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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years

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Splatter

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Virgil, Gordon, Scott, John, Jeff, Lucille

And another fic for @gumnut-logic‘s #irrelief! Two prompts for this one: “Little Virgil & Gordon” from @weirdburketeer and “Virgil trying to teach a brother how to art” from @melmac78

Scott was going to regret leaving him to handle Gordon alone, especially when paint got involved.

Nine year old Virgil eyed the paper in front of him critically. It was almost done, almost perfect. Just one more dab of paint… there. His hand retreated and he nodded, satisfied, before movement caught his eye and reflexes honed by necessity caught questing, paint-covered, fingers as his menace of a younger brother reached out to deface his newly completed art.

“Gordon!” he complained at the five year old, who grinned back at him mischievously. “What are you doing?”

“Painting!” he said gleefully, holding up two hands covered completely in a rainbow of colours. With some despair, Virgil could see that damage had already been done – unsupervised, Gordon had managed quite an impressive array of handprints along the furniture and newly wallpapered walls.

Why was their demon brother unsupervised?

“Scott!” he hollered up at the ceiling.

“Scott’s busy!” Gordon chirped, smearing his paint-smothered hands on the table and narrowly missing Virgil’s completed artwork. It was still too wet to move, and Virgil’s own fingers were paint-smeared and needed a wash before he touched it again anyway, therefore it was – somewhat – simpler to instead relocate the slippery creature he was apparently related to.

“Why is Scott busy?” he asked, hoping said brother would appear and take the five year old away before any more paint ended up where it shouldn’t.

“Homework!” Gordon grinned, flailing his hands around. Globs of paint flew through the air, one landing squarely on Virgil’s nose. He swiped it away irritably, only for Gordon to point and laugh.

He still had paint on his fingers. And now on his face.

“SCOTT!” he yelled, as Gordon giggled insistently. “JOHN!”

“What?” Scott’s voice finally floated down to him, sounding distracted. John, predictably, didn’t answer. His nose was probably buried in a book, rendering him deaf to the world. It wouldn’t be unusual.

“Gordon’s being a pain!” he complained. With Mom and Dad taking Alan for a check-up, Scott had been left temporarily in charge and, in Virgil’s opinion, was doing a thoroughly poor job by shutting himself up in his room and letting Gordon run wild.

“I’m doing homework!” Scott shouted back. “You play with him!”

A door shut upstairs, signalling the end of the conversation. Virgil fumed silently at him for a moment, before realising that Gordon wasn’t giggling any more. He looked around frantically, and found him raising a single, colourful, finger immediately above his finished artwork.

“No!” he snapped, leaping at his brother and forcefully dragging him away. Brown eyes looked up at him hopefully.

“I want to paint!” he declared, emphasising his demand with a sticky finger jabbing at Virgil’s cheek. “Let’s paint!”

Virgil looked at his already paint-covered brother, glared up at the ceiling where his elder brothers had both willingly abandoned him to this fate, and then grinned.

If Scott wanted him to play with Gordon, he would play with Gordon. After all, Scott was in charge and he was just doing as he was told.

“Okay,” he agreed, picking up his paints and taking them over to the kitchen floor, along with some vaguely paint-free paper. “I’ll show you how to finger paint.” Gordon’s ever-present devil’s grin was out in full force.

“I already know how to finger paint!” he declared, splatting his hand down in the vague vicinity of the paper, leaving another colourful mess on the floor. “See!”

“No,” Virgil corrected him, leading him to the sink and washing the worst of the paint off of his hands as best he could. Gordon wriggled, not unhappy with the water, but disappointed to see swirls of colour running down the drain. “First, we need clean hands.” He washed his own as well, using his bigger size to keep Gordon pinned in place until his hands were also acceptable. “And dry ones, otherwise the paint will get too runny.”

The towel was accepted with poor grace, Gordon more interested in slapping wet hands on Virgil’s clothes instead. Virgil persevered, however, and soon had Gordon sat cross legged on the floor, in front of the paper and paint, with clean, dry hands. He sat down next to him, keeping most of the paint out of reach.

Gordon lunged for the paint in reach, dabbing his fingers in with precision until each finger (and thumb) had a different colour on, before he lurched for the paper and slammed them all down at the same time. Virgil winced.

“That’s how babies finger paint,” he protested, looking at the hand prints rapidly forming as Gordon mixed the colours on the paper with abandon. “I’ll show you how to do it properly.”

Gordon looked at the mess on the paper – a purple-brown concoction, for the most part – and then at his fingers.

“Clean your hands again,” Virgil told him, picking up another bit of paper. Gordon wiped his hands vigorously on his clothes – freshly applied, the paint transferred readily to the fabric. “Properly, Gordon. Or no more painting.” The blond menace pouted, but dutifully scrambled onto the stool to reach the sink again.

As the water gushed out of the taps, Virgil placed his clean paper over the mess Gordon had made, pressing down on it carefully and holding it there until he was satisfied the paint had stained it before pulling it away.

The water was still running.

“Gordon,” he said, and with a giggle the boy finally shut off the tap and hurriedly wiped his hands on the towel again before skidding back to his side on his knees. “Look.” He carefully dipped a single finger in the green, before dabbing towards the top of the area. “Leaves!” Gordon’s eyes brightened, and he jabbed a finger in the blue before making swirls at the bottom of the paper.

“Water!” he said. “Look.” A wonky circle took up a hand’s-width of the paper, before a single skinny finger trailed a blue line from it all the way to the edge of the paper, and onto the floor. “A lake with a river!”

Virgil grinned.

“You do the water, I’ll do the plants,” he said, and Gordon nodded enthusiastically. “Look, if you use darker and lighter colours, it looks better.” Finding a dark green and a yellow paint, he dabbed at his green splotches. Gordon watched with wide eyes before smearing a finger with the darker blue and slapping it in the middle of his lake.

“It’s deeper in the middle!” he declared. “Where the fish swim.”

“And brighter at the top, where it sees the sun,” Virgil added, using his yellow to give little highlights to the top of each leaf. Gordon frowned, looking at the paint colours, before taking a little bit of blue and adding some white to mix it together for a pale blue. Virgil added a little more, for better contrast, even though his interference was met with blue paint on his shirt as Gordon pouted, and once the blond was satisfied he added the lighter colour to one edge of his lake.

Then he smeared yellow on his finger and added in small blobs with spikes to both the lake and the river.

“Lots of fish!” he said proudly, before using the orange unbidden to give the spikey blobs darker patches, and then the white for whiter patches “on top!”

Virgil laughed and let him be as he focused on his own leaves, adding in a bright red caterpillar to offset all the greens and blues. Gordon also stole some red for more fish, and green for a frog, and by the time a car could be heard in the driveway, their woodland lake was full of creatures.

At the sound of the car, Gordon froze and looked around, as did Virgil.

The kitchen was a mess, large parts of the floor covered in paint. It was going to take a lot to clean, and Mom and Dad would not be happy. A lithe, paint-covered hand, found the plastic palette of paint and with a Cheshire cat grin, Gordon flipped it face down.

“Whoops,” he said, gleefully. Virgil stared at him in horror, knowing that was one more thing that would upset their parents, before remembering why he’d ended up painting with Gordon, of all the messy creatures.

He grinned back at Gordon and gestured up the stairs. Brown eyes met brown eyes, and a matching look of mischief came over his own face.

“Not our fault,” he whispered. A devious trouble maker already, it didn’t take Gordon long to catch on.

“Scott!” he giggled quietly, and as voices sounded outside the house, Mom and Dad getting out of the car, they crept upstairs and into their bedroom. Paint-covered hands muffled giggles as they sat on the floor and waited.

They didn’t have to wait long.

“SCOTT CARPENTER TRACY!” Dad’s voice boomed out. “GET DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!” There was a sudden scuffling from the room next door, sounding suspiciously like a chair falling over, before the door opened.

“What is it, Dad?” Scott called.

“I said GET DOWN HERE!” Dad repeated, and Virgil and Gordon had to hold their breath not to be overheard as their eldest brother tramped down the stairs loudly – before the noise stopped suddenly.

“What-” Scott started, only to be cut off.

“Your mother and I were gone two hours, Scott. You promised you didn’t need the neighbours to watch you, so why is the house covered in paint?”

“Virgil was the one painting!” Scott protested. “It’s got nothing to do with me!”

“Not just Virgil, judging by the amount of blue and yellow on the kitchen floor,” Mom interjected. “You were supposed to keep an eye on your brothers, Scott, not hide from them in your room.”

“I was doing my homework!” Scott protested.

“The same homework you told me you didn’t have so you could definitely watch your brothers?” Mom replied, and there was silence. Virgil and Gordon stared at each other, wide-eyed, then jumped as their bedroom door opened.

John slipped in, rolled his eyes at the pair of them, then settled on the floor by the window with his book.

“Get paint on me or the book and I will kill you,” he said firmly. “I am not dealing with Storm Scott.”

Virgil nodded, although wondered why John would come here to escape, then turned his attention back to the altercation downstairs.

“Now, you are going to go upstairs, change into your painting clothes, and then clean this up,” Dad was saying firmly.

“But I didn’t do it!” Scott protested, loudly and furiously.

“Your responsible brothers will be helping you, don’t worry,” Mom told him.

“But why do I have to clean up their mess?” Scott demanded.

“Because this happened while you were supposed to be supervising them,” Dad said. “If you want us to leave you without bringing in the neighbours, you need to start taking responsibility. Now get moving – I can’t start dinner until this kitchen is spotless.”

Heavy footsteps stomped their way up the stairs, and Virgil and Gordon both flinched as their bedroom door slammed open, irate brother glowering at them through puffy red eyes.

Instantly, some of Virgil’s glee at payback for Scott abandoning him to Gordon faded. Even Gordon seemed a little subdued.

“Sorry, Scott,” Virgil said before his brother could start shouting at them. “I didn’t think they’d be that mad at you.”

“Have you seen the state you left it in?” Scott demanded furiously. “I trusted you to keep Gordon busy just while I finished my homework, and then you go and do this? Mom and Dad will never trust me again!” The rest of Virgil’s satisfaction fled, and he looked down at his bedroom floor – and the paint that marred it.

“Sorry, Scott,” Gordon echoed, standing and giving his brother a hug, puppy dog eyes in full force. Scott glared down at him, and Gordon started to sniffle, eyes welling with water.

“Well we’re not getting dinner until it’s cleaned up,” John sighed, slotting a bookmark into his book and laying it on the windowsill. “Yell later, clean now. I’ll help.” So much for not dealing with Storm Scott, Virgil thought.

Scott snapped from wavering at Gordon’s tears, and shooting death glares at Virgil, to fix John with a surprised look.

“You are my favourite brother,” he said, whole-heartedly. “Why did Mom and Dad ever give me more?”

That stung, a little, but then Scott ruffled Gordon’s hair, shook his head at Virgil with a small smile, and headed out the door with the blond boy still attached.

Hoping that meant Scott wasn’t too mad, after all, Virgil followed, finding a smile of his own as Scott realised Gordon was still covered in paint… which meant his own clothes were now covered in paint.

#irrelief #irrelief2020 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #weirdburketeer #melmac78 #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #scott tracy #john tracy #jeff tracy #lucille tracy #painting #wee tracys #this has not been properly proof read because it's midnight and i should have gone to bed ages ago whoops #ao3/ffn will be posted in the morning probably after some editing #thunderfluff

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stefciastark · 3 years

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PTSD ~Webpril Day 24

A/N: Peter hadn't understood Tony. But when things happened to him that Peter couldn't explain, he began to understand. I struggled quite a bit with this prompt. I was away last night so didn't give it the proper attention it deserved, so I'd love to rework this fill once the challenge is over. I'll probably come back and edit through some of these and flesh them out a lot more, particularly this one :) PTSD is a little bit personal for me, so I'll definitely return to do this fill justice in the near future. Enjoy x

~Read it on AO3

~Read it on FFN

Peter hadn’t completely understood Tony. He hadn’t understood the days on end Tony spent in the labs, avoiding the company of everybody and anybody else in the building, only emerging when the dark circles under his eyes had deepened into bruises and the coffee could no longer keep him from fading into unconsciousness. He hadn’t understood why food turned to dust in Tony’s mouth, plain toast becoming the only thing that didn’t have the consistency and texture of a brick. Most of all, he didn’t understand the nightmares that plagued Tony night after night. They woke him up in a cold sweat, flooding his mind with memories he only wished he could forget.

Peter hadn’t completely understood. Until one day, Peter experienced things he could no longer explain away as the kind of trauma his peers experienced in high school. Until one day, after Tony had brought Peter in to see a psychologist - and then eventual psychiatrist - Peter was diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Then he’d understood.

In the years since he’d understood, he’d seen the true capacity for evil, the prevalence of death and destruction in the world, and the realisation that terrible things happen to terribly good people. The true colours of the universe shone in a kaleidoscope of black, white, and gray. Not everything was the sunshine and rainbows people pretended it was.

Peter had since moved into the MIT penthouse Tony had given him as a congratulatory gift on his acceptance into the program. As much as he enjoyed the fancy gadgets, dark marble countertops in the bathroom, and spectacular view, what he missed most was the early hours of the morning.

It wasn’t so much the early hours of the morning that he missed - Peter was still awake as the clock hit three, sweat running hot and cold down his back after his brief contact with the void of sleep he wished to just enter and stay in. He missed the Avengers facility. He missed how he would find Tony up at the same time, leaned over the communal kitchen counter, shakily pouring himself a mug of coffee that had long since run cold, eyes bleary with the little sleep his mind allowed him. He missed how they would share a knowing glance, understanding that although the nightmares they shared were not the same, the grapple with their sanity and painful memories were all too familiar.

Now Peter just felt lost. Not just lost inside of himself, but literally lost. Boston was not his city -- it was like an empty vacuum that threatened to suck him into oblivion. Since he had become an Avenger, despite being on his own (at times), he had always felt safe. Now that Peter lived alone, he had gotten used to the endless loneliness. The rational part of his mind knew that Tony was only a phone call away; any of the Avengers were, really. But, when the tremors came, and his eyes shot open in the middle of the night, he couldn’t help but want to be alone. Peter would see buildings on fire, hear the screams of men, women, and children that he couldn’t save echoing through the darkness, and the crushing weight of existence that sat on his chest came barrelling through his conscience like an angry bull.

It was far past midnight, and as he emerged from his bedroom and set foot into the open living room, his teeth clenched against the sudden gust of cold that flooded in. It was coming to the end of fall, the time of the year when the nights turned away from the warm ambience that Peter loved into to the bitter cold nights that just reminded Peter of how much he’d lost. The penthouse didn’t smell of Aunt May’s warm cooking, didn’t have Tony’s constant presence, and didn’t hold any memories that would warm Peter’s heart in the frigid winter months to come.

He had promised himself not to call Tony. He wouldn’t, not about this. Each time Tony called Peter - which was once every few days, Tony couldn’t not call his kid - it had been Peter rambling about how great classes were, how many friends he’d already made, and how he’d been learning about the city. Spiderman needed to start somewhere if he was going to resume his Friendly Neighbourhood duties.

But tonight was bad. He held his phone with trembling fingers, hovering over the name ‘Tony Stank’ in his contacts. Between the blur of his phone screen through the flashbacks playing over and over again in his head like a broken record, he was at an impasse.

Peter was snapped back into the moment as he heard the ringing that signalled that his phone was attempting to contact Tony’s. No, no, no! His thumb must have accidentally tapped on Tony’s name, and before he could press the button to end the call, Tony’s voice filtered in through the speakers.

“Hey, Pete, what’s up?” Peter could hear the lack of sleep in Tony’s voice, and he winced in sympathy. Tony mustn’t’ve been sleeping well either. It was funny how their bad nights seemed to coincide.

“Yeah, yeah no, sorry, just a butt call. I’ll let you get back to sleep. Sorry, Mr Stark.”

“Talk to me, kid.” There was no judgment in Tony’s voice, no exhaustion or the sound of regret at picking up the phone. There was just a compassion and tenderness that Tony rarely let show.

“I…” Peter’s voice wavered, and he worried his bottom lip. He wanted...needed to keep it together. Tony needed him to keep it together. He had enough to worry about with the rest of the Avengers and Stark Industries - he didn’t need his almost twenty year old protégé having a crisis to add to the mix.

Through the lump in his throat, he could feel it all come spilling out through a voice that felt like it wasn’t his own. “I can’t stop the nightmares, Tony. I’m just tired...I’m so tired.”

“I know, kiddo, I know.” Tony paused and let out an exhale that just screamed of existential fatigue. “But none of it has been your fault, Peter. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. It’s not about how much we’ve lost; it’s about how much we have left. You have a lot left, kid. And, you have us. I’ll always be here, Peter.”

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lifeinahole27 · 4 years

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CS ff: “Walking the Tightrope” (Chapter 1/10) (au)

Summary: Killian's daily routines are a matter of habit. When he wakes up late one morning, his routines all change for the better. Emma doesn't care about routines, but she does care about Killian, no matter how reluctant she is to admit it to herself.

Rating: E (much later in the story)

Content Warnings: There will be a part where pictures are posted without permission. It happens much later in the fic but if that’s not your thing, I want to put it out there now. And, of course, sexual content will be present. I will update these warnings for each chapter to pinpoint those sections!

A Special Thank You: Oh man, how do I put my gratitude into words? There are two constants in my CS fic writing life that I am so incredibly lucky to have. Thank you @captainstudmuffin for just downright prodding me in the ass to keep me moving when I wanted to give up. You were always there in the right capacity to keep me going. You did that reverse psychology thing with me that I always do to you with “Well, if you want to give up, that’s your choice...” and it worked. And then there’s @phiralovesloki who has listened to me self-depreciate for hours on end and still keeps me moving forward. And then you both turned your attentions to helping me get this thing edited and proofread. You handled all my tantrums, all my fits, all my problems. I love you both to the moon and back.

And of course, thank you to the @captainswanbigbang for going with this rewrite idea. All of you modding this and putting shit in line and answering questions and being awesome and informative and helpful... my eternal gratitude for helping get this, my possible magnum opus, finished and out to the fandom. Much love to you all!

A/N: I wrote a lot of notes above here to start. Because of that, I’ll keep this line brief. Enjoy!

Find it on Ao3 & FFN!

-x-

Chapter 1: The Art of Routines

September 30: Monday

Every day, Killian Jones walks from his respectable dwelling by the Storybrooke Harbor to where he works, located right off the main drag. Storybrooke is nearly the definition of small-town America, but it houses a quaint-sized office of a British publishing firm that opened a branch over here last year. Three months ago, Killian took a chance to upend his whole life and applied for a junior editing position.

From a life in the Navy to a redirection of passions towards the fine art of literature, Killian has used a rigorous set of routines to get through every major upheaval in his life, including but not limited to the aforementioned relocation from London to a small speck on the map.

He uses his daily habits from the moment his alarm sounds in the morning until he shuts his eyes at night – operating his life in a tidy way and controlling what he can control while doing his best to accept whatever tries to throw him off.

Because of his method to build up his regimens, he knows that anything that lasts beyond two weeks becomes more likely to stick.

And for six weeks, Emma Swan has been part of his routines. Monday through Friday they cross the street together. They never speak. Sometimes they’ll smile and nod in greeting, but it’s enough in Killian’s book. Or at least, they’ve come to some unspoken agreement that it’s enough. Since the middle of August, this has been his norm, and thus it is now just another thing that marks time throughout his days.

The only reason he knows her name is because of the star-shaped badge she wears on her hip. That and being the sister of the sheriff are dead-giveaways to an identity. He’d heard of Emma long before he saw her as Will Scarlet filled him in on the townies. She, on the other hand, probably doesn’t even know his name. But he’s okay with that. He’s not out to meet the love of his life – not after what he went through with his last major relationship – but to enjoy a walk across the street with an ease he doesn’t understand and doesn’t have to.

Day after day, he continues on, never looking back to see if she’s still looking at him. He’s afraid of what he might find if he does: either she’s also glancing back and this immediately becomes something different, or she isn’t and he’s effectively found himself with some kind of rejection complex. Both ideas are ridiculous. At the mere thought, Killian snorts and picks up his pace.

On October 1st, Killian discovers how easy it is to throw off the delicate balance of a routine as strong as his. The alarm never goes off, or if it does, Killian either doesn’t hear it or turns it off in his sleep. He wakes, instead, to the sound of his text messages going off in quick succession, followed by the phone ringing and Will’s chirpy voice alerting him as he answers that he’s going to be late.

With that, his eyes shoot fully open and he throws himself into action, hoping to get out the door in record time. He skips the coffee and the shower, throwing on the clothes he set out last night and hoping his hair stays in place with the water he combs through it. He’s out the door fifteen minutes late. His boss, Robin, will hopefully understand - he’s one of the most easy-going people Killian has ever met. Will is going to take the piss out of him, but that’s no different from any other day. Killian knew it was a mistake to share his location with his friend but in this case, with Will able to see that he was still at home when he should already be making his journey, he wasn’t going to complain about it.

Instead, what he’s most upset about is that he’s going to miss Deputy Swan standing at their corner.

And he’s right: she’s not there when he gets to the intersection. He pushes the button and diligently waits until it turns before crossing, just as he always does. It’s when he gets a full view of the patio in front of Granny’s that his steps suddenly halt. There she is, checking her phone and sipping from a to-go cup, standing at the table closest to the entrance. She glances up and sees him on the other side of the small fence that surrounds the front of the patio, and her eyes go wide.

Quickly, she jams her phone in her pocket and exits the patio with two cups in hand, heading towards the sheriff’s station and away from him until she stops just as suddenly. She turns around to where he’s still glued in spot, knowing that each extra minute is asking for more torture from Will, but she walks up to him and he wouldn’t move if a bus came careening down the sidewalk at him.

“Hi. This might be weird but… nevermind. Forget it.” She turns again, but Killian hastens after her.

“What seems to be the problem, love?”

She spins around to face him again, a perturbed look on her face. He doesn’t know if it’s at him or herself, though, so he waits for her response.

“I’m not…” The words trail off, but she redirects. “I thought you might need coffee. You’re always so punctual. Figured if you were running late, you didn’t have any. But that’s probably ridiculous and just…” she trails off again, turning to dump the to-go cup into the bin nearby but Killian lunges for it.

“No no, wait!” He catches the cup just before it leaves her grip, smiling wide when he successfully rescues it. “Thank you, Deputy. I appreciate it.”

“Swan. Emma Swan.”

“Oh, I know,” he responds, surprised at the devilish tone to the words. The only time he flirts anymore is when he’s two pints in at The Rabbit Hole on a rare night out with Will, and even then it’s with no intent behind it. His watch buzzes and Killian glances down to see Will is calling him again. When he sees the time, he can understand why. “Bloody hell. I’m incredibly late,” he says quickly, moving to continue his journey to the office and forgetting all his manners.

“Is there something else I can call you, Incredibly Late?”

“Killian Jones!” he calls out as he gets to the corner by the post office. He spins on his heels to turn back to her, lifting the coffee again in thanks.

There’s an odd little smile on her face when he says it, but he’s still moving and has no time to wonder what it’s all about. “See you tomorrow, Jones!”

Her words follow him around the corner and he grins as he picks up the pace to the office.

