#The cake carrier I put it in was too short so it got a little smoshed and the topping came off a little :(

[peppermintmochafem]

okay so I totally didnt 🫣

Attempting to live up to my url and girboss femme reputation and bake a peppermint mocha cake between meetings for one of my lovers birthday wish me luck that it turns out good 🫶🏻

[dyinglikenarcissus]

Chapter 3. An Engagement for the Stars

5k words

Warnings: 18+ only. None really. Steve sees reader naked for the first time

There are some perks to dating a mob boss; private jets and first class seats, Michelin Star restaurants, expensive gifts. But the full production for your meet cute video had to take the cake. Steve has an area blocked off along the Hudson River that was just scenic enough that you would film b-roll there. There were hired extras to wander around and make it look real. Divers to ensure the journey of your phone once it hit the water. You didn’t need all of this but he wanted it to look as believable as possible. You guess movies are pretty believable when they aren’t over done.

You shiver under your coat while hair and makeup are done for you. You just flew back from Tokyo so you appreciated the early morning call time but it was freezing out in New York City. The two of you ‘met’ at the end of summer so now you had to dress like it was the end of summer with shorts and a light blouse. Steve was in a cotton polo and slacks, his arms wrapped around you while your lashes were done. He was like a furnace and you happily take his warmth.

“Alright, how’s that look?” You don’t even bother taking the mirror. Steve’s been your personal style critic.

He pulls his lips to the side as he scrutinizes your makeup. “Beautiful,” he finally smiles making you giggle. “You do good work. Thank you.” The make up artist nods and walks off leaving the two of you alone.

Steve pulls you into his coat while you go over the performance one more time.

“Do we do a dress rehearsal or do we just go for it?” Steve asks, rubbing his hands up and down your arms to warm you.

“Let’s just do it!” You grin up at him. You seal the new phone you got after you met Steve in a plastic bag and start filming a normal story time. You start going on about how you met Thor Odinson and walk along the water’s edge. It’s amazing there isn’t a railing or anything here…

Steve bumps into you on queue, sending your bagged phone flying over the edge of the rail and into the water.

“Shit! I’m so sorry!” Steve apologizes and steadies you by gripping your shoulders as the phone sinks.

You gasp softly and look up at him. He really is gorgeous. If this was actually how you met, you’d fall for him instantly.

Divers rush after it to ‘eat it’ with a fake fish and Sam calls ‘cut’ from his spot by the cars but the two of you are a little wrapped up in each other.

“You’re not going to jump in after it?” You ask the blond as your coat is brought to wrap over your shoulders and Steve’s is handed to him.

“I’m not getting in that water,” he laughs.

“If you really loved me you’d go get it,” you joke.

“I already paid someone to do it for me,” he counters.

“Trying to buy my affection?”

“Is it working?” Steve grins before tugging coat securely around you. “Let’s go home. It’s too cold out here for you.” You nod and tuck yourself back under his coat while the whole production wraps up around you. Sam hands you back your phone just as Bucky meets you at the car with Jethro in his arms.

“Was he a good boy for you?” You ask taking the cat.

“He was the best boy,” Bucky coos scratching him under his chin, making the cat purr for him.

Who knew getting him around all these hardened men would make him so docile?

“You two heading home?” Sam asks

“Yeah, I’m going to get her settled and take a nap.”

“We have that thing tomorrow,” Bucky grunts as you put Jethro back in his carrier.

“Right. Shit...Hey, star? You wanna go to this benefit opera art gallery whatever tomorrow? It’s for the kids or the rain forest or something?”

“It’s a Broadway production of Carmen for the refugees,” Sam explains rolling his eyes at Steve. “You don’t know what you’re donating to?”

“I know ten percent has to go or the feds will be up my ass. That’s what I know,” Steve smiles.

“I’ll go,” you smile and slide into the car.

“She’ll go,” Steve shrugs. “Go home. Get some sleep.” He instructs his friends before following you into the car.

“This is it,” Steve sighs placing Jethro’s carrier on the floor of a posh penthouse.

“It’s huge! It’s the whole floor? You live here all alone?” You ask in succession while opening Jethro’s carrier. He lets out a soft meow.

“Don’t worry, little man. I have you all set up in your mom’s room.”

“I have my own room?”

“Of course, star. I’m not going to make you sleep on the couch. It’s the whole floor. Sam and Bucky live downstairs. It’s the Manhattan place. I prefer the place in Brooklyn but what can you do?”

“How many houses do you have?”

“Fuck if I know. You’d have to ask Sammy. He deals with the finances.”

Wow. You can’t even imagine having so many homes you can’t even count them.

“You want a tour?” You nod and take his hand. There’s a kind of old world charm to the space. Like it was designed in the height of the art deco movement. Hand carved moulding and velvet textured walls decorate every room. Not to mention the furniture! Everything was gilded in gold and elaborate. There was nothing modern or simple about it. The building was obviously new with a car elevator in the garage and modern amenities so rent alone must cost a fortune. Decorating must have been another pile of cash on top of that!

“This is amazing,” you whisper as he shows you the dining room. Tall chairs surround an imposing table all framed by an enormous fire place.

“Thanks,” Steve laughs.

“Let me guess, Sam decorated too?”

“No, this was all me.”

“Really? You’re kinda stuck in the past, huh?”

“It was a simpler time,” he shrugs. “The old boss used to always called me a ‘man out of time’. I never really understood it until the decorator called my style ‘pre war’. Like World War II war,” he laughs at the statement. “I guess it is.”

“It definitely is,” you giggle. He pulls you off to an unassuming walnut door. It looked the same as all the others but he let you take the lead this time. “Is this me?”

“This is you.”

You can’t say you aren’t disappointed that the rest of the style doesn’t spill into your designated space but you would never really feel comfortable in that. Steve seemed to translate your style pretty well.

Clean lines, simple designs, a lot of grays, pinks, and blues. Yeah. You could live here. But the design doesn’t catch your eyes as much as the walls do.

You let out a delighted noise and point the the fixtures. “Is that for Jethro?” Steve nods and sits on the bed. You squeal and run over to the cat jungle gym attached to the wall. There’s tunnels and bridges, ladders and a running wheel all affixed to one wall and circling the ceiling.

“He’s going to love this. Thank you,” you smile stepping between his legs and resting your forehead to his.

“What about you? Do you think you’ll be comfortable?”

“I’ll survive, I guess,” you sigh with an air of disappointment.

“What can I fix?” He asks.

“That it’s all in New York,” you laugh. Steve just shakes his head at you and pulls you into a gentle kiss.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he mutters and kisses you once more. “Your bags are probably already in the closest. Get some rest, alright?” Steve holds your hips and moves you out of the way as he stands up.

“Wait. Where’s your room?”

“Double doors at the end of the hall,” he instructs while walking away.

You nod after him as he disappears out the open door.

-

“Get ready with me for the opera with my -eeek- fiancé! It’s still so fun to call him that. So, a lot of you have been asking how we met and it’s kind of a crazy story. I know you won’t believe it but I was actually able to get the video off of my phone because it uploaded to the iCloud!” You recount the manufactured tale while applying your make up at the bathroom vanity. It felt weird not to do this while sitting on the floor in front of your bed but you were going to take all the luxury amenities Steve was offering.

“So, anyway here’s my dress!” You hold up the designer dress you went to pick up that morning for the camera. “And I was thinking these shoes,” you hold up a pair that your brought with you. “But I just got this matching clutch and these shoes today,” you hold up another option. “Let me know your favorite in the comments! And as promised, the footage from that fateful day.”

You stop the video and sigh. You did a really good job on your on eye shadow for once. You'll have to remember this technique for next time. You admire it for a moment just as Steve walks in. Your eyes widen slightly at how good he looks in his navy suit. Fitted in all the right places. This must be how people get pregnant.

“Hey, movie star. You doing alright in here?” You nod up at him and he lets out an impressed whistle. “If I wasn’t an engaged man, I’d marry you right now.” You giggle and scoot over on the vanity bench so he can sit.

“You’re engaged to me, silly,” you joke and pick out a lipstick.

“Is that right? Maybe we should fuck the formalities and run away together,” he mutters pulling you into a kiss.

“This is your show, Steve,” you remind him and move to kiss him back but he frowns slightly and pulls away.

You pause what you’re doing to focus on him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he sighs.

“Nothing?” You repeat and let out a soft huff.

“I told you I’m not apologizing for this anymore so I’m not apologizing but…”

“Steve,” You pause and take a deep breath. “Whatever happened that day, it brought us together. And against all odds, we seem to get along pretty well. Let’s appreciate that.”

He hums softly but doesn’t meet your gaze. You watch him for a moment before going back to your makeup.

You must have said something right because he eventually presses a kiss to the back of your hand and watches your process.

“I should’ve just let you do your makeup yesterday. You look beautiful. But you have a great canvas, huh?”

“I guess,” you smile. He hums softly again and rest his head on his steepled hands to keep watching you.

“I’m going to change but don’t go anywhere, I need you to zip me up." Steve nods and you disappear in the closet. You return clutching the mermaid dress to you chest and holding the train up so you don’t trip without your heels.

You sweep your braids over one shoulder.

“Shit,” Steve whispers as you turn, around facing away from him.

“It’s a little snug so don’t be afraid to manhandle me.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Steve laughs darkly and steps behind you. “I won’t want to be good.” Your face heats at his words and you feel his hand at the top of your ass, steadying you, before he tugs up the zipper. “There. My gorgeous little star,” he sighs pressing a kiss to your temple. His hands grip your waist tugging you back against him. You look up to meet his lips and moan into a deep kiss. His hand cups the back of your head and he pulls you into turning into his arms. Your hands rest on his lapels, standing on your toes to reach closer his height.

Then you let out a soft gasp when his hand cups your ass. A feeling flutters from your stomach all the way down to your core and you feel moisture pool at the junction of your legs and you know all of you likes it.

But Steve instantly pulls away from you.

“Shit! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-I shouldn’t have-“ but you cut off his babbling as you press your lips back to his. You take his hands and guide them low on your hips. Giving him permission to feel all he wants.

“Fuck,” he groans against your lips and both of his hands run over your back side, gripping it possessively.

“It’s nice, huh?”

“It’s fucking perfect,” Steve chuckles and pulls you back into his lips.

“Gross! Break it up!” You hear Bucky call from behind you. You jump out of Steve’s grasp, cutting the make out session short. You look up at him and if looks could kill. But Bucky isn’t even phased by his best friend's daggers. “Let her go. We’re gonna be late,” he orders and marches out of your room.

You look back up at Steve and giggle. This must be what it feels like to be caught with your boyfriend by your parents.

“You’d think he runs this operation,” Steve grunts.

“He’s coming for your job,” you smile.

“He could never,” Steve rolls his eyes and places another kiss to your lips.

You had no idea this would be a star studded event. Honestly, you didn't know what to expect. You'd been to so many influencer events, you weren't exactly sure what a normal event was like. Normally it was a lot of hugging and selfies. This was all red carpet interviewers and actual press. You weren't sure how to conduct yourself but Steve easily took the reins, guiding you from one press reporter to the next then photos. The two of you looked great in your matching navy blue. And Steve was so patient when you had to take tiny steps in your body hugging dress.

"You look so fucking gorgeous," Steve sighs as he holds your waist for pictures.

You smile up at him. "Maybe you should marry me."

He chuckles and presses a soft kiss to your lips.

Bucky leads the way to the reserved balcony.

"I'm sitting back here and I don't want to see it," the brunet warns falling into his chair.

"Maybe we should switch. I actually want to watch the show," Sam suggests giving Bucky a pointed look.

"Whatever," he grunts. You don’t really mind. Both rows had a good view of the stage.

Steve sighs and is instantly on his phone. He obviously doesn’t care about any of it.

"What's this even about?" Bucky mutters. Steve shrugs without looking up.

"It's about a man chasing an unattainable woman,” Sam supplies.

"You'd know all about this, Buck," Steve mutters.

"Shut the fuck up, punk," Bucky barks back in a hushed tone.

"Who do you have a crush on?" You ask wanting to be a part of the conversation.

"Sammy's sister," Steve smirks.

"And if he even looks at her funny, he's going to fucking get it," Sam threatens.

"As if you could ever," Bucky chides.

"That's cute!" You giggle. "I want to meet your sister. She's probably gorgeous."

Sam hands you his phone with a picture of a woman and two boys. "That's Sarah and my nephews."

"She's so pretty! Your family is beautiful! You’ll have to get me her braider.”

A waiter comes by and drops off your drink orders and the lights dim. The orchestra starts a dramatic tune signaling the start of the show. Steve lets out an irritated sigh and puts his phone away.

“Not happy to be here?” You ask as he wraps his arm over your shoulder, pulling you toward him.

“There’s so many other things calling my name right now, little star.”

“Steve speak for ‘I’d rather be at home’,” Bucky chuckles softly.

“The Office, my bed, a bottle of scotch, all sound so much better than this.” He lifts your hand and presses a kiss to its palm. “Especially with my girl right down the hall,” he adds quietly, just for you to hear. You smile at his words and press a quick peck to his cheek but focus on the stage.

You’re not going to lie, you want to watch the show, too.

Half way through the first act, you notice Bucky’s head start to nod. You smile and fight every instinct not to lean forward and wake him up. You giggle when he lets out a soft snore and Sam punches him in the arm.

“The fuck?” he hisses and earns a shushing from Sam.

“I like your friends,” you whisper to Steve.

“Yeah? I like ‘em, too.”

By intermission, your legs and bladder are whining for some attention. You stand and stretch and ask the usher where the restroom is.

“We’re going to hit up the bar,” Steve yawns. You nod and quickly follow the usher’s directions down the hall. There’s private bathrooms up here so luckily you don’t have to stand in line.

Unlucky, you completely forgot you were basically sewed into this dress. You let out a soft whine before cursing. You could ask a random women walking by but she’d probably post about it on Twitter or something. ‘Golden Boy Roger’s new girl was trapped in her dress in the bathroom.’

You quickly text Steve and pray he makes it to you quickly.

“Star,” he knocks on the door moments later. Thank God! “What’s-“ Before he can finish his sentence, you drag him into the bathroom.

“Off! I need this off!” You demand at his wide eyed expression.

“Okay, alright, give me a second.”

A flood of relief rushes through you once the dress is unzipped. There’s no time for decorum as you shimmy the dress down your hips and thrust it into his hands before pushing him back outside.

You sit on the toilet and let out a relieved sigh. Once the urgency is gone you can finally think straight and-

“Oh shit,” you breathe.

Steve just saw you naked.

The dress was so tight! Any underwear would cause an outline and you didn’t really need a bra so you were completely nude.

And Steve just saw all of it.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you repeat as tears start to sting your eyes. You like him. You really do. But you’re far from that step. You didn’t even think you were ready to be seen naked! Let alone by the man who kidnapped you and was forcing you to marry him who you were slowly falling for…

Oh my god, were you falling for him?

…

What were you even saying? You were definitely falling for him! He was thoughtful and loving and caring and put his friends and family first.

And he was a mob boss…

You let out a slow breath and flush before washing your hands.

You crack the door open and Steve thrusts the dress through the crack while looking up at the ceiling.

“Thank you,” you whisper. You press back into it and when everything is safely covered, you invite him back in to zip you up.

“Thank you,” you repeat after the dress is secured around you.

“Anytime.” There’s an air of awkwardness that has never been between you.

You hate it.

“I’m sorry. I just really had to pee.”

“Understandable,” Steve replies.

You let out a painful laugh. “You saw me completely naked!”

“Yeah, I did,” Steve agrees readily. You cover your face and look at the ceiling to try to stop the tears from falling. You blink a few times to ensure they're under control but you still feel them burning your eyes.

Steve hands you a black handkerchief and you dab the inner corners of your eyes carefully.

“And?” You ask with a watery laugh.

A smile finally cracks Steve’s face. “And what? Do you want me to say you have a great ass and gorgeous tits or something?”

You burst into laughter and let the tears fall. “Come here.” Steve pulls you into his arms. “It’s okay, little star. It’s just me,” Steve mutters into your hair, attempting to calm your tears. “It’s alright.” He kisses the top of your head and you feel surprisingly content at his words. The tears slow and you’re so glad you wore water proof mascara.

“You want me to leave you alone for a second?” He asks as you start to dab your face.

You shake your head quickly. “I want you with me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispers and holds you while you fix your makeup.

“You look beautiful,” he assures you.

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.” You meet his gaze in the reflection and see something in his gaze you haven’t noticed before.

Maybe the attraction really is mutual…

You want to stay like this in his arms forever…

The lights flicker just as you relax into his hold. “God, this fucking thing,” he groans. “Do you wanna go home?”

“Seriously?” You ask, watching him in the mirror.

“This is Sam’s deal. He’s all about keeping us cultured. I grew up the Brooklyn. I’ve seen enough culture for a life time. But I could watch the same episode of The Office 50 times in a row and still find it hilarious.”

You giggle at his words and rest your head back on his chest. “It’s the fire drill episode, huh?”

“Today, smoking is gonna save lives.”

You laugh again and close your eyes. “Can we get some pizza?”

“Can we get some pizza?” Steve mocks. “I’m having a half bbq chicken half meat lovers delivered to the house as we speak.”

You grin at his reflection. “Let’s go home.”

Steve texts Sam and Bucky that you’re heading out early and takes you home.

The two of you shower, put on some pjs, and meet in Steve’s room for food and entertainment.

By the second episode, Sam and Bucky walk into the bedroom.

“What the fuck! You couldn’t rescue me, too?” Bucky shouts tossing his bow tie at Steve. He holds up a throw pillow to block it so quickly you’re shocked by his reflexes.

“You’re just not cute enough,” Steve sighs, looking over the pillow at his best friend.

“Fuck you,” Bucky grumbles and kicks off his dress shoes and slides onto the bed.

“How was the rest of the show?” You ask Sam as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“It was really good. But it started dragging in act 3.”

“The whole thing dragged,” Bucky announces with a mouth full of pizza. “There’s beer in the fridge, huh?” Steve nods.

“Get me one,” Sam calls after the brunet.

“Get it yourself,” Bucky calls back.

“So, when are you leaving us?” Sam asks you as you lean back on Steve’s pillows.

“I guess I have to go home, huh?” You ask looking at the blond.

“You don’t have to,” Steve offers.

“I better. I mean, I have a wedding party to get together. Find a dress. Pick out colors.”

“Don’t stay away for too long. We like having you here,” Sam smiles. You grin back at him before finding Steve’s hand. He presses a kiss to the back of yours just as Bucky returns with a round of beers.

Sam and Bucky didn’t leave until the early hours of the morning but you enjoyed the company. They shared old war stories and laughed at Dwight and Jim’s antics.

It was fun. Like having brothers.

You and Steve drag yourselves out of bed to clean up the mess the boys left. You both walk down the hall and you attempt to stop at your room but Steve drags you back to his.

“Stay with me?” You look up at him.

This was all new territory. You've never slept with a man. But a lot of things with Steve were new territory. And he’d been so good to you through all of it.

You nod and follow him to his bed.

It starts a little awkward as you lie down staring at the moulded ceiling, not really sure what to do. Then Steve wraps his arms around your waist and pulls your against his chest. And everything seems right in the world.

“Comfortable?” He mutters. Sleep taking him over faster than you realize.

“I think so.”

“You think so?”

“I’ve never slept with anyone,” you remind him.

“You get comfortable. I’ll conform to you.”

You nod and turn over to face him, your arms wrap around his narrow waist and one of your thighs wraps over his hips. You bury your face in his chest.

“This is comfortable?” You nod and hum affirmatively. “Do you sleep with a stuff bear or something?”

“It’s a giant pikachu,” you correct.

He smiles and wraps his arms around you. “As long as you’re comfortable.”

-

Two days later you return home to what feels like an intervention. You step into your condo and find your best friends are there seated around your living room.

“Hey guys,” you mutter as your driver brings in your luggage.

“Hey,” Kate sighs, watching you intently. “How was Japan?”

“It was great,” you try to convince them and yourself that you’re not keeping a massive secret. “I brought you stuff from Disneyland. Duffy plushes and food. I hope they didn’t get squi-“

“Let’s start with why you’re engaged to a guy we just learned about last week?”

“What the hell?” Kamala groans.

“Not cool. We’re ride or die,” Kahhori agrees.

“Um, well, it was all just going so fast and Steve has just been such a wonderful guy and I-I-I’m sorry!” Tears start to stream down your face as all the emotions you've bottled up for the past two months boil over. “I’ve been a shitty friend and you guys have been there for me from the start! I shouldn’t have let a guy get between us.”

“Oh, honey,” Kamala coos and pulls you into a hug. “Its ok. We were just scared you were kidnapped and forced to marry him against your will.” You blanch at her words and Kahhori sees the look of shock on your face head on.

“You’re pregnant!” She accuses, pointing at you while covering her mouth.

“Pregnant?” You cant help but laugh at the statement. “I’m still a virgin!” You sniffle and rub your nose with your hand. “I think I’m about to start my period.” The four of you laugh at the situation.

“Alright,” Kate sighs. “There’s only one cure for period emotions: ice cream.”

