well-intentioned (Chloe’s attempts to create a onesie out of spare Air Force t-shirts), to the truly bizarre (something made out of scrap metal and proudly presented by Varro, apparently it was a tradition on his home planet but Belle agreed with Nick when he said that it looked too dangerous to be given to a child).

Belle was nonetheless grateful for all the gifts, and after a few sharp prods in the ribs from his partner, Nick was as well. One by one, people started to leave the observation deck and go back to their day jobs, and Belle was surprised when Nick did not join them – she would have let him go if he’d made a move. Instead, he seemed quite happy to stay with her on the sofa, and Belle snuggled into his side, bringing his arm around her and resting his hand on her bump.

Nick squeezed her absentmindedly, still scrutinising Varro’s gift.

“What’s it even supposed to be?” he asked incredulously. He shook it, but it didn’t make a sound, solidly welded together.

“I’m sure that if you ask him, he’ll tell you.” Eli was the only one of the baby shower guests left.

“I don’t like admitting that I don’t know things,” Nick muttered.

“Oh really? Wow, we’d never noticed.” Eli grinned.

“Please, I can’t have this baby growing up surrounded by sarcasm.” Belle sighed. “He’s already going to be maladjusted from being born in space, I can’t have him with a warped sense of humour as well.”

“Have you decided on a name yet?” Eli asked.

Belle shook her head. “It’s funny. I had loads of girl names picked out, but none for a boy.”

“Well, if I may make a suggestion, Eli is a great name.”

Nick gave Eli a pointed look. “No.”

“Hey, at least I didn’t suggest Emmett.”

“Then you would have got this thrown at your head.” Nick held up Varro’s gift.

“Is that any way to treat your future son’s godfather? Actually, maybe that’s what it’s for. Warding off unsolicited parenting advice.”

Belle could foresee herself getting a lot of that in the months to come. She rubbed her belly as she felt the baby kick, moving Nick’s hand so that he could feel it too. He smiled at her, a soft, warm, genuine smile that she got to see from him so rarely, and that she knew was reserved just for her. For a few moments, Eli was forgotten as they focussed just on each other and their growing child. Belle’s due date was less than a month away now, and as scared as they both were, she was looking forward to finally meeting her son.

“Maybe you could name him after one of your dads,” Eli suggested, pulling them out of their moment and back to the observation deck.

Nick snorted. “I’m not honouring my father with anyone named after him.”

Belle shook her head as well. “I get on slightly better than mine, but I’m not naming the poor child Maurice. He’ll be teased mercilessly when we get back to earth.” She paused. “What about Thomas?”

“Thomas?”

“For my mum. Thomas was her maiden name.”

Nick thought about it for a moment and gave a slow, satisfied nod. “I like it. Thomas French-Rush. It’s got a nice ring to it.”

Eli grinned. “I’m going to get Brody and Volker to make him something with his name on.”

He got up and sped away before either Belle or Nick could stop him, leaving them alone on the observation deck.

“He’s just excited,” Belle said.

“More excited than us, I think.” Nick sighed. “Still, I’m sure we’ll get used to the idea of being parents soon enough.”

Belle smiled and stroked over the little bump of Thomas’s foot where it was sticking out. They would be ok in the end.