He’s amazed at how quickly his day turns around after officially meeting Emma Swan. Robin isn’t even mad when he shows up late, just happy that he’s finally sitting in front of his computer working on the endless edits he’s been helping with for a new book by an established writer. One that has terrible punctuation skills, apparently. And spelling. And grammar.

It’s barely been a half hour when he finds his thoughts drifting to the woman he only knows by name and reputation, and knows that somehow, his daily routines will never look quite the same. He wonders how much this little interaction means to her, too, if she looked so out of sorts when he was late today. And startlingly, he realizes that it did turn into something.

Running a hand over his face, Killian looks back at the page he’s supposed to be proofreading. He’s read the same sentence at least three times and still can’t figure out why it doesn’t feel right. It’s too early in the day to shut his office door and start reading everything out loud, however, so instead he saves his changes and closes the file, opening up a rain app on his phone and letting the sound soothe him while he stands up and stretches.

“If you’re playing the calming sounds, I feel like you’re ready for more coffee,” Will says from his doorway.

“You’re probably right,” Killian says, finishing his current stretch and turning off the app. “Shall we?”

“Ask Robin what he wants. Your treat since you were so late this morning,” his friend adds as he turns from the doorway.

Killian makes a noise of aggravation, but still walks the short length to Robin’s office to inquire.

Robin is locked in his own work, looking back and forth between three cover mockups that Will’s department would’ve sent over when they were ready. He glances up when Killian enters but only barely. “Coffee run?” the other man asks as he nudges each design around.

This, too, is like clockwork in his life, which is why Robin already knows why he’s standing in his doorway. “Aye. Would you like me to bring back the usual or will you need something stronger today?”

“The usual is fine. Else I’ll be tempted to add liquor to it and no one at the home office will appreciate what I think of their last company email.”

“I have that whole rant recorded. You’d better make sure I don’t have anything stronger today or else they’ll get it verbatim.”

“Remind me to have you killed later this week after that chapter is edited.”

“I’ll pass it on to your secretary to be added to your calendar,” Killian mentions offhandedly while he leaves Robin’s office. This isn’t the first time Robin has scheduled to kill him for information he has on his superior. Killian’s sure it won’t be the last, either.

As he leaves, Killian catches sight of the pictures on the wall. There’s a few scattered around his office, mostly of Robin’s adorable son Roland and his late wife. Marian passed just after Roland was born, making Robin’s decision to head up the American branch of NeverEndings Publishing House an easy one. The reason he’s stayed so long is also evident in the pictures of Regina Mills, the mayor of Storybrooke, scattered among the others. Regina was his “diamond in the rough” - the woman he never expected to meet and fall in love with shortly after he set up shop here.

Along with pictures, there are paintings and his degrees, an antique wall clock that matches everything else, and a vintage bow and arrow hung behind the mahogany desk he nearly lives in some days. The whole thing feels like the den of some expensive cabin in the woods, but Killian knows for a fact that Robin put most of this together on the cheap.

He passes his own little office again, noting the blank walls, the tidy desk, the single chair on the opposite side for small one-on-one meetings. He’s never really gotten around to decorating his work area. His degrees are still in one of the boxes in his flat, as are all the pictures of his friends and family from back home.

There’s a single frame on his desk - just a picture of him and Liam at graduation that was packed into his luggage when he moved. Liam is beaming with pride while Killian looks like he’s about to bolt from the courtyard they had all gathered in after the ceremony. His left arm is tucked close by his side, and he knows for a fact it’s because he was trying to hide the prosthetic hook he wears from being in the pictures.

“So, why were you late today?” Will asks when they reach the doors and head outside.

“Alarm malfunctions,” Killian responds, as if there could be something besides human error to blame. Will just nods as they make the short trek down the street to Granny’s. Foolishly, Killian hopes to find his favorite deputy out patrolling or stopping for her own midday caffeine, but the only blonde in the diner is Ashley, the attentive but clumsy young server.

Well, the only blonde woman. Dr. Whale, trying his best to flirt with Ruby, doesn’t count.

“Have you heard anything I’ve said in the last three minutes?” Will asks, a touch of exasperation in his voice but humor lighting up his eyes. Instead of answering, Killian just pushes him forward to place his order. He pulls Killian up next to him and presents him to Ruby. “Tell Jones here that he has to come out with us on Friday.”

“The only thing I have to tell Jones is to place his damn order,” Ruby responds, her expression challenging Will in the way that only Ruby can. She looks back to Killian with a sweet smile. “You paying for all three?” He nods as he hands over the cash. Ruby winks at him, processing the change and handing it back before spinning from the register to make their drinks.

“Come on, mate. Come out this Friday.”

“I still have things I’m trying to unpack.”

“You’ve been saying you were going to unpack those things for the last three months.” He throws air quotes when he says “things” as if they’re fictitious items Killian invented for the sake of an excuse. He almost invites Will over to see what he’s talking about but feels like that would somehow turn into a standing invitation for his colleague to come over whenever he pleases.

“Yeah? And now I might mean it,” Killian retorts instead. Ruby places their drinks down on the counter before Will can press any further, and Killian spends an extra moment thanking the younger Lucas for exceptional service, as always.

“Kiss ass,” Ruby says as they gather their drinks and leave. There’s a smile on her face, though, and Killian knows that her days would be infinitely less exciting without him and Will pestering her at least once an afternoon.

When they get back, Will takes Robin his coffee without having to be asked, which Killian is grateful for. But he’s barely seated in front of his computer again before Will is popping back up in his doorway.

“You’ve been summoned to the dungeons, mate.”

Killian drops his head for a second, trying to gather the energy to just… get up and go see if suddenly his benevolent boss has had a change in heart regarding his tardiness this morning. But Robin just waves him in and motions for him to sit down.

“As you know, we originally hired you to be a junior editor to collaborate on projects.”

“Aye, that was the explanation I was given when I interviewed.”

“Well, we’ve gotten a new project that I’d like to see you take on. This isn’t quite a promotion, but it’s a test to see if I can trust you with something bigger than just standard edits to a pompous arse that doesn’t know his p’s from his q’s… literally.”

“I’m definitely interested. What is this project?”

“A young author has written a novella that twists fairy tales. It’s short but it’s deep, and I want your best on proofreading, but also on suggesting edits. He’ll be in to discuss the project at the end of this month, so keep working on your current progress until then. I’ll send all the files your way this weekend so you can start reviewing them whenever you’d like. Sound good?”

“Sounds excellent,” Killian says, genuine enthusiasm coloring his answer. “I look forward to it.”

Another disruption to the orderly life he’s been living, but honestly, this is almost as good as meeting Emma Swan. At least this feels like his disastrous start to October is no indication on how the rest of the month will go.

-x- October 2: Wednesday

The next morning, Killian is back to his impeccable schedule, so he’s calm and collected when he strolls up to the crosswalk. Only minutes later, Emma walks up, eyes trained on her phone, earbuds playing music that she nods her head in time with. He takes a moment before she notices him to appreciate the view, to take in the dark jeans she likes to wear instead of a uniform, with black boots up to her knees. Her red leather jacket is half-zipped. Soon the weather is going to grow colder and he wonders if she’ll be warm enough on her walks.

She looks up, then, and smiles at Killian while he raises a hand in greeting. She hesitantly waves back, moving to stand next to him while they wait.

“Good morning, Swan,” he greets just as the light changes and they start to cross. Her response is mumbled as she pulls the earbud from one ear.

“Have a good day, Jones,” she says, dipping her head as a parting gesture. There’s a smile pulling at his cheeks, and he turns to look at where he’s going instead of risking the possibility of running into something and ruining his mood.

For the rest of the week, they get to the crosswalk and he greets her. They part ways at the diner with her sending salutations before she walks up the path. In a way, it becomes a new routine for them. It’s one of the only changes to his days that he’s accepted as a normal progression instead of an uninvited intrusion.

On Friday, hours after his daily dose of Emma, he’s in the middle of the last chapter he has to edit when Will pops into his doorway in the afternoon. He goes to save the files and start the coffee routine, but Will enters the room fully and places two coffees and a bag with lunch on the corner of his desk.

“I hear you’ve got a bigger project coming up. Figured I’d be a good mate for once and encourage hard work instead of mucking around like we usually do on Fridays.”

The times that Will has been genuinely kind to him are definitely countable on his hand, so he’s almost afraid to ask if there’s a “but” included somewhere in there. However, Will just gives him a cheeky grin and heads right back out the door.

When he’s made the final change and checked over the whole chapter again, it’s beyond the time that he normally leaves, even when he stays late. His eyes are burning and his stomach is growling again, but there’s a sense of victory when he sends the files back to Robin and shuts down his office for the weekend.

He’s surprised to find Will on the couch in the reception area, asleep by the looks of it, and Killian is this tempted to leave him there because he knows exactly why his friend is still there. But the man brought him lunch and still owes him a beer for repayment of some good deed or another, so he knocks into one of Will’s shoes and snorts as he startles awake.

“Come on, then. Sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“Damn right, you are.” Will’s response is groggy and expected.

Killian makes sure the building is locked up tight before they walk the few blocks over to The Rabbit Hole. He’d rather be in bed, or watching whatever his neglected Netflix queue has in store for him. While Will obviously went home and changed into something more casual, Killian is still stuck in his suit from work. It’ll have to do.

One drink, that’s all he’s promised, and then he’s going home to get the sleep he deserves and return to his normal order of events.

They’re barely through the door when he realizes his plan is going straight into the bin. There, in all her blonde glory, is Emma Swan. She’s parked near the end of the bar waiting for Jefferson to take her order. As he moves towards her, he hears Will greeting other acquaintances, but he’s too focused on getting to interact with Emma outside of their usual crosswalk that he doesn’t veer off course.

“Fancy meeting you here, Swan,” he greets as he props up next to her.

She jumps a little, clearly not expecting him to be there beside her, but regains her speech far easier than he would’ve if the situation were reversed.

“I’m sorry, you’re that figment of my imagination that only lives on Main Street. What are you doing here?”

He chuckles at her description of him and rubs behind his ear in a nervous gesture. Two more sentences and this will officially be the longest he’s ever spoken with Emma, and he’s enjoying it far more than he should.

“Out for a drink with my mate Will to celebrate a project ending.”

“Scarlet? See, I always thought you had better taste than that,” she says, a smirk on her face and her eyes shifting over Killian’s shoulder to where Will must’ve come up behind him.

“Oy, just because I’m romancing your friend doesn’t mean you have to insult me.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what it means,” Emma responds to him, but there’s lightness and sarcasm in the whole exchange.

“Romancing? You mean you finally worked up the nerve to tell Belle you fancy her?”

“Like three weeks ago, mate. This is why I tell you to come out more often.” Will claps Killian on the shoulder with those words, accepting the beer that Jefferson deposits on the bar for him, and walking back to the large gathering of people in the middle of the room that Killian is just realizing are mostly people he knows.

“Not one for socializing very often?” Emma asks, following his line of sight and waving to her brother at the table. Killian swallows a little harder when David sizes him up, eyes scrutinizing the whole time.

“Not as much as I used to. Will and I usually make our ventures out earlier in the evening and in the middle of the week when we do.”

“So is it the expat club or something? You and Will, Robin, Belle. I think Tink stops in and drinks with them every couple weeks or so, too.”

“Will and I work at NeverEndings with Robin. The rest is all just coincidence.”

She hums in consideration, sipping slowly from her drink. “There’s room at the table. Wanna come join us, too?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“Is your brother going to murder me for speaking to you for longer than three and a half minutes?”

She glances back at David, who turns back to the group suddenly, clearly pretending he wasn’t watching them.

“Listen, he’s overprotective but he’s yet to kill anyone I had a conversation with. People I’ve dated, on the other hand…” she trails off, lifting her eyebrows to emphasize with a little shrug.

He can’t help the laughter that erupts from him at that. She’s delightful. He could spend all his days having frivolous conversations with her and probably never grow tired of it.

“Come on, I promise he doesn’t bite unless you ask. Which is unfortunately more than I ever wanted to know but that’s what happens when you become best friends with your brother’s wife.”

“Thanks for sharing your pain with me. I hope it eases the burden of your knowledge,” he says low enough so only she can hear as he pulls out one of the remaining chairs for her. Her thank you is a quiet and pleased murmur, and he has to remind his heart to stop the constant drumroll so he can get through this evening with his dignity intact. He drops into the seat next to Emma and tries to bury the way his skin itches at the sudden change in his routine.

A chorus of introductions goes around, with Emma giving names to random faces as she goes. He does know a majority of the people at the table, even if just by reputation. It’s nice to meet the kind schoolteacher that is David’s aforementioned wife, though he’s seen her in the library more than a handful of times since his arrival in town.

“Everyone calls me Snow,” she explains after Emma calls her Mary Margaret. “Less syllables, more Disney Princess-ish.” When the topic shifts from greetings to the usual breakdown of everyone’s days, Killian seizes the moment no one is paying attention to them.

“A Disney Princess that enjoys a little kink in the bedroom. Good to know,” Killian whispers in Emma’s ear, and her hushed laughter is music he wants to play again and again.

When the conversation really starts flowing, he finds he’s less interested in drinking away his week and happier to engage with the people around the table. David still regards him with suspicion, but it probably helps that he doesn’t look like he’s trying to crawl into Emma’s knickers as the night continues on. He finished his singular beer ages ago but opts for water during his next trip up to the bar, along with food because Emma bursts out laughing when his stomach growls in the middle of her talking about a digital filing system they’re implementing.

Emma nurses her one drink, and so he’s relieved to find her willingness to talk is due to genuine interest instead of alcohol’s influence. Of course, it may be because he’s supplying her in onion rings until she finally orders her own.

Their group slowly begins to break up, starting with the people who have someone home waiting on them. Then the couples start to leave, and Killian is pleasantly surprised when Emma all but shoves David out the door with Snow, insisting that she’s more than capable of taking care of herself.

They talk of all things small: she tells him about working law enforcement in a small town, and he shares his experiences in Storybrooke since moving. She asks about his job and actually listens when he starts talking.

“What’s this then?” Killian asks when Emma pushes up her sleeves.

She looks down at it, scoffing a little. “A dumb symbol of youth and rebellion,” she replies. “I got it when I was sixteen because James and I got in an argument about how perfectly behaved I was.”

“James?”

“Oh, David has a twin brother. You know how people joke about having an evil twin? David actually has one.”

“Your family is delightful,” he comments, wanting to reach out and touch the heavy lines of the flower on her wrist. “Why this?”

“Buttercups are my favorite flower.” He’s learned so many new things about her so very quickly, but he files this information away in the event he has a chance to use it.

It’s when their whole group has officially departed that they realize the rest of the establishment is similarly abandoned, with only Jefferson wiping down bottles behind the bar.

“Sorry about that, mate. Time for us to clear out?”

“I was gonna wait until I was done cleaning to see if you even noticed the place was empty,” Jefferson responds when Killian sets the last few glasses on the counter. Emma is behind him at the table still, gathering the smattering of bottles and the rest of the stuff to be washed. “Been a while since I’ve seen her talk that much to anyone she didn’t grow up with,” the other man remarks, nodding his head towards Emma.

“My favorite bartender back home would probably say the same of me,” Killian admits, placing a few extra bills on the bar as a tip and wandering back over to help Emma get the last of the dishes from his late dinner and her ridiculously large pile of onion rings, of which she ate every last one.

“Thanks Jeff. Have a safe trip home,” Emma tells him as she hands him the items.

As they start walking, he expects anything but for Emma to fall back into casual conversation with him about the moving process he went through. He takes it in stride as they slowly amble down the street and back to their crosswalk.

“I’m this way,” Emma says, indicating the direction she normally arrives from in the mornings.

“I know,” Killian responds, his tone soft and content. “It was lovely getting to meet you, Emma.”

He holds out his hand, giving hers a firm shake. Once upon a time he was a lad who could court a woman without blinking an eye. It’s that thought that has him turning her hand and bringing it to his lips, eyeing her playfully from beneath his lashes as he looks up at her. This small gesture feels so foreign, but he likes the way she’s giving him a puzzled little smile.

“Goodnight, Swan.”

“See you Monday, Jones,” she almost whispers as he releases her hand.

They head off in their separate directions, with Killian gently brushing his lips in wonder.

Routines be damned, this is much better than a casual wave in the mornings.

-x-

Chapter 2

#cs ff #cs ff au #sarah writes ff #csrt

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eskalations · 4 years

Text

Smoke and Gunpowder, Chapter 2

A/N: I was not going to post this chapter so quickly after the last, but life happened and I needed a distraction. Earlier, my sweet dog of 17 years, passed on and this has been just about the hardest day of my life. His passing was peaceful, but it didn't make things any easier. I was in the middle of writing this chapter when I received the news, so this piece will always have a special place in my heart. I'm still not sure if I'm back in the swing of things with my writing, but I'm planning on going back and editing when I'm feeling more like myself.

So, today we have the meeting of Ray and Raina. While I wanted to do a chapter where there was more interaction between the two, this chapter seemed necessary for backstory purposes. I also realized I never specified the age changes for our lovely characters. Since Roy was born in 1885 and Riza was born in 1889 (canonically), I just decided to swap their ages. That's pretty much the only big change there is.

Please let me know how you enjoyed this chapter! I love getting feedback!

AO3 | FFN

Tumblr: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

This chapter is dedicated to Skippy (May 18th 2003 - May 29th 2020)

Augenblick, East Area - Summer of 1903

The town of Augenblick was less spectacular than she could have ever imagined.

'Blink and you'll just about miss it' The man had said as she exited the train earlier that day. He must have seen the look of surprise on her face at such a small station existing in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere. There was no town in which the station was on the edge of, no bustling streets with families doing their Sunday shopping, no cars puttering down the road to their destination – all she could see were fields stretching out endlessly in every direction.

The man who had gotten off the train with her was long gone by the time she pulled out the booklet the Madame had given her. Honestly, she should have realized what this small blip of a town was going to look like by the map in front of her – there seemed to be nothing but green bleeding across the wrinkled pages.

At fourteen, she wouldn't call herself incredibly resourceful – but at least she could read directions. The Madame had circled her destination with a fat, red marker – making it stand out amongst all the greenery it was surrounded by.

The girl started walking and hoped that she was traveling in the right direction.

The dusty road crunched beneath her shoes and she had to cringe as small particles of dirt made their way between her toes. Maybe wearing the new shoes she had bought for this occasion hadn't been the best idea...but it was too late to change them now. She had wanted to impress Master Hawkeye by dressing as professionally as a young girl could, but now she was beginning to see why the Madame had kept insisting that she needed to wear something a little more comfortable.

'I want him to see me as a lady,' She had shared with her foster mother while buttoning up her crisp new blazer. All her clothes had been starched earlier that morning before she was set to be at the station and even her usually black unruly mane was combed and slicked to perfection. 'I want him to see me as an apprentice worth taking.'

The Madame had simply smiled at her young charge's determination, smoke pouring from her lips as she spoke.

'My dear – with the amount I'm paying him for your lessons – he would take you on even if you were a newborn baby,' The words did little to abate her nerves.

She didn't want the man to pour his efforts into her because he had to – she wanted him to teach her because he saw potential.

The amount of information she had on Master Hawkeye was scarce. She knew that he was an excellent freelance alchemist, who's early research had been compiled into a single publication that had made waves in the alchemy community.

However, that was it. After his first work was published, he retired to the country and was now known as a bit of a recluse. From the Madame's information, it seemed the military had propositioned him multiple times to become a State Alchemist, but to no avail. Raina found it hard to believe that he wouldn't jump on the opportunity since with that grand title also came grand funds for research.

The only other piece of information she had received from her source was that the man had a son who also lived with him. The age of said son was unknown to her still.

'Now you must be careful, dear,' Her older "sister" Margaret had warned her that morning, patting her head gently in an endearing fashion. 'You will be the only woman in the house – so, you must make sure they are treating you right. If they try anything funny, you have to promise to call us immediately.'

Madame Christmas had scoffed at the idea.

'Once they get her riled up once, they'll know better than to mess with her,' Madame Christmas insisted without worry, taking a long drag from her cigarette before exhaling a cloud of smoke. 'We've taught her well. She knows how to defend herself.'

Her foster mother wasn't wrong; she could defend herself. However, it had been a long time since she had lived with a male counterpart. She couldn't remember her father (her parents had died when she had been just three years of age) and the Madame rarely housed young men in the bar.

The thought of living alone with two men had caused her quite a bit of anxiety, but she wasn't going to let it stop her. Even as she trudged down the road, sun beating down mercilessly upon the top of her scalp – her gait was confident as she embarked on this new chapter of her life.

She had been walking for about half an hour before she came upon a small town. A groan unknowingly slipped from between her lips at the sight of it.

Augenblick was small – so small you could hardly justify its place on the map. From what she could see, it was comprised of one long row of buildings lining two sides of a dirt road that spanned just about 100 meters. From the looks of the way the lots were set up, it seemed that they were all commercial.

A few people milled about, swinging bags full of produce as they went about their morning routine. There were stands set up in front of the buildings where farmers were selling their goods to residents and chatting merrily with their neighbors. This version of the Sunday Market was very different from the bustling one back in Central that Raina was familiar with.

Gripping her suitcase tightly in her sweaty palm, the girl continued to trudge forward. She had passed a school house and a general store before finally getting stopped by a curious shopper.

"Can I help you, dearie?" An elderly woman asked, taking notice of the map clutched in her hands. After giving the girl a once over, she continued with her line of questioning. "You don't look to be from around here – are you looking for something?"

Raina was caught between wanting to find the Hawkeye residence on her own – to prove her status as an independent young lady – and wanting to get some help since the map's lines were starting to bleed together in the heat of the midday sun.

"Yes," The girl said, accepting that this was a small concession to make in her journey to becoming a worthy young apprentice. She could always be independent tomorrow. "I am looking for the Hawkeye residence."

The woman looked at her strangely for a moment. Raina's confident stance did not waver though – she knew it probably looked strange for a young girl to seek out an older man, but she wasn't here to worry about appearances. After a brief pause, the woman answered her cautiously.

"It's just down main," The elder spoke slowly, still unsure of what the young girl's motive was. "If you keep walking that direction, you will come to a fork in the road. Take a right if you're looking for the Hawkeye residence, take a left if you want to traverse the desert."

Raina laughed nervously at her dark humor. At this point, she wasn't sure which path the woman considered to be more dangerous.

"Thank you!" Before she could take her leave though, the woman's hand reached out to grab her wrist. This stopped the young girl dead in her tracks as she was met with a serious set of dark eyes, concern evident in the way the woman drew her near to speak quietly in her ear.

"What do you want with that old man, child?" Her voice was low, suspicion blending with worry. Raina glanced nervously at the shoppers who passed them, but none even batted an eye at the strange scene in front of them. The woman tightened her grip again, forcing the girl's gaze back to her own. "If you need any help, all you have to do is tell us."

Shaking her wrist from the woman's grasp, Raina brought her hand protectively to her chest – map and all.

"I am an apprentice, ma'am," The girl insisted, tone bordering on rude. These country folks may be fine with lecturing young ladies and manhandling them in the streets, but she certainly was not. "I am here to learn alchemy from Master Hawkeye and that is all."

She could tell the older woman was affronted by such a brash response, not used to a girl speaking to her elders in such a way – however, she recovered quickly. The surprised look on her face morphed into one of sympathy.