“Ice cream!” Kamala repeats. “I’m Ubering Baskin Robbins. Mint chocolate chip, rocky road, pistachio, and birthday cake bubble gum for me.”

You bend down to let out Jethro and he races to the nearest hiding place.

“It’s the world traveler,” Kahhori coos after the cat. All you see is a pair of green eyes peaking out from under the couch.

“I got him a little fake passport and they stamped it for me,” you laugh. “Help me unpack so we can enjoy our ice cream.”

An hour later, you’re all circled around your living room sharing frozen treats and talking about what you’ve missed out on.

“I got that internship at Marvel,” Kamala announces while holding up her pink plastic spoon like an award.

The three of you clap and cheer for the woman. She’s been trying to get her foot into the comic industry for years. This was her first big break.

“I can’t wait to start collecting your comics,” Kahhori laughs.

“We’re going to make sure yours are the best sellers,” Kate grins.

“All it takes is one video,” you grin. “How’s the Mohawk language class going?”

“It’s on the board of supervisor’s desk. Now it’s just waiting for a yes or no.”

“That’s good!” Kate grins. “So many more Native kids will want to go to UCLA.”

“It’ll change a lot of lives,” Kahhori agrees and scrapes the bottom of her paper ice cream bowl.

“Alright, Kate? What are you up to?” You ask licking your spoon.

She arranges the little Duffy plush dressed as a archer into a sitting position before answering. “I found a spot for the club. It’s in South LA but I want under privileged kids to have access to archery. I’m tired of training kids like you’re about to make with your billionaire boyfriend.”

“So, you’re giving us fictional kids now?” You laugh and steal some of Kamala’s birthday cake ice cream.

“I’ve dealt with them all my life. I want to make a difference.”

“Well, once I get access to my billionaire boyfriend’s bank account, expect a hefty donation,” you grin.

“Speaking of billionaire boyfriends, are you waiting for marriage or something? How’d you bag a guy like him without putting out?” Kahhori questions.

You shrug. “We just kinda clicked.” Kahhori rolls her eyes at the cliche comment.

“I think it’s cute. Tell us more,” Kamala requests lying across the couch and resting her chin on her folded arms.

You tell them about your made up meet cute and your first date when he took you to your mom’s favorite restaurant. And how he quickly redeemed himself. Then you tell them about getting to know him. You don’t mention it was all done through his borrowed cell phone. Then the Tokyo trip, the opera, the bathroom incident. That brings Kate and Kahhori to tears with laughter.

“You just fucking stripped?”

“I had to pee!”

“You should’ve stood on the toilet and peed,” Kahhori suggested.

“Gross! No!”

“He’s seen it all and you still haven’t fucked?” Kate asks.

“No. I guess it’ll happen eventually but I don’t want to rush it.”

“You’ll get married after knowing him for a couple months but you don’t want to rush into sex?” Kahhori asks in disbelief. “That makes so much sense.”

“I know it sounds ridiculous but I think he’s just my person,” you shrug. “Plus Jethro loves him.”

“What?” All three women cry.

“Yes! He’ll sit on his lap and purr, play with him. If I don’t marry him, my cat will.” You show the video evidence of Steve cuddling with your normally terrified ball of fur in just a tank top and basketball shorts.

“He’s got so many muscles,” Kamala sighs. “Does he have a brother?”

“He has two best friends with just as many muscles,” you giggle. “And I’m going to need some bridesmaids,”

“I call muscular best friend!” Kamala announces making you all laugh.

Chapter 2 | Master List | Chatpter 4

[unholyhelbig]

I loved the request you posted recently, the Kate Bishop fic "A favor for Clint", it was adorable and I would love to see a part 2, with more cute moments between the reader and this shy Kate that is just adorable 😍 please give us a little more of this story, maybe later in the day where they're alone and together again, it was just too cute

A/N: Okay, so this is a long time coming, and it's actually pretty bad but I felt like I owed you guys a part two! I've just started some more winter classes so my writing is not up to par.

Dt💘: @ohmy-godyes @littlebluestone @kacka84

Send me more prompts | Masterlist of fics

A Favor For Clint Pt.2 | Kate Bishop x Reader

Your body was straining against the rope that dug uncomfortably into skin rubbed raw. There was blood, there had to be. You could feel it caked against the back of your neck and ripping across your collarbone. It had hardened in the cold room, made your entire existence taught with tension. The ropes had pulled your shoulders back fingers curled into your opposite palm to preserve some type of warmth.

The bagel shop down the street from Clint’s apartment seemed entirely doable. There were cheap sandwiches and even cheaper coffee. After your short cat nap pressed up against Kate you intended to get the three of you breakfast and continue to cycle through the codes.

The air was threatening snow, dark grey clouds collecting against an otherwise white sky. New Yorkers paid no mind to one another. While you often stayed vigilant you had let your guard down for just a moment, juggling a drink carrier with hot coffee and a paper-thin bag of food. Besides- no one knew you were in the city. The world couldn’t begin to guess your location.

It was easy to send out your signal to different networks: an aquarium with free wi-fi in California, a café in the Netherlands, a small remote safe house in the middle of Nigeria. Certainly not any of the places you actually were, you had coded a program that made sure of that.

You had taken a blow to the side of the temple. One ear rang in a constant high tone, a deep ache ran down the side of your jaw and down to your tendons. You had been rolling your neck to try and ease the pain, a blindfold keeping you humble. It wasn’t the first time you had found yourself in this situation.

Now your faith was plainly in Kate and Clint.

The thought made your stomach drop. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust them, but they were the clear definition of disastrous. Part of your reasoning for becoming a Hacker for S.H.I.E.L.D in the first place had everything to do with the precise planning of every move you made. You knew what the buttons would do, where they would take you.

The entire time you had known Clint, he had flown by the seat of his pants. The charm he carried got him out of terrible situations, and his marksmanship put him there. You hadn’t known Kate for very long, but you figured from her fumbling that she was the exact same way. The two of them clicked, and the two of you had shared an intimate moment that only you remembered.

She smelled like laundry detergent and chalk that she would use to practice her grip. Everything about her warmth made you shudder in your confines now. You would have killed to go back up to that apartment and get some more sleep. But now, it was dark, and your body ached, and you hadn’t the slightest idea to what time it was.

At one point, you figured you had drifted off, your chin against your chest, and breathing slowed. The blindfold was pulled from your vision and light burned your eyes in a sudden burst of color. You blinked against the pain and attempted to latch onto a single thought as your vision cleared.

The room looked like an old storage unit: they were a silver matte grey and ribbed like the inside of a cooler. A folded door was in front of you, and you couldn’t turn your head far enough to see what was behind. A metal workbench was to your right, littered with different tools that you didn’t want to stare too long at. A light tower was shoved into the corner, bright enough to burn your skin and fill the entire space with entirely too much white.

The man in front of you matched the décor. He wore maroon track pants with a golden stripe down the side and a simple gray shirt that had grown dark with sweat around his throat and under his arms. His curly brown hair flopped into his eyes. There was a bubblegum healed scar through his cheek, stopping right at his hairline.

Okay, not so intimidating. If you weren’t properly bound to this chair, you could take him. There was a boyish charm about him. You pulled your shoulders back, attempting to make yourself look something other than helpless.

He Said, bunching your blindfold up in his hand “Good morning,”

“Not such a good morning. I didn’t get to finish my breakfast.”

He scoffed at you then, blowing out a sour breath. You regarded him slowly as he circled you. It was very super villain forward. If he was really such a big bad, he would have something to wear other than an off-color tracksuit. You relaxed a little, keeping your shoulders taught, but not without a bit of tension to keep up the charade. This would be fine, just breathe in and out.

“I think you know what we’re searching for.”

“No, but if you untie me, I can offer you a mint.”

The man moved fast, his hair slick like a weasel. He was in front of you now, close to your face as he tipped the chair onto it’s two hind legs. You kept a steady expression, even as your heart thudded against the inside of your ribcage at the sudden dip in orientation.

“You think you’re smart, huh? You’re not one of the big guys. I could snap your neck in three seconds. Gut you like a fish without a second thought. Tell me where the drive is.”

Your stomach chose that moment to growl. Your breakfast had been interrupted, the last thing you had eaten was a small pack of cookies and a dixie cup of ginger ale on the plane. He frowned and let the chair drop down to its original position. The ropes cut further into your wrists, your shoulders buzzing with pain.

The first hit was always the worst, always the hardest to recover from. The man had a lot of strength behind it, not yet tired and fully soaking in his frustration. You could smell your own blood and the ringing on the right side of your face changed pitch. Your head swam, stars dancing in constellations before you.

You’d been interrogated before. This was one of the nicer areas, though you hadn’t gotten a good look at what was on the table to your left. You figured that he was warming up, figured that a hacker with a little S.H.I.E.L.D experience would break after a little roughhousing.

“The Drive,” He repeated.

You spit, a mix of saliva and metallic blood puddled by his name-brand shoes. He took an instinctive step back, you lifted a brow, challenging him. You hadn’t broken the code to the USB and knew that whoever was behind the man in the tracksuit wouldn’t be able to do it without you. Death would not be a part of this negotiation.

The man moved forward with a familiar click of a hunting knife. The dulled edge was against your throat, cold and tough. Again, he tipped your chair, and again you regarded him with little interest. “Do you even know what’s on that thing? You think your little archer friend has the best intentions all the time, huh?”

You swallowed “Better than yours, I’m assuming.”

“You’re too sure of yourself for someone with a knife at their throat.”

Before you had a chance to answer, there was a familiar cut in the air, so quiet you wouldn’t have known to pick up on it. What followed next was a flash of blinding light- he dropped the chair back on all fours and you pulled forward against your restraints. A thick sheen of smoke was filling the storage unit, it was hot, pressing close to your lungs and throat.

Everything was fuzzy for a moment, your mind stalling before you caught some sense and held your breath. The man in the tracksuit went down, clawing at his throat. There was an obscene about of light that flooded the storage unit and suddenly hands were pressed into yours, fingers fumbling with the ropes against your wrists.

The smoke cleared and Kate’s slate eyes blinked worriedly at you. “Jesus Christ, you were supposed to bring back bagels”

You chuckled and pulled yourself away from the chair the second the ropes dropped. Kate was under your arm in under a second, helping you to your feet. Fuzzy, everything was definitely fuzzy. It could have been due to the hit on the temple, or the gas that was clearing out with every passing second.

More arrows were aimed, and two guys had been dropped by the front of the storage unit. Clint had a strong vantage point from a building across the street, you caught a glimpse of his hand through a third-floor window and silently reminded yourself to thank him later.

A low whistle escaped your lips when you got the cherry red challenger parked half a block down. “If you’re going to steal a car, don’t make it so flashy.”

“Steal? Dude, this is Clints. He paid big money for this.”

“And lets you drive it?”

“Let is a strong word.”

She slid into the driver's seat and you winced as you pulled yourself down to the passenger position. You had taken a good amount of jostling to the ribs, each breath stabbing into you. Kate’s face was schooled into worry. She was an excellent shot, her foot sharp against the gas as the tires squealed and the scent of rubber filled the air.

“That gas won’t keep them down for long. Maybe a half-hour if we’re lucky. You think you can crack that code by then?”

“It’s on an automatic timer, it should have cracked itself by now.”

“Didn’t have time to check. We went to three storage units before this one.” She grimaced, “You alright? I know stuff like that can be scary. My first time getting kidnapped and interrogated- sheesh, all fists and male fronting.”

“It’s not the first time, I’ll be fine” You pressed your fingers closer to your ribs “A few ice packs, and a strong drink.”

“I can make that happen,”

She turned the corner, a sharp movement that thrust you onto another New York City Street. You recognized the bodega on the corner and the long stretching buildings. Kate proceeded to park the car, letting out a smooth breath, you went to open the door but glanced swimmingly down at the hand that she had placed on your knee.

“This might be out of left field but… last night was the best sleep I’ve had in a while. I barely know, you, but for some odd reason, I trust you. Clint trusts you.” She lilted her head to the side, the sun catching her stare in a heavenly way. “I’d like to take you out some time if you want.”

There was a quick stutter to your breath that the archer took instant not of, one hand on the door, the other just mere inches from Kates.

“And I’ve totally misread the situation. Forget I said anything, I’m just going to find a shovel to dig myself a deeper hole.” She continued to ramble, her words making less and less sense. She snapped her jaw shut as you placed a hand over hers, giving it a light squeeze.

There was a half-smile close to a grin “Kate, nothing about the last twenty-four hours has made a single bit of sense to me. I’m jet-lagged, and just got second-hand gassed with whatever was in that arrow.”

“Tear Gas,”

“Right, tear gas, thank you. I think.” You frowned, “My point is, I would love to go out with you, but we have to break this code first because I’m sure tracksuit pretty boy is the lowest level of danger in this.”

Kate had a dorky grin on her face, one hand on the steering wheel and the other palm on the back of your headrest. She looked effortlessly content in your answer. “Deal.”

There were three even taps on the window behind you, breaking the moment, and making the two of you jump. Clint, red-faced and out of breath, had shouldered his bow. He frowned and gestured for Kate to open the window. She wound it down, giving him a sheepish smile.

“You,” He panted “You left me at the storage unit.”

She sucked in a breath through her jaw, “Yeah, that was my bad.”

“Clinton, I just got punched in the face, you can handle running one block.”

"It was two!"

[archived-kin]

diluc ragnvindr and the secret spouse

note from kin: i was running around dawn winery looking for any chests i might have missed when this idea suddenly popped into my head. honestly i was tempted to do this similarly to the obey me solomon piece i did a while back and give diluc a husband but then i figured i should probably keep it gender neutral for both the girls and the gays

this is super short but i’ve had writer’s block for AGES so at least i got something out! i hope this isn’t so awful it burns your eyes out :,) i tried my best okay

fandom: genshin impact

character(s): gn!reader, diluc, aether, paimon

pairing(s): diluc/reader

warning(s): none

genre: fluff!!

You wake to the distant buzz of household conversation and a distinct absence of the usual presence beside you. Slightly disoriented, you sit up, rubbing at your eyes as the morning light peeking around the edge of your heavy velvet curtains casts the creases of the sheets around you into sharp definition.

A still-steaming mug sits on the bedside table, indicating that it hasn’t been long since your dear husband got up and made you your usual morning cup of tea. There’s a little red flower sitting on the saucer - a Windwheel Aster, which, if the flower language the two of you have developed over time still stands true, means that he’s still at home. He’d have left a Snapdragon if he was going out, a Calla Lily if he’d be gone for the day, or a Cecilia if he’d be away for an extended period of time. Of course, he tells you these things in person when he gets the chance, but, well - duty calls, and duty certainly doesn’t wait for a sensible wake-up time.

You throw your arms up and stretch, limbs trembling slightly as all the knots and cramps that have built up throughout the night finally straighten out. Windwheel Asters usually herald a good day in your household - though with Diluc, they can become Snapdragons and then Calla Lilies in the blink of an eye - and you’re looking forward to spending some time with your husband. It’s been a busy week for the both of you, what with an unexpected increase in the number of Abyss Order attacks cropping up around Mondstadt as well as several sudden unexplained deaths of hunters from Springfield, and you’d really like to have twenty four hours to just relax.

Diluc’s usual coat is still draped over the chair beside the desk, so, after a moment’s thought, you pull it on over your nightclothes. You have the weekend off, anyway - all your pending cases have been essentially solved and are ready to go - so you don’t see any need for donning your usual detective garb, though you do feel tempted to put on your trademark scarf to ward off the morning chill.

You take a few minutes to make the bed and open the curtains before you sit down in the armchair by the window to enjoy your tea. You can see several of the usual workers milling about between the grapevines, as well as what looks like a carrier balloon being docked just by the road. That’s new - deliveries to Dawn Winery usually come by carriage, but then again, the fact that the balloon also appears to be smoking extensively and is being accompanied by a very dishevelled-looking man who looks close to tears indicates that this probably isn’t a delivery,

On further inspection, you realise that your husband is standing nearby the smoking balloon, conversing with a young man with long golden hair tied back in a braid that you’re not particularly familiar with. You’re sure you recognise him from somewhere, though - in the same way that you might recognise the general composition of a painting you’ve seen in passing.

You don’t have time to continue contemplating the boy’s identity, though, because next thing you know, Diluc is leading him inside. You drain the remainder of your tea to the dregs with one gulp and pull yourself to your feet, resolving to go down to greet the two.

While you don’t bother with changing into something more formal, you do take a moment to wash your face and freshen up your breath with some of the mint-water Diluc keeps in the bathroom. You’re not fussed about keeping up a ‘respectable’ image, but you do at least want to be presentable.

Diluc is sitting with his back to you when you slip into the front room, still dressed in just your nightclothes and his overcoat, now with your feet tucked into a comfortable pair of slippers as well. The boy he’d invited in is the first to notice you, looking up from the map in his hands and face steeling slightly as he registers your presence.

An odd little fairy of some kind is bobbing about behind him, chewing on what looks like a large slice of cake. Her eyes widen to the size of saucers as she spots you, exclaiming so loudly that she sprays crumbs all over her unsuspecting golden-haired companion.

“Who’s this?!” she shrieks, alarmed in an almost comically exaggerated way. Her shock sends her even higher into the air, and she threatens to hit the ceiling head-on. “Y-you don’t look like a maid!”

You raise an eyebrow, mildly amused. “That would be because I’m not a maid.”

Diluc finally turns around, eyes lighting up slightly when he sees your choice of attire. A small smile curls at the corners of his lips as he moves to the side, leaving enough room on his seat for you to settle down beside him.

His young friend’s eyes dart between the two of you rapidly as Diluc continues droning on about something to do with transport balloons and the influx of monster activity in the area without a word as to your sudden appearance. He’s certainly quick-witted, you’ll give him that - he seems to deduce your relationship almost immediately.

Still, he asks about it in a polite and roundabout way - bless the boy. You can imagine that he’s a little afraid of making assumptions, especially about a man like Diluc.

“Is that your coat, Master Diluc?”

Diluc pauses in the middle of his explanation, eyebrows lifting slightly. You don’t know why he seems so surprised by the boy’s question - after all, the impression of the prideful Darknight Hero he has probably doesn’t incline him to think of him as a relationship-y sort of man.

“...yes.” He says finally. You don’t miss the way he steals a glance at you through the messy fringe of his red hair.

“Why so surprised?” You chime in, smiling at the boy as he straightens up slightly at the sound of your voice. “Surely you’ve deduced our relation already?”

He looks thoughtful for a moment. “Are you two… partners?”

You laugh. “Well, you could certainly put it like that.”

“You’re so clueless, Aether!” complains the boy’s fairy companion. “They’re obviously dating or something!”

Aether shoots her an unimpressed look. “That’s what I meant, Paimon.”

“Your name’s Aether, then?” You note. He nods. “Good name, Aether. You seem like a smart boy.”

“Hey!” The fairy glares at you, but it doesn’t really have much effect when she’s got the face of a baby lamb and crumbs still decorating her lower face to boot. “Don’t forget about Paimon!”

“Paimon’s a lovely name too,” You comply with a smile. “Very trustworthy.”

She looks appeased by the compliment, crossing her arms with a smug grin aimed at her taller companion. “See? Paimon’s trustworthy.”

“I heard them, Paimon,” sighs Aether, wearing the kind of expression that tells you he has to put up with this sort of thing a lot.

“What are you doing up so early?” Diluc asks you, and you start slightly at his sudden question. “Normally you sleep til noon on Sundays.”

You shrug and give his thigh a firm pat, taking great enjoyment in the way his ears flame up slightly at the gesture. “Guess I just missed your lovely face.”

The red of his ears darkens. “...you’re ridiculous.”

“You’re cute,” you counter with a smile, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose. He chuckles in spite of himself, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a smile that he rarely lets anyone but you see.

“You’re both gross,” Paimon decides with a pout, and the two of you suddenly remember the presence of the two other people in the room. Aether is pointedly staring at a painting on the wall, but at Paimon’s words, he hurriedly turns back.

“No, no, it’s fine,” You laugh, waving off Aether’s apologies for his fairy friend’s comment. “The maids often say the same thing.”

“The maids wouldn’t say such things if you didn’t insist on being so affectionate everywhere,” Diluc comments, though the smile still tugging at his lips tells you that he definitely doesn’t consider that a bad thing. “If you don’t want them to talk, perhaps you should take it down a notch or two.”

“Who said I didn’t want them to talk?” You counter, inching closer to him again. You'll refrain from kissing him right in front of Aether and Paimon, but that doesn’t mean you can’t tease him a little. “Besides, you’re one to talk. You’re the one always hanging off my shoulders whenever you get the chance.”

Diluc, however, doesn’t seem to have the same qualms as you about abstaining from affection in front of guests. His smile widening almost playfully, he gently lifts a hand to your chin. “Oh? Are you complaining?”

“Who said that?” is your response, and you lean in and kiss him.

It isn’t until the two of you pull away that you realise that Paimon has started making gagging noises as Aether frantically tries to shush her, all the while determinedly refusing to look in your direction. You almost feel bad for the kid - he clearly isn’t the best with affectionate couples.

“Sorry, sorry,” You say airily, moving away from Diluc, though you keep a hand resting on his knee.