"I didn't mean to offend you, child," The lady insisted, picking up the bag of vegetables she had dropped to her side at the beginning of their conversation. "I just know that the elder Hawkeye is not one to be trusted. Ever since the death of his wife, his behavior has been strange. We've rarely seen him for the past few years – the only one that ever comes into town is his son."

The people mulling around the market were now eyeing them – pausing at the stands nearby to watch the encounter while still attempting to appear casual. They would pick up an apple, turn it in their hands to check if it had any soft spots, and then glance quickly over at them. She could tell by her faces that, at the mention of Berthold Hawkeye, she had set the subject for Sunday gossip amongst the small populace.

"Just because someone does not wish to mingle with others does not mean they are any less trustworthy than you or I," Raina insisted, defending her new teacher from the accusations of the lady in front of her. Already this town was a little too judgmental for her taste. "I could care less how social he is as long as he is a dutiful teacher."

"Child," The woman pleaded, a hint of desperation in her tone as Raina made to walk away, suitcase swinging in her hand. Luckily, she did not grab her this time – however the fear that infused her tone, had the young girl turning to regard her once more.

"I know it seems like I am simply an old gossip who has nothing better to do," Raina fought the urge to raise her brows at the expression since that was precisely what she had pegged the woman as. "But you must listen to me – there is something wrong with that man."

The genuine concern in the woman's voice caused a shiver to run up her spine. Raina would have argued it was just a chill – however, in the middle of summer, that was unlikely. Seeing that she now had the young girl's attention, the woman continued.

"His son was so gaunt during the first few years after his mother's death, that it looked like a breeze would knock him over," The woman revealed, her voice so low that even someone walking past them would have to strain to hear her words. "He finished school early and after that – well he just disappeared. We didn't see him for months then suddenly one day he walked up to Mrs. Roth's stand to buy potatoes. By that time, he had filled out a bit – but there was a haunted look in his eyes."

Raina's curiosity was piqued, though she couldn't help but have some doubts in regards to the woman's claims.

"Madame," The young girl began carefully, lowering her tone to match the volume of the elder. The townspeople were still watching them – however, their interest seemed to have lessened once their conversation had become harder to hear. "I don't think it's fair to assume that something bad happened to him during that time. He and his father could have taken a vacation."

"No one left that house." The woman insisted, causing another chill to run through the girl. The older woman spoke with such conviction – like she knew that whatever it was she suspected was true.

"Maybe they were just enjoying some time alone together after the son finished school?" Raina tried to reason with the woman, desperately grasping for straws in an attempt to abate her fears. "Why does his disappearance have to mean something bad happened?"

The serious look in the woman's eyes was one that Raina would remember for a long time after.

"Because he was covered in bruises when he returned."

It was this conversation that had Raina shaking slightly on the doorstep of the Hawkeye residence. After the old woman had finally let her continue on her way, she was left with more fear and anxiety than before. She was more fearful now than she had been when she had originally been told she was being shipped out for alchemy instruction.

The house was nothing spectacular. It looked like it could have been grand once upon a time, but the broken shutters and overgrown garden implied that once hard times had hit, all efforts of upkeep had been abandoned. Even so, the view from the porch was one that's beauty couldn't be denied – the rolling green fields that surrounded the home for miles looked as though they were straight out of a painting.

Raina took a deep breath. She could do this. No amount of town gossip was going to keep her from doing what she had come here to do. She had been waiting her whole life for this and that old biddy was not going to ruin her chances of becoming a great alchemist.

As far back as she could remember, she had been studying alchemy. Madame Christmas liked to joke that the young girl had practically forced her to read alchemical essays to her at bedtime before she was able to read them on her own. One of her favorite alchemical works had always been the book of research Berthold Hawkeye had published a few years before her birth. Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined she would have the honor of studying under him.

It was this realization that had her fist raising resolutely to the door. She was not timid. She was not shy. She was not scared. No one could deter her from the goals she had already set out to achieve. She would knock on this door and accept whatever fate lay on the other side.

But before her hand could even come in contact with wood, the door was swinging wide open in front of her.

Raina stood frozen. Well, she certainly hadn't been expecting that. Her fist fell swiftly to her side.

Standing before her was a young man only three or four years her senior. He was tall – certainly taller than she was – with a sturdy build that marked years of hard labor. His skin was golden, much like his hair, and there seemed to be a fine sheen of sweat covering him as if he had just come in from the fields. She watched as a droplet traversed down the weather worn features of his face before dropping off his sharp chin.

She had begun to sweat herself at his sudden appearance. She tried to tell herself that it was from the heat - but later she would question if that had really been it at all.

Despite his humble background, the man's spine straightened automatically at the sight of the young girl on his doorstep. Assuming the role of a gentleman – though looking nothing like one in ripped pants and a sweaty white shirt – he bowed his head in greeting to her.

"I must apologize," His voice was deep, much deeper than the voices of the boys she had gone to school with. "I did not realize you had arrived, Miss Mustang."

Being addressed so formally, she realized what set him apart from the boys at her school. He was not a boy; he was a man. His voice was too deep to be that of a boy's and his features were too hard to still be touched by the innocence of childhood. In the face of his own maturity, she puffed out her chest a bit before primly joining her hands in front of her.

"Hello, Mr. Hawkeye," She answered, clearing her throat to adopt a much deeper tone that would better match his own. "Please, just call me Raina. Miss Hawkeye sounds much too formal when we are going to be housemates."

The young man appeared unimpressed by her words, causing another bout of sweat to break out beneath her starched white shirt. Any hopes that she had conceived of the two of them being friends, seemed to be thrown farther and farther out the window as their staring contest continued. His amber eyes beat into her own, resembling those of a hawk's.

'Fitting,' she thought wryly to herself, as his gaze dropped to the suitcase she had laid to rest at her feet. Her hand itched to pick it up and turn right back around, leaving this house and his unnerving stare in the dust – but he surprised her.

Picking up her suitcase himself – the young man stood to the side of the doorway and gestured for her to make her way inside. The expression on his face was unreadable, but the grim lines of his face softened as she hesitantly stepped forward into the humid air of the home.

The inside of the house was much like the outside – dark and rundown. She could see a living area with a small stone fireplace off to the side, the furniture worn from many years of use. There was a door at the back of the room that she assumed led to a dining area and kitchen. The stairs were nestled in the corner of the area, leading to where she assumed the bedrooms and bathroom would be.

It was certainly different from what she was used to – but she guessed it could be considered cozy.

Careful to school her features, she turned back towards the younger Hawkeye. She didn't want him to think of her as a spoiled city girl. Despite their rough start, she still held on to the hope that they could be friends. She must not have covered her reaction quickly enough though, because when she met his gaze, there was a knowing look in his eye.

"I know it's not much, Miss Mustang," He emphasized his use of her formal name, pointedly ignoring the fact that she had asked him to call her Raina earlier. His words were polite, but she could hear a harsh undertone in them. "But I assure you that you will find everything you'll need to further pursue your alchemical studies within these walls."

Embarrassed at the censure evident in his tone, the young girl gave a quick nod of understanding.

"Yes, sir."

Satisfied with her quiet response, he gestured for her to follow him up the stairs. She grabbed her suitcase in her sweaty palm before following his orders.

"My father is having one of his bad days, so you will have to wait until tomorrow to make his acquaintance," Raina could feel herself deflating in disappointment, her footfalls heavy on the old wooden stairs. She had really hoped she'd be meeting her master upon arrival. "However, I am sure you are tired from your journey and will want this afternoon to rest."

"Oh, I'm not tired," Raina insisted, despite the aching in her feet. "What are your plans for the rest of the day?"

Without batting an eye, the young man turned to look at her over his shoulder.

"I'm going hunting," His words implied that he figured this answer would somehow affect her sensibilities.

Being raised in a bar though, Raina had never been the squeamish type.

"Can I come?" She asked innocently, following behind him as he led her down a hall at the top of the stairs. The strong set of his shoulders stiffened in surprise at her request, stopping him mid-step.

"I don't know," He answered slowly, clearly caught off guard by her words. The surprise on his face was short lived though as his features quickly settled back into the stoic expression he seemed to be so fond of. "Are you going to scare off our dinner?"

"Our dinner?"

The young Hawkeye had to grin as he continued to lead her forward. Like a dutiful guest, she followed closely behind – waiting for an answer.

"Surely you don't think I am going down to the market to get our food for tonight?" He finally asked, his hand turning the knob of a door leading to what she assumed to be her bedroom. A few doors down, she could just make out movement underneath the door that resided at the end of the long stretch of hallway.

"Of course not," She answered evenly as she stepped into the room, setting her suitcase by her feet. There was a bed, a dresser, and a desk. It wasn't much, but it would do. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the young man studying her face. If he was looking for a negative reaction this time around, she wasn't going to give it to him.

"So," She started, crossing her arms over her chest and turning to meet his gaze once more. "When do we leave?"

His answering smirk made her heart soar – though she would never admit it.

"Half an hour."

Her heart continued to beat sporadically even after he had closed the door behind him, leaving her to unpack and dress for their outing. However, the heavy beating of her heart wasn't from the small smile he had given her or the moment of softness she glimpsed in his eyes before taking his leave.

No, her heart was beating because she had seen the bruises on the back of his arms through the material of his shirt.

Falling back upon the mattress, she stared blankly up at the ceiling. Just what kind of secrets were hiding within these walls and just what did it all mean for her?

#royai #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #genderbend au #royai fanfiction #royai fanfic #royai fic #fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fma fic #fma fanfiction #fma fanfic #genderbend #my fanfiction

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siriuslysnuffles · 5 years

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Of Intimacy (Complete)

days eight, nine, and maybe ten of “27 days” will be posted tomorrow since I spent all day editing this, but here is the complete “Of Intimacy” series.

Can be found on AO3 & FFN as well.

prologue.

Intimacy doesn't mean sex. According to the dictionary it means a close familiarity or friendship; closeness. It means a private cozy atmosphere. It means an intimate act, but it doesn't have to mean sex. They're actions that show your affections for those close to your heart.

It's in these actions that Lily fell in love, she fell in love with friendships, some of them that weren't worth it, that would cause a piece of her heart to break despite everything that they had done (but she would always heal like broken hearts always do).

Some of them she would value until her death because they taught her what it meant to be loved without being placed on a pedestal, being loved without fear. That was the love she held in April and Sirius and Remus (and even Peter before his betrayal). They taught her what it meant to not have to seem perfect in order to be loved and respected. She didn't have to give reasons for her feelings, and she would forever be grateful for them.

Some of these friendships would blossom into more, a love so great that the universe felt inclined to draw them back to each other, over and over again (because at times it seemed like it was never meant to be) until the inevitable could no longer be avoided and that's what he was. James Potter was her great love and would be so for all eternity, and she his. He taught her what it meant to not settle for any one, to be given every single emotion that she gave out. She would never regret that, never regret him or Harry and the bond she formed with both her boys.

She'd never regret these acts of intimacy that she committed throughout her life. Forged in love and endurance.

i. of napping, a realisation.

'What are you doing,' Lily mumbled in confusion, turning in bed to face him with half-opened eyes before dropping her head to rest against his chest, his lips brushing the crown of her head softly.

'I was playing with your hair,' he murmured into it, the smile evident in the movement of his lips. 'It's a mess, Cariad.'

'You're one to talk,' she laughed, the sound softened by the feeling of her mouth against his skin; the vibration of it causing a shiver to go down his back. Gazing at her adoringly, he repositioned the fingers of his left hand into her hair in an attempt to untangle the unruly curls. She let out a content sigh before whispering, 'James?'

'Yeah?' His voice came out both sleepily and in awe, the tone that had only ever been reserved for Lily; his other hand pressing her even closer against him, settling on tracing up and down her spine leisurely.

Slightly lifting her head up off his chest, her eyes blinked slowly before rapidly closing as a small yawn escaped her. The action causing the ever-present butterflies in his stomach to flutter against every fibre of his being. 'I love you,' she uttered mid-yawn before snuggling into him.

He shifted the hand on her back to her right hip, giving it a gentle squeeze before breathlessly uttering,'Yeah?'

She sent him a smile that had he been standing would have had him falling face first but, because he wasn't, simply left him falling deeper in love with her. It was the kind of smile you would do anything to be on the receiving end of and left him even more convinced of the absolute control she had over him, the control he trusted her to never abuse.

Lily replied softly with a 'Yeah,' before drifting off to sleep shortly after; the fragment of the earth-shattering smile remaining on her face. It hadn't been the first time the couple had said, 'I love you,' but the effect those words had on him never ceased to amaze him. He decided then that he would go to the jewellers in the morning. His lovely girlfriend deserved everything he could give her and more, but he supposed he could start with a ring. Fondly placing another kiss on her head, he joined her in her nap, excited for a time when he will be able to wake up next to her for the rest of his life–even if she did hog the blankets.

ii. of the past part one, a misunderstanding?

A feeling of rejection overcame her as she remained alone while leant against the wall opposite Gryffindor Tower, shifting her weight from her left leg onto her right out of irritation. He was late, she sighed sadly, beginning to run her fingers through her hair only to stop mid-way with a small frown appearing on her face. He had never before been late when it came to her. Yet he was now, causing her heart to feel close to shattering at the thought of why he hadn't shown. She had come to the conclusion that he was interested, had been driven into believing so through his teasing words and wanton smiles, through rare blushes and careful touches. She didn't want to think she had misread the signals especially with Sirius' encouragement on the matter, yet James was nowhere in sight. She wasn't upset because she fancied him–at least not entirely, she told herself–but he was supposed to be her friend. So even if the prat was no longer interested in her romantically, the polite thing to do was to actually show up to their date and tell her so instead of this. Letting out an exasperated sigh, she once more shifted her legs, feeling the judgmental eyes of the Fat Lady gazing down at her. Fixing her eyes once more on the watch around her wrist, she gave it a distasteful glance as the seconds hand ticked by. Seconds passing quickly turning into minutes, forcing her to acknowledge that James Fleamont Potter, soon-to-be ex-Head Boy, was exactly one hour, twenty-three minutes and forty-seven seconds late to their date. Forty-eight seconds, forty-nine, fifty.

She dejectedly admitted that he wasn't coming. Having decided a year ago to stop crying over people who, in the end, usually weren't worth the effort, she took a deep breath and stood up straight, blinking away the remnants of any tears that may have been. Taking the less mortifying road, however, wouldn't stop her from daydreaming about hexing the stupid, redhead-seducing prat to Azkaban the next time she saw him. Her anger increased as she witnessed Violet entering the Fat Lady's portrait, whispering hastily as the two of them scrutinised her for what was sure to be the latest gossip in the morning.

Approaching the portrait slowly, she defiantly uttered, 'pukwudgie,' before raising an eyebrow at the look the pair gave her, silently daring them to say a word because while she knew she'd get over the feeling of anger and hurt soon enough, for the moment, it was intensifying. The Fat Lady opened her mouth for a moment, prepared to make a comment before wisely deciding to satisfy herself with releasing a short, disapproving sound from her mouth.

'Hey, Evans, what are you–' Sirius called from his place on the sofa where he sat with Peter and Remus. His back was slumped against the seat, his feet casually thrown up on the coffee table in a fashion only Sirius could pull off that emphasised his natural beauty without causing him to appear sluggish. Marching up to him, she let her eyes peer into his, radiating her anger through their vibrance. Her next words caused a shiver to run through him, 'I'm going to kill him.'

'I–' He sat up straight, turning his attention to the other two. His eyes reluctantly pleading with them as he watched the look of fear that appeared on their faces that surely matched the one on his own. Peter and Remus avoided their gazes, especially that of Lily's who looked on the verge of feeding them to the giant squid as a snack . Bloody cowards, he thought–although Sirius supposed if anyone could make three men fear for their lives it was Lily Evans.

'James better have a good explanation,' he mumbled irritably to himself before standing up and hesitantly wrapping his arms around her.

'Get off,' she protested half-heartedly despite the fact that she had already begun resting her head on his chest.

'If James really did stand you up, I'll personally bring him to you for a serious hexing. Except I should probably ask you on behalf of his parents that you don't murder him, love.' He pet her head awkwardly, not quite sure how to handle a distraught person. 'Although,' he added as an afterthought, a devious smirk adorning his face, 'Mia is very understanding; she'd probably let you murder him if you explain the situation.' He paused for a moment as she let out a small laugh. 'Or do it herself. Quite efficiently,' he added. Pulling away slightly, he tugged on a strand of her hair affectionately, aiming a grin at her. 'Deal?' he asked.

'Deal,' she agreed with the first hint of a smile.

iii. of the past part two, a date

'Evans,' she heard a voice scream from the common room for the third time. A voice that would have usually had her smiling and blushing. Presently, however, it caused Lily to have the temper of a Peruvian Vipertooth–the smallest known dragon to wizarding kind who, like Lily, could no doubt cause one to cease to exist with little to no effort on their part.

As another scream echoed from below–courtesy of the idiotic Head Boy with an apparent death wish–she grabbed her wand from the bed, ready to hex the prat for his lack of consideration if the occasion presented itself. She supposed that if she really wanted to get back at him all she would have to do is steal his glasses and watch as he attempted to fly on his broom without them. Unfortunately–or fortunately if she had been in a better mood–she would have to catch a glimpse of those pretty hazel eyes if she planned on seeing this action through. And frankly, prats who stood up their dates did not deserve to have beautiful eyes; it was the law of the universe.

April gave her a sympathetic look before asking, 'Are you going to talk to him?' Lily's only response was a shake of her head before lying down on her bed. 'I'm sure he didn't mean to stand you up. He looked like he just won the Quidditch World Cup when I saw him this morning.'

'Then he should have shown up.' Lily mumbled mulishly, shooting her friend a glare that didn't quite have the same effect it would have had on most people. 'If Potter,' she spat the name with as much content as she could manage, 'had wanted to talk with me the courteous thing would have been to show up.' Although she tried to hide how hurt she was by his actions through angry words, her feelings remained visible.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at Lily's petulant behaviour she said instead, 'James isn't Severus.' Lily bit the inside of her cheek at this statement but remained silent. 'He wouldn't just ditch you for no reason. You know that, you know him. You're just scared that maybe you'll make a mistake by trusting him. That's why you waited so long before asking him out despite the fact that you've fancied him since last year. You're scared, and, as your best friend, I'm telling you this for your own good, Lily. Stop trying to find a reason to ruin any chance of a relationship you might have with James just because Severus turned out to be a complete arsehole who never stopped letting you down.'

'I'm not,' she pouted, crossing her arms. Her eyes narrowed at the other girl briefly in defiance before she took a deep breath and stood up. Although, she tried to conceal her smile, April made no attempt in hiding her innocent humming of 'Here Comes the Bride.'

Once more shifting her attention to focus on the blonde, she firmly stated that it was her own desire to go talk to the handsome prat (perhaps not in those exact words) and not the result of her friend's insinuation that Lily had unresolved issues involving backstabbing bigots.

'I just don't want him to injure himself doing something careless and get blamed if Gryffindor loses the first match of the season,' she said adamantly.

'Whatever you say,' April laughed. Before marching off, Lily heard her friend's smug proclamation that said event wasn't until November.

On her way down to the common room, she caught sight of the boy in question sitting at the foot of the staircase. He was glaring at it as if it were responsible for all his troubles.

'What do you want, Potter?' She saw him flinch at the manner in which she pronounced his surname as if it were acid. Nevertheless, he stood up and faced her. As she watched him, she noticed how he held onto the left side of his abdomen with a look of pain on his face before quickly dropping his hand when he caught her gaze fixated on him. 'Are you–' she began asking as he said, 'Lil, I–'

'Erm, you can go first,' she said as she brushed aside a strand of her hair.

His voice came out alarmed as he continued with his sentence, 'I got mugged,' The look on his face one of a deer caught in headlights.

She stared back at him with a look of bewilderment on her face. She opened her mouth before quickly closing it; not quite sure what to say to that. Instead, she raised an eyebrow and waited for him to elaborate.

'I panicked,' he admitted. The worry in his voice evident. 'I didn't get mugged. Although, Sirius did say it would be better if I said I was.' He laughed nervously before adding, 'He's under the impression that you want to murder me.'

'I wouldn't call it an impression considering I told him I would. Perhaps an inevitable event would be more accurate.' Taking a deep breath, she took a step closer to him and asked, 'So what really happened? The James Potter edition, that is.'

He sighed before meeting her gaze. 'I got ambushed by a few Slytherins when I was coming back from the kitchen. They gave me a nasty curse to the stomach and disappeared once they heard the sound of someone coming. It was Dirk Cresswell, you know, one of the Hufflepuff Prefects. He saw my wound and went to find Professor Sprout to help take me to the hospital wing.' Absently, he moved his hand over his middle once more.

He ran his other hand through his hair, pulling at it nervously. His eyes pleading with her before saying wretchedly, 'I never meant to miss our date.' He sent her one of his lopsided smiles, 'I've wanted a date with you since our fourth-year, Evans. So please trust me when I say that had I not been surprised by the Slytherins, I would have shown up.'

She cast her eyes down for a moment, feeling guilty for thinking so poorly of him—all prior thoughts of vicious dragons and hexing forgotten.

'I suppose being attacked is a good reason for missing our date,' she acknowledged softly. 'Even if you weren't actually mugged.'

Her eyes held a mischievous glint in them for a moment that had James speechless. Especially when she placed a hand on his shoulder and tilted her face up to get a better look at him. He was close enough to her to admire the assembled freckles that were gracefully spattered across her face and caused him to become tongue-tied at any given opportunity.

With the same look of mischief still present, she pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth before impishly remarking, 'I suppose you'll have to make it up to me, won't you?' And with a playful wink sent his way, she headed up the stairs.

iv. of the past part three, a kiss.

Lily had a set rule when it came to dating: only kiss a boy after a successful third date. This rule was put in place after an unfortunate first date in fourth-year when one Colin Hunt had pressed his lips against hers abruptly and proceeded to brag to the rest of the fourth-year Ravenclaw boys about how the redheaded Gryffindor had thrown herself at him. Needless to say, someone made sure that Colin Hunt couldn't talk for the next two weeks, and, quite unfortunately, it couldn't be traced back to her. However, the crooked smile she got from James Potter the next day was more than enough to confirm that Lily's mischief hadn't gone unnoticed (a pleasant thrill had gone through her at the acknowledgment of her transgression).

The third date rule, however, seemed silly when it came to James. James who she trusted more than anyone, silly for the boy who caused her to feel so content by his mere presence and who caused her to melt by the sight of his tousled hair or that adorable grin that was usually the result of some act of mischief. It was that grin that usually had Lily on the verge of shoving him into a broom closet and snogging him until his messy hair was beyond redemption. But it's not like she thought about kissing him much. It only occurred to her a few times a days, sometimes provoked by his smile or laugh or his humor. Although, him taking off his robes was also a major contributor; if anything could be blamed for Lily's roaming thoughts, it was Quidditch.

Their first date had been held in Hospital Wing the afternoon after the misunderstanding and was held under the watchful eyes of Madam Pomfrey.

'Five more minutes, Miss Evans,' the patron reminded her for the fifth time since her arrival, eyeing Lily as if she was about to sneak James away under her robes.

Lily laughed as Madam Pomfrey moved to attend to another patient. 'Come back and visit me, Lil?' James mumbled into her neck, nuzzling into it for a short moment that had her stomach feeling a pleasant sensation until he pulled away–leaving her with the lingering thought that she shouldn't be feeling this giddy just yet but it was right, he was right, this was right. It should have scared her, but it didn't.

'Of course.' Her voice came out hoarse as her fingers moved to his cheek, drumming them gently against his skin. She watched his reaction, noticing how he licked his lips in anticipation, his eyes shifting focus between her lips and eyes. She leaned in closer, her lips about to touch his before they were interrupted by a sound of disapproval.

'I think it's time you let my patient rest, Miss Evans.' She let out a regretful sigh and quickly moved towards the door with a goodbye and a wave for James and a quick apology for Madam Pomfrey. In spite of the blush coating her cheeks at getting caught, or almost caught, she couldn't help the hint of bitterness she felt at being interrupted, she had still had a minute after all.

Second dates were much better than first dates, especially when you were far from the watchful eyes of patrons who could interrupt stress-relieving snogging with the person you were attempting to date. But Lily wasn't bitter, today she would be engaging in certain gratification-inducing activities with her fellow Head if all went to plan.

By the end of their second date, everything had seemed to be going how Lily had imagined it. They had gone out for an early morning walk around the lake and led to them having lunch in the kitchens. She had taken his hand in hers as he led her back to the common room, stopping by the girls' staircase.

His mouth twitched upwards as he looked her pushing a strand behind her ear. Her hand moved to his shoulder, her thumb brushing against it in soothing movements. Lily grinned when she saw his eyes fluttering.

'Evans, love,' he moaned softly. She moved her other hand into his hair, pulling on it lightly and bringing him closer to her face.

'I'm going to kiss you,' she told him bluntly. He nodded slowly as she moved in.

She should have known better than to believe that everything could go to plan.

'Hey, Evans,' Sirius yelled as he descended the boys' staircase. The sound of his best friend startled James and caused him to move his face, Lily's lips landed on his cheek as a result. James turned around apologetically, sending her one of those adorable lopsided grins of his that made her want to forget Sirius was there, looking at them with an amused look, and kiss him.

'Did I interrupt anything?' he asked innocently.

'You're a bastard, Black,' she joked. A pretty blush coated her cheeks as she watched James adjusting his glasses. 'I'll see you later, lads.' She hurried up to her dormitory but not before hearing the sound of someone being hit in the head along with the statement, 'Bloody hell, this is animal abuse, Prongs.' She giggled as she fell onto her bed. She supposed snogging the daylights out of him would have to wait for another day.

Three times the charms is a lie. An utter bloody lie that gives one false hopes and cuts dates short because fourth-years can't help but fighting in the corridors–resulting in the Head Students needing to escort them to the Hospital Wing.

She began believing that perhaps the universe believed that they weren't meant to be, leaving them always be on the edge of something that should never be. But Lily wasn't going to let anything stop her from at least attempting to kiss him. Because it would never just be about a kiss, it was about her potential to love him, a love that she knew would be amazing if she was just given the chance, if they were given the chance.

'You're quiet tonight, Cariad,' he said as they patrolled the dark corridor. His hand had taken hers in his, bumping them against his leg every so often, almost like he needed to touch her to know that this was real, that they were real.

'I think the universe or Merlin himself has something against us.' She leant her head against his arm briefly.

'Oh,' he responded in surprise before adding in with a brief chuckle, 'Do you think it was something I said?'

She shoved him lightly, sending a small smile his way. 'Don't be a prat, I'm being serious.'

His lips twitched. 'I'm not really scared about what the universe, or Merlin, thinks, Lil. I'll court you for the rest of my life, and I'll fight anyone who tries to keep you from me. I promise.'

'You think you can take on the universe, Potter?'

His eyes held the mischievous glint she adored before taking his hand out of hers, cupping her face instead, waiting for her to close the gap between them. And standing on the tip of her toes, she did. Wrapping one arm around his neck and using her other hand to feel one of his forearms, they told off the universe, Merlin, the bigoted arseholes, and anyone else wanted to stand between them because they could they would fight it off together.

It didn't matter that ten minutes later Professor McGonagall found them in a compromising position with Lily's legs wrapped around James' waist and his hands tangled in her red locks, keeping her mouth close to his. It didn't matter that they had received three hours of detention each, not when the universe had managed to miss James muttering, 'Go out with me, Evans,' into her neck, and Lily's response of 'Yes,' grasping onto his hair once more before reattaching her mouth to his.

It was too late.

v. of interludes, a friendship

If there was one person Sirius loved as much as he loved James Potter, it was Lily Evans.

He supposed some people wouldn't be able to comprehend his feelings for her. Rumors had begun going around Hogwarts recently that not only was Lily Evans dating James Potter but also Sirius himself. It was ridiculous for anyone close to the redhead, anyone could see how in love she was with James, how in love they were with each other. It was idiotic that anyone would believe Lily would cheat on James, offensive that anyone thought Sirius would make a move on his best friend's, on his brother's girlfriend. It was complete shite.

He supposed the only truth to the rumours was that he loved her, that he was in love with her but it was a platonic, unconditional love that mirrored the one he felt for James. They were his family, better really. You can't choose who you have for family, but, if he could, he would have chosen them.

His day had begun fine enough, he had had breakfast with the boys and Lily and her friend, April Eliot. It had gone fine and Sirius, Remus, and Peter had left James with Lily to properly say goodbye before they went back to the dorm to plan the next full moon. What wasn't fine was running into Regulus hours later with his idiot friends. What wasn't fine was the way his brother had touched his arm left arm as if it burned. Sirius wouldn't have admitted it to anyone but Lily and James, but he had feared that this was coming. He wished he could say it was a shock when he pulled up Regulus' sleeve and saw his mark, but it wasn't. It didn't stop the guilt that overcame him, and it didn't stop Sirius from turning his wand on his brother, the one he was given by some force of nature. It didn't stop him from placing his wand in his robes instead and fighting him the Muggle way as Regulus' two sidekicks watched like cowards, too afraid of the eldest Black, or perhaps too stupid to realise they had wands. It didn't stop him from reprehending him for being a fucking idiot, a bigot who would join a group that wanted those that Sirius loved the most killed, people like Lily and Remus and Peter.

He was pissed. Maybe not entirely at Regulus.

He didn't regret it though, not really. Not when McGonagall sat them in her office and gave them a lecture and a week worth of detention. Not when he looked down and saw the blood of his brother on his knuckles. He didn't care as the portraits gave him scandalised looks and whispered to one another as he made his way back to Gryffindor Tower. He just couldn't bother caring. All he wanted was to go back to the dorm and rant to three of his best friends about his idiotic brother who did everything he could to make their parents proud, it sickened him. But of course, they weren't there because the universe was determined to screw him over. He was sure Merlin was laughing at him right now.

Marching back down to the common room he was met with the only other person whose presence wouldn't cause him to go into any violent tendencies.

'Evans, upstairs?' He asked as he approached her sitting on the sofa with Eliot. Ignoring the other girl as she wiggled her eyebrows playfully at the redhead before she packed up her things to leave.

'I'll see you later, Lily,' she yelled over her shoulder, leaving the other two alone.

'All right, Sirius?' Lily asked as she too stood up, her eyebrows knitting together as placed her bag on her shoulder. 'What's wrong?' Her hand took his in hers, giving it a brief squeeze as he led her to the boys' dorm room.

'I need to vent, and the boys weren't in our dorm.'

Lily rolled her eyes, 'It's good to know that I'm second best.' He shrugged his shoulders knowing her enough to realise when she was actually offended by something and when she simply wanted to amplify something for her amusement.

'Don't be dramatic, Evans,' he stated casually.

'Don't be a hypocrite,' she laughed not unkindly. Making her way into the room, she headed for James' bed that she always insisted had better pillows than her own. Although, Sirius thought that was just an excuse to stay in James' bed most nights. 'You go to James' Quidditch practises just to boo him.'

Sirius sent her a small smile as he sat down next to her. 'And you help me do it,' he said, bumping his shoulder into hers.

Lily sighed as she lied down, Sirius following suit. 'What happened?'

Sirius ran a hand through his hair absently, causing a small grin to form on her face at the accidental imitation of her lovely boyfriend.

'You remember me talking about Regulus a while back?' His eyes closed. Not waiting for a response, he continued, 'He's a Death Eater. He has the mark.'

She didn't say anything, knowing all too well the feeling of having someone you care about disappoint you. The feeling of hatred for them, followed by the feeling of self-hatred and guilt for not saving them.

'It's not your fault, you know.' She moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around him.

'I know,' he mumbled into her hair. 'I just wish I could have protected him.'

'I know.' They were silent for a bit before Sirius spoke up again, 'Hey, Evans?'

'Yeah?' She whispered, a yawn escaping her in between the word.

'Just so you know, I'm platonically in love with you.'

Lily giggled, as she sat up. 'Couldn't you just tell me you love me like a normal person, you tosser?'

Sirius scoffed, 'I'm exceptional, thank you very much.'

'An exceptional tosser maybe.' He laughed, flicking her behind the ear. 'Hey, Black?'

'Yes?'

'I suppose I'm platonically in love with you too.' She pressed a kiss to his forehead that reminded Sirius of the way Mrs Potter would do whenever he had visited the manor. Lily pulled away as the door opened and closed.

'Ah,' an amused voice said. 'So the rumours are true,' James said, placing a hand over his chest dramatically and dropping his broom against his bed.

'Oh, shut it, you prat,' Lily said as she got up to greet her boyfriend with a hug, moving away from him slightly to adjusts his glasses.

He chuckled before placing a kiss on her nose in thanks. 'Everyone downstairs was giving me sympathetic looks when I said I was looking for you.' He pushed a strand of her hair back, keeping his fingers tangled in her red curls. 'Apparently,' his eyes moved to Sirius' playfully, 'someone demanded for my girlfriend to come upstairs with him. What a scandal!' He placed his forehead against hers. 'Because how dare my girlfriend go anywhere when I'm not around, especially with another male.'

'It doesn't bother you that people think I'm shagging Sirius?'

'Nah, it's silly.' He pulled her in closer, 'And I know you love me.'

Lily giggled. 'I don't know I think you might have some competition.' She teased, moving her mouth to James' shoulder, her hand moving into his hair. 'Sirius declared he was platonically in love with me.'

Another laugh, 'I suppose that's not surprising.'

Lily giggled as Sirius threw a pillow at James. Kissing her boyfriend's temple as he pouted at his best friend's abuse.

It was ridiculous that anyone could mistake her love for Sirius to be more than of platonic nature, but that didn't make it mean any less. She would die for him just as she would for James, because James was her soulmate (she was sure of it) and Sirius she supposed could only be described as her platonic soulmate–one she had chosen to love. Both amazing and both worth loving until her final moments.

vi. of human decency, a rant.

'What are you thinking about?' Lily asked him, letting her fingers brush the knuckles on his hand lightly as they made their rounds around the castle. He grasped her hand carefully, intertwining their fingers together, smiling briefly as he did so.

He gave her hand a small squeeze before saying, 'I heard that you got into a fight with the Slytherins today.' It wasn't accusing, it was exhausting. He was tired, tired of them and their prejudices. 'I was worried,' he admitted.

'I'm sorry.' And she was but not for the fight.

'Don't apologize.' He sighed knowing that her sorrow lied in his own emotions. 'I hate them, Lil, so much. How messed up do you have to be to want someone dead because they weren't "fortunate" enough to be born with the "right" blood running through their veins? To be so offended by the thought of someone marrying someone of a different blood status?' He let out a derisive snort. 'Idiots, the lot of them. They'd rather have their daughters and sons end up with literal arses than be happy with someone they love because they have these preconceived idea that blood means something, that being a pureblood makes you superior. Blood is shite, it's just an idea meant to further oppress a group through when all it is is chance.' He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and saying, 'Whatever happened to being a decent human being and not caring about someone's blood but whether they were decent people? No one should have to settle for anything less.'

She pulled on his hand, stopping them in their tracks. 'James?'

'Yeah?'

'Did you just rant to me about the blood supremacy system?'

'Yeah.'

She laughed for a moment, tears in her eyes. 'I love you, I hope you know that.'

He let go of the hand she was still holding, placing them instead on both sides of her face and leaning his forehead against hers. 'Never settle for anything or anyone less than you deserve, Lil. I won't even mind it much if you break my heart while doing it. You deserve everything, everything.' He sounded as if he were in pain.

It broke her heart for a moment as she saw the hint of tears in his eyes, she knew he meant it. Knew that he would step aside without another word if he though she would be happier without him.

So she pressed her lips to his instead, putting in every intense feeling she has ever felt for him into this one kiss. She soon tore away, moving her lips to his cheek before whispering into his ear, 'This isn't settling, this could never be settling.' The tears finally fell.

vii. of rings, an engagement?

He had no idea what he was doing if he was being honest, he just knew that he had been compelled to pass the shop ever since he had spotted it in November during another full moon adventure. The store had been closed but the gorgeous rings had still caught his attention, drawing him in. It had scared him that he had been so drawn to them when he had only been dating Lily for two months at the time, so he had pushed it to the back of his mind.

But now he was back, having given his girlfriend and best mates the excuse of having promised Professor McGonagall that he would tutor a first-year in Transfigurations. Lily had given him a big grin that made him his stomach flutter, he had leant down and placed a kiss on her cheek, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

'Don't let Sirius get you in trouble while I'm gone,' he teased.

He heard Sirius snort as Lily laughed. 'I think you should be more worried of her getting us into trouble, Prongs.'

He looked into Lily's eyes and couldn't help but agree because if Sirius was right about anything it was that Lily Evans was trouble, and he wouldn't change it for anything in the world. He was drawn to Lily Evans just as he had always been drawn to trouble, because they made him feel not alive but to feel as if they were more than life, it was an inexplicable sensation that he hoped to never stop feeling.

So here he was, walking into a shop like he had any idea about what he was doing, but James had always known what he wanted, and what he should have known in November is that she was it. Of course she was it because no one else could drive him to the brink of insanity with a single look, she was vivacious and kind and the love of his life. At fifteen, he had realised that she would be his undoing and it had terrified him more than anything ever had, a first considering he had a werewolf as a best friend who he roamed around with at least once a month; at eighteen, he knew and welcomed it because the most terrifying things are often the most amazing.

The man at the front looked up at James as he let the door close behind him. His eyes shone with a knowing glint as he looked up at James, 'I was wondering when you'd come in.'

'I'm here for a ring?' he asked instead of said.

The man chuckled, 'You've come to the right place then, best rings in all of Hogsmeade.' The man gave him a sympathetic look at the lost expression on James' face. 'Who's the lucky girl?'

A smile of complete adoration made itself onto James' face. 'Her name's Lily.' His voice was in awe as he added, 'My girlfriend.' He still couldn't believe it sometimes, she had chosen him. She loved him. 'She's everything,' he sighed. Everything didn't seem like enough to describe her.

He walked around the tiny shop for a moment before spotting one that spoke to him the same way the shop had. 'Can I see this one?' He asked, pointing at the ring with a diamond stone surrounded by two emerald ones. The man handed it over. It was made of goblin gold and gorgeous, and all James could think about when he saw it was the moment when she might let him slide it onto her finger, the moment when she would allow him the pleasure of calling himself her fiancé, her husband.

He looked up at the man and nodded. 'I'll take it,' he said, his fingers tightening on the ring that was still in his hand.

The man chuckled as he noticed the gesture. 'Do you want it engraved?' The man questioned.

James nodded, slowly opening up his palm that held the ring as if scared that it would disappear. 'Until the very end,' he said slowly before the smile took over his face.

viii. of nerves, a question.

He chuckled as she once more switched positions in his bed, accidentally shoving him this time. 'l'll leave if you want, Cariad,' he said placing a kiss on the top of her head.

'No, you're warm,' she moaned softly, pressing her lips against his neck as he made to get up. He resisted the small moan that wanted to escape his lips. He didn't think he could afford to let her know how much those tiny actions affected him, how much of him she had control of. He trusted her to never break that part of him though, so perhaps it was more for his pride than anything else.

His hand stroked her curls gently, 'We have to get up soon, you know?' He watched her as she closed her eyes, observing the freckles on her face that he had to resist kissing while in public in order to be "professional" about their duties. He didn't resist doing so now. 'We have the prefects meeting in an hour,' he mumbled onto her skin.

She looked up to glare at him but the blush on her cheeks didn't leave much room to be terrified. 'Stop ruining the mood, Potter.' Her eyes held a glint to them as she repositioned her head on his chest. 'I'm trying to enjoy myself.'

Those words made him speechless for a moment. He coughed before saying in a semi-hoarse tone, 'And did you enjoy yourself?' He wiggled his eyebrows teasingly before placing a kiss on her nose. Her cheeks reddened once more, before making a request for James to "shut it." He laughed and began playing with the shirt she wore (his shirt), moving it to the side so he could feel the skin underneath, his fingers playfully dancing across it in the way that caused her to shiver.

'James,' she said in faux exasperation, a hint of a smile present on her face. He placed another kiss on her neck before pulling away.

He grinned his lopsided grin at her, the smile that was only ever for Lily (and occasionally Professor McGonagall). The dimpled grin that Lily had to resist the urge to kiss when they had been friends. Really, it was quite a beautiful dimple, she thought as she let one of her fingers touch it tentatively.

'What are you doing,' he asked in awe. He was looking at her with warm eyes that could have melted her right there, eyes that felt as if they could move the entire universe if he asked. She couldn't believe that she had ever thought those eyes were brown. They weren't brown, they were Lily-Evans-melting hazel eyes that deserved an award for their mischievous glint that usually lied behind them. She adored them, adored him.

'You have a dimple,' she said in a dazed tone. 'Right there,' she poked the spot where the dimple had been moments before. 'I like it.'

James flushed lightly. He was always surprised when she mentioned one of the things she liked about him, not that he should be surprise that Lily (his amazing girlfriend) was saying those things. He was often left with the feeling that it couldn't be real, that he couldn't have gotten this fortunate to have her reciprocate his feelings, but he had. He had gotten lucky enough to have her as his girlfriend, have Lily who told him that she loved his glasses when he would get insecure around her whenever they would occasionally (or not so occasionally) bump into her face while they were kissing. Have Lily who said she loved his messy hair despite having stated otherwise in their youth. Have Lily who loved that he couldn't be still for very long without having to move like a tornado wreaking havoc wherever it went. Most importantly, he was lucky to have Lily who loved him and who he loved in every sense. He knew not everyone could be so lucky.

He couldn't help smiling down at her again, her face lit up. 'See, right here.' She leant up and placed a kiss on it, squealing in surprise as James rolled them over. 'We have an hour, James,' she giggled as he placed kisses down her neck, the hand that wasn't cradling her face was moving down under her shirt.

'Lily, Lily, Lily,' he chanted lightly, making sure she could feel every syllable on her skin. Merlin, he loved her, loved her so much that he didn't think he could handle the mind-consuming feeling of loving her at times.

She wrapped her legs around his waist as he moved his lips back to her mouth. He groaned against her before releasing her and nuzzling into her neck. She stroked his hair softly, carefully causing a smile to make itself onto his face.

'You're a bit mad, aren't you?' Her finger continued their ministrations on his hair, eliciting a soft whimper from him. He wanted to cry because he loved her, because he didn't ever want to love anyone else. She was it, she was everything.

'Marry me,' he whispered.

He hadn't meant to say it, not now. Not in this moment, he had had everything planned for how he would ask. It was going to be perfect. He felt himself flinch, he couldn't dare look up at her and instead chose to hide himself in her neck. He felt very much like a child in the moment, but it was a very beautiful neck to hide his embarrassment in.

'James?' she questioned as she detached herself from him. 'Do you mean it?' Her eyes searched his for an answer. 'Do you want me to marry you?'

He felt like he had just had his voice taken away from him–she had stolen his voice, that was the only explanation for why he couldn't so much as utter a single syllable. If he hadn't been sure she was a Muggle-born, he would have questioned whether she was part-Veela.

He nodded slowly, aware that he currently looked like an utter mess.

'Yes,' she said, tears in the green eyes staring at him. Her face glowing as if she had just won a million galleons before she threw her arms around his neck, kissing his neck, jaw, every surface within her reach. It took him a moment before he was able to process what she had said.

Hesitantly he stopped her kissing, taking her face delicately in between his hands. 'Yes,' he asked as he stroked her cheeks gently, wiping away stray tears.

She sent him the biggest grin he'd ever seen before leaning up and kissing him again. 'Yes, I'll marry you, James Fleamont Potter.'

He felt tears in his own eyes. 'I have a ring for you,' he said softly, leaning his forehead against hers for a moment. Hesitantly rolling off of her, he pulled the box from his bedside table. 'Get dressed, Cariad, I want to do it properly.'

Lily threw her head back and let out a soft, euphoric laugh, 'I already said yes.' Her eyes stared at him incredulously.

He leant down to kiss her, a lovesick smile on his face. 'I know, but I'm not telling our children that I proposed to their mother while we were snogging in bed.' He pressed a kiss to her head before pulling on his robes over his head.

'No one told me I was pregnant,' she teased as she got up. She had just managed to pull on her trousers before James' hand had latched onto hers, barely giving her enough time to put on her shoes and grab her robes from the floor before dragging her down a multitude of stairs and corridors until they were at James' favourite tree. The same tree where she had once rejected him in favour of the Giant Squid, the same one where he had once carved their initials on a piece of bark accompanied with Lily's carving of a heart underneath. It was their tree.

'Lily Evans, cariad,' he began as he got down on one knee. He was shaking slightly. 'I had an entire speech written that is probably shite, and I think I mentioned the colour of your eyes at least twenty times, but all I really want to say is that I love you more than anything, Lil. I want to marry you and have a family with you. I want to grow old and embarrass our children together and tell them all the stories about how I was an idiot who could only hope to capture your heart like you had mine and somehow did. I want to make you as happy as you make me because you're it for me, Evans. There's no going back, I'm yours, and I love you and promise to always be there for you for the rest of our lives. So do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?'

'Yes, you prat,' she said, tears making their way down her face once more. 'And you do make me happy, happier than I have ever been.'

He slid the ring onto her finger, the green stones on the side of the diamond matching the colour of her eyes.

'You're stuck with me now, Evans,' he joked.

She threw herself into his arms again, whispering her love for him into his ear as he held her tightly against him, reveling in his state of exultation, pressing kisses on her skin like he had done in his dorm. It felt surreal that she had just agreed to marry him, but he couldn't be happier than he was now. Things don't always go to plan, but sometimes it's better if they don't, he thought as her lips met his.

They arrived late for the meeting, not that they minded all that much. Their robes were wrinkled, hair tousled, and lips swollen.

'Sorry we're late,' Lily said as they shuffled in, moving her fingers to tie up her red locks. There were whispers as the prefects took note of the beautiful and luxurious ring on her left hand.

James took Lily's hand in his, daring anyone to comment as he began speaking. His eyes softening when he turned it over to Lily who rewarded him with a smile.

He could feel a glare aimed his way, but nothing would ruin this feeling for him. He would be married to Lily by next year, and not even Snape would be able to shatter James' happiness. Snape and the rest of the world could scorn them for all he cared, because they were inconsequential in the midst of his happiness with Lily, the happiness that would carry him through the war.

ix. of before, a forever

He lied on Sirius' bed, fidgeting with the golden snitch he had nicked in his fifth-year. The snitch that he had once used to try to impress his fiancée. He grinned at the memory, he really had been an idiot when it came to her. Still was if he was being honest with himself, but it was a more endearing kind than he had committed in his earlier years.