“Is this what all married couples are like?” Paimon says, still wrinkling her nose in disgust. “If so, Paimon doesn’t want to get married, ever!”

Aether, still avoiding direct eye contact with both you and your husband, mutters an exasperated, “Bold of you to assume anyone would want to marry you.”

She immediately kicks him in the head, nearly knocking the poor guy right off the sofa. “Paimon heard that!”

“What a rowdy pair,” You comment cheerfully as Aether retaliates by flicking Paimon hard in the head, sending her spiralling halfway across the room with an indignant yelp. “You really do make strange friends, Diluc.”

He makes an odd chuffing sound in response to your words. “They aren’t any stranger than you.”

You shake your head. “You still married this strange detective, didn’t you?”

“I suppose I did,” He smiles softly again, setting his right hand over the one you have on his knee. “I wonder if I made the right decision?”

You give his knee a reproachful pinch and he gives short, sharp laugh in response - something that you don’t hear nearly enough from him. “Of course you did!”

You move to jab him in the sides, knowing exactly where all of his sensitive spots are, but he stops you quickly, seizing both your hands in his and firmly refusing to let go. You struggle for about a second before giving up and slumping against him with a dramatic huff.

“You’re too strong,” You complain, though your affectionate nuzzle into the side of his neck directly contradicts your pseudo-annoyed words. “I don’t like it.”

Diluc chuckles, knowing full well that you love the fact that he can lift entire tables without breaking a sweat. “Whatever you say, darling.”

The look that you give him as you raise your head nearly knocks all of the breath out of him. The adoring grin on your face doesn’t relent as you lift a hand and brush his cheek, your touch feather-light and sending shivers down his spine.

He finds himself leaning in again, overwhelmed by your presence. You smile knowingly and reach up to meet him - only to be interrupted with a start.

Paimon complains, half-disgusted and half-resigned, “They’re doing it again!”

[katnissmellarkkk]

what childish shenanigans do the toastbabies get up to? drawing on stuff they shouldn’t, etc?

This is literally because I told you my niece was drawing on the walls yesterday, isn’t it?

For this ask, I’m gonna use my personal names and made up personalities for the Everlark toast babies.

Edit : after typing this up, I’m really sorry, this is probably not what you wanted but ... here we go 🥳🥳🥳🥳

Indigo, the dancing girl with the dark hair, is an artist, through and through.

She’s got so much Daddy in her.

She starts walking at 9 months

Which is wonderful

Until her parents soon discover this means she is mobile now.

And she is the most curious little baby there ever was.

From birth practically, she knows who she is and exactly what her interests are.

Her biggest smiles were always when Daddy put her in the baby carrier while he painted

So it’s no surprise that when Katniss and Peeta leave her alone for a short amount of time

Because they got ... sidetracked

Making her brother

That Indy’s go to place was Daddy’s art studio.

Where she proceeds to get into every paint color her tiny, baby fists can reach.

She pushes red and blue and orange and green and purple and pink and yellow and gold and silver and black and white and bronze all onto the walls

When Katniss’ mothering instinct just suddenly alarms

And her and Peeta rush upstairs as fast as they ran from the mutts in the games

They find their baby giggling happily and pointing to her wall art.

Sage, the blonde boy with the chubby legs, is a different story from his sister.

He’s more quiet than her at home

But more outspoken in public.

Right from birth, he’s smart and insightful

Well as much as a baby can be 🤣

But the one person who can really rile him up is Sissy

By the time he’s three, she’s already challenging him to do things when their parents aren’t looking

“Steal a cookie! Daddy won’t notice, Sage! You’re too little to get into trouble! Hurry up!”

So when he gets into things, Katniss and Peeta know who’s the mastermind.

But it doesn’t make it any less cute when Sage is found in the kitchen

Red-handed

Well actually, chocolate-cake-batter-handed.

Indigo shakes her head, feigning oblivion behind her parents

“I can’t believe he did that!”

Sage doesn’t love baking or hunting or painting (and especially not dancing like his big sister).

What he actually loves besides wrestling like Daddy is reading.

And collecting herbs with Momma.

Collecting healing herbs.

Katniss finds Sage, at three years old, in the garden

He walked later than his sister because of his fat little leggies

Sitting beside the primroses

Picking them apart

And she immediately scolds him, reminding him he knows those flowers are off limits.

But then he murmurs that he just wanted to heal Mommy’s cut on her arm

And he learned from the bedtime story she read him

Which was a medicinal plant book Gramma Everdeen sent from Four

That evening primroses are healing plants.

And from then on Katniss teaches her son all about medicinal plants and herbs

Teaching herself more about healing than she ever wanted to know 😆

“This could have been useful knowledge in the games.”

“Peeta, go tuck Indigo in please.”

And then she allows him to get into whatever plants he desires

As long as they’re not poisonous

“Mommy, what’s a nightlock berry?”

“Nothing you ever need to know about.”

[thiswasinevitableid]

76. it’s my birthday and you just fucking ruined my party and I don’t even know you

Danbrey, sfw or nsfw, please!

Here you go! I went SFW on this one

“Wow, dude, this is so fancy.” Jake takes in the dining room of Yosemite Lodge, “look, napkins!”

“Jake, we have cloth napkins back home.” Dani smiles fondly; while she’s more interested in the location and the decor, she agrees with her brothers overall enthusiasm.

The rest of Amnesty Lodge, where Dani lives and works, pooled their resources to surprise her with a weekend trip to Yosemite for her twenty-fifth birthday. She would have been happy camping, but they even went to the trouble of booking rooms in the main lodge and scheduling her a birthday dinner in the restaurant that looks out onto the valley.

Mama whistles at the menu from her seat at the head of the table, “damn, this is a good lookin dinner.”

Dani picks up the single sheet of paper, the silver writing informing her the meal with consist of a summer salad, shrimp scampie, and a strawberry rhubarb tart for dessert. When she glances across the table, Barclay is smiling down into his water glass.

“Oh my god, did you request a specific menu just for me?”

Her friend nods, blushing a little, “Head chef is an old friend from my line cook days.”

“Aw, you guys.” She sips the fancy cider Barclay ordered for the table, “you didn’t have to do all this.”

“You ain’t had a real party in years; seemed time to fix that.” Mama’s about to say something else when the fire alarm blares through the room and a server asks that everyone please exit through the side doors into the courtyard.

“Probably just a false alarm.” Barclay leans against a decorative rock.

“Uh, dudes? I smell smoke.”

Dani cranes her neck, tracks the path of the curling smoke through the lights from the windows to the main meeting room on the bottom floor of the hotel. A woman about her age, dressed entirely in red and black with, “The Lady Flame” emblazoned on her sparkly jacket, is talking and gesturing rapidly with disgruntled staff.

Two minutes later, the same woman steps onto the lawn with a sheepish smile.

“Hi everyone! It’s safe to go back in now. I, um, there was a tiny accident with some flashpaper. I think. Anyway, point is, I’m super sorry and there’s no more fire so please come enjoy my show. Oh, but, um, we have to move to the dining room due to some, um, ash.”

Just as she says this, one of the servers whispers in Barclays ear.

“Fuck. Sorry gang, sounds like we gotta postpone until tomorrow; whatever party booked ms fireball over there is gonna take up the whole restaurant.”

Dani sighs, resigning herself to a night of vending machine dinner as they head back inside. Then a hand settles on her arm and she’s locking eyes with the person who just ruined her evening.

“Hey, I always ask the cutest girl in the audience to be my assistant for the next bit. Do you want to-”

She pulls her arm away, “Yeah, hard pass, I’m not in whatever group decided to book you. I’m the person who’s birthday is getting turfed for your party.”

The magician cringes, “EEsh, I’m so sorry, I’ll, um, I’ll just.” She steps back, eyes glued to her black boots. As Dani continues into the lodge, she swears she hears the same voice go, “aw beans.”

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

The spring sunshine feels perfect, the breeze is gentle, and there are literal bluebirds calling around her. Dani feels like a dang disney princess as she naps on a rock near one of the meadows.

Something--a chipmunk, she assumes--munches the grass below her.

“Dr Harris Bonkers, no! This is a national park and I’m not letting my only son go to jail for vandalism.”

Dani rolls onto her side in time to see the magician from last night scooping a massive, orange rabbit from the ground. When she straightens enough to notice she’s not alone, the woman freezes.

“Um. Hi. Again.”

“Hi.” Not feeling like rehashing last night, she studies the rabbit, “should he really be running around out here?”

“Not even remotely. He was supposed to stay in my room, but he gnawed his way out of his carrier, hopped onto the windowsill, and decided to bounce when he saw all the plants out here.” She cautiously sits on the edge of the rock, rabbit in her lap, “I really am sorry about last night. I never used to have problems during my shows, but lately it’s like my flashpaper has a freaking mind of its own. I was kinda hoping it wouldn’t screw with anybody’s plans but mine.”

“It’s fine.” Dani shrugs, “we’re just going to do a dinner re-do tonight.”

The woman bites a matte black lip, “Could I, um, make it up to you?”

“How?”

“Well, it’s your birthday, right? You’re supposed to spend your birthday doing things you like, so I could, like, keep you company while you do them?”

It would be nice to have a hiking buddy. Mama is taking a well-deserved nap, Barclay is off for a swim, and Jake found some rock climbers to hang with. And while the Lady Flame looked good last night, today she’s downright gorgeous. The dyed-red streaks in her curly, black hair, the freckles, black shorts that make her butt look incredible, all of it adds up to someone Dani wouldn’t mind spending the day with.

“Do you have shoes you can hike in?”

She kicks up one leg, showing off her Doc Martens, “I once walked five miles in these with no problems.”

“Great. Let’s get the doctor” she rubs the rabbit’s ears, “somewhere safe and get on the trail.”

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

The hike’s only three and a half miles, but it’s taking them a long time to complete it. Not because they’re slow, but because Aubrey (as the Lady Flame calls herself) keeps stopping to look at or point out any interesting thing that catches her eye. It’s adorable.

Dani likes when she points out plants, because then she can show off a little.

“Dang, you really know your plants.” Aubrey stoops to take a picture of some Scarlet Monkeyflower.

“I run the teaching garden out back of the Lodge. Uh, Amnesty Lodge, where I live, not this one.”

“Coooool. I keep thinking about making Dr. Harris Boners a little garden when I finally find a place to stay put for awhile, but everything is always about how to keep bunnies out of your garden.”

“I mean, they can really trash it if you’re not careful.”

“I believe it, Dr. Harris Bonkers can take out a whole patch of rug in, like, ten minutes.”

“Herbs would probably be okay, clover too. I guess it depends on how much space you have.”

“Probably not much” Aubrey holds out a hand to help her across a creek, “traveling magicians don’t make much.”

Their talk turns to Aubrey’s life on the road, and her various misadventures trying to transport a fifteen pound rabbit on public transit. When they reach the waterfall that marks the trails end, they slip off their shoes and socks to dip their feet in the nearby pond, shoulders touching as they compare notes on growing up in sometimes stressful family situations.

It’s well after lunchtime when they get back, so they sit in the meadow and split a bag of chips, shooing away several overly ambitious squirrels. Mama joins them for a bit, and Dani smiles when she notices how quickly the older woman takes to Aubrey. Mama can never turn down a stray.

Dani’s already scheming for how to spend the last day of her vacation with Aubrey when the magician turns down her invitation to dinner. She’s a little disappointed, but Aubrey promises she’ll see her later.

Her birthday dinner redux is halfway into its second course when the lights at the front of the room brighten and the ones above her dim.

“And now, as an added, surprise treat for this evening's meal, the magnificent Lady Flame is here to dazzle you all with her astounding feats of magic!” The server at the edge of the room gives a thumbs up and Aubrey bounds into view, smile glittering brighter than her outfit.

To Dani’s delight, Aubrey is an amazing magician; her tricks are interesting, her patter is the same funny, energetic pace that their conversations were this afternoon, and her assistant is adorable. When she declares she needs a volunteer for her next trick, she’s holding her hand out to Dani before anyone else can raise theirs.

The trick turns out to be picking cards and showing them to the audience, though Dani notices Aubrey devotes as much sleight of hand to brushing their fingers together as she does to her act.

“And now, esteemed audience, I will produce a flower from my lovely assistant's hair!”

Dani smiles, then claps along with everyone else as Aubrey produces a spring of Larkspur from thin air. Literally, Dani cannot for the life of her tell where she was hiding it. Or how she was able to get what Dani said was her favorite flower on such short notice.

Aubrey finishes up her act (and doesn’t set anything on fire) to thunderous applause, and Dani spots Mama leaning over to whisper something to Barclay, who nods thoughtfully. It’s only after the magician has taken her last bow that Dani has a horrible realization; Aubrey went to all that trouble to make her birthday dinner memorable, and she didn’t get to eat any of it.

Her white sandals sink into the carpet as she carries a plate down to Aubrey’s room. When her new friend opens the door, she’s between worlds; sparkly jacket on top, red pajama pants on the bottom.

“I brought you some cake. Or, uh, I guess it’s a tart.” She holds out the plate and Aubrey takes it, cheeks going pink, “since you didn’t get the rest of the dinner.”

“Thanks” Aubrey steps back so Dani can join her in the room, “it’s chill that I didn’t get to join you all; I wanted to make up for ruining your dinner last night.”

“You already did way more than that. Aubrey, this was the nicest day I’ve had in months, and most of that is because I got to spend it with you.”

“I dunno, feel weird getting cake from a thing I crashed.” Aubrey is fidgeting with her bracelets, blushing harder every time she looks up and finds Dani still smiling at her.

“Can I give you something else instead?” Dani takes a half-step forward.

“Sure! What-” Aubrey’s words fade into a little sigh as Dani wraps her arms over her shoulders. Then her back bumps into the nightstand as Aubrey throws herself into a kiss.

“Hey” Dani teases, nibbling her ear as Aubrey holds her tighter, “you messed up my big reveal.”

“Aw dang, guess I’ll have to make it up to you.” Aubrey slips her hands down to the small of her back, “how does even more making out sound?”

Dani pulls her towards the bed, heart buzzing with warmth at the sight of her smile and the touch of her hands, “like the best birthday gift ever.”

[ijustwant2write]

Grow Up Fast-Fred Weasley x Reader (Part 2)

(GIF credit to @everygif​)

Part 1

Masterlist

Prompt List

‘OMG! I loved Grow Up Fast-Fred Weasley x Reader! I’ll love to see a part two where they go get the baby back! Hopefully if you have time, it was so cute‘

‘Grow Up Fast was so cute and amazing!! Part 2???‘

‘loved you’re recent Fred piece on the baby! just wondering if you could do another one along those lines but the reader is pregnant with twins and the whole family is finding it special obviously because Fred’s a twin, just something along those lines 💖‘

Characters: Fred Weasley x Reader, George Weasley x Reader (brother-in-law), Weasley family x Reader (in-laws)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Adoption, pregnancy symptoms/pregnancy talk (throwing up/check ups/scans/trimesters), lots and lots and lots of fluff

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

“Are we really doing this?” I excitedly breathed out, squeezing Fred’s hand.

He slightly nodded, looking apprehensive himself.“We really are.”

We were stood inside the orphanage, and this wasn’t our first time here. Ever since the baby had left our short care, something had felt off in our lives. In the beginning, we blamed it on the shock of it all; it’s not everyday that you find an abandoned baby behind your shop. Even George pointed this out, saying that our minds seemed to be elsewhere. So here we stood, waiting for the care worker to come back down the hall, but this time she wouldn’t be by herself.

I held back an excited giggle when she turned around the corner with the baby in a carrier. He was awake, kicking his legs about under his blanket, gurgling away as if he knew he was going to his forever home. I tried not to start crying, even though my emotions were all over the place, but it seemed that Fred was happy to let the tears fall. Smiling up at him, I quickly made him face me, giggling as I wiped away his tears. We didn’t exchange any words, but he nodded his at me as if I had asked if he was alright.

“Here he is, little Tommy.” the woman beamed, handing him over to us.

Fred held the carrier in both arms, and we cooed at Tommy. We had helped pick out a name for him when they couldn’t find any recent hospital records, they had no idea where he came from or who his mother was. And just like that, we were taking him home with us.

Once home, we found ourselves lying on the bed, with Tommy in the middle (just like we had the first time we brought him home), and just staring. We had fed him before, meaning he was now sleepy, slowly dozing off.

“What do we do know?” Fred whispered.

“I don’t know.” I honestly answered.“It feels so strange to have him home again, even after seeing him in the care home for so many months.”

“I wish we were there to see him properly grow, he’s so much bigger now.”

“Well he’s here now. And it’s almost his first birthday, we should start planning.”

Fred chuckled, eyes widening when Tommy stirred. Tommy opened his eyes, face scrunching up to cry when I pulled him closer, holding onto him. He calmed down, a few whimpers escaping him before he nodded off again. I glanced at Fred, who was already looking at me, sharing a smile. This was our life now.

A few more months passed, filled with getting used to being parents; the late nights, early mornings, dealing with the ear piercing cries and smelly nappies, but also the bursts of giggles, funny noises and cuddles. So many of our friends and family had come forward to help, giving advice and wanting to get to know the new member of the family. Molly had been extremely enthusiastic after finding out we planned to adopt Tommy. She had worried that there had been problems with us, that we weren’t able to have babies of our own, though even after reassurance, she was still excited. And she offered to babysit way too much (though sometimes that was used to our advantage). 

Now it was the day of Tommy’s first birthday. Since there were no hospital records to show his birth date, they had to give it their best guess. Nevertheless, Tommy was going to have a proper birthday. We had decorated the home, our presents were stacked next to the fireplace, the cake was displayed alongside the rest of the food, and I had picked out his outfit for the day, now all that was left to do was wait for the guests. 

“Wow, look at my handsome boys!” I exclaimed when I entered the living room, seeing Fred holding up Tommy to look at himself in the mirror. 

Fred gasped, turning around so that they were looking at me.“Tommy, look at mummy! Good thing she put in an effort too.”

I scoffed a laugh.“Is everything ready?”

“Yep. Guests should be arriving any minute.”

“Today is all about you Tommy.” I tickled his stomach, laughing with him as he squealed.

The party went amazingly. My family and Fred’s turned up at the same time, all loudly entering our home, gifts in hands, talking over one another. It was hard to take it all in, trying to answer all their questions as they passed me their coats and took off their shoes. Although all their excitement got the best of them, instantly going to greet Tommy and Fred, I didn’t mind, relishing the sight of our entire family together; it was the simple things in life that you could miss, and this was one of them. The day was filled with laughs, too much food and bad singing. There were also nudges towards Ron and Hermione, as well as Harry and Ginny about children, and poor George was being told to keep his search going for the right girl. Both grandmother’s wanted time with Tommy, but I knew he was going to become annoyed being passed around too much. Everyone was content watching him sit up by himself, cushions surrounding him in case he fell, playing with his toys.

Sitting back with Hermione, I found it hard to concentrate on her words. I suddenly felt tired, and also didn’t want to even think about the lunch I had served up. Trying to keep up with the conversation, I sipped at my water, feeling ill. Perhaps I was over tired from the late nights with Harry, we hadn’t had a gathering like this in a while, it was a lot to keep up with, especially when you were one of the hosts. I excused myself, quickly walking to the bathroom. Just as I was about to splash some water on my face, a horrible feeling rose in my throat, and I found myself bent over the toilet being sick. No, surely not, I couldn’t be could I?

Luckily I wasn’t throwing up for long, taking a moment to catch my breath, causing me to cough. Slowly standing, not feeling dizzy now, and quickly brushing my teeth as I flushed the toilet. Checking my reflection, I sighed when I saw how pale I had become. People would definitely notice, if not, then Fred certainly would. I had to act normal, be as bright and bubbly as I was ten minutes ago.

Upon my return, there was music playing, Ginny and Hermione swaying with Tommy on the floor whilst our parents conversed, and the lads talked about something unrelated to babies, families or weddings. Passing by them, I smiled, needing a glass of water. I realised Fred had followed me into the kitchen, sighing as I realised I would have to tell him.

“(Y/N), you don’t look well, are you OK?” Fred asked closely, his hands rubbing my arms up and down as he stood behind me. 

I nodded after taking a sip of water.“Yeah. I’m fine now.”

“What does that mean?”

I turned around to face him, leaning back against the counter.“I um...I was just sick in the toilet.”

“Should we take you to a doctor? Do you need healing? What are your symptoms?” he rushed.

“No, I’m fine really. Perhaps I ate something bad....or....”

“Or what?”

“Fred, your mum babysat for us a couple of weeks ago.”

“What does that have to do with any of this?”

“We were alone, all day and all night...can you connect the dots?”

It took him a few more seconds before it clicked, and as his eyes widened, I had to clamp a hand over his mouth to stop him from yelling.

“Yes, Fred, I might be pregnant.” I whispered.

“Uh, am I interrupting something here?” Ron said from the doorway, confused when he saw the position we were in.

“Uh, y-yes! Fred was about to yell about the cake, but...but we didn’t want Harry to hear and get too excited.”

Ron furrowed his eyebrows at us as he slowly stepped back.“OK. I mean, he’s only one, I’m sure he wouldn’t have realised.”

Removing my hand from Fred’s mouth, I let out a sigh of relief.“Look, we don’t know if that’s true yet, so for now, don’t even think about it.”