'Prongs,' Sirius said exhausted as he came back into his room. 'Just go see her.'

'Can't,' he sighed. 'Mum would murder me, she wants to follow all the Muggle traditions that Rose was telling her about, which includes not seeing the bride the night before.' A pout formed on his face. 'I miss her.'

Sirius threw his head back laughing. 'It's been two days, mate.' A look of fake hurt crossed his face as he said, 'You don't complain about missing Wormtail, Moony, or me when you haven't seen us.'

James chuckled. Sirius was the only other person aside from Lily who could make him feel better when he felt like a chaotic mess. 'I can't snog you,' he joked.

Sirius winked at James teasingly, 'No one's stopping you.'

He snorted. 'Careful, Padfoot, I'll be a married man tomorrow.'

'Evans and I have talked about this, she accepts it as long as she can falsely claim to having better hair.'

'She does have better hair,' James said with a lovesick smile on his face. 'Merlin, her hair is gorgeous. And her eyes. And the freckles, have you noticed how cute her freckles are? And also her laugh, I…'

Sirius sat down besides James, snatching the snitch from James' hand. 'I thought I wouldn't have to hear that once you two idiots proclaimed your love for each other.' He laughed lightheartedly. 'Prongs, screw traditions, I did. Just go see her.'

'But Moony and Wormtail are supposed to be here soon.'

'I don't think they'll mind too much, and I can get them plastered on my own.' His eyes held a softness to them that was only ever present with a select few. 'Go see Lily, I'm sure she's dying to see you too.'

'Really?' There was a vulnerability present.

'Really.' He handed James back the snitch, 'Go.'

'Thanks, Padfoot.' He grinned at his best friend and saluted him before apparating outside his home in Wales, walking the distance that placed him right outside his room. He grinned as he saw her outside on the balcony, her back to him.

'All right, Evans?' he shouted knowing that his parents and Mrs Evans would be asleep by now.

She turned around before he could so much as blink. 'James,' she said softly. The sound of his name on her lips almost broke him. 'What are you doing here?'

'I missed you,' he answered truthfully. He gave her a bashful grin, 'C'mere?'

She laughed but a second later she had apparated down to him. 'I missed you too.' She pressed her lips to his briefly before giving him a once over and giggling. 'I like your joggers.'

He looked down at the article of clothing in question that were covered in a pattern of animated deer. James grinned at her, pulling her in for another kiss. 'Sirius thought it would be fun to put a spell on them,' he mumbled on her lips.

She pulled away once more, taking his hand instead. 'Can we go for a walk?'

He nodded. 'Of course, cariad.'

So they walked, speaking of nothing important until they got to what he knew was her favorite spot near the manor. A hill that overlooked a lake. He had shown it to her the summer before their seventh-year. Had almost kissed her had it not been for an impatient Sirius who had gone looking for them.

She liked looking at the stars from here, and he had to agree that they were gorgeous from this spot. But they would never be his first focus when she would always draw his attention from anything else when in the same room.

She lied down on the grass and waited for him to do the same. 'James,' her voice was quiet, 'we're getting married in ten hours.'

'Are you regretting it?' he watched her carefully, looking for any sign to confirm or deny it.

'No,' she laughed. 'Never.'

He let out a sigh of relief. 'All right, what's on your mind then?' He shifted to lying on his side so he could face her, placing a quick kiss to her forehead.

'I'm happy.' Her eyes shifted to his face. 'You make me so happy, and it scary to think that maybe the feeling won't last.' With the war, was unsaid but understood.

'I know the feeling,' there was not much that could be said there, no false assurance that everything would be okay. 'I'm scared too.' He let his fingers move to play with a piece of her hair. 'Terrified, but I'm not going to let anything ruin this feeling. I'm marrying you tomorrow, Lily Evans, I've been dreaming of this since I was fifteen.' He kissed her cheek delicately, 'Nothing else matters to me right now.'

'You would have married me at fifteen?' She teased, shifting to lie on her side as well.

'Of course,' he laughed. 'Sirius even got ordained.'

She let out a beautiful laugh that stole his heart over and over again.

'I love you,' she said proudly, kissing him on the tip of his nose.

'I love you too, Lil.' Another kiss was pressed onto his cheek. Then his neck. Forehead. Jaw. Any piece of skin within her reach.

'Do me a favour, Lily?' he mumbled as her lips touched his.

'Anything,' she said. The intensity of it would have terrified him had his not matched.

He dug into the pocket of his joggers, taking out the golden snitch. 'Use this as your something borrowed? Your mum told me you still needed something, so I thought maybe…you know?' He shrugged self-consciously before ruffling his hair.

Lily looked at him in adoration, carefully taking the snitch from his hand. 'You're letting me borrow your snitch?'

'I only nicked it to impress you,' he confessed. 'I thought it would make me seem cool.'

Lily giggled before kissing him again. 'I thought you were such a dork,' she mumbled onto his lips. 'I wasn't wrong.'

x. of protection, another

It came a week early. A week that would have saved their lives but condemned the wizarding world, perhaps the entire world. Instead, as the universe would have it, Lily Evans went into labour on the morning of July thirty-first, nineteen-eighty, and it wasn't beautiful.

It was painful and nerve-wrecking and involved a lot crying (from Lily, James, and even Sirius who had to leave the room and who would later deny it ever happening and would tease James for crying more than Lily had). It involved a lot of reassurance from James that she could do it, that she would be an amazing mother.

He, meaning James, cried as the healer let him sever the umbilical cord, before she took the baby and cleaned him up. She brought him back minutes later, placing him in Lily's arms. She couldn't stop crying, but James thought she looked like a lovely mess (and he's never loved her more than he did in that moment when he thought that heart could no longer handle so much love but did so anyways).

He approached them slowly. His breath lost as he looked at the two loves of his life, if you didn't include Sirius.

'Does he have a name?' The healer asked, a piece of parchment and quill enchanted to float above her, waiting to inscribe the response.

'Harry James Potter,' Lily managed to get out, looking at the small child in her arms with so much love that it seemed surreal that he hadn't been a tangible being until today.

He watched her, mesmerized by her words. They had said the middle name one night as a joke, he hadn't considered that she actually wanted it, that she would actually be proud to let their child have another part of his name.

He reached her, placing a small kiss on top of her head. 'Hi,' he said softly, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

She rested her head against him. 'Hi,' she said, her voice sounding content albeit tired.

'I love you,' he told her, placing another kiss on her head. 'And Harry.' He carefully placed his other hand on his son's cheek.

'I love you too.' He smiled as her eyes began to flutter before she drifted off.

By the end of July thirty-first of nineteen-eighty, James had another person that he vowed to protect until the very last moments of his life. And he would go through with that promise fifteen months to the date, no regrets. He would make sure that his family was protected because he loved them and love was the one thing his murderer would never understand.

xi. of mothers, a howler!

The day after James and Lily had gotten engaged, the news had been spread across the school, money exchanged between both school mates (Sirius had made quite a few bets) and Professors (Slughorn seemed quite disappointed for more than one reason as he handed Professor McGonagall a few galleons and a crystallised pineapple to the headmaster, for all knew of his distaste for James Potter and his adoration for Lily Evans). The thing, however, that people would remember for weeks to come wasn't the way the bets or look of disappointment from others but the owls. Or, specifically, a tawny owl that dropped a red envelope in front of one James Fleamont (as they would learn was his middle name) Potter.

Any rational witch or wizard would have had the common sense to look fearful in that moment, but James was never known to be ordinary.

Instead of shying away from it, he let it explode with a grin to his face, his fiancée shaking her head with a small smile present, followed by a small laugh.

'JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER, HOW DARE YOU NOT WRITE US THE MOMENT THAT LILY AGREED TO MARRY YOU? I GAVE BIRTH TO YOU AND THIS IS THE THANKS YOUR FATHER AND I GET FROM YOU IN OUR OLD AGE!' James chuckled at his mother's dramatic antics much to the Hall's surprise. 'WE HAD TO HEAR IT FROM YOUR BROTHER THAT SHE HAD SAID YES, AND HERE WE WERE WORRIED THAT YOU HAD SCARED THE POOR GIRL OFF!' A small blush coated his cheeks at that and was soon comforted by Lily pressing a kiss to it as his traitor of a brother laughed.

'I can't be scared off that easily, Potter,' she said softly.

'Good to know,' he replied happily.

The howler turned to Sirius next, Fleamont Potter's voice now intervening, 'THANK YOU FOR LETTING US KNOW, SON. WE LOVE YOU, AND PLEASE DON'T TEASE YOUR BROTHER TOO MUCH, EVEN IF HE DOES DESERVE IT FOR KEEPING US IN THE DARK.'

'It's been less than a day,' James whispered to Lily who laughed against him.

As if hearing him, the howler turned back to them, once more in his mother's voice, 'YOUR FATHER AND I ARE SO HAPPY FOR BOTH OF YOU, JAMIE.' It turned to Lily, 'WE LOVE BOTH OF YOU. FLEAMONT WANTS TO OFFICIALLY WELCOME YOU TO THE FAMILY, LILY, AND INVITES YOU TO HELP HIM AND SIRIUS EMBARRASS JAMES IN THE NEAR FUTURE. HE ALSO ASKS THAT YOU PLEASE WRITE. WE'LL SEE ALL OF YOU IN A FEW WEEKS, THAT MEANS YOU TOO, PETER AND REMUS.'

Those in the Great Hall would remember the look of happiness on James Potter's face as Lily Evans had her arms wrapped around him, kissing him lightly on the cheek. In them, they saw a happiness that had been managed despite the war.

There were still those who hated the idea of their marriage, The blood traitor and mudblood. Potter and Evans. James and Lily. But in her, he found his happiness and in him, she found hers.

#jily #James potter #lily evans #to be tagged

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lycorogue · 5 years

Text

Happy Anniversary, “Peeping Tomcat”!

Found on AO3, on FFN, and on DA

(sorry, I lost the original copy of the cover art, so this is low-res version is all I still have)

Summary: Something called to Adrien, and before he knew it, he was addicted to sitting outside Marinette's window as Chat Noir; just watching her. His voyeuristic habit needs to stop, but things have gotten far too complicated now that he realizes he's growing a crush on her.

Rating: K / General Audiences

Pairing: Adrienette (And kind of MariChat... even though they don’t interact??)

Chapters: 17

Status: Complete. 84,239 words

**Disclaimer: This story is only semi-compliant with season 2 and does not take place within that season aside from post-Collector since that concludes Volpina.

A year ago today, I posted "Peeping Tomcat.”

The previous August (2017), a month after I introduced myself to “Miraculous Ladybug,” I had written my first ever fanfic for the fandom. The one-shot was the original “Peeping Tomcat” (it has since been renamed “Peeping Tomcat - Teaser”). I enjoyed the story so much, I decided to expand this one-shot into a full-blown novel.

I worked on “Peeping Tomcat” during that year’s superhero-themed NaNoWriMo. I made it to 50,000 words, but I wasn’t done with my story. I spent the next few months editing my first draft, and there are large parts in the final product that barely resemble the original version. Even after I posted the first chapter on March 30, 2018, I kept working on edits and reworks for the rest of the novel.

I posted a new chapter every Friday for 3+ months. I officially finished the project when I published the final chapter on July 31, 2018. Nearly a full year after I wrote the one-shot.

This novel has been such a large point of pride for me, and I want to thank all of my fans for reading, faving, leaving kudos, bookmarking, commenting, and even reblogging my promotions for each chapter. A year later, and I’m still getting notifications about a new reader, new comment, or new fave/kudos. You guys all super duper rock!

So, how about a trip down memory lane, or how about a taste for those who may have missed this story’s original run?

Sample of chapter 1 below the break.

She didn't realize I watched her every night, and, frankly, I probably shouldn't have.

A thought pulled at the back of my head as I reflected on the akuma supervillains that had originated at that school. There were fifteen kids in my class, including myself. Fifteen. There were thirteen akuma victims that were my classmates. Excluding myself, that meant only one of my classmates hadn't been akumatized. One kid didn't have a school year punctuated with the guilt of becoming a Paris-attacking supervillain: Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Realizing that Marinette was the lone student, besides me, who hadn't been transformed yet, I had a protective need to check on her home, as if gazing upon the abode was enough to ward Hawk Moth from her. I shifted along the roof of the Collège Françoise Dupont so that I was again facing the Place des Vosges. Nestled between these two key points in my life as Chat Noir was the humble bakery Marinette's parents owned, complete with the apartment the Dupain-Cheng family lived in.

It was a simple home considering the entire first floor made up the bakery, which was still smaller than my bedroom. In fact, my two-story room may have been larger than the entirety of the three-level apartment. Neither Marinette nor her parents ever seemed lacking, though. In fact, part of me envied the small apartment. No one could get lost in there. No one could feel alone. Family was always a good holler away, not that Marinette ever needed to holler to get her parents' attention.

There was a warmth to that building that transcended the ovens Mr. Dupain started up at four every morning. Even at night, long after the bakery had shut down, and despite being across the street, I still felt that warmth. For the first time that day, I felt at peace. Just looking upon the Dupain-Cheng household calmed me the way being Chat Noir normally did, the way running through Paris normally did, the way the Ladybug and Chat Noir statue normally did, the way none of those did that night.

Family. I think that's what pinned me to that spot; what soothed my heart. That transcending warmth I could feel meters away was the idea of family. The idea that Marinette was always surrounded by hers, and how it was obvious that her family was immensely proud of her. Marinette's parents were constantly smiling and visibly beaming whenever they were around their daughter, or at least talking about her. Their pride in the woman Marinette was becoming was palpable. The same was true about Marinette's great-uncle Cheng Shifu. The entire clan radiated with love. Anyone could feel it, even from across the street.

I needed that sensation that night. After all of my failings, and with Father's stern talk of his disappointments in me, I needed a reminder that unconditional love existed. I needed to know that people could love others even with their shortcomings; a way to reassure myself that my father still did love me, and that Ladybug would still need me as her partner.

Like the scent of freshly baked croissants, the pacifying feeling of honest, familial love wafted towards me, and I breathed it in deep. I was no longer on edge as I pictured all the things that made the Dupain-Cheng home so welcoming and loving.

I remembered being Chat Noir in Marinette's home as I assisted Ladybug in hiding Kim from an akuma villain who was hunting him down. While Ladybug discussed her strategy with Marinette's parents and Kim, I had spotted a family photo displayed on a bookshelf in the living room. Marinette had her goofy little grin, and her parents sweetly smiled behind her. While I don't think I have a single picture like that with Father, the photo reminded me of the ones I had with my mom; both of us grinning ear-to-ear. Love shone through the pictures of me and Mom, just as it did with that photo in Marinette's living room.

My mind then wandered to when I helped Marinette by translating for her Chinese great-uncle. She was so nervous about dishonoring the master chef, but the man took to his great-niece instantly. I got to spend the day watching the two of them interact, and it was sweet the care each took to learn about the other. In the end, Cheng Shifu was so proud of his great-niece that he renamed his famous Celestial Soup after her. True, my father uses me as a poster child for his clothing line, but there was something different; something special in Cheng Shifu honoring Marinette the way he did. She was able to be her clumsy, awkward, unsure self and still manage to impress him. I have to be poised, reserved, and refined at all times to avoid disappointing my father. Which is probably why I needed Chat Noir so much.

The thing that brought me the most comfort, though, was remembering when I was at Marinette's house to practice for the Ultimate Mecha Strike III gaming tournament. Marinette may have been embarrassed by her parents, but I thought it was super sweet that they kept popping in to check up on us. The fact that they did so using the pretense of bringing us snacks was a nice added touch. They always had smiles that matched the warmth of the croissants, cookies, or quiche they brought for us. I get that Marinette was like most teenagers who just wanted some space to breathe, but I've had all the space I could want, and then some, since Mom went missing. To have someone check in that frequently, to have parents that so desperately want to be in their child's life; I don't think Marinette realized how fantastic that is, or how jealous I was.

I allowed myself to truly relax. I lounged across the roof of my school, my legs dangling over the edge, as I leaned back on my elbows and imagined what was going on in that warm apartment. What was it like to live there? What was it like to be part of that family? I pictured myself in Marinette's place: Tom Dupain was my father instead of hers, and Sabine Cheng was my mother. I envisioned it was me flailing around during a water balloon fight with my father, or that I was the one being instructed by my mother on how to roll out the dough properly to make the crust for a quiche. I could practically smell the smoky sweetness of a well-seasoned roast and fingerling potatoes being pulled from the tiny apartment kitchen oven and placed on the breakfast counter. I almost tasted the flaky butter of still-warm biscuits topped with a touch of plum jam. The chilled breeze of the night vanished from my notice as I felt snuggled into what would have been my lofted bed; should I have been the one who lived above the neighborhood bakery. I breathed in the sweet lingering smells of the day's baked goods as I pictured them being the cologne from the Dupain-Chengs as they tucked me in and kissed my forehead goodnight. I yearned for Marinette's reality to be mine, and imagined that it was.

I got so lost in that fantasy I nearly fell off the roof when I heard the scream.

Want to keep reading? Check out the full chapter here: Mistake

Want to read the whole thing? You can find it at these three sites: on AO3, on FFN, and on DA

#ML #Miraculous Ladybug #fanfic #LycoRogue writing #Peeping Tomcat #Adrien Agreste #Chat Noir #Cat Noir #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Multiple-chapters #chaptered story #17 chapters #84000+ words #non-sexual voyuerism #adrienette #pseudo-marichat #first anniversary #chapter sample #LycoRogue original

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icecubelotr44 · 5 years

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Clear and Present Danger (6/16)

Summary: Homicide detective Killian Jones has been searching for a way to bring Milah’s murderer to justice. There’s only one small problem: Robert Gold is the captain of the same homicide division. Enter Emma Swan, Internal Affairs investigator, looking into Gold’s shady dealings. Between the two of them, can they unravel the web of deals and lies that have gotten Gold to where he is?

Rated: T, for violence, some dark themes, angst, and whump (you expected different?

TW: character death, mention of past self-harm, fatal car accident, school hostage situation

Other ships: mentions past Millian in a good light, Outlaw Queen, Snowing

Art credit/link: The totally awesome @cocohook38 made the cover you can see above and on her blog here. Later in the story, she’s illustrated some key points to the fic and I can’t thank her enough for her work! Chapter Four’s art is HERE. Go show her some love!

Beta reader: @gusenitsaa took on this monster without probably knowing exactly what she was getting into (what do you mean 100,000 words?!) and any mistakes that you find are probably me being stubborn and ignoring her advice! Thank you!

A/N: Written as part of the 2018 Captain Swan Big Bang Challenge. You can catch up with all the other fics that are complete by following @captainswanbigbang and/or subscribing to the Group Collection on AO3 and/or the C2 on FFN. This is complete in 16 parts and will be posted every Sunday from now until its completion.

Take it away, It’s going to be a bumpy ride.

Word count: ~ 6,450 (100k Total in 16 chapters)

From the beginning: AO3 / FFN

Current Chapter: ao3 | ffn

CHAPTER SIX: OBSTRUCTION OF JUSTICE

Killian sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning alone. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before - after he'd docked the Jolly, Emma had bolted for her car so fast he couldn't even wish her a good night. He wasn't sure what he'd done wrong. He'd thought… well, he'd thought that maybe they were making progress. That maybe she was starting to trust him.

This morning was starting out spectacularly. Liam had left again, before the sun rose and before even Killian was out of bed - a note on the fridge just said "Cabin, Call You" - and had apparently taken the last of the coffee with him. The line at Dunkin Donuts had been ridiculous, some woman and her fourteen kids (he might have been exaggerating) had all ordered a full breakfast and, he'd swear, lunch as well.

Then, he'd gotten to work only to find that somehow, the greasy substance he was waiting for results on had been mishandled and destroyed. No one in the lab could explain how it had happened, but the evidence had been lost and there was nothing he could do about it.

Now they were stuck in traffic. Not the normal, pull your hair out because no one knew how to drive between the hours of seven and nine am kind of traffic. No, it was the slow, torturous crawl of bottlenecked accident traffic. According to the scanner, some idiot had stopped short in front of a tractor trailer, possibly for a small animal, and two lanes had been shut down completely as a result.

While he was glad he wasn't on that particular detail, Killian just wanted to get to Cambridge. He had a feeling that whatever Belle French could tell them, it would be worth the trip. If anyone knew LeGume and what he was into that got him killed, it would be the secret girlfriend.

"Bloody hell," Robin muttered under his breath as the car next to them merged and cut them off. His fingers clenched spasmodically around the wheel as if he were going to strangle it. "Don't they see we're in a police car?"

Killian huffed out an annoyed laugh in sympathy "It's unmarked, remember. And I don't think it's the steering wheel's fault, mate."

Robin cut his glare over to Killian and narrowed his eyes further. Killian resisted the urge to grab the wheel himself, knowing Locksley was capable of driving distracted but not wanting to make the evening news anyway.

Local homicide officers exacerbate accident. Story at eleven.

Finally, Robin gave up trying to wring the frustration out of the wheel and sat back with a resigned sigh. They weren't getting anywhere fast. "Did I tell you that Roland got a gold star for sharing yesterday?"

Killian grinned. "And you and Regina were worried that being an only child would stunt his growth," he teased jovially.

Robin rolled his eyes. "Says the man with a brother."

"You can borrow him any time you'd like," Killian said as seriously as he was able.

Robin cut a glance at him, clearly in disbelief.

"Oh, thank God," Killian muttered under his breath when they finally made it past the orange cones and could pick up speed again. Robin agreed by stepping harder on the accelerator and blowing by the soccer mom who had cut them off.

"So what did Roland share that earned him a gold star and, I'm sure, an ice cream cone?" Killian smirked as Robin grinned proudly.

"He shared his new markers with a girl at his art table. Let her use his green one, even."

Green was quite plainly Roland's favorite color. Killian knew this as well as he knew that his eyes were blue and Liam was his older brother. It was just the way it was.

Robin continued to fill Killian in on Roland's progress in kindergarten as they wound their way north to Cambridge. They finally turned down Ms. French's street and, surprisingly for the way the morning had gone, found a parking spot not too far away.

"Detectives?" Ms. French met them at the door, one hand holding it open while the other flipped up to check her watch. They were much later than Robin had told her they'd be there.

"Yes, ma'am," Robin acknowledged, showing her his badge and introducing both of them. "May we come in?"

She nodded, stepping back into the entryway to allow them access. "You said this is about Gaston? I haven't spoken with him in… well, nearly a week now."

Killian ignored the clenching in his heart that came every time he had to notify kin. "We're very sorry to tell you, ma'am, but Mr. LeGume was found dead earlier this week."

She blanched immediately, and the less cynical side of Killian whispered that there was no faking that. Whatever else she did or didn't tell them, Belle hadn't known that her lover was dead.

Robin took her arm gently when she swayed, her hand covering her mouth to stifle a cry of shock. He helped her towards the couch in the front room, lowering her gently to sit as Killian moved into the kitchen where he found a still-steaming cup of tea. He filled a glass with water from the tap anyway and brought both back to her.

"Ma'am," Killian called gently when he crouched down next to Robin. She looked up to smile blankly at him, and the empty look in her eyes was so familiar that he nearly had to turn away.