“But, if you are...” Fred trailed off, smiling to himself.

“Would...would you be alright with that?”

“Would you?”

We hadn’t come back to that conversation, instead trying to focus on the rest of the party. Because Tommy was easily tired out, they didn’t stay for much longer. At any other time, I would insist they stay, even after putting Tommy to bed. However, I wasn’t being a good host as I let them put on their shoes and coats, each waving goodbye to little Tommy. With the door closed, and just the three of us leftover, Fred and I flopped onto the sofa, letting Tommy roam and tire himself out.

“I’ll book an appointment for this week.” I mumbled, trying to not let my eyes droop.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Fred said.

“I...I don’t know. It would be nice but George might get suspicious.”

“Would it be so bad if he found out? You know he would keep it a secret.”

“That’s true. Alright, come with me. Let’s find out together.”

And that’s what happened. Unfortunately it was almost another two weeks before I was able to be checked over; there had been a strange atmosphere as we waited, that’s all we were concentrating on. Tommy still received as much love as he usually did, but there were times where I would stress about the future. Tommy was just one, and if I was pregnant, there wasn’t going to be a big age gap between the children. That would be hard. They would be toddlers together, there would be screaming, crying, toilet training, the money for nappies, clothes, toys....but every time I found myself down that hole, Fred was there to pull me out, consoling me, assuring me we would be alright with one more child.

I had been bouncing Tommy on my lap as we waited for the doctor to see us. Fred had to take him away from me, worried that I would cause him to be sick, but it was a nervous tick. I was extremely grateful to have Fred with me, concentrating on his thumb running over the back of my hand, and the gentle kisses he would place on my forehead. But the appointment went by in a flash, and as we walked outside, I couldn’t help but squeal in excitement and shock, exclaiming loudly to everyone around me;

“WE’RE PREGNANT!”

George obviously had to know first, seeing as we took the day off work. But he was sworn to secrecy. We wanted to keep it under wraps for a while, waiting to see what my first trimester was like. The excitement was almost too much for me, I couldn’t stop picturing what it was going to be like for Tommy to have a sibling. Another person to add to our family, someone else to give our love to. Things were going well, of course there were the horrible symptoms, though I said to myself over and over again that this would be worth. The weeks whizzed by, and soon, I was starting to show, meaning Fred and I couldn’t stop rubbing the tiny bump. I had bawled when Tommy rested his head on it one night, as if he understood his brother or sister was in there.

We knew it would be impossible to keep it hidden anymore, and I seemed very healthy so far. We were also bursting to tell our friends and family, trying to think of ways to announce it. Fred suggested huge fireworks that wrote it out, but I knew that would be too much. Instead, he settled for a cake where the icing would start writing out the message ‘We’re Pregnant!’ when the candles were lit. Once again, the family found themselves squashed together, this time meeting at the Burrow. Tommy stood on Harry’s lap, clumsily using his face to balance himself as Fred and I caught everyone’s attention.

“We thought we would bring you all something special, a thank you for supporting us through the entire adoption process and for helping us get used to being parents.” I explained, pushing the cake into the centre of the table.

The candles had just been lit, and as everyone licked their lips at the sight of it, they realised what was happening. Screams, hollers and cheers erupted throughout the small room, causing me to burst into tears at the happiness. This was good, this was going to be an amazing chapter of my life.

My mother and molly would send me pregnancy books, recipes for meals that were good for the baby, or just natter on and on about advice, side effects, and what childbirth actually entailed. Sometimes it was a bit too much, I would wish they held some details back. The checkups were going well, Tommy’s behaviour was getting better as he grew, also Fred’s enthusiasm seemed to never die down. However, it had come to that certain appointment, the one some couples longed for. It was time to find out the gender of our child. The results we were given weren’t what we were expecting.

Stepping into the shop, I relaxed when I saw it wasn’t too busy. Fred was desperate to tell his brother the news. As he went to get him, I laughed at Tommy’s wide eyes, taking in all the colours and noises. Fred gestured for me to follow him into the stock room, getting their workers to take over the floor. As I stepped in, flashbacks to Tommy as a newborn came to me. How strange, it was almost like a full circle.

“So, what’s it gonna be then?” George grinned.

I giggled at Fred who was almost jumping up and down in excitement.“Go on then, I said you could tell him.”

“Well, Georgie, it’s a boy-”

He threw his arms up in the air.“Yes! I knew it!”

“And a girl.”

“Wait, what?” his arms slowly sank down.

“We’re having twins! There’s going to be another set of Weasley twins!”

George responded with a loud cheer, throwing himself onto his brother in an engulfing hug. They were patting each other on the back, at first jumping about before they calmed down, swaying side to side.

“Freddie, that’s amazing! (Y/N), you’re going to be massive!”

I scoffed a laugh, knowing he meant no harm.“Thank you very much George. You’ve already earned yourself a whole weekend of babysitting.”

“Have you told mum yet?”

“No,” Fred said,“you’re the first.”

“She’s going to go crazy.”

“So is mine.” I stated.

“Who would have thought, eh? Another set of twins?”

“I’m going to finally know what it was like to raise you two. Perhaps I should have a masterclass from your mum.”

“She’ll give you lots of tips, and stories about how much of a terror we were.”

“Great, looking forward to that.”

Leaving the shop, Fred took over carrying Tommy in one arm, his other hand holding mine. We dawdled on our way home, seeming to be in no rush as we took in what news we were given today.

I smiled as I placed a hand on my bump.“Fred?”

“Hm?” Tommy was already falling asleep on his shoulder.

“Are we really doing this?”

He smiled back.“We really are.”

[fanfictionaries]

Oh So Many Years: Ch. 19 - Shoot The Moon

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

Summer has ended and students return to King’s Cross to begin another year at Hogwarts. 

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note:

For some reason Tumblr wouldn’t take my formatting like it has with previous chapters. I swear it’s a freaking crap shoot whether it will EVERY time I poster on here. It would be nice to know how that works...

Anyways, please enjoy :) 

Masterlist

<<<Chapter 18

 Summer days are gone too soon

You shoot the moon

And miss completely

And now you’re left to face the gloom

The empty room that once smelled sweetly

Of all the flowers you plucked if only

You knew the reason

Why you had to each be lonely

Was it just the season?

 Hermione Granger was nothing if not a punctual person. At the best of times she was fifteen minutes early and at the worst she was on time. However, she should have known that the Weasley family would want to stick true to their tradition of arriving at King’s Cross by the skin of their teeth. Tapping her foot impatiently as she stood in the busy kitchen, Hermione worked very hard at fighting off a headache. Mrs. Weasley was screaming at the twins for charming their trunks and accidentally knocking Ginny down two flights of stairs and Walburga was screaming because Mrs. Weasley was screaming. She checked her watch for the umpteenth time that morning and ran a hand over her hair. They may not even make it on time at all if they carried on this way, she thought irksomely. Especially if they waited any longer on Sturgis Podmore to show up like Moody wanted them to. The last thing she needed was to miss the train on her first day as a Prefect. Smirking to herself, Hermione stared down at the silver pin fitted snuggly to the front of her jumper and admired it. Prefect. She had done it. Just one step closer to Head Girl.

A tap at the kitchen window brought Hermione out of her musings. Looking up she saw the brilliant, snowy visage of Hedwig. Hermione sighed, striding towards the window, and throwing it open. Hedwig flew in, looking quite flustered for a bird. Perhaps she also knew they were running late. Cursing in her head, Hermione wondered if perhaps her parents had forgotten that today was the day she left for Hogwarts. Why else would they have chosen to send Hedwig back so late in the morning? She took the letter from her parents out of Hedwig’s clutch and then allowed the bird to climb onto her shoulder. The owl’s long talons dug sharply into her skin, holding on for dear life as Hermione sprinted out of the kitchen and up the stairs. On the second floor landing she spotted Crookshanks stalking a stray mouse and scooped him up as well. The giant orange beast squirmed in her arms, putting up a fight but possessing enough respect to keep his claws put away.

 “Oh stop, Crooks. Honestly, you’ve spent all summer doing whatever you please. Just cooperate with me for one second,” Hermione groaned, holding onto her cat even tighter and bounding up the last flight of stairs to Harry and Ron’s room.

 “Sorry Harry! Mum and dad only just sent Hedwig back,” she apologized, walking across her friends’ messy room to place Hedwig in her cage. “Are you just now getting dressed?”

 “Uh yeah, I slept late,” Harry mumbled, buttoning the last button on his shirt, and moving to pull on his socks and shoes.

 Hermione sighed, placing Crookshanks down on the bed and taking a moment to stare critically at her best friend. Harry had mentioned the resurgence of his nightmares earlier in the summer when she found him wandering the halls late at night. She had been on her way back to her room from another late-night library session with Fred, but of course she didn’t tell Harry that. While what her and Fred were doing wasn’t necessarily wrong, there was an unspoken agreement between the two of them that they should keep it to themselves. People just wouldn’t understand.

 However, looking at Harry now, Hermione didn’t need her former knowledge of Harry’s nightmares to know that he wasn’t sleeping well. He had circles under his eyes, and despite Mrs. Weasley’s cooking the past month he still looked too thin.

 “How’s Ginny?” Harry asked, tying his laces.

 Hermione rolled her eyes. “She’s fine. Mrs. Weasley is patching her up in the kitchen. I wouldn’t go down there right now though if I were you. It’s a zoo. Mrs. Weasley and Walburga are still yelling and now Mad-Eye’s complaining that we can’t leave until Sturgis Podmore shows up. Otherwise the guard will be one short,” said Hermione, leaning against the end of the bed and petting Crookshanks idly.

 “Guard?” Harry asked, looking up from his shoes. “We have to go to King’s Cross with a guard?”

 “You have to go to King’s Cross with a guard,” corrected Hermione.

 “Why?” questioned Harry, standing up in an irritated fashion.

 Hermione scoffed, “Why do you think, oh Boy Who Lived?”

 “I thought Voldemort was supposed to be lying low. What, do they think he’ll be waiting behind a dustbin at the train station, waiting to do me in?”

 “I don’t know. It’s just what Mad-Eye says,” said Hermione, fighting to stay calm and sympathetic. She was getting a bit tired of Harry’s moody demeanour.

 Her assumption about Harry’s arrival at the beginning of the month had been correct. Harry had been irate. At everyone, but especially at her and Ron. Luckily, Fred and George swooped in at the right time, just like Fred had said they would. Bless the both of them. Hermione didn’t know how much more chastising she could take, she already felt guilty for not writing to him. She’d apologized at least a thousand times over in the last month, but Harry still had a sour mood and while Hermione had been prone to tears at the beginning, now she was just frustrated.

 “Look, I’m not too happy about it either. Do you think I want to be late today?” Hermione asked snippily, looking at her watch once again.

“Will you lot get down here now?!” Mrs. Weasley’s bolstering voice boomed up through the stairwell and Hermione pushed off the bed with a sigh. She grabbed Crookshanks in her arms once again and headed towards the door. “Are you coming?” she asked once she got to the doorway.

 “Yeah, right behind you,” nodded Harry, looking a bit pink in the face. Perhaps her comment had embarrassed him. Hermione smiled at the thought. It would do him good to remember he wasn’t the only one with problems in the world.

 Hermione hurried down the stairs, running into the twins halfway down.

 “Well if it isn’t our favourite little Prefect,” said George, reaching out and ruffling the top of Hermione’s head. Hermione batted his hand away before reaching the bottom of the stairs and placing Crookshanks in his carrier.

 “I’m not speaking with you two,” she sniffed, looking away from them and instead focusing her attention on getting the finicky latch closed tightly on her cat’s wicker carrier.

 “Oh? Why’s that Hermione?” the two asked in unison.

 “I’m annoyed with you both,” responded Hermione in an off-handed manner.

 “Annoyed?” asked Fred with a shocked tone.

 “With us?” asked George, sounding equally as surprised.

 “That can’t be right—” Fred leaned against the wall beside her and took the strap from Hermione’s hands, latching the carrier closed with ease “—we’re angels, we are.”

 “You knocked your sister down two flights of stairs!”

 “By accident!” cried Fred and George.

 “Yes, well still. I hope you know that I will not tolerate that kind of behaviour once we get to Hogwarts.”

 “I knew this would happen Freddie,” said George, shaking his head solemnly.

 “We really should have prepared ourselves more for this inevitable betrayal,” added Fred woefully.

 “Our little Hermione, a swotty Prefect.”

 “No more fun.”

 “No more laughs.”

 “Oh the laughs we’ve had,” bemoaned George wistfully, throwing himself dramatically onto Fred’s shoulder.

 “You two are ridiculous—” Hermione shook her head, unable to stop the smile from forming on her face “—I told you before. Just because I’m a Prefect doesn’t mean I’m going to stop being fun—”

 “You were fun before?” asked Ron cheekily, entering the hallway with a cauldron cake in hand.

 Hermione scowled at him. “Ha, ha, very funny Ron. You know, you’re a Prefect too now. You should start practicing a bit more civility.”  

 Ron smirked, ignoring her comment, and instead taking a bite of the cauldron cake before going over to stand near Tonks and Ginny.

 Hermione turned back to the twins who stared down at her expectantly, waiting to hear the rest of the speech she’d given at least three times over since she’d received the letter with her silver Prefect pin. “Now, as I was saying. I’m not going to turn into a monster. Just realize that I have an obligation to the school first and I won’t hesitate to reprimand you if need be.”

 “Reprimand, you hear that Freddie?” asked George with an impish expression.

 “Sure did Georgie,” answered Fred, looking equally as puckish.

 “What are you going to do, Hermione?”

 “Give us a bit of a spanking?”

 Hermione blushed, furiously and against her better judgement. But she was more well-versed in the ways of the Weasley twins and so her embarrassment did not stop her from responding like it might have in previous years. Instead, she looked up confidently at the two and tried to put on what she could only imagine was a semblance of seduction. “Only if you’ve been bad boys.”

 The twins balked at her comment, mouths hanging open and ears tinging pink in a fashion very similar to Ron but very unfamiliar to them. Fred and George Weasley did not get embarrassed easily. If they had any kind of response, there was no time for it. A moment later, Mrs. Weasley came into the hallway from the kitchen and Harry came down the stairs. Walburga was still screaming insults from the wall, but all ears were trained on Mrs. Weasley’s instructions on who was going with who to King’s Cross and what to do with their trunks.

 A whirlwind of people, crosswalks, and magical barriers and Hermione was finally on Platform 9 ¾. In a way, Hermione was glad they had walked to the train station. It had given her a sense of control on how quickly they reached the train and she had practically run the entire way, Mr. Weasley and Ron on her heel. Once the stress of getting on the train was gone, Hermione was faced with a whole slew of new worries. Sirius had insisted on coming to the station with them and had done his absolute most to stand out like a sore thumb in his Animagus form.

 “He shouldn’t have come with us,” she said, watching the black dog chase the train exuberantly, as they took off from King’s Cross. The students in the train watched it laughing, and even some of the parents left on the platform smiled at the rambunctious dog. They wouldn’t be so cheerful if they knew it was Sirius Black, escaped Azkaban prisoner, thought Hermione cynically.

 “Oh give him a break. He hasn’t seen daylight in ages. Just blowing off a bit of steam he is,” said Ron, continuing to smile out the window at the dog quickly dwindling in size as the train travelled further from the station.

 “Well, as much as we’ve enjoyed your company these past few months, Georgie and I have some important business with people who well…”

 “—aren’t you lot,” George finished for Fred, giving them a short wave before the pair of them turned and disappeared into the next carriage.

 Hermione sighed, not even wanting to begin to think of the trouble they were sure to get up to. Over the remaining month they’d managed to nearly perfect their line of Skiving Snacks and have an admirable inventory at their dispense. As a Prefect, Hermione tried not to think about it. The less she knew, the better.

 “Should we find a compartment then?” asked Harry, turning to her and Ron looking the most cheerful he had all summer. It made what Hermione had to say next even harder. She chanced a look at Ron who was looking equally as guilty.

 “Oh…Harry. I thought you knew. Ron and I have to go to the Prefect’s carriage,” she said, watching the smile fall from Harry’s face. She looked back to Ron, hoping for some support but he was looking anywhere but Harry, focusing intently on one of the wall-mounted light fixtures as if he were seeing it for the first time.

 “Oh—” Harry nodded “—right. Fine.

 “I don’t think we’ll have to be there the whole time. Just long enough to get instructions from the Head Boy and Girl and then we have to patrol the corridors from time to time. We can still—”

 “It’s fine,” said Harry, cutting her off. He was using the clipped, overtly chipper tone he used when he was trying too hard to sound casual. “I might see you later then.”

 “Yeah, definitely!” Ron finally chimed in. “It’s a shame we have to go down there. I’d rather we didn’t, but…we have to. I guess…I mean I’m not enjoying it. I’m not bloody Percy.”

 Harry smiled again, this time in amusement at Ron’s rambling. “I know you’re not,” he said before waving them off to the Prefect compartment.

 Despite his reassurances that he was fine, Hermione felt guilty for leaving Harry there on his own.

 “He’ll be alright,” said Ron, leading her down the corridor towards the front of the train where the Prefect carriage waited for them. “I’m sure he’ll find Seamus or Dean or Neville or someone.”

 “Oh right…”

 It was easy to forget that they all had other friends outside of their small inner circle. Especially since for the longest time, Ron and Harry were her only friends. At least, her only close friends. Neville was her friend, she supposed. As were Fay and Emmy. She might even stretch as far as to say Lavender and Pavarti were her friends as well. Well…maybe more like close acquaintances.

 “Who do you think they chose for Slytherin Prefects?” Ron asked as they neared the front of the train.

 “With our luck it’ll be Malfoy and Parkinson,” grumbled Hermione, reaching the door to the Prefect’s compartment and sliding it open. It was almost poetic the way the moment the words left her mouth, the opening compartment door revealed none other than the two Slytherins in question. They sat in the corner, side-by-side, looking bored and smug. Their expressions only seemed to lighten when they spotted Ron and Hermione entering the compartment.

 “And I thought being a Prefect was supposed to be a place of honour—” Malfoy sneered, looking her and Ron up and down in a condescending manner “—now that I know they’ll give the job to just anyone, it takes away a bit of the prestige.”

 Pansy snickered.

 “Funny, I was just thinking the exact same thing,” Hermione spat back, staring Malfoy in the eye as she tried to telepathically burn him alive. If ever there was a time for emotion-fuelled accidental magic, thought Hermione, now would be it.

 “How dare you, you—”

 “Now, now—” cut in Roger Davies, a seventh year Ravenclaw and the newly appointed Head Boy “—leave the house rivalry for the classroom and the quidditch pitch.” Davies laughed, but Hermione could see the nervous glint in his eye as he gripped his wand tightly.

 “Bloody git,” Ron mumbled under his breath. Hermione didn’t know whether he was referring to Malfoy or Davies, but either way Hermione felt like it was fitting. The rest of the compartment seemed to feel the same as her, as both the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff Prefects were giving Davies wary looks while trying to create as much space as possible between themselves and the Slytherins. Hermione was grateful to see that the other Prefects were familiar faces. Padma Patil, Pavarti’s sister, was the spitting image of her twin and gave Hermione a small wave as she sat down. Hermione, while having limited interaction with the Ravenclaw, found that she liked her much more than Pavarti as they had a shared interest for learning. Anthony Goldstein, the other Ravenclaw Prefect, she recognized from Transfiguration classes years prior. He also gave them a brief greeting. Ernie MacMillan was there too, and while Hermione still didn’t care for him since his spread of lies about Harry their second year, his presence was soothed by the kind and quiet Hannah Abbott who sat next to him.

 “Now!” exclaimed Helen Monroe, the Head Girl, some time later. They were coming near to the end of their meeting, or at least that’s what Hermione assumed based on the agenda they had been given. Their meeting had taken much longer than either Hermione or Ron had anticipated. Ashamedly she thought of Harry sitting on his own in a compartment waiting for them. Merlin she hoped he had found someone to sit with instead of choosing to mope by himself. Maybe Fred and George had found him at the very least.

 “The last thing on our agenda we’d like to address before handing out patrol and meeting schedules is an issue of favouritism,” said Monroe with a smiling face.

 “Favouritism? What do ya mean?” asked Ernie, sounding affronted as if he’d just been personally accused of the offense.

 “Well, in the past we’ve had issues with Prefects showing house favouritism—”

 “—giving points where they’re undeserved and taking points away to give their house a leg up on winning the House Cup,” chimed in Davies.

 “And we just wanted to remind you that your responsibility is to the school and it’s students first and foremost. So please try and show some sense of neutrality, no matter who is involved, whether it’s those in your house or…family members…” Monroe shot a nervous look in Ron’s direction that Ron missed but Hermione did not.

 For a second she wondered if perhaps they were talking about Harry, given he was so prone to getting in trouble and then the truth of the implication hit her square in the face. Maybe she was spending too much time with Fred and George otherwise, she would have caught on immediately that that was exactly who the Heads were referring to. Hermione wanted to laugh. She almost did. Bringing a hand up to cover her mouth, she faked a cough to try and hide the bout of giggles threatening to escape her chest.  

 They were given their schedules after that. Hermione and Ron had the first set of patrols up and down the train, and so instead of heading straight towards Harry, they meandered down from the head of the train, peaking into compartments, and breaking up little spats between younger students. Ron seemed to take to the position of power quite well. Almost too well in some instances, Hermione having to remind him of the speech they’d just been given about abuse of power in favour of their house. He had been trying to take points from a group of third year Slytherins for being too loud – an offense that Hermione deemed worthy of a simple reminder. They were about halfway down the train, Ron trying to reverse a jelly-legs curse that had been set on a fourth year Ravenclaw by accident, when a compartment slid open and Hermione nearly collided with Angelina Johnson.

 “Oh!—” the Gryffindor chaser exclaimed, stopping short “—Hermione. Hi.”

 “Hi…” Hermione responded awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Suddenly she was very nervous, which was ridiculous because she had nothing to be nervous about! It’s not like her and Fred had really done anything. Intimate? Sure. But in a friendly sort of way. Nothing that when taken into context could be deemed inappropriate, reasoned Hermione. Although, if that were true then she wouldn’t have anything to be nervous about.

 “How was your summer?” the older girl asked.

 The question took Hermione by surprise. Why did Angelina Johnson care about her summer? They weren’t friends, and up until that point Hermione was under the impression that Johnson didn’t even like her all that much.

 “Fine. I spent most of it with Ron’s family,” Hermione said, trying to push past how odd it felt to be having a conversation with Fred’s girlfriend when she was madly in love with him and had spent most of her summer nights curled up on a couch or in his bed with him. In a totally appropriate way of course.

 “I thought you might have. George mentioned one time that you usually visit them during the summer,” said Johnson, nodding and looking nervously around them.

 “How was your summer? I heard you spent it at quidditch camp. How was that?” Hermione asked, trying to bridge the uncomfortable silence between them with polite conversation. Why were they still talking?

 “It was good. Yeah, really good. I learned a lot of…stuff.”

 Hermione nodded, raising her eyebrows in acknowledgement. When Johnson neglected to continue, Hermione glanced back in the compartment where Ron was patting an exhausted looking Ravenclaw student on the back, having just broken the curse. She wished he’d hurry up and save her from whatever was going on right then. Her attention was pulled back to the uncomfortable conversation when Johnson spoke once again.

 “Listen, Granger. Now that I’ve got you, I was wondering…” Johnson paused, seeming to contemplate her next words. “I was just wondering whether—”

 “There you are!” Ron exclaimed, exiting the compartment behind Hermione, and placing a hand on her shoulder. “You know, I really could have used your help in there. You’re much better at counter-curses than me Hermione. Oh, hi Johnson.”

 The older girl seemed to go all rigid and awkward at the appearance of Ron. She shifted from foot to foot and cleared her throat before straightening her position and taking on a completely different demeanour. “Weasley. How was your summer?”

 “Good, thanks. Not as good as yours I imagine. Quidditch camp! That must have been amazing!” mooned Ron, getting a sparkly look to his eye at the thought.

 “Yeah, it was great. Learned loads of stuff that should be sure to put Gryffindor in the lead this year. We need a new Keeper now that Oli, I mean—” Johnson coughed “—now that Wood’s gone. Will you be following the Weasley legacy and trying out?”

 Ron went red around the ears, ducking his head bashfully. “Actually, yeah. I thought I might.”

 “Good. I look forward to seeing what you’ve got,” said Johnson with finality before giving them both a small nod and moving past them down the train corridor.

 As strange as the interaction had been, only one thing seemed to stick with Hermione in that moment.

 “You didn’t tell me you were planning on trying out for the team!”

  Fred reckoned he should have known the minute Angelina neglected to show up to their usual compartment that something was up. Alicia had given some offhanded excuse of Angelina going to scout out compartments for potential quidditch recruits and Fred had bought it at face value. In the past he might have questioned it a bit more, gone looking for his long-time friend and currently girlfriend. But in a way it had been a relief for him to not have to deal with the issue of Angelina the moment he got on the train. He was much too excited to show Lee and Alicia their new products and didn’t want to sully it by breaking up with his girlfriend. It had been a long-time coming. He’d wanted to end things weeks ago but had ultimately decided that he couldn’t do it over letter. Him and Angelina had history and she definitely deserved more than a letter saying ‘Hey, this isn’t working. Mind if we just go back to being friends?’. Not to mention the girl got harder and harder to reach as the summer went on. The last letter she’d sent him had been nothing but a picture of her and the beater for the Holyhead Harpies with the words ‘Isn’t this rad? Missing you lots! x Angelina’ written on the back. And while it was cool, Fred couldn’t help but think that in a way it was a finality to their relationship for him. The two of them had never really been gossipy conversationalists, falling back more on their shared physical activities and the comfortable silence that came with old friendships, but this was a bit too sparse for him. He wanted more. He wanted something different. He wanted…Hermione.

 Luckily after the reveal of their new products, Lee wasted no time in bringing other students into their compartment to show off their goods. Before Fred knew it, he and George were completely immersed in their salesmen roles and so all thoughts of girls and relationships were quickly replaced with galleons, sickles, and knuts.

 By the time he and George had made it to the castle their pockets were significantly heavier and their spirits lighter than ever. They were almost completely out of fake wands, biting teacups, and spitting teapots. They had even been convinced by a group of second year Hufflepuffs to sell some of their Skiving Snack Box products – the sweets not yet fully through trial runs. Fred and George agreed but only if they were willing to report back on the effects. The students were happy to do so as it meant they got the sweets at a discount.

 The next clue that went unnoticed by Fred was the fact that Angelina chose to sit at the opposite end of the table as him at the feast. But Fred had been too excited, telling Hermione all about their sales, to notice. Besides, Alicia and Lee were sitting with her and Fred and George usually sat with their family at the start-of-term feast. Still, when Fred caught Angelina’s eye at the end of the table as the last of the first years took their seats, he found himself panicked at the odd look on his girlfriend’s face. Did she know? wondered Fred feeling the all too familiar summersault in his stomach. How could she possibly know? The only person who knew he wanted to break up with her was himself. He hadn’t even told George, although he suspected that George suspected as much.

 The churning sensation stuck with him all throughout dinner and resulted in him eating very little, something that did not go unnoticed by neither George nor Hermione.

 “You alright, mate? You barely touched your porkchops,” said George, licking the last of his chocolate ice cream from the back of his spoon.

 “Yes, and you didn’t even fight Ron for the last of the custard,” added Hermione, her comment touching Fred as she had remembered custard was the only pudding he really cared for.

 “I’m fine. My stomach’s just a bit upset,” he lied, chewing on the side of his thumb as he stared down at the table, tracing the grain of the wood with his eyes.

 “Maybe you should go and see Madame Pomfrey once the feast is over,” suggested Ginny kindly. Fred shot her an appreciative smile before returning his gaze to the table.

 “Well, now that our stomachs are full and our hearts are warm from friendly conversation, I’d like to take a moment of your time to go over the usual start-of-term announcements,” Professor Dumbledore’s gentle yet authoritative voice rang throughout the hall, pulling all attention to himself at the centre of the staff table. He went into his usual diatribe on how the Forbidden Forest was of course, forbidden, how Filch wanted to remind them that magic was off-limits in the corridors between classes, etc. etc. Lastly, he announced that there would be two changes in staffing: Professor Grubbly-Plank was back to take over his position as the teacher for Care of Magical Creatures, and their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was a woman named Professor Umbridge.

 At the mention of her name, Fred looked down the staff table for the first time that night to see a new addition. A stout, round woman in a garish-looking pink outfit sat where the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher usually did. Despite her loud outfit she had a very unpleasant look about her, decided Fred. Although, it didn’t really make much of a difference to him. They had a new Defense teacher just about every year now and seeing as it was his last year, it really was inconsequential. They were all the same in the end.

 “Hey, I know her,” commented Harry. “She was at my hearing at the ministry.”

 Fred found that kind of odd. What was a ministry official doing teaching at Hogwarts?

 Dumbledore moved on, beginning to talk about quidditch try-outs when the new DADA teacher did something that made her stick out from all the other defense teachers before her. She stood from her seat. Dumbledore stopped, midsentence and looked at the short woman. Professor Umbridge let out a, “Hem, hem,” and Fred thought for a second that he must be hallucinating. Was this woman really interrupting the headmaster to give some kind of speech? More gracious than Fred could ever imagine to be, Dumbledore allowed her to speak and speak she did.

 Her speech was long-winded, full of comments about Hogwarts’s greatness and how the Ministry placed a lot of stake into the education of young minds. It sounded like a lot of hot air in Fred’s opinion and one glance around the room at the other student’s and even some of the teacher’s faces told him that he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. When Professor Umbridge had the audacity to say that she hoped they would all become great friends Fred couldn’t help but utter a sarcastic, “That’s likely” which was mimicked in time by George as well.

 Then she spoke of progress and change and how things must be done for the better and Fred felt an all-new unease take over him. An unease that radiated throughout the entirety of the room for once she had finished and taken her seat, the hall was much quieter than before.

 “Well that was certainly illuminating,” Hermione whispered from beside him.

 “Don’t tell me you enjoyed that shite,” said Ron exasperatedly. “That had to be the most boring thing I’ve ever heard.

 “I said it was illuminating, not good,” sniped Hermione. “It certainly put things into perspective.”

 “It did?” asked Harry. “Sounded like a load of waffle to me.”

 “Yes, well there was a lot of important stuff in all that waffle if you’d been listening,” said Hermione, her mood turning dark. She had Fred’s attention now as well.

 “There was?” asked Ron dumbly.

 “All that talk of ‘progress for the sake of progress’ and ‘practices that must be prohibited’?”

 Ron and Harry shrugged at her, but Fred was beginning to understand what Hermione was getting at. If Umbridge worked for the ministry and believed that changes needed to be made at Hogwarts then—

 “It means the Ministry’s interfering at Hogwarts,” said Hermione, surmising Fred’s conclusion perfectly.

 The room burst into applause, Dumbledore having finished the last of his announcements and then students began to rise from their seats. Ron and Hermione stood, leaving to escort the first years back to Gryffindor tower. Fred laughed with George when Hermione looked like she was about to lose her head when Ron called the first years ‘midgets’. Turning his head away from the squabbling pair, his eyes fell once again on Angelina.

 Fred swallowed thickly.

 If ever there was a time, it was now. He should just do it. Get it over with. Break her heart and hope that they could move on. Trying to find the bright side to it, he told himself that the sooner he ended things with Angelina, the sooner he could begin pursuing Hermione. However, that only left him with even sweatier palms. Standing up from the table, he looked between George and Angelina with the full intent to cross the room and ask his girlfriend to speak in private. But instead,

 “Alright, Freddie!” he announced loudly, catching George off guard. His twin looked up from the conversation he’d been having with Ginny and looked at him curiously. “I’ll see you in the common room. I have a few things I need to take care of first.”

 Before his brother had any time to question what he was doing, Fred flew from the Great Hall and past Angelina, avoiding looking in her direction as he turned the corner and headed towards an unknown direction. He had only gone a little way down the corridor when a voice called after him.

 “George! Wait up!”

 Fred stopped and turned to see Angelina running after him. What could Angelina possibly want with George, Fred thought for a moment as he watched the pretty witch approach him, her long braids bouncing off her shoulders. She looked nervous when she finally reached him. Her hands twisted together, and her eyes couldn’t quite meet his.

 “That’s me, George. What’s up?” Fred asked, wanting to kick himself. Coward. He was a coward.

 “Can I…can I talk to you for a second about…Fred?”

 “What about Fred?” Fred asked, feeling incredibly stuck in the lie he’d created.

 “Um, you know how I was at quidditch camp this summer?” asked Angelina, looking around them and grabbing Fred’s arm, pulling them over to an alcove away from prying ears and eyes. “And you know how Oliver was there?”

 “Yeah…” said Fred, feeling the blood drain from his body. His limbs had gone all cold and his fingers all numb and tingly.

 “Well, something might have happened.”

 “Something? What kind of something?”

 “Like I might have, I guess you could say I might have cheated?”

 “Might have or did? Those are two very different things Angelina,” said Fred, speaking now more as himself than as himself pretending to be George.

 “Okay, I did! I cheated!” admitted Angelina, bringing her hands up to cover her face in shame.

 “With Oliver Wood?!”

 “I know! I know! It just sort of…happened. Oli and I, we’re—”

 “Oh, so it’s Oli now?” asked Fred, feeling his temper bubble.

 “Look, I know you’re angry. I mean, Fred’s your brother after all.”

 Oh, right. She still thought he was George. Well this certainly threw a wrench in things. “Don’t you think this is something you should be telling him and not…me?” asked Fred, feeling slightly confused as he tried to wrap his head around processing the fact that his girlfriend had cheated on him with Oliver Wood, and that she had no idea she was speaking to him and not his brother.  

 “Yes, and I want to, but George. We’re friends too right? And you know him better than anyone. I was hoping you might know how to break this to him as easily as possible,” Angelina pleaded, looking imploringly into his eyes.

 Before Fred could even begin to figure out how to answer that, both his saving grace and downfall came all at once in the form of the real George Weasley.

 “You alright Freddie? What are you two up to then?” asked George, looking innocently between the two of them, tucked into the alcove.

 Angelina looked between George, the real George, and Fred who she now was beginning to realize was the one standing before her. Fred watched as the realization took over her and then how fear replaced confusion in her eyes before she muttered, “Well, fuck.”

 The conversation at that point had been a bit stale. Fred reckoned he might have gotten more answers out of her if George hadn’t come along and blown his act, but it was probably for the best. The more Fred thought about it, the less he really wanted to know. Still, some things stuck with him. What did Oliver Wood have that he didn’t?

 “I mean, it’s Wood!” cried Fred for the tenth time that night, laying face up, wrong way on his bed, head hanging off the end.

 “I know mate, I know,” responded George, continuing to unpack his and Fred’s trunk. A nicety Fred figured he was only giving considering his current predicament.

 “Maybe she’s bewitched or something,” suggested Lee kindly from across the room.

 “Yeah, maybe she’s under some kind of potion or spell. How else could a prat like that land Angelina?” added George.

 “I don’t know, Fred managed to land her just fine,” said Kenneth Towler, earning a round of glares from everyone in the room.

 “Shut it, Towler,” warned George, but he had gotten Fred’s attention now.

 Lifting his head till it was level with his body, Fred looked at the bookish boy with narrowed eyes. “What are you trying to say Kenneth?”

 Kenneth laughed, a short and breathy scoff, shaking his head from side to side. “Have you ever considered that maybe Wood’s just better than you?”

 The room was silent. Shocked at Towler’s words and more importantly in anticipation for how Fred would respond. Fred too was curious as to how he would react. Digging deep within himself he searched for anger, sadness, envy, but he found none of it. Instead, he laughed. A full body, side aching laugh that sent him toppling out of his bed and wiping at tears at the corner of his eyes. George and Lee joined in, followed shortly by Towler himself. When Fred finally calmed down enough to catch his breath he was on the floor, back leaning against the foot of his bed and one knee bent upwards to support his left arm.

 “Yeah, you might be right there Towler,” he sighed, feeling better than he had a few minutes previously.

 Despite his ability to laugh at the situation that night, Fred couldn’t help but mope the next day. Sure, he was planning on breaking up with Angelina as well, but it still hurts to get dumped and cheated on. Especially when the other man was your old quidditch captain. Not to mention, in a way he felt like it was slightly expected of him. In true Hogwarts fashion everyone knew the tale of him and Angelina and more importantly his mistaken identity. It had turned into a bit of a joke really and by dinner the next night people were saying things like “Just make sure it’s actually them and not their twin” when someone planned to meet with someone.

 It wasn’t particularly clever, Fred thought. Surely he and George could have come up with something much better if it had happened to someone else. But it hadn’t happened to someone else. It had happened to him, and he wasn’t about to throw fire to the flame by making a better joke that would surely stick around much longer. That just wouldn’t be fair to Angelina, who was already looking about as miserable as you could. It was clear she was embarrassed and guilty. Several points throughout the day Fred thought about putting her out of her misery and telling her not to feel bad. Maybe if he had been a better boyfriend she wouldn’t have been seduced away by another man. Maybe she could tell that his heart wasn’t truly in their relationship and therefore it was easier for her to be unfaithful. Still, he had been the one who’s heart wasn’t in it and he hadn’t been shoving his tongue down Hermione’s throat all summer. This was a new fact he had unwillingly learned from a few Gryffindor sixth year girls gossiping too loudly in the corridor before dinner.

 Once at dinner and knowing this fact, Fred longed for distraction. Glancing around he noticed that Hermione was noticeably absent. Of course she would be gone on the one day he needed the comfort of her ability to go on and on about whatever subject he asked her about.

 “Say, where’s Hermione?” Fred asked Ron and Harry as casually as he could.

 Harry shrugged but Ron answered, “Library maybe? That’s where she was last I saw her. You know how she gets.”

 “Maybe I should go get her? Make sure she doesn’t accidentally miss dinner,” Fred said, standing from the table.

 George gave him a knowing look. “Is that all?”

 “Dinner is the most important meal of the day Georgie,” said Fred, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

 “I thought that was breakfast,” said George back, smiling now.

 “Yeah, and I thought you weren’t a huge dickhead. I guess we’re both wrong.” And with that Fred spun on his heel and exited the Great Hall.

 Fred made it halfway to the library when he began to notice something very odd. The air had begun to thicken, a layer of fog soon surrounding him. Very shortly after his shoes started to make a wet splashing sound with every step. Looking down the corridor through the hazy fog, he realized that the floor was covered in water. A few steps further in and he realized that it was beginning to deepen. Something brushed his left hand and Fred jumped, spinning quickly, and pulling out his wand only to find a cattail. What was a cattail doing in a Hogwarts corridor?

 “Lumos,” he muttered, the tip of his wand glowing brilliantly and illuminating the corridor ahead of him. But he did not see a corridor. Or at least not the corridor he expected to see. No, instead the hall seemed to be transformed into what could only be described as a swamp with an expanse of still water covered by lily pads, cattails, and moss-covered logs. To top it all off, if he focused hard enough and held his breath, Fred could make out the croaks of toads in the distance.

 “What?” muttered Fred aloud in confusion.

 “Oh no, you weren’t supposed to see it until after dinner with everyone else,” whined a voice from behind him. Fred spun, his wand illuminating the face of Hermione Granger. She stood a few feet away, hands clasped behind her back as she frowned in his direction.

 “You did this?” he asked in shock.

 Hermione’s frown quickly morphed into a very proud smile and she nodded enthusiastically. “It’s a portable swamp. I’ve been working on it all summer. It was supposed to be yours and George’s Christmas present – you know, for the business.”

 “Why?” asked Fred, unable to really form full sentences from shock.

 “I heard about what happened with Angelina and I figured you might need some cheering up. I was hoping you’d get to see it for the first time when everyone else found it, but this is nice too. At least this way you won’t accidentally fall into it. A foot further and the water depth drops to about four feet,” she informed him casually, although the smug expression on her face told him she felt very proud of herself.

 Fred took a quick step away from the water and towards Hermione, not wanting to chance falling in. He stared at the witch before him, wide-eyed and speechless.

 “Do you like it?” Hermione asked, looking a bit nervous now as he had yet to make any real comment on her brilliant invention.

 Like it? He loved it! It was probably the nicest gift anyone had ever given him. How could he even begin to express how grateful he was? He was so happy he could kiss her. In fact…

 Fred leaned down, wrapping his arms tightly around Hermione and lifting her off of the ground as he claimed her mouth. The kiss was hard and overly enthusiastic at first, but in almost no time they were swept back into the memory of their first kiss all those months ago and they melted into each other like there had been no time between them. A single continuous kiss that went on for seasons. A kiss that Fred never wanted to end as he held Hermione tightly and snogged the living daylights out of her. Unfortunately, the kiss did have to end. A distant murmur of voices sounded from somewhere near by and they broke apart panting. Hermione’s lips were red and swollen and parted in a surprised expression when he carefully placed her down on the ground. They took a moment to just stare at each other, both surprised and delighted in what had just happened. But then the voices grew louder, and they knew they had to go. Fred held out his hand, raising his eyebrows expectantly. Hermione took it firmly, smiling bigger than he’d ever seen. Then they were off, running down the corridors and away from the scene of the crime. Through the halls of stone floors, ancient tapestries, and regal portraits they ran, laughing like school children. Which in a way, Fred supposed they still were.

Taglist:

@theworldisugly-22

@aoonai

@sjh-07-10

@is-it-madness

@i-d-e-g-a-f

[yellowocaballero]

You And Me (And Your Friend Daisy)

Thanks for pushing me to finish this, Anon! This is a short, fun, and romantic story written in the verse of my other fics Bell, Book, and Candle and No Sin But Ignorance. Takes place some time post the ending of No Sin But Ignorance. That being said, this is probably very comprehensible without knowledge of those fics, so feel free to just view it as a no-apocalypse au. The majority of this was written while writing Feste - more accurately, when I needed a break from the crushing depression of Feste, so that’s why it’s so cheerful. :)

Yes, it’s named after that Garfunkel and Oates song, because that’s the plot. 

The rest of the story is under the cut!