"Call me Belle, please," she allowed, taking the cup of tea from him and cradling it in her hands. "I'm not that old yet."

Killian nodded, placing the glass on a coaster made to look like an old first-edition book cover. Treasure Island, he read. The whole room was filled with books - some in floor to ceiling shelves and some scattered on the coffee and side tables. It was a miniature library and Killian got the feeling that it wasn't just for show. For one thing, the books were well cared for - but also well worn. There was no dust on the bookcases; she clearly took pride in each one.

"I don't know what I can tell you," she admitted. "Gaston and I… we talked about books. We went out up on the North Shore where we wouldn't be recognized. We didn't… he didn't talk about anything else."

Killian got the feeling that LeGume didn't do much talking at all, if the way Belle's cheeks grew red as she turned introspective were any indication. He remembered those early days with Milah. "You didn't want to be recognized? Or he didn't?" he tried.

Belle grimaced. "It was more of a mutual agreement. It wouldn't be good for him to be seen with a student, even if I weren't being graded by him. And I-" she cut herself off with a shake of her head and covered by taking a gulp of tea. It was clearly still too hot, and she nearly choked. Her eyes started to water and once that dam was broken, it was as if she'd given herself permission to grieve. Tears came fast and hard, though she was surprisingly silent.

Killian looked guiltily away, unable to handle the young woman's grief. It hadn't been so long ago that he'd been the same way: trying to put on a front when all he wanted to do was collapse into himself and break.

He might have done so irreparably if Liam and Robin and the Nolans hadn't held him together with superglue, duct tape, and chocolate chip cookies. Mary Margaret's cookies were to die for.

Some days, he still felt like he might just shatter, and even the world's fastest jigsaw-er wouldn't be able to fit all the pieces into the puzzle.

"I'm sorry," Belle managed a few moments later, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief she'd produced out of thin air, it seemed. "I know that you're busy trying to find out what happened, but I just-"

"No need to apologize, ma'am," Robin soothed, reaching out to take the mug away when her fingers slackened around it. "I know this must come as a bit of a shock."

Belle laughed daintily, but it rang hollow and the smile that crossed her face was pained at best. "A bit," she parroted wryly and Robin had the good grace to look chagrined.

"An unfortunate turn of phrase," he apologized.

Belle nodded her acceptance of this, but remained otherwise silent. Killian took the opportunity to sidle out of the room and look around the main floor. There were more books scattered haphazardly about - all well-loved and clearly taken care of, but within reach instead of on display. It looked like Belle would wander her home reading and leave the book wherever she was when she finished.

For all of the books that she owned, Belle had very few photographs adorning her walls. There were a few of her in various locations across the world, but she was alone in each shot.

"I've always loved traveling," she said quietly from behind Killian, but it still made him jump.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, placing down the copy of Oliver Twist that he'd picked up somewhere in his search. "I just-"

Belle smiled. "You were doing your job, Detective. I don't blame you for that. Do you read much?" she asked, nodding her head towards the book in front of him.

"My brother used to read this to me when we were kids," Killian allowed. "I'm afraid I don't read as much as I'd like to, anymore, though."

"None of us do."

Killian couldn't argue with that. He smiled politely and followed Belle back to where Robin was still looking contrite. They spoke for a while longer, but it was clear that the young woman's mind wasn't focused on the conversation any longer.

"If you think of anything else, Ms. French, here's my card. Please call," Killian finally allowed her an out which she took with alacrity. She snatched the card from him before looking sheepish, but ushered them towards the door anyway.

Killian would never figure out why they hadn't seen the photo on the way into the apartment. It wasn't like it was hidden, or something they wouldn't have noticed.

It was a picture of Belle, in front of Quincy Market, with Gold's arms wrapped around her from behind. They were both smiling into the camera, taken from such a low angle that it could only have been shot by a child.

"You know Captain Gold?" Killian asked before he could think better of it.

Robin's head whipped around and followed Killian's gaze to the photo.

"You mean Robert?" Belle asked offhandedly, something almost chilling in her tone.

Killian nodded slowly, the disharmony ringing in his ears over seeing his tormentor looking so happy with his arms around a woman who wasn't Milah. He looked so happy; they both looked so goddamned happy while Milah had been so miserable. Killian didn't understand. "When" - he cleared his throat - "when was this taken?"

"Oh, about three years ago."

Gold had still been married to Milah.

Killian was going to tear him apart. There wasn't a dark enough hellhole to drop him in. There weren't enough Hellhounds in the underworld to torment him. There wasn't-

Robin said something that Killian didn't catch, but it was enough distraction for him to mutter a strangled, "Thank you for your help," before nearly sprinting out the door.

The bright light of the sun assaulted him, making him blink rapidly to keep the tears out of his eyes. From the sun. Of course. Not because the bastard had been cheating on Milah for who knew how long and had spent all of that time castigating her for finding happiness with him.

"You all right, mate?" Robin asked a few minutes later, coming up to stand next to Killian so that they were shoulder to shoulder looking down the street. Killian wasn't seeing any of it.

The first time Milah had come to him, tears in her eyes and a stubborn look on her face, she hadn't told him what Gold had said to her. She'd muttered that she didn't want to talk about it, that it didn't matter; they were all that mattered to her and she'd go to Hell and back before she'd allow her husband to ruin the freedom she found with Killian. For his part, Killian had held her close and promised her the world - he'd have moved mountains or fled to the most remote corner of the world he could find if only she'd ask.

He thought she'd have done it, too, if it wasn't for her son. Killian had met the boy a few times, heard plenty of stories about "Bae"and his adventures in the Neverlands and Enchanted Forests in their backyard. But if there was one thing he knew as well as the fact that Milah loved him, it was that Robert Gold loved his son to an unhealthy degree. They'd never wrest the boy from his father's grasp and Milah would never truly leave him behind.

So Killian had settled. He'd accepted his relationship with her for what it was, loved her for the love she had for her son, and made do with the time that was given to him.

"Aye," he finally lied to Robin, squaring his shoulders and opening the car door. "Let's just get back to the station before we hit any more bloody traffic."

Emma couldn't believe it. She was looking at the results herself and she couldn't believe it. She'd found the note buried in one of Jones's files on the boat weeks ago and had tucked it in her pocket to ask him about later. He'd been dismissive, but the threat had stuck with her: LET THIS GO IF YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOOD FOR YOU. On a whim, she'd had it dusted for prints at an independent lab. Now, she finally had the results and she couldn't wrap her mind around it.

Detective Nottingham.

She didn't know the man well, just well enough to dislike him, but he didn't seem the type to stick his neck where it didn't belong. Still, a threat to a police officer wasn't something to be taken lightly and when Emma had questioned him, he'd been straightforward and succinct.

"Yeah, I put it on Jones's car. Bugger doesn't deserve the shield he carries." Nottingham had shrugged then and leaned back in his chair, as if he didn't have a care in the world. "Yanked the battery wire, too. Thought about… well, never mind."

Emma blinked. And then blinked again. "You're… admitting to threatening a police officer?" she asked incredulously.

He nodded succinctly, smirking at her.

"Tell me who put you up to this," she tried, sure that he'd never have admitted to it so smugly if he'd done it on his own.

A look of fear crossed his features before it was carefully masked behind the arrogance once more. "Don't know what you're talking about," he deflected - almost convincingly.

"Of course you do," Emma tried again. "The investigation into LeGume hasn't turned up any leads that would tie him to you; you had no reason to threaten Lieutenant Jones. Whoever put you up to it must have wanted the detective to look the other way. Someone told you to put that note on his car. Someone told you to destroy the evidence Jones found at the scene."

She thought that adding in that second charge would throw him off balance. Evidence tampering was much harder to wave off than what ended up being an empty threat to a fellow officer.

Nottingham just shrugged. "Nope. Just me. Thought losing the evidence would get him booted. What are you going to do about it?"

Emma read him his rights.

It was only when she finished that he began to splutter, rising to his feet with a look of utter disbelief as she cinched handcuffs around his wrists and led him to a cell. He didn't fight her, per se, but he wasn't willingly ambling along either. Emma thought about securing him in with the rest of the detainees overnight while she processed his paperwork, but wanted to make sure everything went by the book. So, a cell to himself, it was.

The clang of the jail cell slamming shut seemed to flip the switch in Nottingham, as if he had begun to realize that whoever his benefactor was - and Emma didn't need to pass a detective's exam to guess who it was - he wasn't coming to the rescue. Nottingham stalked the length of the cell, muttering under his breath the entire time, looking up every once in awhile before sulking to the back corner and starting his circuit again.

Emma needed to go fill out all the paperwork, but she was transfixed by the pattern Nottingham was making. Was he really willing to sacrifice himself rather than give up Gold?

"Thank you for taking out the trash as it were," Gold praised as he appeared behind her out of nowhere. Emma refused to jump, though he'd startled her. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye with a sneer. His eyes never left the scene playing out in front of them, Nottingham pacing behind the bars of the cell like a caged wolf.

Emma turned to face him, not willing to watch the scapegoat any longer. "You're not getting away with this," she promised, seething.

"Actually, I am." Gold smirked and leaned forward a bit. "I think you'll find that all your evidence conveniently points to Nottingham. Won't find a thing to tie me to any of this. I'm going to walk away from this with clean hands."

He was right. The bastard was right and there wasn't anything Emma could do to change it.

But that didn't mean she wasn't going to try. "That's not gonna happen," she assured herself more than threatened him. Emma had dealt with her fair share of bullies growing up. He was just another one.

"I like your confidence," Gold admitted with a disarming smile. Emma saw why Jones called him a crocodile, with all his teeth proudly glinting in the fluorescent lighting. "It's charming. But it doesn't change the fact that I win again."

Emma snarled. "You know I'm going to figure this out. I'm willing to roll the dice. Follow whatever bread crumbs I have to to finish this. And when I do, who knows what might come out about you in the process. Somehow I suspect there is more to you than a simple Homicide captain. You really want to start that fight?"

Gold grinned, but Emma could see the flicker of unease that he was trying to hide. It was gone an instant later, but Emma had seen it and that was all that mattered.

Gold's days were numbered.

"I like you, Ms. Swan," he blustered. "You're not afraid of me, and that's either cocky or presumptuous. Either way, I'd rather have you finish your investigation and get out of my precinct."

He walked away before Emma could get another word in. She shuddered with the need to do something. She was sure that Nottingham had been the one to threaten Jones and impede his investigation into LeGume's murder; he'd admitted it and he wasn't lying. But he wasn't the type to do it on his own.

No, Emma would have to dig deeper if she was going to figure out what Gold had on the officer, but she would find it and once she did, she'd use it herself to flip Nottingham on his leash-holder. With nothing else to do with or for Nottingham, Emma turned resolutely away and stomped back to her desk.

She nearly screeched when a hand darted out from the stairway and tugged her inside. Killian grabbed her wrist before she could punch him in the face, using his size to crowd her back against the wall and out of sight from the rest of the precinct.

"What the hell, Jones!" she hissed vehemently, wriggling and trying to get free.

Killian smirked, not hurting her, but clearly using his height advantage to stop her from getting free. "You want to calm down, darling?" he asked, a hint of something sharp in his tone.

Emma stomped on his instep, not hard enough to do any real damage, but enough to make him yelp and let her go.

"Bloody hell, woman," he whined, one hand pushed against her shoulder to keep her in place while the other reached in vain for his injured foot.

"Let. Me. Go!" Emma ordered, reaching threateningly for his pinky finger.

Killian gingerly put his foot down and made a show of taking his hand off her shoulder. "What did Gold want? Are you all right?" he finally asked.

Emma blinked. That was what all of this was for? "Are you kidding me right now? I thought we agreed that the less people see of us together, the better.

Killian shrugged and Emma wanted to be annoyed. She did. Half of the evidence they were able to compile on Gold had remained untainted because Killian wasn't connected with her. And she wasn't connected with him. But he looked so sincere and goddamned endearing that it was a struggle to keep the smile from escaping.

"I'm fine, Jones," she assured him softly, reaching out to lay her hand on his chest. What the hell are you doing? she thought before yanking her hand back like she'd been burned. "He was just spewing nonsense about how he's going to get away with everything. The arrogance…"

Emma could see the frustration and… was that resignation on Jones's face?

"We'll get him, Swan," Killian vowed, shaking away whatever Emma had seen in his eyes. "We have to. I have to. For Milah."

"Get out of my bloody way!" he shouts, trying to push past the two men holding him back. "That's my… that's… I need…"

God, he doesn't know what he needs. To start the day over? To be in the car with her? To get to her side, hold her hand, pretend that he was there in her last moments?

All of the above?

He knows it's too late; he heard the call for the medical examiner on the way across the city, lights and sirens blaring even though he knew he'd be suspended for it. She's already gone and there's nothing he can do about it.

But he still needs to get to her side.

"Liam!" he shouts, catching sight of his brother with a notepad and pen. "Liam, tell them to let me through!"

Killian watches as his brother looks up, can see the regret etched across Liam's face even from this far away. It's not grief there, no of course it isn't. Liam has never approved of what his little brother has gotten involved in. But Killian knows his brother isn't heartless, either. Not even his misgivings about the situation would stand in the way of-

"You can't be here, little brother," Liam says, but the words don't make any sense.

Killian shakes his head, not understanding. "Liam, I have to…"

"You have to go, Killian. You can't be here, right now. The scene-"

"I don't care a bloody whit about the scene, Liam!" he shouts, struggling against the other men still holding him back. "I need to get to her. Brother, please."

Milah is right there, still sitting in the car as though waiting for the tree to pull up its roots and move out of her way. He can't see her face, but he can see her hair, the curls blowing in the breeze. Bloody hell, he couldn't even count the number of times they'd driven down to the Cape and he'd spent half of the ride spitting her hair out of his mouth. It was all about freedom, she'd told him time and time again. She felt like she could breathe when she was with him, so the last thing she wanted to do was restrict her hair.

"I'm sorry, Killian, you know I can't-" Liam's head snaps to the side as Killian's knuckles collide with his cheek. Blood drips from a cut that one of his rings left behind.

Killian almost feels bad. Almost.

"Some bloody brother, you are," Killian hisses, yanking his other arm free from the officer and stepping back. He wants his brother to hit him back, wants to fight with someone - anyone - so he doesn't have to concentrate on-

"I know you don't mean that," Liam says calmly, pulling out a handkerchief to blot at the blood before it can sully his crime scene. That's all it is to him, Killian realizes, just another case.

"Liam," he pleads, "I have to see her. I don't care what the rules are."

"But I do," Liam insists, ducking under the tape and trying to pull Killian away.

Killian resists, tearing his brother's hand off his shoulder and spinning away from him, trying once again to get to her car.

"Killian, listen to me. You can't help her, not anymore. All you're going to do is give Gold an excuse to implicate you."

Killian freezes, but only for a moment. "You think my fingerprints, my DNA isn't all over that car? I'm already going to be a suspect, you bloody moron. What difference does it make?"

Liam takes a step back, the look on his face some combination of brotherly horror and resignation. "I'm sorry, little brother," he tries again.

"No! Liam, you have to-" he cuts himself off, shoving Liam aside and storming through the tape.

Liam grabs him one more time and Killian swings again, red coloring his vision as he gives in to the fiery anger coursing through him. He doesn't know how many times he hits his brother before he's lying facedown on the ground, Locksley's knee in his back and handcuffs around his wrists.

"No! Liam, no, don't do this! Robin, let me go!" he keeps shouting, not noticing nor caring how many eyes from the precinct are on him. Not caring about how all of this is going to get back to Gold. Let him know how much Killian still… will always love Milah. Let him see what Gold should have felt about her.

Robin doesn't move as Liam kneels next to Killian's head. Killian forces his head back, arching his neck so that he can glare at his brother. Liam is bleeding from the nose now, his left eye already swelling.

"I hate you," Killian hisses. "I hate you and I wish-"

"Don't say something you'll regret later, little brother. I already forgive you," Liam says gently. "Robin's going to get you out of here before someone decides to-"

"I hate you," Killian hisses again, but the fight is leaching out of him as quickly as it came. Even his anger isn't enough to get him out of handcuffs.

Liam nods sadly, but motions to Locksley and moves to help stand Killian up. They frog march him back to the squad car and fold him into the backseat, both ignoring the threats and the callous remarks he throws their way.

"I'm sorry I have to leave you with him like this," Liam apologizes to Robin and it just ramps the anger right back up. Liam has been apologizing for him all their lives; Killian hates it now even more than he had growing up. "I wish I could-"

"Captain Gold is already gunning for him, sir," Locksley interrupts. Their words are muffled through the window, but Killian can still hear them. "We don't need you getting in trouble, too. I'll take care of him."

"I know you will, mate. Here, I don't know if he has the keys with him." Liam hands over a set of keys, wincing when Killian's shoulder hits the glass. Killian glares at him when he bends down to make sure he didn't hurt himself. "Take him to the marina, see if you can't get him inside. I'll be along as soon as I can get away."

Killian doesn't even wait for Robin to shut the driver's door before he lays into him. He keeps screaming as they pull away from the scene.

Away from Milah.

"Where'd you go, Jones?" Emma asked softly, drawing his attention from where he was staring a hole in the wall back to her. The haunted look in his eyes frightened her; men who looked like that were unpredictable when it came to their crusades.

Captain Gold and his eventual downfall was definitely a crusade.

But Killian just shook his head as if clearing the cobwebs and grinned disarmingly at her. It didn't reach his eyes. "Nowhere fun," was all the answer he'd give.

Emma didn't need him to tell her - she could read him like an open book. She wondered how many times a month… or week… or day Killian relived Milah's death. He'd never told her the story, but officer reports put him at the scene soon after her official time of death. Emma could put two and two together.

"Look, Killian, I get it. I can't even begin to imagine what it's been like for you, working under him every day while you know what he did to her. But we've got to be smart about this. We-"

"You think I don't know that?"

Emma stared for a moment. "What part of 'we can't be associated with each other' did you miss, then?"

He shrugged. "No one's paying attention. I just…" he trails off, scratching behind his ear. It was a tell if ever Emma saw one.

"You just what?" she prompted beseechingly.

But Killian didn't answer. The slam of a door somewhere above him echoed through the stairwell and was followed by thudding footsteps.

"Go home, Jones," Emma hissed to avoid being heard by whomever was above them. "I promise I'll steer clear of Gold and his fancy words if you'll be a little more careful about being seen with me."

Killian nodded, slipping silently down the stairs before whoever was coming saw him. When he was gone, Emma slumped back against the wall and let out the breath she'd been holding for what felt like ever.

"Afternoon, ma'am," Henry Mills called out when he stepped onto the stairs just above her. "Can I help you with something?"

The sheer feeling of relief that overtook her seeing it was Nolan's rookie rather than one of Gold's lackeys surprised her. Would it really kill her case if someone saw her and Jones talking? No. She'd done fine without him before all this and she would do fine when this case was over and they were back to separate departments. So why the concern?

A niggling feeling at the back of Emma's mind told her she already knew the answer, but didn't want to admit it to anyone - least of all, herself.

"Ma'am?" Mills questioned again when Emma was silent for too long.

She nodded. "I could use some help pulling Nottingham's files," she began.

"Sure!" the rookie practically beamed at the idea of helping her. No one would bat an eye at the kid working with her, so the question remained.

Why is it different with Jones?

Hours later, Emma and Henry had pulled dozens of cases that Nottingham had closed. One thing was certain, though no one seemed to like the man, he was effective in what he did. The problem was, there were too many complaints sandwiched between the successful cases for Emma to even begin to decipher where Gold's interference came into play.

"Thank you, Henry," she said sincerely after making her last copy of the day. She was exhausted and even the rookie's exuberance had waned with the passing hours. The poor kid looked as dead on his feet as she felt.

"No problem," he replied tiredly, slamming the last filing cabinet drawer closed and pushing the lock button. He tossed her the keys, nodding his head towards the officer who was waiting to log them out. "You want to take care of 'Grumpy' over there?"

Emma bit back a smirk. "I'll handle him. You get out of here."

He grinned gratefully before slipping past the surly officer with a nod. Emma watched him go before squaring her shoulders and heading out the same way.

"It's about time, sister!" the officer growled as he snatched the keys from her. "Some of us got better things to do than wait around for you IA rats to burrow into the past."

Emma just raised an eyebrow. "I'll be back tomorrow," she promised, determined to find some kind of link.

Leroy - according to the name tag that had seen better days - just scowled. "Fine, fine. Just try not to stay so late, huh?"

Emma whipped her head around to find the clock behind his desk.

11:45pm.

No wonder the little man was pissed. Emma's stomach voiced its own protest at her long hours, the bear claw she'd had for lunch long since forgotten. She tried to look a little sheepish to mollify the officer, but he just glared and turned away. Taking the dismissal for what it was, Emma beat it out of there, determined to keep going until she'd crossed the threshold of her apartment and found her bed.

The squad room was nearly deserted as she passed by, only a few angry eyes watching her progress as she walked, head held high. She barely stopped at her desk to grab her bag before walking calmly for the elevator.

The night air was cool on her face and she paused for a second to soak it in. Boston may be filled with city air and city sounds, but it was home. She loved the bustle and the smell, the history and the modern melding into one culture that filled the city with whatever someone wanted to find. It was all there, waiting to be explored.

Her stomach growled again and Emma amended her earlier resolve to head straight home. If she hurried, she could get to Downtown Crossing and find something to eat that wasn't freezer burned or past its expiration date. Sleep could wait; her stomach couldn't.

Footsteps. Damnit.

Emma rolled her eyes as she turned the corner into the same alleyway where she'd first threatened Jones all those weeks ago. It was late, she was tired, and she'd honestly thought that he'd left the station hours ago. She was glad that Killian had taken her edict seriously and he wasn't trying to corner her in the office again, but whatever he wanted could wait until tomorrow. On the boat. After she'd had some sleep.

"For the love of God, can't you take a hint?" she asked testily, whirling around to face him.

Emma was still speaking when the fist ploughed into her face and sent her sprawling. "What the-" was all she could get out around the vice that gripped her chest when the wall behind her knocked the wind out of her.

Not Jones, her brain helpfully informed her a split second before someone's billy club sliced through the night air. Emma only just managed to duck away, the hard rod impacting her shoulder blade rather than her neck - her assailant's intended target. The blow still stunned her, making Emma stumble and throw one hand out to steady herself against the wall. The other reached for the knife she always kept in her pocket, needing something - anything - to protect her.

She rued the fact that she didn't carry her gun on a daily basis.

The familiar icy feeling of the metal grip pushed back some of the fear from being attacked. Emma harnessed the adrenaline as she'd been trained and spun on her heel to face her attacker.

Attackers.

There were three men circled around her, masks on their faces that made them look like they'd come straight off a B-movie set.

"Who are you, the Three Stooges? It gonna take all three of you to take down little old me?" Emma snarked, eyeing the badges clipped to their belts.

Cops.

Gold's men.

None of them were small enough to be Isaac, but Emma couldn't worry about their identities now. Stringbean and R2-D2 stepped back and she turned to face her third attacker head on. She ducked and slashed when the beefiest of the three took a swing at her, trying to grab her jacket. He pulled back with a howl, clutching his hand where blood oozed out. A painful wound, but not enough to slow him down, she catalogued automatically.

Keep track of all targets, it may save your life, her training echoed in her thoughts.

It was easier said than done. They came at her all at once, ducking and weaving around her own strikes and trying their best to catch hold of her. Emma wasn't aware of the damage they were inflicting at the time, her fight or flight response far too well engaged to notice trivial things like pain.

And then she was very aware of the lightning strike of pain at the base of her skull. One of the bastards had caught hold of her hair and yanked her off balance. Another trapped her arm under his and pried the knife from her desperately clenched fingers.

"What are you, seventh grade girls?" she managed to mutter before Beefy slammed his fist into her solar plexus, driving every last bit of air from her lungs.

Gasping and choking, Emma could do little more than go limp as Stringbean shoved her face-first into the brick wall. Her head hit the wall with a resounding thump and Emma slid down in spite of her best attentions.

R2-D2 began to kick at her and Emma pulled herself into as small of a ball as she could manage, wincing each time he connected with her ribs and biting back the tears - of pain and frustration both - until she could find an opening to regain her footing.

It never came.

Emma howled when Stringbean stomped on her hand, something underneath it shredding her palm open. He didn't give her the opportunity to pull it protectively into her chest, just stood with all his weight on it before hauling back and kicking her in the head with his other foot.

"Get your ass out of our house, bitch," was the last thing she heard before blackness closed in around her.

tagging: @killian-whump, @gilliangrissom, @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable

#csbb #cs ff #cs fic #ouat ff #ouat fic

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winterune · 5 years

Text

A Natsume Yuujinchou Fanfiction #10 - Because I Love You

Word count: 2778

Summary: Natsume received a chocolate from a girl outside his class, much to his surprise, because he didn’t realize it was Valentine’s Day.

A/N: something I thought about on a whim because I realized I have never written a Valentine’s Day Natsume fic before. It’s been soooo long since I wrote any fic--or written anything for that matter--so I’m sorry if this turns out weird. Not edited or beta’d. Probably going to post a final version later on AO3 or FFN. Also, I wrote this for @epona999 as a late birthday present^^. Hope you’ll like it! And thanks for reading :)

“Natsume-kun!”

Takashi Natsume was walking down the corridor heading back to class in the short break between lessons when a voice called out to him. It was a girl, standing several feet behind him, with long brown hair that draped over her shoulders.

“Yes?” he asked, turning around to directly face her. He had never seen her before.

“U—Umm…” Her eyes flitted in and out of his face, hands hidden behind her back. “It’s just—umm—something I made in cooking class so uh…”

Natsume cocked his head to the side. “Can I help you?”

The girl seemed to shut her eyes and in one smooth motion, shoved something toward his chest, yelling, “This is for you!” before running off and turning around the corner. She was gone in an instant, leaving Natsume blinking in confusion with a small brown bag in his hand.

He held it up and scrutinized the bag with a frown. Cooking class?

Soft snickers around him made him realize he had spectators and dipping his head self-consciously, Natsume made his way quickly back to class.

His classmates’ buzz of conversation reached him before he opened the door. Nishimura, who was sitting by his table, looked up and noticed the bag he was carrying. His eyes widened in surprise.

“What’s that?!” he exclaimed, pointing a finger to the brown bag.

Natsume shrugged. “A girl gave it to me outside.”

“A girl? Seriously?!” His mouth hung open in disbelief.

Natsume frowned at Nishimura’s sudden enthusiasm and eyed the bag suspiciously.

“Let me see that,” Nishimura went on, and without waiting for Natsume’s reply, he’d snatched the bag away. “Cookies,” he commented. He sniffed at it. “And it smells delicious too.”

“She did say she made it in cooking class—”

“Cooking class!” Nishimura exclaimed dramatically. All of a sudden, it was as if all those enthusiastic energy left him and Nishimura deflated on the table beside Natsume’s, head falling on the desk top, his arms hanging limp on his sides. “Ahh I want one.”

Natsume looked at his friend incredulously. What was so good about these cookies? You could buy cookies from the store if you want one.

“You could have them if you want,” he offered.

“Nope. She gave them to you so it’s yours,” his friend said, adamantly handing the brown bag to Natsume.

Still feeling unsure what Nishimura was whining about, Natsume took the bag back, when he heard Kitamoto, who had been silent throughout the exchange, chuckling.

“They’re Valentine Day cookies, Natsume,” Kitamoto explained. “Nishimura’s been nagging since morning that he hasn’t received one.”

“I keep dreaming Taki would come through that door and give me a home-baked chocolate,” Nishimura said.

Valentine’s.

Natsume didn’t realize it was Valentine’s. Ah, now it made sense why the girl seemed fidgety then. But why would she give him one?

Well, at least he understood now why Nishimura seemed somewhat depressed since morning, and seeing his friend now being consoled by Kitamoto, it brought a smile to his face.

***

“Well, that’s a pretty boy to you,” Nishimura grumbled when classes for the day was over and they were gathering their books and things to head home.

Throughout the day, a couple of other girls had approached Natsume—once in class, the other was when the three of them were heading to their lunch spot on the roof—to give him yet another Valentine’s chocolate. Someone had even snuck in and slipped a chocolate box in his desk drawer when he wasn’t in class, so he had a total of four chocolates by the end of the day—five if you include the one from Sasada’s.

Kitamoto and Nishimura had received only one, and that was from Sasada. Kitamoto had accepted it but Nishimura had gotten into a fight over it, saying a chocolate from Sasada didn’t mean anything. Sasada had been tempted to take it back, but Nishimura had immediately apologized since “it’s better than coming home empty-handed”.

Natsume never liked that nickname but he could only smile wryly at it. There was nothing he could do anyway, no reason he could give, not that they were asking for any…probably. Well, what could he say? He certainly didn’t predict this happening.

When they met Tanuma by the front door, just about to slip off his indoor shoes for his outdoor ones, they noticed he was carrying a small plastic bag that no doubt contained the chocolates he’d received that day.

“Damn you pretty boys,” Nishimura muttered under his breath.

Like Natsume, Tanuma could only chuckle to that.

“How many did you get?” Kitamoto asked.

Glancing at the pouting Nishimura slipping on his outdoor shoes, he murmured, “Five. Sasada just gave me one.”

“Same as him, then,” Kitamoto replied.

Tanuma’s eyes shifted to Natsume, though he didn’t look at all surprised. “I’d thought as much.”

“Right?” Kitamoto went on, a grin now plastered from ear to ear. “Despite his quiet demeanor, he’s surprisingly popular with girls.”

“Maybe I should start having a quiet demeanor,” Nishimura piped in.

“Oh, shut it, Nishimura. You still haven’t received one from Taki yet.”

“There’s no guarantee she’s going to give me one.”

“Wait, she hasn’t?” Tanuma asked, genuinely surprised as his hand started rummaging inside his plastic bag. “I’m sure she has one for each of you. I mean, I got one from her—”

“Ah! There you are!”

Before Tanuma could finish speaking, he was interrupted by a voice. They simultaneously looked behind them and there stood Taki, somewhat out of breath, her bag slung over her shoulder had its zipper half opened.

“Good thing I hadn’t missed you,” she said, determinedly walking toward them with a hand fishing inside her bag for what turned out to be a small cute bag filled with cookies. “Here,”—she gave one to Natsume, then to Nishimura, and last to Kitamoto.

A huge sigh escaped her lips. “Sorry, I had stuffs to do all day. It was just because I passed by Tanuma-kun that I remembered to give him the chocolate. Good thing you hadn’t left just now.” Smiling from ear to ear, her hair slightly disheveled from the running she must had done from the upper floor, she said, “Happy Valentine’s Day, guys!”

Natsume and Kitamoto thanked her with grins of their own while Nishimura outright cried. They were left glancing at each other in half smiles as Kitamoto patted Nishimura’s shoulder.

***

“What’s that, Takashi-kun?” Touko-san asked the moment Natsume opened the door and called, “I’m home.” She’d peeked her head from the kitchen doorway and noticed the small bag he’d received from Taki. Feeling embarrassed and self-conscious all at once, Natsume had hidden the chocolates he’d received in his bag. But Taki’s was a last addition and his bag couldn’t take in another chocolate—if he didn’t want it crushed, which he didn’t, since it was what Taki had made herself. So he decided to carry it. When he entered the house, he’d made sure to hide it from view so Touko-san wouldn’t see it, but that plan obviously failed.

“They’re chocolates,” Natsume replied sheepishly. “From a friend.”

“Ah!” Touko-san exclaimed after a moment’s pause, so sudden that it almost made Natsume jump. “It’s Valentine’s, isn’t it? Ah, how that brings back memories. I used to give Shigeru-san chocolates too back then.” A warm smile graced her lips as her eyes looked on some distant memory. “Maybe I’ll make something special for tonight’s dinner. Ooh, how exciting! I haven’t felt this energetic for a while.” Her eyes meeting Natsume, she grinned and said, “Want to help, Takashi-kun?”

Natsume blinked and could only stammer, “Oh, okay,” before his mind could process what Touko-san just said.

Touko beamed from ear to ear. “This’ll be fun! Shigeru-san will be so surprised,” she said gleefully, getting back inside the kitchen. “Put your bag down and don’t forget to wash your hands first, right, Takashi-kun?”

***

“What’s all the ruckus down there?” was Sensei’s way of greeting when Natsume opened the door to his room.

“I’m home, Sensei,” Natsume greeted him back. “It’s rare to see you here so early in the afternoon.”

Sensei ignored the comment, then his eyes spotted the pink bag Natsume was placing on his desk. Eyes wide, ears perked, he took a sniff—it smelled like food. “What’s that?” he asked, sauntering over to Natsume’s desk.

“Cookies,” Natsume replied. “Taki made them.”

At the mention of her name, however, Nyanko-sensei stopped on his tracks, his nose scrunching in disgust. “Taki?” he asked incredulously. “Can that girl even cook?”

“Don’t be like that, Sensei,” Natsume said with a chuckle. He opened the bag and saw star-shaped chocolate cookies inside. He fished one and looked at it carefully. “I’m sure it’s edible.” He took a bite of the cookie, tasting it for a while. The chocolate melt in his mouth, the flavor spreading and coating his tongue, before he gulped it down then tossed the rest of the cookie inside.

“It’s good,” he commented.

“Surprisingly,” added Sensei.

“Want some?” Natsume held a cookie out to the cat, but Nyanko-sensei was looking at it as though he was looking at something out of this world.

“I’d rather have this,” he said, as he rummaged inside Natsume’s bag and held out a box one of the girls had given Natsume. He sniffed at it, and Natsume had to wonder if he could even smell something through the box and wrapping. But apparently he could, since his eyes seemed to gleam so bright when he looked at Natsume and said, “This is from that shop, right? The one you always pass by to and from school?”

Well, Natsume had to say he was impressed. Give it to Nyanko-sensei to be able to spot something so random. There were quite a few stores that sold chocolates at this time of the year. How did he even know which shop this particular box was from?

“You’re going to get fatter, you know, Sensei, and then I have to take you out for a walk again,” Natsume teased even as he took the box from Sensei and began unwrapping it.

“Oh shut up and hurry up and open the box!”

Natsume snickered at his response.

The box had a variety of colorful chocolates in various shapes: hearts, stars, flowers, leaves, or plain simple circles. Without further ado, Nyanko-sensei took one of them and plopped it into his mouth. The instant the chocolate made contact with his tongue, a smile bloomed on his face, eyes shut in bliss.

“You should buy more of this chocolate stuff, Natsume,” Nyanko-sensei said after tossing the third chocolate into his mouth.

“You know chocolate isn’t good for a cat, right?”

“Well, I’m not a cat.”

“All the more so. Isn’t it weird for a great youkai to be so giddy over a little chocolate?”

“Shut it!”

He was eating the fifth one when Natsume snatched the box away. “Don’t eat it all, Sensei! I’m going to save some for Touko-san and Shigeru-san.”

“What’s the problem? You have more than enough for them even if you give me that box.” Sensei made his point more apparent by grabbing the rest of the chocolates from Natsume’s bag and dropping them down on the table. “See? You have—what—six in total?” he said, counting the wrapped boxes and the two bags of cookies. “You can have Taki’s. I’ll have this box. And you’ll still have four more.”

“That’s not the issue here,” Natsume replied with a sigh. “Anyway, no! You’re not having any more before I give some to Shigeru-san and Touko-san, all right?”

Before Nyanko-sensei could protest or snatched any of the boxes for himself, Natsume moved fast and grabbed all the chocolate boxes and bags. Nyanko-sensei scowled and clicked his tongue in irritation.

“Why do you have so many chocolates in the first place?” he asked.

“I guess it’s Valentine’s Day. Girls give chocolates to boys.”

Nyanko-sensei stared at him. “Why?”

Why?

Natsume pondered that question and couldn’t really come to an answer. Though he’d seen his classmates getting rather excited for Valentine’s Day before—like how Nishimura was that day—Natsume himself never really cared about it. None of the families he’d lived before had ever done anything special. In fact, it was the first time he’s ever received a chocolate from anyone.

“I heard it’s the day girls give chocolates to the boys they like,” Natsume responded rather hesitatingly.

Nyanko-sensei’s eyes flitted from the pile of chocolates on Natsume’s arms to his face, then his lips spread into a wide smirk. “Does that mean all those girls like you then?”

It took a moment, two moments, then three, before the statement was rooted into his mind, and he realized then why that girl had been so nervous when she gave him the chocolate. He couldn’t stop the heat from reaching his face.

“W—What are you talking about? Of course not!”

Nyanko-sensei snickered. “You’re blushing.”

“There is what you call friendship chocolate too, Sensei,” Natsume tried not to let Sensei’s words rattle him so much.

“And that is Taki’s chocolate. I believe you have Sasada’s too, right? The others—”

“Anyway!” Natsume cut him off. He wouldn’t let Nyanko-sensei finish that thought. “I don’t know much about it, okay? And Touko-san is waiting for me downstairs to help her with dinner.”

“Even Touko-san,” Natsume heard Nyanko-sensei said absently after a pause as he left his room behind in a hurry. “Sometimes I really don’t understand this holidays you humans have.”

***

Touko-san was already busy with a soup and some side dishes when Natsume entered the kitchen.

“Is that you, Takashi-kun?” she asked without looking from chopping up vegetables. “Can you help me stir the soup over there, please?”

“Okay,” Natsume responded. He put all the chocolates he’d carried on the dining table before heading over the stove. It was then Touko-san looked up with a smile, as if she was about to say something, when she spotted the pile of chocolates on the table.

“Oh!” she exclaimed in surprise.

Natsume noticed the direction of her gaze and, reminded of Nyanko-sensei’s remark, heat immediately rushed to his face again.

“It’s not what you think, Touko-san!” he said quickly. “I received some chocolates and I only wanted to share them with you and Shigeru-san and—”

But Touko-san, who met his gaze, only had a warm smile that touched her eyes.

“What?” she asked, a slight giggle escaping her lips. “I wasn’t going to say anything.” She turned her attention back to the vegetables she was prepping for dinner. “I’m just happy to see you so loved.”

“What?” Natsume turned his head toward Touko-san, surprised at her words.

“Didn’t you know?” she asked. “Valentine’s Day is a day when women show her appreciation and love toward the men in her life. Of course, you can express your love on any other day, but it’s a nice thought, isn’t it? That someone takes their time to buy you or make you something on a special day. Doesn’t that make you feel you’re special to them? That you mean something to someone? Oh, and it goes without saying, too, that this special dinner is not just for Shigeru-san, but for you too, Takashi-kun.”

“For…me?”

Touko-san met his gaze and she nodded, her smile so warm that Natsume felt something squeezing his heart. He could almost hear it—the words unsaid.

Because I love you.

He didn’t know when he had started crying, but he felt the tears in his eyes and tried so hard to hold them back.

Of course he knew that. He knew how kind the Fujiwara couple were to him. Some part of him knew they loved him. It had taken a while for him to see that, but he knew it, though none of them ever explicitly expressed it. From their actions and the way they treated him, he’d learned how much the Fujiwaras cared about him.

His throat felt constricted as he tried to fight back the tears. He couldn’t form any words even as Touko-san gently wiped a tear that had silently slipped through his eyes, rolling down his cheek.

With a last gentle pat, Touko-san then said determinedly, “Let’s finish this quickly before Shigeru-san comes home. It wouldn’t be a surprise now, would it, if he saw us preparing this?”

She got back to chopping the vegetables and Natsume could do nothing but smile at this woman he called his foster mother, the warmth of her hand still lingered on his face.

“Okay,” he said quietly and went back to stirring the soup that already smelled quite delicious.

~ END ~

Thanks for reading! I hope you like it^^

More of my Natsume Yuujinchou fanfiction here.

#natsume yuujinchou #fanfiction #my fanfiction #natsume fanfic #writing #my story #it's been so long since i wrote any fluff :3 #the last natsume fics i wrote are all filled with angst

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matrixaffiliate · 6 years

Text

Glimpsing Happiness

Co-written with @hufflepuffmarlenemckinnon

FFN and AO3

Chapter 6

A hint of a smile still lingered on Sirius’s lips after Sister Marlene uttered her last clever retort and bid him goodnight at shift change.

It occurred to him that he had no reason to be smiling. He was still dreadfully ill, and missing one of his more vital senses. He hated this whole experience and everything that went with them. Sister Marlene included. She was certainly not a reason for him to smile.

Except, he was sure he had been smiling a moment ago while they traded mild barbs. He may have been blind but he could still feel the expressions on his own face.

...was he… flirting with her? Why would he flirt with a woman who could be a complete hag for all he knew?

“Idiot,” He mumbled at himself.

Rationally he knew it was some sort of reflex he’d developed. He wasn’t sure he could turn off the flirtatious edge that must have been part of his interaction with just about anyone who was receptive to it. Apparently he didn’t even need functional vision to pick up on who was receptive. Sister Marlene was definitely receptive to the playful back and forth.

That had to have been it. There was no more to it than that.

There was, of course, more to the reason he developed the reflex. But that was immaterial. Mostly…

He had the hardest time pushing thoughts of Reg from his mind. His younger brother who’d been the son his mother wanted. His younger brother… who he failed to save…

His charm and good looks were the only thing he had that Regulus didn’t. Though Sirius had been born before the royal family of Saxony were forced out, and Regulus after, it was always Reg who would have made a better prince. His mother had never failed to point that out.

Sirius had to learn to play things to his advantage. He managed to sweet talk and flirt his way into and out of all sorts of scenarios. He fell back on those tools, when he didn’t know what else to do. That was an occupational hazard of being the unfavored son. He needed to make use of what he had.

But really, it meant nothing. He shook his head and rearranged the smile on his face into a more neutral expression.

He really had nothing to be smiling about. He’d heard references to the British Expeditionary Force work as the “Phoney War”, so called because aside from attacking the Naval Base in Scapa Flow, the Germans seemed content to make France and England wait.

Sirius pressed his head back into his pillow and scrunched his eyes shut before laughing at the irony of his actions. Why were the two countries willing to stand by and let Hitler march around Europe? Had they already forgot the Great War?

Where was James? James could talk him down from all this. He always did. James helped him to remember how people did stupid things when they were afraid. James grounded him, he always had. But James was still in France, probably spending his time writing Lily and then doing everything he could to keep his men in shape. That was a battle within itself.

He'd complained about it in his last letter to Uncle Alphard. Did he even get to read it? Sirius tried to breathe through the tightness in his chest. He'd done the math and Sirius couldn't be sure, the letter would have arrived within a day either side of his passing. All he was sure of, was that Uncle Alfie was gone, and the doctors blamed it on his wounds from the bombing and sinking of the Royal Oak, his ship, his favorite ship, actually. Of all the battleships his uncle had been assigned, he'd told Sirius the Royal Oak was his favorite. It was all rather poetic really. Uncle Alphard didn't go down with his ship because he was saving members of his crew. But when the saving was finished, he followed her to the grave.

All he could do now was try to be a man his Uncle would have been proud of. Uncle Alfie had always had faith in him, Sirius reminded himself before settling in to try to go to sleep.

At least in his dreams he’d be able to see.

“Good morning Captain. Where did you pick up German profanity?”

“Sister Marlene. You’re starting your intrusive questions early today. Maybe I just appreciate how angry the language of our enemy sounds. Would that explanation suffice?”

“If you want to lie to me, sure…. In any case, it looks like you’ve got post.”

“Looking forward to snooping through more of my mail, are you?”

“Yes, it’s what it live for” Marlene’s tone dripped with sarcasm.

“Who’s it from? Prongsie again? One of my various and sundry admirers?” He added, in a calculated move.

Sister Marlene should know that this was just how he was. He had girls who thought they were in love with him in nearly every county in the South. She wasn’t special. He didn’t even know what she looked like. He tried not to dwell on that fact, but mostly failed in the process.

“It’s from a Mrs. Tonks. Are you seeing a married woman, Captain? Scandalous!”

“She’s my cousin! It’s not like that… I was never on board with all the… cousin matches… my family was ever so fond of.” He had to quickly correct himself to edit out to the more vulgar phrase ‘cousin-fucking’ though deep down he thought Sister Marlene would be amused with the wording rather than offended.

“Fine, fine. I’ll just have to take you at your word there. Shall I read Mrs. Tonk’s letter?”

“By all means. Dromsy is great.”

“Alright then here goes. ‘Dearest Baby Cos, I’ve just received your letter.’ I don’t remember sending a letter to Mrs. Tonks, was this the one Mary wrote?”

“Lovely to know the lot of you have been talking about me behind my back. Yes. That was the day you cruelly abandoned me.”

He was definitely putting on a show, and he didn’t quite understand why, but he also resigned himself to his inability to stop it. This was just who he was.

“Sister Mary happens to be my roommate. We’ve been best friends since we were children. I don’t make a habit of gossiping about you with Miss Fig and Doctor Dodge”

“Well that’s too bad. I was going to see what I could get out of them about you.” He attempted to wink but it probably looked incredibly stupid because he had only the vaguest notion as to where Sister Marlene was relative to him in the room. He resolved not to do that again.

“You’re really insufferable, you know that? I’m going to go on with your letter so as not to undo all my hard work by killing you myself. So she says ‘I’m so sorry to hear of your illness. I do so hope you recover quickly. If I have the opportunity to visit, and the doctors say it’s safe to come with little Dora, I’d like to visit you before you’re sent back to the thick of it.

Speaking of little Dora, she’s gotten quite good with her letters and she’d love to write you a letter herself one day soon. I told her we could hold off on that until you had regained your vision. (So you can fully appreciate her penmanship and all.)

I have it on good authority that my daughter will have a cousin of her own sometime this year. No, the rumors about our dear Bella are still not true, as far as I know. But it does seem that Cissy has fallen pregnant with Malfoy’s heir.’”

Sirius heard Marlene’s throat clearing and regretted agreeing to hear the letter. His family was none of this girl’s business. Droms was like to speak freely and it was all very uncomfortable subject matter, outside the select few who’d experienced it along with him.

Her pause lasted just a hair too long. He knew she was reading ahead and was taking in all the sordid details of his Nazi family and feeling disgusted by him.

For a moment he felt glad he couldn’t see the look on her face. He hated watching people be disappointed with him. He’d gotten quite enough of that from his mother, thanks. He gathered his resolve and nodded to Sister Marlene in hopes she’d get on with it.

“‘It pains me that I had to learn this through the grapevine. I was once so close with our Cissy. She was such a sweet girl. But I can’t support her choice to follow her husband into the pits of hell itself. I still haven’t corresponded with her since before the wedding. I don’t think it’s likely to change.