*******************************************

“Are you going to tell me where we are?”

“You have to guess! And no peeking!”

Jon sighed, slouching in his seat. He hated surprise vacations. He hated being forced to leave work and ‘take a break’ because ‘you’re contractually obligated to use your PTO hours’. And he did take vacations, he didn’t know why everybody acted like he didn’t. He and Georgie took Gerry to Blackpool once a year for Spring Break. That was a whole week off. That was enough for anybody. 

But Martin had been pointedly sending him emails about ‘fun couple’s trips’ and ‘romantic getaways’ in an ultra-subtle act of subliminal messaging. Indeed, the three emailed promotional advertisements listing off fun, relaxing, and romantic things to do with your significant other were so subtle that Emma was forced to listen in on the automated JAWS voice reading them out and then call him a ‘fucking idiot’. 

Whatever. It wasn’t as if Gertrude took any vacations, and nobody got on her back for it. Jon was willing to bet that Dekker never sent Gertrude any passive aggressive emails. He would have to ask him later - they got boba together once a month, he was an excellent conversational partner. He was, of course, slightly insane, both for his fervent adherence to the ancient religions and willingness to come within five feet of Gertrude Robinson for personal reasons, but all the best supernatural hunters were. 

“Well, we’ve clearly been driving north for the past eight hours, judging from the angle of the sun,” Jon said, annoyed. The car radio was playing the Archers in a dull drone, which Jon had insisted upon, because he and Daisy never missed an episode. This confused and frightened Martin. A bag rustled, and Jon knew that Martin was fishing around in the plastic convenience store sack for more Jaffa cakes. “Combined with the time, that can only mean that we’re going to Scotland. I don’t have any close friends in Scotland and I’m willing to be you don’t either -”

“Hey!”

“ - so unless you assigned yourself the task of following up on the Scottish Slaughter Statement without me assigning it to you, and deciding to bring me along, I’m guessing that we’re going to stay in a hotel and do...touristy things.”

“Wrong again,” Martin said triumphantly. He liked keeping track of every time Jon was innocently incorrect about something, just to prove it to everyone else. “I mean, yes, we are in Scotland, you’re right about that, but we are not staying in a hotel. We’re staying in the country.”

“Darling, I would love to sit on the Scottish Moors and stare out into the endless, unceasing fog with you in complete silence,” Jon said lovingly, “but I thought you wanted to do something romantic.”

“That’s not romantic?” Martin gasped, horrified. “Have you even read Wuthering Heights?”

“You and Gerry are two peas in a goth pod.”

“He’s goth, I’m gothic. There’s a difference. And don’t tell me that you don’t enjoy gothic literature - you’re literally a Byronic hero.”

“Oh, here we go,” Jon sighed, as the car bumped over a speed bump. He hadn’t heard another car for hours now, and he knew that they had to be in the middle of nowhere. The weather had grown colder, more humid, and occasionally he could hear the bleat of cows. It was...calming. 

Then Martin started listing off the very many reasons why Jon was a classical Byronic hero, then Jon had to remind him that none of that stuff had technically happened, then Martin began insisting that it happened in their hearts, then Jon got deeply engrossed into today’s episode of the Archers and felt the need to inform Martin about its illustrious and aged history, which prompted Martin to put on Hatsune Miku when the episode was over and indoctrinate Jon into whatever ‘Vocaloid’ was, and by the time the car transitioned to skittering over bumpy gravel they were both entering a heated discussion about the most superior of the ‘Vocaloids’. 

“ - and she created Minecraft?”

“And she’s trans,” Martin said heatedly. 

“Good for her,” Jon said, just bemused. The car engine quieted, and keys clinked and rustled. “Are we here?”

“Yep! Seven hours later.” Martin sighed and made a quiet, satisfied noise, probably stretching, and Jon didn’t bother to fight his smile. Man was like a cat. “I want to show you around and everything, but honestly that drive was exhausting and I might take a nap first.” He sighed happily. “Peace. Quiet. No coworkers.”

“I’m your coworker,” Jon pointed out, opening the door of the car as Martin did the same. He stepped onto gravel, grinding his trainer a little into it, and breathed in. The air tasted...fresh. Clean. Pure and just a little chilly. It was nice. It perked Jon up, as the wind lightly tousled his curls. He stretched his legs too, cramped from being knitted up in the small car. Martin popped the boot and started loading packages into his arms, and Jon walked over and held his arms out so he could help Martin carry the packages. Martin dropped a picnic basket filled with snacks in his arms, and handed him his own suitcase, as Martin dropped his own suitcase on the ground with a heavy thump. “How does a teenage girl create a video game? That’s very impressive.”

“This week you are my boyfriend,” Martin corrected him, thumping the boot down. “No Emma getting on my case about misfiling the papers. No Michael concern trolling me. No Eric judging me for my taste in tea. No Gertrude terrifying me every second of the day. I am free. I am not going to think about work, or anybody related to work, for a single second. No Entities. No fear demons. No monsters, besides my boyfriend.”

“Thanks,” Jon said wryly. “Aren’t we forgetting someone?”

“Oh, darn it!” Martin opened the back door of the car, and pulled out a carrier. The wire door of the carrier cinched open and Tiresias came bounding out, barking madly and running in little circles around Jon, his tail beating against Jon’s leg. Jon laughed, lifting his burden higher in his arms, and let Martin loop his arm around Jon’s and guide him towards what he had to assume was some kind of building. “C’mere, boy. Good boy! You were so good for the trip! You’re getting a hundred snacks as soon we get inside.”

“Are you going to tell me where we are yet?” Jon asked, exasperated. 

Martin squeezed his arm happily as they walked up an incline, shoes scuffing dirt. “I got permission from Daisy to borrow it. It’s her cabin, just outside of Applecross. It’s really in the middle of nowhere, nobody around for kilometers. Just us and a great deal of cows. It’s really gorgeous, Jon, with such clean air and beautiful hills. I can’t wait to go for walks with you. You’ll get so much time to go through your audiobook collection. And we can snuggle, and I can cook for you, and we can listen to more radio dramas, and we can talk about our future, and you can pet the cows…��

“Sounds wonderful,” Jon said honestly, squeezing Martin’s arm back. They paused, Martin rustling his keys again, and Jon heard the grinding of metal before a door seemed to creak open. “I can’t wait to spend this week with you. I could use a little peace, I think.”

“Gods, me too. You have no idea how stressed I’ve been. It’ll be just you, me, and -”

That’s when Martin screamed, and Tiresias barked excitedly and ran forward, almost bowling Jon over, and a familiar voice broke the quiet of the rustic cabin. 

“Aren’t you a good boy, Tiresias? Aren’t you a good boy?” Daisy Tonner’s grin was audible through her words, but it held a familiar tint of ferociousness. “Hullo, Jon. Blackwood. What are you doing here a week early?”

“Early!” Martin squeaked. “I said we were coming up the first week of September -”

“Really?” Daisy said, voice casual. Seemingly. “Because I have it down in my calendar as the second week. This is my vacation. And I’m not leaving.”

Silence stretched between them. Jon smiled happily towards the sound of Daisy’s voice, placing his burdens at his feet, and soon Daisy walked forward and enveloped him in a bone cracking hug. 

“It’s so good to see you,” Jon said, hugging her tightly back too. “I’m sure we can share the cabin for the week. It’ll be fun, like a sleepover!”

“Oh, I think so too,” Daisy said, her voice tinged in a wolf’s grin. “Don’t you think so, Martin?”

“Good fucking christ,” Martin said. 

****

True to his word, Martin was exhausted enough that he immediately made the bed and collapsed into it. Jon lovingly took off his shoes and socks and Tiresias even, adorably, pulled the comforter up around Martin’s ears. But Martin didn’t sleep: he seemed preoccupied in angrily muttering to himself about how he didn’t get the time wrong, she did, this was all her fault, and it was also completely on purpose, devil woman, everybody was trying to ruin everything - 

“Love, if I ask her to go, she’ll go,” Jon said. 

“No! Ugh!” Martin screamed lowly, muffled, and Jon realized with amusement he was screaming into the pillow. “It’s her house, she’s doing us a favor, I don’t want to be rude! I can’t kick her out of her own home!”

“Are you going to be passive aggressive at her until she leaves?”

Incriminatingly, Martin was silent. 

“She’s more stubborn than you are. If you try to solve this with your usual methods she’ll outlast you.”

“I hate her so much,” Martin groaned. 

“Don’t say that,” Jon said loyally. “She’s really come around to you, you know. She hasn’t threatened to chop your dick off in - oh, two weeks now. That’s a new record.”

Martin groaned again. Jon kissed him on the cheek, turned the light off - “Jon, you just turned the light on.” - turned the light off for real this time, and went into the living room/dining room/kitchen to start putting away all the food they had brought. He bent over his suitcase, withdrawing Tiresias’ harness, and whistled to call him over before snapping the harness on. Tiresias stiffened into what Georgie called ‘Buisness Boy Mode’, and Jon grabbed his handle with one hand as he loaded the groceries into the other. 

“Here, let me help.” Daisy lifted the other load from the floor, leading the both of them into the kitchen and opening the fridge. “I know Georgie’s organizational system.”

Jon just sighed, slowly navigating his way to the fridge to put his own load away. They had clothing to unpack, things to set up, and arrangements to plan, but Jon had the sense that none of it was getting done immediately. 

“What were your plans for this week?”

“I normally go up here to hunt,” Daisy grunted, sliding cans into the cabinet. At Jon’s raised eyebrow, she clarified, “with guns. They’re all locked up in the gun cabinet, as is my ammo and knives. Neither you nor Martin have the keys, but the cabinet is in a closet near the bathroom. That should be locked too.”

“Goodness, Daisy, I’m not an errant toddler. I won’t play with your collection.”

“You’re my errant toddler,” Daisy said loyally, giving him a noogie and making him scowl. “Say it. Say you’re an errant toddler.”

“Goodness, Daisy, leave me be -”

Then she lifted him up, like he was nothing more than a bundle of sticks, and held him in the air as he screamed and kicked his legs, trying to get down. Tiresias, the Traitor, the Serpent, the King of Lies, barked happily. “Let me down! Daisy!”

“Say you’re an errant toddler and I’ll let you down.”

“I shan’t. Daisy, stop -!” But then she started tickling him, which was extremely dangerous, and Jon was forced to cackle out in breathless laughter, “Fine, I’m a toddler, let me down, you crazy woman!”

She tossed him lightly onto the pull-out couch, putting away the rest of the groceries herself, and Jon let Tiresias sit on top of him and lick his face as he could almost audibly hear Martin pouting in the bedroom. 

“This’ll be fun,” Daisy said, shutting the cabinet and rustling some familiar boxes. “Can’t believe Tim paid me fifty quid to do this. I would have done it for free.”

“Do what?”

“Never mind. I have your copy of Life, do you want to play?”

“Sure!” Jon sat up, feeling Daisy sit down next to him and set out the game pieces. Then something occurred to him. “Wait. What are you doing with my copy of Life?”

“Georgie lent it to me.”

“...why did Georgie -”

“I was going to leave it here for when you came up,” Daisy said easily, and Jon nodded in acceptance. “Spin the spinner to see whose turn comes first.”

Jon considered thinking deeper about this, but Daisy wouldn’t lie to him. She was the most trustworthy person he knew. She didn’t have a deceitful bone in her body. He shrugged and reached forward and found the spinner, giving it a good twist before rubbing his thumb over the braille. Something occurred to him. 

“Maybe we can ask Martin if he wants to join -”

“I’m sure he would prefer his rest.”

“Okay!”

This vacation was going to go great. Why had Jon been worried?

****

That night they had a delicious barbecue outside, cooked by Daisy. Martin ate it in angry silence, which was quickly broken by Jon’s frequent nudges and directions for conversation. He wasn’t the most socially adept person at the best of times, but Martin and Daisy were two of his best friends and he knew how to get the both of them talking. He was even able to draw them into a spirited conversation about 19th century literature - Daisy preferred Russian novels, while Martin preferred Gothic romances and Hugo and Jon tended towards nonfiction. Afterwards Daisy grabbed her gun, kissed Jon on the cheek, did something that made Martin squeak in fear, and tramped off to go hunt deer or something. Jon waved her off with a blessing, his sixth sense thrumming with satisfaction for the Sacrifice. 

He spent the night cuddled up with Martin, watching Beauty and the Beast on his laptop. Martin was obsessed with Disney movies in a way that explained a great deal about him, and Beauty and the Beast was his absolute favorite. Jon ran his fingers through his soft and feathery hair as Martin squeezed his hand, and Jon’s heart settled in complete contentment. The audio description voice droned gently about the heartwarming falling in love montages, but Jon wasn’t really paying attention: he just felt safe, and warm, and as if he wanted the moment to last forever. 

Then his mobile rang, a clear automated voice saying “Gerard calling. Gerard calling.”

“Oh, I should get that.” Jon straightened, throwing out a hand on the coffee table where he thought he had put his phone, and Martin pressed it into his hand. He accepted the call quickly, putting it on speaker and holding it up to his ear just like, he was reliably assured, ‘an old man’. “Hello, honey?”

“Jon!” Gerry yelled. “Did you get the cabin okay?”

“Oh, so everyone knew but me,” Jon said, amused. “You’re on speaker, Gerry, so say hello to Mr. Blackwood.”

“Hi Martin! Are you guys having a good time? You have to take me next time, I want to see Daisy’s guns!”

“You will not see Daisy’s guns,” Jon said quickly. 

“Hi Gerry,” Martin said, a smile clear in his somewhat strained voice. “Sure, you and Georgie should come up next time. Make it a party. Why not.”

“Told you she’d do it,” Georgie said, and Jon perked up. “Hullo, love. How’s your romantic getaway going?”

“Oh, it’s lovely,” Jon said, excited. “We’re going to walk down to the town tomorrow, check out some of their antique stores. I’ll let you know if we find any interesting art.”

“I’ve been up to Daisy’s cabin a few times with Melanie, it’s delightful. Great place for her to hunt and for me to practice my carrion photography. It’s always nice just to get away from it all! I hope you haven’t touched any work, Jon.”

“I haven’t,” Jon said loyally. He paused a beat. “Do Statements count? Because I was planning on listening to a few recorded ones as a sort of bedtime story?”

“That’s just self-care,” Georgie assured him. “Treat yourself, queen.”

“Thanks, honey. Make sure Gerry gets his homework done? Do you need any help? I have some time now -”

“I got it,” Georgie said, laughing slightly. “I can still help a fifteen year old with his English. I’ll make sure he brushes his teeth too. Just enjoy yourself.”

“Have a good time, Dad!” Gerry called, the affectionate nickname making Jon smile. “Bring me back a cow!” Slightly more muffled, Jon heard him say to Georgie, “Mum, when Jon goes on a romantic getaway, what do you think they -”

“Night, honey! Night, Martin! Love you!” Georgie called loudly.

Jon laughed, unable to stop himself from waving a little, as if they were there. “Night, you two. Love you too. Stay safe.”

“We will! Bye!”

The line clicked off, and Martin’s arm stretched across Jon’s shoulders squeezed a little tighter. Jon extended a foot and clicked the space bar on the computer, starting up the movie again. 

“You’d make a really good dad,” Martin said, almost to himself. 

Jon settled back against Martin, leaning his head against his shoulder. “I feel like one already, honestly. Obviously, I have far more experience with teenagers than babies, but they can’t be that hard. If I don’t drop them…why?”

Martin coughed a little, abruptly flustered. “No reason! No reason.”

“Do you want kids?”

“Can’t exactly have them biologically,” Martin muttered, before sighing. “Yeah, I’d love to...foster or adopt or something. I’ve had my - differences - with my parents, but I’m still glad they adopted me, you know? I’d like to pass that on. But...better. Much better.”

“Georgie is talking about fostering again once Gerard moves in with Eric,” Jon said quietly. The thought of Gerry moving out, of living full time with Eric again - it just seemed weird. Almost wrong, although it wasn’t - Eric adored Gerry, and he was a competent father. It was just that...well, technically, Gerry had been living with them since the beginning of the universe. On a purely literal level, they really had always had Gerry with them. It would be strange. “As a - recipient of the foster care system myself, I’d like to make a difference too.” He smiled thinly. “We’re very compatible, aren’t we?”

“Would it be...you and Georgie…?”

“I don’t know. Does it matter?”

Martin sighed a little. “Is it dumb that sometimes it feels like you already have a family built in?”

Hm. Jon hadn’t quite thought about it that way. “You know those jokes about me and Georgie being married are just jokes,” Jon said reproachfully. 

Martin moved away a little, leaning forward, slipping his arm from Jon’s shoulder. He abruptly missed the warmth. “But you’re partners. You’re raising a kid. And I know Daisy and Tim think of themselves as your overprotective big siblings, they aren’t even wrong.”

“Many people have siblings? And friends? Some even have kids, I’ve heard.”

“I don’t.” There was really nothing for Jon to say to that, so he didn’t say anything. “I don’t want my entire social circle to just be through you…”

“It won’t be,” Jon said firmly, reaching out a hand and brushing it against Martin’s arm. He squeezed it firmly. “You don’t have to be Lonely anymore, Martin. I won’t let you.”

“Is that a promise?” Martin said, as if he was joking, as if Jon wasn’t certain that he wasn’t. As if he needed the reassurance. 

“How can you be lonely when I’m here?” Jon said, and trailed his hand up along Martin’s arm until he reached his neck and he could cup his face. He rubbed a thumb against his wispy stubble, light and thin. “I’m right here.”

Martin kissed him, and then the movie was quite thoroughly forgotten as Jon necked with his boyfriend on the couch like a teenager. They forgot everything, and for a small period of glorious time Jon forgot everything that he knew, in all of its entirety, and his Eye saw only the here and now. 

Then the door thumped open, the wind blew into the cabin, and heavy footsteps thumped into the room. Something dragged behind the footsteps, something that sounded a bit...wet. 

Martin, who was thoroughly on top of Jon and almost done unbuttoning his shirt, froze. Jon just craned his head, trying to hear the sounds of what was likely a dead deer being pulled in through the entrance way better. 

“Hello Daisy!” Jon said, still pinned down. “How was your hunting?”

“Lucrative. We’re eating venison tomorrow.”

“Great! Need any help getting that put away?”

“No, I’m good.” Tiresias barked happily. “Here, boy, you can have a little. Good boy. I’ll probably skin and clean it outside, I just wanted to get my gloves.”

“Take your time!”

Martin sighed and got off Jon, straightening his own clothing. “Yeah, Daisy, take your time.”

“Oh, am I interrupting something?” Daisy said blithely. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You’re fine,” Jon assured her, fixing his own hair from where it had grown tangled. “Want to finish this movie with us?”

“Sure, let me gut this animal first.”

“Great! Scooch over, Martin.”

“You know,” Martin said, “maybe we want to move to the bedroom?”

“If we stay in the living room I can hook up your laptop to the television and we can watch the movie that way,” Daisy said innocently. 

“That sounds good,” Jon agreed. He patted Martin’s hand. “Is that alright with you?”

Martin sighed. “Yeah. Of course.”

That night, Jon curled up next to Martin on the creaky wooden bed, listening to the flies buzz around them and the crickets hiss their lilting song outdoors. 

His earbuds were still nestled in his ears, the soft hum of his Walkman cutting the quiet night, his own pre-recorded voice reading out a story. Martin sat next to him, and occasionally Jon could hear the soft shift of the pages of a book turning. Every so often Martin would gasp, or make a little noise at some exciting event in his book. 

Jon rolled over, throwing out an arm and pulling Martin in close, resting his head on Martin’s shoulder as he let the earbuds roll gently out of his ears. Martin was soft and warm, the cotton of his t-shirt rubbing up against Jon’s cheek, and Jon let his mind gently bliss out and drift away. 

He thought about the breakfast he wanted to make the next morning, and of the soft beat of Scottish sun on his face. He thought about the creak of cobblestones as jumped-up jalopies rolled over them, and of the shifting and groan of old wood. He thought of the bright, sharp summer smell of the highlands, and the sinking and sticky marshland. 

“We should visit the antique store in town tomorrow,” Jon murmured. “Georgie’s been looking for a new lamp, and I think they should have a nice Rococo one for cheap.”

“Oh? Maybe I can pick something up too.” Martin gently scratched Jon’s scalp, making him bliss out even further. “Nice of you to always loop us in on the best deals, you little shopping catalogue.”

They, of course, had not been to the town yet, and there was no reason for Jon to know of the antique store, or the Rococo lamp. Jon hadn’t even thought about it, the information as available and easy as the layout of the convenience store down the street and a left turn from his childhood council flat. 

Martin’s voice broke the quiet, cutting through the buzz of insects. “You know I love you, right?”

“I know everything,” Jon yawned, snuggling into Martin’s side closer. 

“Not what I meant.” Martin hesitated, almost awkwardly. “You’re a literal mind reader and everything, but I’m not, so…”

“Oh, Martin.” Jon reached a hand up and cupped Martin’s cheek. “I built this world from the bedrock of my love for you.”

“Uh - wow! That’s - it’s kind of weird how you can just say that and have it be true!”

“Our lives are weird,” Jon agreed, brushing his thumb over Martin’s lips, and he carefully leaned his head up to kiss him, and they passed the long silent minutes just like that. 

Several hours later, Jon found himself jerking awake. Martin was snoring beside him, and he couldn’t feel any sun on his face, so Jon figured it was likely still nighttime. He carefully slipped out of bed, reaching out a hand and trailing it along the wall until he managed to leave the bedroom, navigate down the hall, and enter what he was fairly sure was the living room. 

“Jon?” A voice broke the night. Daisy, who had taken the pull-out couch. “You looking for the loo?”

It was only then that Jon realized that he didn’t know why he had gotten up. Tiresias snored loudly in the kitchen, adding a subtle undertone to the noise from outside, and Jon found himself shrugging helplessly. “I don’t think so. Did I wake you up?”

“Nah. Hold tight, I’ll help you to the couch.” Sure enough, after the almost silent footsteps echoed through the main room Jon felt a soft hand on his back, and she led him towards the couch. Jon lightly kicked it, testing its height, and gently lowered himself onto it, the springs of the pull-out bed breaking through the night. “What has you up?”

Jon just shrugged again. The bed creaked beside him, and he felt calloused fingers carding through his hair with gentleness that would have been surprising to most people. 

“Am I a bad boyfriend?” Jon asked, surprising himself. He hadn’t even known he was thinking that. 

“Did Blackwood tell you that you were?” Daisy asked sharply. 

“No! No, not at all.” Jon sighed. “I just...I just have different needs than him.” He could already tell what Daisy was thinking, and he shook his head. “Not about the - the you know what thing. I just...I know how much he loves me. I know what he thinks of me, I know his dedication to me. Sometimes I just assume that he’s - capable, of what I’m capable of. Do I not tell him I love him enough? Am I not affectionate enough?”

“You aren’t as perceptive as you think you are, Jon,” Daisy said, amused. “I think you’ll find that Blackwood has quite a few more secrets than you think he does.” She untangled her fingers from his hair and squeezed his arm. “Blackwood’s insecure. All insecure people want mindreader boyfriends. But you force him to use his words and ask for what he needs, Jon. It’s uncomfortable. But it’s good for him. He needs to learn to speak up for himself.” She hummed slightly. “He reminds me of Basira, a little. She’ll never tell you that you bothered her, and she just lets it pile up and up. But then you go just a little too far, and then she explodes all of that pent up anger and frustration on you. She likes to pretend she’s a real robot, but she’s just as human as the rest of them.”

“I’m so terrified of Basira,” Jon said miserably. “Remember when I dropped a plate and she told me that the reason why my gran didn’t love me was because I was an attention seeking nine year old?”

“She’s so mean. I love her so much.” Daisy patted Jon on the back. “Buck up. I’m working on Blackwood. You focus on enjoying your vacation.”

Jon let himself lean to the side, resting his head on Daisy’s shoulder. “I’m worried that Martin will realize that I’m not capable of expressing romantic affection in a socially typical manner and leave me.”

“God, shut up, whiner.” But the bed creaked and Daisy’s head gently slid out from under his shoulder, and Daisy gently helped Jon to his feet. “I’ll get you back to bed. Bitch about your imaginary relationship problems to me in the morning.”

Translated: I love you, I’ll always be here for you, and goodnight. Jon huffed a quiet laugh. “Aren’t the lights off? How can you see anything?”

When Daisy spoke again, a quiet bass growl echoed underneath her words, and Jon grinned with her. He Knew, like how he Knew that he loved Martin enough to destroy the world, that Daisy’s eyes were flickering yellow in the darkness. “Don’t be fooled by appearances, Jon.”

She helped him back to bed, and when Jon slept through the rest of the night he dreamed of nothing but Martin’s weight on his. 

****

“What a beautiful morning!” Martin said loudly. “The birds are chirping, the Scottish highlands are beautiful, I am here on my romantic vacation away from everybody with only my lovely boyfriend for company - and Daisy Tonner!”

“Glad to be here,” Daisy said affably. 

“This is so much fun!” Martin said, still loudly.

“I think so too!” Jon said enthusiastically.

Tiresias barked. 

After a breakfast pointedly prepared by Martin, they all got dressed and saddled up to go walk into the village. It was a quick walk, only about twenty minutes, and Martin and Daisy enjoyed the scenery as Jon enjoyed the warm grip of Martin’s hand in his and the breeze on his face. 

When the trail began sloping further downhill, and their footsteps began to slide against the incline, Jon pulled what Gerry would have called a ‘pro-gamer move’ and moved his grip up until he was clinging to Martin’s arm. Martin sprayed a hand out, resting it against Jon’s back, and helped him down the trail. 

“Whoah! You alright, honey? Careful of your step!”

“Jesus christ,” Daisy muttered. 

“It’s hardly Jon’s fault -” Martin began heatedly. 

“Yeah, Daisy,” Jon said, delighting in setting them against each other like the cold, uncaring god he was, “check your privilege.”

Then they were off, because despite Daisy was allergic to social consciousness, and Jon whistled a jaunty tune, composed in the 15th century and unknown to all but its lonely shepherd creator, as they navigated their way downwards. 

The village was small, nothing more than two streets with cheerful wooden facades and swing porches set out on the decks with wizened elderly people sipping from bottles of Irn Bru and smoking down cigarettes to the dregs. At least, as narrated by Martin, who seemed to already be mentally writing his small-town murder mystery in the Scottish highlands (Martin’s poetry needed work, but his fiction held a certain massmarket appeal). Knowing Martin, the protaganist would likely be either a grandmother with his own personality, or a thirtysomething gay man who had twelve counts of arson on his record and was running from the cops. 

Wait. Wait, Jon should use his words. Ask instead of look. Display interest in Martin’s inner life - which, granted, seemed to be a waste of time when Jon could just Know and not waste his breath, but Georgie had been coaching him in this. 

“You should give the ex-con narrator a boyfriend,” Jon said supportively. “Maybe bring back the gay bar owner from the last book?”

Martin almost tripped over the gravel. “How did you know I was thinking of - Jon, I told you not to read my mind!”

“Lay off, you know he doesn’t do it on purpose,” Daisy said uninterestedly, growling at what Jon guessed were passerby on the street. 

“Daisy, stop telling me how to talk to my boyfriend -”

“Oh, he’s your boyfriend now, is he?”

“Yes! Yes, he is!”

“Let’s get some ice cream!” Jon said loudly. 

“How did you even know there was an ice cream - fine! Fine, of course!” Martin sighed loudly. “Why not!”

As it turned out, they were right in front of ice cream. Jon loved it when things worked out. 

****

Twenty minutes later, after Martin laboriously reading out all of the entirely too many flavors to Jon, Daisy growling at everybody at the store like an errant dog, fighting with the owner of the store extremely politely about his actual dog existing, and finally taking their ice cream outside to sit at a picnic bench and attack their waffle cones, Jon felt content. 

He indicated this by telling everybody everything he knew about emulsifiers, which were extremely neat and a lot of fun! Because nobody was stopping him talking by saying ‘let’s talk about something else, Jon’ or ‘isn’t that a bit boring, Jon?’ he moved onto the history of waffle cones, safe in his assumption that everybody was as interested in the topic as he was. 

“I love you so much,” Martin said, somewhat dazed, when Jon stopped to draw a breath. “Did you know that this is the second time this has happened?”

That stopped Jon short, when nothing else did. “Really? Has it?”

Martin’s spoon scraped his small paper bowl. “Yep. Uh - for my birthday, I think. Me, Tim, and - and Sasha, and you. You ordered rum raisin. I was thinking...did you actually like rum raisin? Or did you just panic?” He laughed, somewhat self-consciously. “You didn’t remember about it even before the whole apocalypse thing, so no sweat, but…”

“Oh.” Jon realized, for probably the fifth time, that Martin held years and years worth of memories in him, and that Jon had only fragments and impressions. He knew that he had everything important, that everything he needed was within him, but - did he? What if he was missing the key to everything, the key to Martin, and all he needed was to just Look deeper? “That’s - I could remember it, if I wanted.”

“It’s fine, Jon,” Daisy said quietly. “Don’t go giving yourself a migraine.”

“I could,” Jon insisted. “I’d like to remember something like your birthday, Martin. Precious memories, or - or something. Give me a moment, I can send a quick prayer, and -”

“You know,” Martin said, and he squeezed Jon’s hand. “I’d rather make new memories right now. Where we are right now, that’s - that’s the most important place, innit?”

Jon smiled at him, and he knew, in the most mundane of ways, Martin was smiling back. “I like to think so too.”

“Ugh,” Daisy teased, although perhaps to an outsider it may have sounded mean, “get that sappy shit outta my face.”

“You’re just as bad with Basira,” Jon shot back, smiling. “You two are in love -”

“Take that shit back,” Daisy hissed. 

“You want to get married -”

“Who told you!”

Jon tapped the lens of his glasses smugly. “A little Eye told me.”

“Beholding cuck.”

“No, that’s Peter -”

“Martin would know all about Peter, huh?” Daisy sneered, and the pressure on Jon’s hand intensified for a brief second before it withdrew completely, leaving his hand cold and empty.

“Jon, can you give me and Daisy a few minutes of privacy, please?” Martin said pleasantly. 

Jon raised an eyebrow, licking the ice cream dripping down his hand. It was Vast flavor. Tasted like...ozone. “Why?”

“He doesn’t know the area, you can’t send him off alone,” Daisy shot back, strangely smugly. “Come on, Blackwood. Whatever you want to say to me, you can say it in front of him.”

“You know what, fine. Fine!” Martin thumped the table, making Jon start and Tireasias stiffen. “I have done nothing that warrants this kind of treatment from you. You are disrespecting me, disrespecting my relationship, and you are insulting my fucking intelligence. I appreciate you loaning us your cabin, but if I knew that it would come with strings attached then I would have paid for my own bloody hotel! Why are you doing this!”

“Tim gave me fifty quid,” Daisy said, like the wolf that had caught the canary. “Plus it’s fucking funny.”

“Done what?” Jon asked, confused. 

“I want you out of my vacation, Daisy,” Martin hissed. “If you won’t leave the cabin, then I am booking my own Air BnB and that’s fucking final! I don’t care if I have to - to fight you in the street about it, I can and I will, you don’t want to mess with me -”

“Sure.”

Martin stopped short. Jon licked his ice cream, fascinated by the drama. “What?”

“I said sure,” Daisy enunciated clearly. “I was waiting for you to fucking say it. I told Basira I’d be home by tonight, anyway. Knew you’d snap.”

“I - what! What! What?!”

“You’re a pushover, Blackwood,” Daisy said. “Your coworkers, your friends, everyone - they just walk all over you. It’s fucking stupid. You are the archival assistant who survived the apocalypse with memories and sanity intact. You lasted longer on the position than anyone since Emma Harvey, and you didn’t have to lose your soul to do it. You looked Elias in the face as you burned his Archives down. You’re not a pussy. And I was sick of seeing you act like one. It’s fucking annoying.”

“I hate you so fucking much,” Martin whispered, somewhat in shock. 

“Well, I hate seeing my best friend date a passive aggressive loser, so we’re both unhappy.” Daisy stood up, feet shuffling against the cement, and Jon felt her press a kiss against his forehead. “You two have a nice day out. I’m going to go hunt things, and head back to London. Take care of yourself, Jon. And cut out the PDA, it’s gross.”

Suddenly, violently, with a crushing realization, the entire vacation was recontextualized. 

“I don’t appreciate any of this,” Jon said crossly, scowling in her direction. “Honestly, Daisy, you don’t -”

“Blame Tim. Love you, Jon. Love you, sweet puppy. See you later, Blackwood.”

Jon and Martin sat in silence as the sound of footsteps receded from Jon’s hearing, and the low murmur of the small village set in around them. Martin still seemed to slightly be in shock, his ice cream slowly melting, and Tiresias yawned sleepily in the sun. 

“I hate her so fucking much,” Martin whispered. 

But Jon just smiled, and reached out to brush a thumb over Martin’s close-cropped hair. He leaned in, whispering into Martin’s ear. “Hearing you yell at the scariest woman I know who isn’t Gertrude Robinson was pretty fucking sexy, love.”

“I hate her so - wait, it was? Really?” Martin coughed awkwardly. “Well, she really had it coming, and it’s not a huge deal, and I know she’s your best friend and I should be nice to her, but -”

“ - but she was right,” Jon said firmly. “An arse about making her point, but she was right. I’m working on using my words. You should too. All of the books say communication is key in a relationship. So let’s communicate, alright?” He faltered a little, uncertain if Daisy would want him to say this. “And - and it was obvious, from what she said, that Daisy respects you. It’s a very difficult thing, to win Daisy’s respect. I think she was trying to help us, in her own - unorthodox manner.”

“I hate her so much,” Martin groaned. 

“It was very sexy,” Jon hinted. 

Martin leaned in and kissed Jon lightly, and Jon could feel his smile against his own. “How about we finish our food,” he said quietly, “walk around town for a bit, buy some souvenirs for your family, and then go back to the cabin and snog and cuddle for a very long time? If that’s okay with you?”

“I’d like nothing more,” Jon said. 

And he was right. It was messy, and weird, and painfully uncomfortable.

 It was perfect.

[atths--twice]

Fourth of July, Friendship, Fireworks, Love...

It’s a day late, I know, but hopefully I’ll be forgiven. Here is a sweet little Fourth of July story of Mulder and Scully celebrating the holiday with some friends-safely of course, but celebrating nonetheless. Hope you enjoy! 

(Oh BTW, this story is a part of my Family Series- the stories beyond the finale. I hope you have all read those so it’s not too confusing. If not, here is the link for it on ao3. https://archiveofourown.org/series/1407691)

July 4, 2020

Scully set her glass of water in the sink and smiled. Everything was ready and she felt nervous with excitement.

“Hey! You ready?” Mulder called from the staircase and she turned around, walking  through the living room, to meet him and Faith as they reached the bottom.

“Yup,” she answered as she smiled at them. Picking up Faith, she swung her around, kissing her cheeks.  

She was dressed in a pale denim blue sundress, with daisies and eyelets around the bottom, a pair of white bike shorts underneath, and a pair of Mary Jane sandals nearly the color of her dress. Scully placed her nose against the side of Faith’s head and took a deep breath, inhaling the unmistakable scent of sunscreen.

“You ready, Love? You wanna go for a walk?”

At those words, Bella barked and ran over to them, bouncing excitedly, figuring out that they were all about to head out the door.

“Yes, Bella, you’re coming along. Calm down, girl.” Mulder laughed and as he reached for her leash and she barked again.

“Bell,” Faith said, looking down at her and putting a finger on her lips. “Shhh.” Bella looked at her and sat down, softly whining, her tail wagging happily. Mulder looked at Scully and shook his head in disbelief.

“Scully…” he said, clipping Bella’s leash on and shaking his head again. “I know we have joked about it, but… there is something about the way animals react to her. Even Grey, as small as she is, and being a feisty kitten, is gentle and different with Faith.”

Scully looked at Grey as she sat on the back of the couch, her head tilted as she watched them preparing to leave. It was true, Mulder was right.

Since he had found her under the porch nearly two weeks ago, she had changed from being a timid and tiny kitten. She had gained some weight and provided hours of entertainment and laughter.

She had slept nearly every night in their bed, much to Mulder’s dismay. Or pretend dismay, as Scully had woken up to Grey cuddled beside him or laying squarely on his chest nearly every morning. He had acted as though he were annoyed by it, but she had seen his smile as he had scratched Grey under her little chin.

She loved to chase her toys or their hands, biting at their fingers as they had teased her to chase them. Not so with Faith, however. When Faith pet her, played with her, or got close to her, Grey had been gentle and slow, purring loudly as she had rubbed against Faith’s legs, hands, or her face. She was so calm with her, it was as though a spell had been cast over her.

“Fucking spooky,” Mulder had whispered under his breath as he watched the change in Grey as Faith pet her with a smile. Scully was unable to argue as it was rather spooky to witness.

“I’m not trying to say anything we don’t want to think about,” Mulder said quietly, pulling her attention from the thoughts of the past couple of weeks. “Some people just have a way with animals and I think she will be one of them.” He looked at Scully with a shrug and she looked at Faith, who smiled at her happily.

“If that’s all she has a way with, then I can live with that,” Scully said, smiling softly at Faith, worry settling momentarily within her as she thought of William and his abilities. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Scully…”

“I know,” she assured him, looking at him with a nod. “I know, Mulder.” He took a couple of steps forward and put his arm around her waist, pulling both of them close to him.

“It’s not the same,” he whispered and she nodded, her forehead against his and Faith’s head on her shoulder.

“Mama,” Faith said softly, patting her arm gently. Scully laughed and closed her eyes, breathing deeply and feeling a sense of calm settle over all of them.

Until Bella whined softly and Mulder chuckled as he pulled back, smiling at Scully and kissing Faith’s cheek. He looked at Scully again and she nodded with a smile, the worry and sadness from minutes before now gone.

“Okay, let’s get going, or we’ll be the last ones to arrive,” Mulder said and she nodded, ready to go and be around actual people, even if for a little while and even despite the heat of the day.

The day after Father’s Day, Violet had come by during Faith’s nap time, to see how they were doing and if they needed anything. She had brought over some eggs from their chickens, something she had done a few times, and a chocolate cake she had made.

A masked visit on the porch, with space between them, they had made plans to get together on the Fourth of July for the dinner that had been suggested back on Mother’s Day in May. It would not be a dinner though, but a potluck type picnic lunch in which they would remain outside, and spaced apart. None of them had been sick and had remained at home as much as possible during the mandated quarantine.

The day after that plan was made, Rachel had called, checking in on them as well. Skinner had been in the background, grumbling that he had thought she was going to be FaceTiming them so they could see Faith. Rachel had sighed and a second later, the FaceTime was ringing. Skinner was there, coming close to the camera with a grin, calling for Faith. Rachel had rolled her eyes beside him and then smiled at him with such love in her eyes, Scully could not stop grinning as she had watched them.

A discussion of a visit after so long was had and a plan began to form. The two of them would join them and the Turners for the potluck. Everyone was included with the conversation and for two weeks, every day, they had all taken their temperatures and recorded them to be sure they were not sick or showing any possible symptoms. None were found and they were all looking forward to seeing each other again, and also meeting for the first time.

“I’ll get the backpack and you take Faith,” Scully said, kissing her cheeks and handing her over to Mulder. “Little Grey, we will be back soon, okay?” She picked up the kitten, who began to purr immediately as she was laid on her back in Scully’s arms. Her eyes closed and she meowed softly, causing Scully to laugh.

“There you go. Faith gets it from you. Look how she responds when you hold her,” Mulder teased as he put Faith into the hiking carrier, putting on her sun hat and buckling her in, then sliding it onto his back.

“I think I’ve trained her to like laying this way. I can’t tell Bella to hush and she’s immediately quiet. That’s beyond my expertise,” she reasoned, stroking Grey’s ears and kissing her head. “You think she’ll be okay?”

“For the tenth time today, yes, I think she will be okay,” he said with a smile and she sighed with a nod. Walking over to the large scratching post and climbing toy, she set her down and rubbed her head again.

“Be good, little Grey,” Scully said and Grey meowed, pushing her head into Scully’s hand. Scully hummed and Mulder cleared his throat. Turning around, she looked at him as he shook his head with a smile.

“Come on. She’s fine.”

“Okay, okay.” She glanced at her again before walking to the kitchen and taking the big blue bowl Mulder had purchased at the estate sale a few months ago out of the refrigerator. She had made potato salad with hard boiled eggs, the ones from Violet’s chickens, and also a summer pasta salad.

Setting the bowls on the table, she added a bottle of wine to the backpack next to Faith’s extra clothes, diapers, and some toys. Putting it on, she picked up the bowls, and walked over to Mulder, Faith, and Bella.

“Let me take the big bowl. You carry the smaller one and hold onto Bella.”

He took the bowl from her and handed her the leash. Looking back at Grey once more, she stepped through the open door and into the heat of the day. Taking a breath as she stood in the shade of the porch while Mulder locked the door.

“Did you put sunscreen on?” he asked, looking her up and down.

“Umm… no. I forgot.”

“Oh, wife,” he said, shaking his head with a heavy put upon sigh. “Turn around, please.” She did as he asked as he set the bowl on the porch swing and then she felt and heard him unzipping her backpack. A bottle was shaken and she knew it was the sunscreen she had packed in there last night.

“Look at all that pale Irish Scully skin showing,” he said with a tsk, gesturing to her body, as he took the bowl from her and she slipped the backpack off and onto the porch. “You would have been a tomato by the end of the day, woman.”

Laughing, she nodded and dropped the leash to step away and spray herself down. Starting with her neck and face, she held her hair away as she closed her eyes and pressed the nozzle. Her arms were next and she was careful not to get it on the black summer dress she had found in the back of the closet. A dress she had hardly worn, but bought for its simplicity.

And the secret pockets. That was the seller as far as she was concerned.

Arms and face done, she stepped back and handed him the bottle, turning around and moving her hair out of the way, silently asking him to get the back of her arms and her neck.

He chuckled softly and she heard the floorboards creak as he moved toward the swing. Waiting, she gasped as she felt his lips on her neck, and her eyes closed. He kissed softly, his tongue licking gently, before he kissed her again.