I know it must be just as painful for you, being one of us white sheep of the Blacks. Now that our beloved Uncle Alfie has gone there’s just the two of us. I want you to know, Baby Cos, that I am here if you need me. I’m your family. The rest of them might be licking Hitler’s vile fascist boots, but you know me. If you ever need a home, you have one here with Ted and me.

I miss you ever so much and hope to see you soon. More than that, I hope you can see me soon as well!’

There was a silence. If he had to guess what the sound he heard was, he would say it was Sister Marlene sucking air in through her clenched teeth. But perhaps that was only his own projections. This was right and properly awkward. He would be avoiding eye contact if he had the faculties to do so.

So then it’s signed; ‘Your older and wiser cos,

Dromsy’’”

The silence went on too long. Sirius felt compelled to say something. Anything. Just to prove to himself that she hadn’t up and left.

“Uh… so… I guess this makes my lie about the German profanities especially flagrant.”

He heard a small and sad sounding little chuckle from Sister Marlene.

“I suppose it does. Don’t worry, Captain Black. It wasn’t as if I believed you anyhow. Besides, the King has more German blood than the Germans themselves. I can’t really hold your family against you while loving my King and country, can I?”

“Yeah. His Majesty is something like a 2nd cousin once removed? We’re all cousins, really, if you go back far enough. It’s properly disgusting.”

“So you really don’t go in for the cousin fucking?”

Sirius felt his jaw drop. Had she really just said that? He really wished he could see the look on her face right as she said it. Was she smiling, knowingly? Was she playing it totally neutral as if she hadn’t said a word that would make the poor sweet cat lady, Miss Fig, blush?

He chided himself for letting his mind wander back to Marlene’s appearance. It was such an unknown though, that it gnawed at him to not know. He wondered if it would help to invent a picture of her in his head as a placeholder. He concentrated, but couldn’t come up with an image of a girl who didn’t look something like some combination of the girl from Kent who’d been surprisingly leggy for her height, and the one lass with the curly blonde hair from Cork. This was not helping anything at all.

Sirius realized that he’d been in silent awe for far too long. He blinked his annoyingly useless eyes a few too many times and made himself speak.

“Sister Marlene! I held my tongue before and you went on ahead and said it.”

He put on a tone of being scandalized, but he was sure his amusement was transparent. He knew she was the type of broad to appreciate a diverse vocabulary. He was glad she’d proved him right.

“I could hear you thinking it.”

“You’ve read me like a book. Credit where credit is due…”

Her laugh was real this time. The sound was music to Sirius’s ears. His stomach began to settle in from the wave of anxiety. No one was going to call him a traitor or a Nazi today.

#blackinnon #sirius x marlene #sirius black x marlene mckinnon #sirius black #marlene mckinnon #WWIIAU #harry potter fanfiction #jily #writing #hp

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ocean-tumbled-pebbles · 6 years

Text

What if Happy Internet Cafe was a Cosplay Internet Cafe?

Fanfic slightly edited from my submission for the June fanfic contest on the discord server! I now have a FFN account and AO3 pending lol. Feedback and comments welcome~

Prompt: Ye Xiu has retired from Glory and departs Excellent Era but doesn’t head to Happy Internet Cafe and become a night manager.

Summary: In which Happy is a cosplay/internet cafe, Ye Xiu is a pro player magnet, and Chen Guo is a shrewd businesswoman

Tags: All叶, allye, cosplay, crossdressing, crackfic, tw minor sexual harassment, help i dont know how chinese money works, timeline is slightly off, let’s play spot the author’s favorite anime characters

(1)

Ye Xiu leant back languidly in his chair, his arms stretching out and coming to rest behind his head. “I feel that I match all of the qualifications, and work and pay aren’t a problem. So how about it?”

Chen Guo eyed him up and down. “Stand up.”

Ye Xiu took the time to stretch out his legs before lazily getting to his feet. Chen Guo circled him like a vulture coming upon a juicy piece of meat, muttering comments to herself.

“Hmm, he’s a little bit tall, but has pretty delicate features.” She crouched down to inspect his legs. “Long legs, not too much muscle....” She circled over to look at his back side. “Hmmm...”

Suddenly Ye Xiu felt a Smack! across his buttocks.

“Um...!” Ye Xiu yelped and rubbed his abused backside.

Chen Guo covered her mouth and snickered. “Oh, you’ll do.”

“Haha..?”

“So which shift do you want?” she asked.

“Night shift is fine!” Ye Xiu figured that he’d avoid the crowds and make some extra money. He didn’t mind switching his sleep schedule and he had always been pretty good at pulling all-nighters, thinking back to his time playing Glory all night long with Su Muqiu.

“Absolutely not!”

“Oh?” Were all the night shift posts taken?

“It’d be a waste to have a good looking guy like you take the night shift! If you want a less busy time you can take either the morning or the evening shift! Pretty boys like you need their beauty sleep!” Chen Guo explained.

Ye Xiu sweatdropped. “Uhh... Okay.... I guess I’ll take the evening shift then.”

Chen Guo clapped her hands together and gestured for him to follow her. “Great! You’ll work from 4 until 10. You get a break at 7 to eat. Most customers only come to use the computers, but if they need any help or want to order food they’ll ring the service bell. We offer special service if they order from us, which is that they can request you to do something, within reason. This usually means saying a line or doing a pose, so do your best to please the customer, alright?”

“Hmm?” Ye Xiu blinked. Wait. What was that last sentence?

“We’ll start you off easy, but we’ll want to take advantage of your good genes later. We’ll let you have a trial period tonight, but you can start officially as soon as tomorrow.” She started rummaging through a closet in the back room. She finally pulled out some folded clothing in a box that Ye Xiu assumed was the uniform. “You’re about the same height as xiao Li, so this should fit you. I’ll show you the employee locker rooms!”

In front of the locker rooms, Chen Guo shoved the clothes she was holding into his arms.

“Try it on!”

Ye Xiu looked into the box. “Uh, boss, this... is your uniform?”

“You’re chickening out now?” She smacked his back. “You signed up for this, remember? How can we be Happy Cosplay Internet Cafe, the only cosplay internet cafe in all of China, without the cosplay?!”

Ye Xiu almost choked. “Cosplay?”

Chen Guo face palmed. “Have you been paying attention to your surroundings at all? Or at least been listening to me explaining your work?”

Ye Xiu looked around. At a second glance, it turned out that all the staff were wearing costumes of some sort. He had been so focused on getting out of the cold he really hadn’t noticed it!

He’d probably give a bad impression if he admitted he hadn’t been listening to his new boss though, so he coughed and said, “I’ll go change now.”

If he came out with a slight flush in his cheeks, it was a small matter. Well, maybe not, since Chen Guo had squealed and promptly whipped out her camera and begun snapping pictures of him to post on her Weibo. She gave him a big grin and a thumbs up.

“We’ll give you proper training with wigs and make up later. Can’t wait to have you crossdress~!”

A look of horror passes over Ye Xiu’s face. Just what did he sign up for?

(2) Su Mucheng

Dancing Rain: Big bro, you doing alright?

Lord Grim: dw, I got a job!

Dancing Rain: lol who would hire you. Your only skill is gaming

Dancing Rain: you should go back to my place! I’ll provide for you, and you can be my housewife!

Lord Grim: ...

Lord Grim: that was mean.

Dancing Rain: where did you get a job?

Lord Grim: Happy Internet Cafe!

Dancing Rain: you mean that cosplay cafe across the street?

Lord Grim: ...

Dancing Rain: omg are you in cosplay rn???

Lord Grim: ...

Dancing Rain: im coming over

Lord Grim: dont.

Lord Grim: mucheng im warning you

Lord Grim: It’s an internet cafe. What if you get mobbed?

Dancing Rain: dw im good at disguises!

It turned out that Mucheng’s “disguise” consisted of a pair of glasses, a hat, and a face mask. Yup, real subtle Mucheng. Everyone was thinking that, but no one dared approach. Why would Su Mucheng even go to an internet cafe across the street from Excellent Era after all? When Chen Guo took her id card, she nearly started screaming, but was quieted by a wink and shushing finger sign. Through the power of fangirling and selfies, Mucheng was able to obtain the whole second floor to herself, as well as Ye Xiu as her personal server. He was currently dressed in a simple school blazer with a blood red wig. Mucheng was snapping pics of him left and right.

Ye Xiu sweatdropped. “You better not post these.”

“I know,” she said plainly. “These are for my personal enjoyment. Besides, I’m supposed to get a ‘special service’ with my ice cream. So keep still while I take more photos.”

Later Chen Guo dreamily asked him, “Hey, do you think Su Mucheng will come again? Should I build a private room for her? I should build a private room for her.”

Ye Xiu sweatdropped again. Hey, don’t ask me if you’ve already decided.

(3) Huang Shaotian

Tang Rou thought that Huang Shaotian was a creep when he showed up outside around 10pm and covered in scarves, so she went to go get Chen Guo.

“Old Ye!” He whisper yelled, tiptoeing through the door. “Where the hell are you?”

Ye Xiu poked him in the back and the blond puppy jumped five feet in the air. “I’m right here.”

“Shit! You’re Old Ye?!” Huang Shaotian spluttered disbelievingly. To be fair, Ye Xiu was crossdressing, but you’d think that Huang Shaotian would have noticed him.

The short flouncy skirt of the black and white school uniform dress along with the mismatching colorful socks showed off his mile long legs wonderfully, and the orange wig with green highlights had pigtails that framed his handsome face. He was taller than a real girl, with slightly sharper angles, but all in all, he looked really good crossdressing.

“How could you? After all these years of friendship, you’ve forgotten me so soon?” Ye Xiu said in mock sadness.

“Nononono! That’s not it at all! I haven’t forgotten you though maybe I should seeing as you’re an old man dressing up as a girl that is not that you’re some creep or anything but just that you’ve retired and such but I promise I haven’t forgotten you after all you’re probably my best friend after Captain and all of the Blue Rain players and - Hey! Why are you leaving?!”

Ye Xiu turned in the general direction of the word explosion and shrugged. “It’s the end of my shift. I’m going to change.” And he sauntered off toward the back room to change into more comfortable clothes.

Shaotian sneakily grabbed his phone to snag a picture. He grinned down at the photo evidence of the battle god crossdressing.

“There he is, that’s the creep!” Tang Rou had come back with Chen Guo in tow.

“F-shit! I’m not a creep! That Old Ye invited me!”

Chen Guo and Tang Rou looked at each other. A stalker?

“I’m going to have to see your ID.”

Some selfies and monetary transactions later, Huang Shaotian and Ye Xiu were in the private room running through the plan on the boneyard record.

“Hey Old Ye, it says that if I order some food, I can get special service. I’m going to make you PK with me!”

“Not happening.” Ye Xiu refused plainly.

“Why not?! PKPKPK!”

“Because it’s not my shift.” Ye Xiu wasn’t obligated to do anything for anyone right now. He was also tired after a long day taking requests from customers and didn’t want to deal with Shaotian’s shit right now. The boss had also given him a strict bedtime of 1am at the latest and he wanted to get in all of his dungeon runs before then.

“...”

Ye Xiu suddenly felt a chill down his back. Shaotian being silent? Never a good thing.

The next day at 4 pm.

“OLD YE!” A blond fluffball came flying at Ye Xiu. Ye Xiu tumbled to the ground under the unexpected tackle.

“Oh god.”

“PKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPKPK!”

Six hours later...

“Boss, please kick him out.” Ye Xiu was disheveled and exhausted, pale and looking like he was about to collapse.

Chen Guo paused from counting the money Huang Shaotian had spent on reserving the private room and repeatedly ordering food with service for 6 hours. “....Hmm? What did you say?”

(3.5) All Star Weekend

“Ye Xiu! You’re really Ye Qiu?”

“...Yes.”

“Dammit! We should have charged Huang Shaotian more!”

“...”

(4) Ye Qiu

For the Lunar New Year, it turned out that Ye Qiu had found out he had retired from Excellent Era and was now working at Happy.

“Brother,” he tutted, “Come home for New Years. Do you even have a place to stay?”

“I’m going to work over time!” He just wanted to avoid going home over the holiday and play Glory all day.

“Fine, then I’m going to stay too.”

“Go home little brother. Unless... the boss has been wanting to do twin cosplays...”

“Happy New Year, I have to go attend to mother and little dot! Let me know when you’re coming back already! Bye!” In a flash, Ye Qiu was out the door.

Chen Guo came out of the back room holding a box of costumes. “Why did he leave? I had the cutest matching cosplays for you two!”

(5) Yu Wenzhou

“Captain Yu! What are you doing here?” Ye Xiu was so surprised to see Yu Wenzhou turn up one day that his half and half red and white wig almost fell off.

Yu Wenzhou was disguised in naught but a pair of dark sunglasses. Since Huang Shaotian had turned up the other time, more and more Blue Rain fans had been coming to Happy to see if they could catch a glimpse of their idol. Seeing the captain himself, of course some Yu Wenzhou fans crowded around to see if they could get an autograph. But as they approached, suddenly an ice cold aura appeared, and the fans decided it would probably be a good idea to back off.

“Hello Senior.” The blue-haired captain greeted amiably. “I came to see you in your new place of work.”

A slender hand came up to readjust his wig. “... I meant, how did you find me here?”

Yu Wenzhou smiled and merely handed him a thick wad of cash. “Let’s discuss this in the private room, shall we?”

So Ye Xiu led him up the stairs and Yu Wenzhou explained over coffee and biscuits. “Several weeks ago, Shaotian disappeared after the match with Excellent Era, and later claimed that he wanted to stay in Hangzhou for an extra day to visit family. He has no family in Hangzhou, so of course he must’ve been visiting someone other than family. He clearly lied about it, and as such it couldn’t have been anyone he would publically visit.”

He took another sip of his coffee. “The night he disappeared also happened to be the day the boneyard record was broken by Lord Grim and a swordsman Flowing Tree. Lord Grim is infamous in the tenth server with his technical skill, and he started in the tenth server around the time when you retired. Of course, I had a sneaking suspicion it was you, but Shaotian’s disappearance confirmed it. When he returned after his one day visit to ‘family’ he was in a surprisingly good mood and kept snickering at his phone. Naturally, I confisticated it and searched through the contents. Did you know he had this picture of you on it?”

He held up his phone and Ye Xiu saw that there was a picture of him crossdressing, shot from the back as he walked away to change clothes. It was slightly blurry, as it was dark, and Ye Xiu was surprised (but not that surprised) to know that Yu Wenzhou could recognize him even though the view was from the back and he had been in costume.

“That little brat!” Ye Xiu exclaimed. “Who would take advantage of such a good-looking guy like me, taking pictures of me on the sly?”

Yu Wenzhou put the picture away, ignoring the self-proclaimed ‘good-looking’ god. Ye Xiu noted that he didn’t delete the picture though. Wenzhou continued with his explanation. “When I saw this, I knew immediately that Shaotian had not gone to visit family but had rather gone to visit you at your workplace. A quick search of cosplay cafe and Hangzhou turned up this place. Did you know that this is the only cosplay internet cafe in China?”

“...Your deductive work is too scary Captain Yu.” Ye Xiu sighed. “So what did you hope to gain by coming here?”

Yu Wenzhou gave a little smile. “I was hoping to perhaps chat about some tactics and maybe play a match or two.”

Ye Xiu cracked his knuckles and began stretching out his arms in preparation. “It’ll be 100 yuan for each match, and you’ll need to buy food for any other requests.”

Yu Wenzhou tilted his head. “Hmm?”

“Boss’s rules.”

“Ah.”

(6) Zhang Xinjie and Han Wenqing

When Han Wenqing and Zhang Xinjie came to Happy Cosplay Internet Cafe one evening, they didn’t even bother disguising themselves despite being in the midst of Excellent Era territory, in fact, literally across the street from their so-called rivals.

A whisper chorus of boos echoed up from the computers. The quiet protest was quickly vanquished with the signature Han Wenqing GlareTM, resulting in the offenders groveling on the floor, offering their wallets as penitence.

All the commotion brought Chen Guo over. She reflexively wanted to jump back when he turned his gaze to her, but she held her ground and offered, “What can Happy Cosplay Internet Cafe do for you today, God Han, God Zhang?”

“Where’s Ye Qiu?”

Zhang Xinjie smoothed out the conversation. “We would like to rent out the private room and talk with Senior Ye if possible.”

“It’s 200 yuan per match and you need to order food for any other requests. The private room has a lock. Ye Xiu can let you in.”

Han Wenqing picked up a wallet off the floor, and dropped it on the counter, much to the dismay of one unfortunate booer.

“Yo Old Han.” Today Ye Xiu was dressed in a cute sailor themed idol costume with a long dark colored wig. He gave a mock salute. “Never thought I’d see the two of you here in a cosplay cafe in Excellent Era territory no less.”

“Never thought I’d see you here crossplaying at an internet cafe across the street from Excellent Era after having retired no less,” the older player spat back.

“Let’s go upstairs and fight in the arena instead of in the lobby, Captain, Senior.”

Ye Xiu laughed and led the two of them to the stairs. “You first.”

Zhang Xinjie, feeling that it was out of character for Ye Xiu to be polite asked, “Why don’t you go first, senior?”

“Gasp, Xiao Zhang! How perverted! You want to peek under my skirt as I go up the stairs, don’t you?”

Xinjie turned all shades of red and blurted, “That wasn’t it at all!”

Han Wenqing was not amused. “If we wanted a peek we would just lift it up. Now show me that unspecialized character of yours.” He began pushing Ye Xiu up the stairs.

“Ooh how brazen, Old Han.”

(7) Tiny Herb

Business at Happy was booming. Not only was Chen Guo obtaining more business from users hoping to see their favorite pro player, but she was able to charge the visiting pro players exorbitant amounts and they would gladly pay to play with Ye Xiu. Using the extra money, Chen Guo was able to upgrade the private room upstairs to include a full row of new computers and a comfy couch and coffee table.

The upgrades were a good investment. How else would the entire Tiny Herb pro team be able to fit comfortably into the room?

“Order whatever food you want. The club will pay for it. Don’t forget to think of your requests. You can ask him to do anything reasonable, so make sure you learn from this opportunity.”

“Yes Captain!”

Ye Xiu sighed. Today he was wearing a black and white sailor style girl’s school uniform, along with a short brown wig and white cap. He also had a staff and a stuffed animal to complete the cosplay, but they were too annoying to carry around while playing. “I left Excellent Era so that I didn’t have to be a training partner...” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that senior?” Wang Jiexi blinked his uneven eyes.

“Nothing, nothing. Just a reminder that it’s 300 yuan per person per match and that I require a break between matches. Oh, I know. While you’re waiting for me, you can fight Xiao Tang. I’m coaching her!” He gave a big thumbs up.

The whole ordeal was like one huge party with food and fun and Glory. Tang Rou despite getting utterly smashed bravely continued to fight, earning the respect of Tiny Herb. Ye Xiu then proceeded to crush them all in return. It was a bit depressing to think that all of them combined had still been trounced by a single guy dressed like an elementary school girl.

“Thank you Senior Ye!” exclaimed one Gao Yingjie on the way out.

“Yes. Thank you for your guidance Senior Ye. I hope to be like you someday.” echoed Qiao Yifan.

Ye Xiu patted both on the head. It was nice to see rookies with such enthusiasm. “You two have a lot to learn, but you also have a lot of potential. Keep working hard. And Yifan, why don’t you think about what I said?”

‘Why don’t you try out a Ghostblade! It would suit you!’ Yifan kept thinking of this phrase over and over again walking out of the internet cafe, such that he almost bumped into Chen Guo.

“Woah! Careful there.” She steadied him on his feet. “You know, you’re pretty cute.” Chen Guo handed Yifan a business card. “If you ever need a job or even a side job, you should contact me! I have some cute cosplays that would be perfect for you!”

Yifan almost choked. When he said he wanted to be like Senior Ye, he didn’t mean it that way!

(8) Jiang Botao

“So what brings you here by yourself?”

“Senior Ye! Please grant me a request!” Jiang Botao bowed deeply at a 90 degree angle.

“No need to be so formal,” Ye Xiu laughed. “As long as you buy something from here, I’ll be willing to hear you out.”

Jiang Botao ordered a What a Big One ice cream cone. “Sooo...” he started nervously, “ummm.... Please... Allow me to record a message from you to captain!”

“Oh? To Xiao Zhou? What would you like me to say?”

“Please say, ‘Zhou Zekai, Jiayou!’ a-and then umm, please blow a kiss!”

“Hoho? Well, alright get your camera ready!”

Jiang Botao aimed the camera at him portrait-wise, making sure to capture the full picture of Ye Xiu in a purple accented swimsuit and blue and white jacket covering his shirtless torso. He didn’t need a wig this time, but settled for some styling with gel to achieve the character’s likeness.

Ye Xiu grinned, not caring that it was out of character for the cosplay. “Xiao Zhou, Jiayou! Keep working hard!” He winked saucily and blew a kiss.

Jiang Botao was so grateful he kept thanking Ye Xiu over and over again and insisted on giving him extra cash. “For the wink! Please keep it for the wink!”

Later...

“Captain! Please make an effort to connect more with the rookies! They’re all intimidated by your silence!”

“...”

“If you coordinate well with them and get into the playoffs I’ll give you this!” Jiang Botao pressed a button on his phone, playing the video.

“Xiao Zhou, Jiayou! Keep working hard!” *Wink* *kiss*

Zhou Zekai stared at the little screen. “Want... Senior...”

“If you want it, please make an effort to get along!”

Zhou Zekai nodded emphatically.

“If we do well this season, we can go visit him later!”

Zhou Zekai was already walking out the door.

(9) Happy

“God Ye! Is it true that you initially worked as a staff member for Happy Internet Cafe?” Cameras flashed during the press conference following the Challenger League.

Chen Guo butted in, “It’s Happy Cosplay Internet Cafe. Get your facts right!”

“God Ye! Is it true that you engaged in crossplay?”

“It’s not that bad when you get used to it! Besides, my boss says I should show off my ‘legs for days.’”

“God Ye! Is it true that the other members of Happy cosplay as well?”

Chen Guo again interrupted. “At this time I would like to announce the limited edition release of our new cosplay photobook. It includes both group and individual cosplay photos of all of Team Happy. This limited edition will also include a section of Captain Ye’s best cosplays and a new cosplay as One Autumn Leaf. The photobooks will be on sale starting at midnight tonight and will cost 800 yuan. Proceeds will go to the development of Team Happy and also Ye Xiu’s costume repertoire. Thank you for your patronage.”

All the reporters gossipped among themselves. The males complained it was way too expensive, more than double the price of other costume books, but were quite sorely tempted by the One Autumn Leaf photo. The females wanted to see those legs for days.

The clubs were some of the first to buy the books when they came on sale. When questioned why they wanted to help the enemy the teams merely said, for research. Yeah, for research.

And so, Team Happy became the most influential team in the alliance for the sole reason of Ye Xiu fangirling.

//End notes: *sweating* Yeah this totally fits the prompt. “Ye Xiu has retired from Glory and departs Excellent Era but doesn’t head to Happy Internet Cafe and become a night manager.” Hahaha *runs away*//

#fanfiction #mine #my writing #the king's avatar #qzgs #allye #cosplay #crackfic #drabblesandwriting

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