“Mulder,” she moaned, and he hummed against her skin. Kissing her once more, he pulled back and she opened her eyes with a shiver. “Sunscreen only or we will be the last ones there.”

“Yes ma’am.” He laughed and she gasped again as the cool sunscreen hit her skin. His fingers pressed into her neck, making sure the sunscreen was rubbed in well. The same was done to the backs of her arms; a kiss placed on her neck before she dropped her hair and turned around.

“Thank you,” she said with a smirk and he nodded. “Do you have sunscreen on, or do you need some assistance?”

“As much as I would love that, I put mine on when I did Faith’s, so I’m good. Let’s put this back and we’ll be on our way.”

She nodded and took the sunscreen from him, placing it in the backpack before sliding it back on. She looked him up and down, enjoying the sight of him in a crisp white short sleeved shirt and a pair of dark brown shorts. They each picked up their bowl and she grabbed the leash, stepping off the porch and into the hot sun.

“Christ, it’s hot,” Mulder stated as they left the driveway. “I’m all for this little gathering, but shit. It’s so goddamn hot.”

“Language,” she laughed, looking up at him and glancing at Faith, but she agreed with him, it was hot.

“Jaf!” Faith shouted, clapping her hands and laughing, when they turned left out the driveway.

“Yeah, Honey. We’re going to see Jaf,” Mulder said with a smile, glancing at Scully.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the Turner’s house. Faith clapped her hands again and kicked her feet as she looked at the big giraffe in their yard.

“Jaf! Hi, Jaf!” she called and they stopped to let her say hello. As she did, Scully took their masks out of the baby carrier backpack, handing Mulder his, and putting on her own.

Scully looked around the yard and saw that a few canopies had been set up and tables with tablecloths and chairs sat under them. The front door opened and Violet walked out wearing a mask and carrying a basket. Stopping at the table, she put it down and started to unpack it, setting out paper plates, napkins, plastic cups, and containers of utensils.

Looking up, she saw them standing there and they could see her smiling happily even behind her mask. Leaving the table, she walked toward them, meeting them at the end of the driveway.

“Hello! It’s so good to see you again,” she said, nodding at them and waving to Faith. “Hey there, sweetie pie.”

“Jaf!” she said, pointing at the giraffe to her left.

“Yup! That’s Jaf. She’s not at all a huge giraffe in a regular sized yard,” Violet said with a roll of her eyes. They all laughed and continued up the driveway, Bella bouncing excitedly as Violet gave her some pats, and set the food down on the designated table.

“We set up a staked area for Bella, as we don’t have a completely fenced yard,” Violet said, pointing to the spot and rubbing Bella’s head. “Also, Denis bought a small plastic pool to fill up later, as she is a Lab, and “might want to go for a dip.”” She made finger quotes and stared at them as they laughed.

“That’s a good idea. We should get a pool for her to play in,” Mulder said and Scully nodded.

“We had a dog who used to love to play in our kids little plastic pool. Denis was giddy to find one for Bella today.”

“What will you do with it after today?”

“Oh, I’m sure Denis will find some use for it. That man…” They all laughed as she shook her head. Scully found the clip for the lead and attached Bella to it. She ran around, stopping short of the tables, but with enough space to lie in the shade.

The front door opened and Denis came out, also wearing a mask. He came down the steps carrying two bowls and caught sight of them as he reached the bottom.

“Hey! So happy to see you three… four,” he called out, setting the food down and walking over to them. Putting out his hand, he pulled it back right away. “Old habits are hard to break.” They laughed and bumped elbows with him instead, each of them feeling the awkward, but necessary, difference of it.

“So, the food is all ready. I’m just gonna go back in and get the rest. Did Violet tell you about the pool? I didn’t want to fill it earlier, not wanting to entice a certain little girl.” He looked up at Faith who was looking over at the giraffe. “But I can see that she is otherwise engaged at the moment.” They all chuckled, knowing without actually looking where her attention lay.

“We turned out of the driveway and she knew we were coming to see you, or more appropriately, coming to see Jaf.”

“Jaf. Mama. Jaf.”

“See?”

They all laughed and Denis went inside to get the food. Scully took off her backpack, took out the bottle of wine, and handed it to Violet and she smiled and went inside to open it. Scully took out the hand sanitizer too, sliding the bottle in the pocket of her dress.

“God, it’s hot,” Mulder said again as he took off his backpack and set it down on the grass. He unbuckled Faith and lifted her out, knowing she would make a beeline for the giraffe.

As she gained her balance, wobbling a little in the grass, a car pulled up the road, slowing at the giraffe and then drove up the driveway.

“Oh… look who’s here little girl,” Mulder said, lifting her up and walking toward the car.

Skinner and Rachel stepped out, much to Faith’s ecstatic surprise, both wearing masks. She screeched and waved excitedly, causing everyone to laugh.

“So, what’s the protocol here?” Skinner asked gruffly, as Rachel opened the back door and took out a bag. “I haven’t seen that girl in months and I’m due for a hug, but I don’t want to cause any harm.”

“We’ve taken as many precautions as we can. We’re all wearing masks. Well, except for Faith. She’s too little to understand how to breathe properly while wearing it. We’re going to be eating together soon, we’re outside… I think we’re okay with a hug.” Scully smiled as she stepped closer to them, nodding a hello at Rachel. Skinner let out a breath and nodded.

“Up. Up.” Faith said, reaching toward Skinner. Mulder made to hand her over, but Scully stopped him.

Taking out the hand sanitizer, she squeezed some into his open palms and he quickly rubbed them together. With a glance and a nod from Scully, he took Faith from Mulder and spun her around, both of them laughing.

“Oh, little girl, I’ve missed you.” Faith touched Skinner’s face with her hands and smiled, laughing as she touched his mask. Scully stepped closer to him, touching his upper arm.

“It’s good to see you. In the flesh.” She smiled and he nodded.

“You too, Dana. And you, Mulder.”

“You two as well. Rachel,” Mulder said, nodding at her and she winked.

“Fox. Dana. Miss Faith, a pleasure as always.”

“Jaf. Jaf,” Faith said, pointing at the giraffe and then looking at Skinner expectantly. He nodded and walked closer to the giraffe, ready to do her bidding.

“Oh, hello,” Violet called behind them and they all turned to look at her. She walked closer and Scully gestured to her.

“This is Violet Turner. Violet, this is Rachel Clarke and that is Walter Skinner.”

“It’s good to meet you both. Denis, my husband, is inside. He should be out soon,” Violet said, her eyes crinkling with a smile.

“Should I give these to you or should I put them on the table?” Rachel asked Violet, indicating the bag she was holding.

“Does anything need to be warmed up? Or is it a cool dish?”

“Well, there is a salad, but also Fettuccine Alfredo.”

“Fettuccine Alfredo, you say?” Scully asked, looking at Mulder, and then over at Skinner, a knowing smile on her face. He stared back with a look she had seen many times in the past. She raised her eyebrows and nodded her head, not needing to hear him say it, but wanting to know for sure. “Did you make that, Rachel?”

“No, Walter did. It’s one of his specialties,” Rachel said with a chuckle.

“Is it now?” Scully said with a smile and a wink and Skinner shook his head.

“I feel like I’m missing something,” Rachel laughed as Skinner walked over to them again, sighing heavily, shaking his head as he looked at Faith.

“Well, I was happy to see your mama,” he told her and Scully laughed. She looked over at Rachel with a smile and cleared her throat.

“I’m just teasing him because his specialty is actually one of my mother’s recipes. One which I shared with him when your first date didn’t quite go as planned,” Scully explained and Rachel looked at her with wide eyes.

“Is that right?” she asked, turning to look at Skinner. “Hmm. Well, no wonder it was so good. If Mrs. Scully was half as good a cook as she was kind, then it makes sense it was such a good second date.” Scully laughed and nodded, turning to look at Mulder who winked and chuckled.  

Rachel took the salad from the bag and handed the bag to Violet, who went inside to warm it up. At the suggestion to get in the shade, they all walked over to the tables, Bella barking a greeting. Setting down the salad, Rachel walked over to her, saying hello and giving her some pats.

“She’s gotten so big,” Skinner said, looking at Faith with a sigh. “I know we’ve seen her a lot on the phone, but it’s not a true judge of her growth the way it is to see her person.”

“She has,” Scully agreed, smiling at both of them, before looking over at Rachel as she pet Bella.

She was wearing a teal knee-length sundress and cute black wedge sandals. As she stood up, she brushed her hair back and caught Scully’s eye. Her eyes flicked over to Skinner, watching him with Faith. Looking back at Scully, she nodded and Scully grinned as she nodded back, knowing the past few months had been good for them.  

Violet and Denis came out, the last of the food set down on the table. Introductions were made again before they went back in again to get the drinks. Two pitchers of ice water and two bottles of wine were set on the table and everyone looked at each other.

Skinner handed Faith to Mulder and stepped back, standing with Rachel. Scully stood beside Mulder and everyone took off their masks, each of them taking a deep breath.

“Well… it’s nice to really see everyone,” Violet said and they all laughed.

Taking turns, they filled their plates and sat down in family groups, keeping distance between them. Mulder held Fatih as Scully prepared a small plate for her from her own. When it was finished, he began to feed her and they all laughed as they watched her wiggling with happiness as she ate.

There was a lot of laughter. Everyone was glad to be around other people again. Stories were told of arguments from being in close quarters without much of a chance to break up the monotony of the days. Shows were discussed, which ones the others had seen, and which had been favorites.

“We did a puzzle that, I swear to god, had five shades of blue in the sky,” Skinner said, shaking his head and looking at Rachel. She laughed and nodded, crossing her arms on top of the table.

“It was probably the worst… not a fight exactly, but definitely a heated discussion that we have had. I think of myself as a patient person, but those few days… I most assuredly was not,” Rachel said and Skinner scoffed, leaning back and crossing his arms.

“I had all the colors arranged by varying shades and then this guy…” She inclined her head toward Skinner and he cleared his throat with his eyebrows raised. “Yeah… you. He comes into the room and starts trying pieces and not putting them back where he found them.”

“She slapped my hands. Twice,” he said, holding up two fingers and she turned her head to look at him.

“Because apparently once wasn’t enough for you to get it.” She stared at him and everyone laughed. Scully squeezed Mulder’s knee as she watched Skinner and Rachel smiling and silently speaking to one another.

“Wow,” Mulder said quietly, covering her hand with his own. “It is annoying watching people speak without speaking.” He squeezed her hand and she laughed, leaning against him with a happy sigh, Faith beginning to fall asleep on his lap; the warmth of the day causing a flush in her cheeks and making her sleepy.

“I’m happy they’re both happy- especially Skinner. He deserves someone like her,” Scully said, as Violet laughed at something Rachel said. “I’m glad she was the one you found. For you. For him.”

“Hmm,” he hummed. “Your mom found her.”

“What?” She sat up slightly and turned her head to look at him.

“She was here on a Wednesday, like always. It was the day we hung the clothesline out back, actually. She suggested that I should see a therapist and gave me a list of names that people she knew had suggested to her. Rachel was the third person I met with and I liked her almost immediately.”

Scully shook her head, looking at him and then at Faith, whose mouth was open as she slept against Mulder’s shirt. Turning her head, she looked over at Rachel and Skinner. They were laughing and arguing as she reached for his hand and leaned back toward him. As he looked at her and smiled, her hand in his, Scully felt tears prick her eyes at the love she saw between them.

“And here I thought it was just the fettuccine recipe,” she said softly and Mulder laughed.

“I think it’s fair to say it could be both,” he responded, his hand moving to rest on her chair, rubbing her back gently.

“Either way, it was my mom. Working to get us together and unknowingly doing the same for another couple.” She sighed and shook her head. “I wish I could thank her properly for all she did. I miss her so much, Mulder.”

“I know.” He squeezed her neck gently and she turned her head toward him, not wanting her tears to cause any undue sadness to the others. She took a deep breath and bent her head to kiss Faith’s head, breathing in her sun-kissed scent as she calmed down.

“You okay?” Mulder asked softly and she nodded, her cheek resting on Faith’s head as she took another deep breath. He put his hand on her head and stroked her hair.

“Dana?” Violet said and she raised her head, wiping at her eyes. She sat up and gave Violet a shaky smile.

“Yes. I’m sorry. I was just thinking of my mother.” She waved away any other words she may have said and took a deep breath

“No apology is necessary. I understand.” Violet smiled and Scully nodded, wiping at her eyes again. “Who’s ready for dessert?”

“Yes, please,” Mulder said, raising his hand and Violet nodded with a smile, standing along with Denis.

Rachel stood as well, collecting the disposable plates they had used and throwing them in the trash. Scully joined in cleaning up and soon the tables were cleared. Bella had a bowl of scraps, including ham, and she was immensely happy. Faith slept on, resting on Mulder’s chest, his hand stroking up and down her back.

“So, we usually do a cake with blueberries and strawberries like the Stars and Stripes, but this year… well, we thought we’d do something a little different,” Violet said, coming over to the table and setting down a pink, three layered, Jell-O mold. Scully looked at her in shock and then at Mulder, who winked at Violet.

“You planned this?” she asked him and he shrugged.

“What’s a holiday without a dessert that represents the Fourth of July, fireworks, America, God, and love?” She grinned at him and he pumped his eyebrows. “You’ll notice though, that it’s not lemon-lime flavored.” She laughed and nodded, leaning in for a kiss.

“Thank you.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Violet served the dessert, leaving the plates on the table, and they each went over separately to pick them up. Glancing over her shoulder, Scully saw Denis filling the plastic pool for an inquisitive Bella. When it was halfway full, he let her explore it, drinking the water and then tentatively stepping inside.

Once she figured it out, she would run around and then lay down in the pool, panting with happiness. Everyone sat facing her, watching her enjoying herself, as they ate their dessert.

“We definitely need a pool,” Mulder said and Scully agreed with a nod, laughing at the fun Bella was having.

“Of course it wouldn’t be just for Bella for long.”

“No, but it’s just going to get hotter as the summer progresses, and it’s a good idea.”

“So, how's the kitten?” Rachel asked and Mulder mock groaned softly.

“You mean our new baby?” he asked Rachel and she laughed.

“Stop it,” Scully said and shook her head. “It’s not that bad.”

“She wanted to bring her today,” he teased, and she shoved him gently. “Has a leash for her and everything.”

“Stop,” she laughed, shaking her head. “You make me sound like a crazy person.”

“Well…” He shrugged and they all laughed.

Soon, it was time to pack up and head back home. Faith woke up and wanted Skinner to hold her. His smile as he put his mask back on and came to Scully for more hand sanitizer, was one that warmed her heart, proving once again that he would have been a great father.

Skinner walked around with Faith, looking at all the wooden animals in the yard. They all put their masks back on and began to clean up, to get ready to say their goodbyes. Mulder and Denis took the chairs into the garage as Violet filled the basket she brought out earlier with the extra plates, utensils, and cups. Rachel and Scully moved everything to one table and removed the tablecloths.

“I’d like to see you all again. Soon,” Rachel said, when Violet had gone inside. “Maybe we could come to your place, or meet at a park somewhere? Bring some lunch and meet up?”

“I’d like that,” Scully said, touching her upper arm and rubbing softly. “We’d like that.”

“Good.” Rachel sighed and nodded. She looked over at Skinner and she sighed again. “It’s been a long time, but you remember that discussion we had at Christmas?”

“Yeah,” Scully said with a smile, remembering the conversation they had about her and Skinner.

“Well, obviously you know that with the quarantine we’ve been together. That was… different. We went from newly dating to basically living together in less than six months. I’ve never done that. Never lived with anyone that way actually,” she admitted, with a shake of her head. “It was good and bad, but mostly good. It… it really changed me and my view of relationships. The threat of a horrible virus will do that, I suppose.” She laughed and Scully smiled.

”I love him so much. I’m thankful every day for him, despite his crazy jigsaw puzzle ways.” Scully laughed and Rachel joined in.

“Well, I’d say if you two could survive this, you can survive anything.”

“I agree.”

“Hey. You about ready?” Mulder asked and Scully nodded. He touched Rachel’s back and she nodded.

The backpacks were loaded up, Faith was given one last squeeze from Skinner before she was placed in the carrier, and Bella was coerced away from the little pool, before they all said goodbye to Denis and Violet, thanking them for a great day.

“It was our pleasure to have the company,” Violet said, her hands clasped at her chest. “I wish I could give you all a hug.” They smiled at her and Scully rubbed her upper arm.

“One day. Thank you, Violet. We’ll see you soon.”

Gathering their bowls, a container of leftovers, and a large piece of the Jell-O dessert in a separate container, they walked down the driveway with Skinner and Rachel. Stopping at the car, they said goodbye, with a promise of an upcoming visit.

Waiting for them to drive away, they walked home in the late afternoon sunlight, waving goodbye to Denis, Violet, and Jaf. Taking off their masks, they each sighed, happy with the day.

“That was fun,” Mulder said and she nodded. “And to think I would have gone kicking and screaming to a potluck picnic like that in the past.”

“Like a child, you mean,” she teased.

“As if you were some party girl with heaps of friends.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Things change though, like I’ve said before. This girl,” he said, touching Faith’s foot. “She’s changing us for the better, Scully.”

“She is indeed,” she said looking up at Faith with a smile, as they continued home.

Once they walked through the door, they put away the leftovers and everyone went upstairs to bathe and change clothes. Grey, who had apparently slept the entire time they were gone, ran around chasing the tail of Faith’s towel, as she giggled and dragged it down the hallway.

As the sun began to set, and the air cooled a little, they brought their meal of leftovers out onto the porch. Mulder, at Scully’s suggestion, had gone out to the garage earlier to find the small table and chairs they had set up years ago. Finding them, he had rinsed them and left them to dry in the grass before bringing them onto the porch.

“I think my favorite meal we ever ate out here, was the night among the snow aliens,” he said, as he set the food down and Scully smiled.

“It was freezing out.”

“I’d rather have that than this oppressive heat. Phew, it’s hot.”

“But, we’re in the shade and might possibly hear and see some fireworks. All without leaving our home. Can’t get much better than that,” she said with a shrug.

“Plus, we have non-taint flavored Jell-O for dessert.” He waggled his eyebrows and she laughed with a nod.

They sat down and began to eat the pasta salad and ham, with a side of apples and strawberries for Faith. She toddled around with Bella, accepting bites offered to her when she came near, an outside dinner not as structured as an inside one.

“This was a good idea,” Mulder said, and Scully looked at him with a smile.

“Of course it was a good idea. It was mine after all.” He laughed and nodded, giving Faith a small piece of ham before she walked over to the porch swing and touched it gently.

“Yes. You’re a genius, Miss Scully,” he teased and she nodded as she popped a cherry tomato into her mouth.

“No sugar, Sherlock,” she said with a smirk and he laughed and nodded as the first firework was heard.

“Oh!” Faith gasped, turning around and looking at them. “Oh.” She walked over and tried to get into Scully’s lap. She lifted her and sat her down, looking in the direction of the sound of the firework.

Another went off and she gasped again. This time they could see it, but just barely. A flash of green across the evening sky.

“Oh!” she said, as another went shooting up, clapping her hands excitedly.

Scully smiled as she laid her cheek against the top of Faith’s head, her eyes on Mulder. He smiled as he reached across the table for her hand and she grasped it, squeezing gently.

Lifting her head, she took a deep breath as she watched the multicolored sky and listened to the booming echoes they created. Faith leaned her head back against her chest and Scully closed her eyes, as thoughts of past Fourth of July’s filled her mind.

The happy shouts in the air, her mother’s laughter, her father’s warnings to be careful, her first sip of beer when she was thirteen and the way the yeasty taste made her feel warm, writing her name in the air with a sparkler, and the sound of neighborhoods full of fireworks going off simultaneously.

Opening her eyes, she smiled and squeezed Mulder’s hand again. He laced their fingers together and brought her hand to his lips, kissing it softly.

“Next year we’re getting sparklers,” she told him, as another firework boomed and Faith squealed with excitement.

“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed with a smile, squeezing her hand as they looked out across the yard and watched the evening sky light up with a rainbow of colors.

[misc-headcanons]

OC-tober Day 11 (Katakuri’s kids): Craft

@oc-growth-and-development (Warning: Incredibly fluffy content incoming)

Maple's focus on her book--an old tome of her mother's describing the basics of necromancy--was quickly cut short when she heard the patter of footsteps near her and the feeling of a small hand on her arm. She looked over to see her youngest siblings, Vanilla and Fritter standing next to her; Vanilla had tapped her while Fritter took his usual spot behind her while clinging to his blanket.

"Hey Maple," Vanilla said eagerly, "Can you help me and Fritter with something?"

Maple quickly reached for a bookmark and slid it in between her book's open pages. "Depends," she replied, pushing up her glasses. "What do you need help with?"

Vanilla smiled up at her eldest sister, eager to explain. "So," she started, "A bunch of the flowers in the gardens are blooming now, and we wanna make flower crowns. Buuut, after a few days, they'll dry up 'cause the plants will get all brown and die."

"And mine always come undone," Fritter added, "It's hard to tie the flowers and stems together." He held up one of his hands and wiggled his fingers. "'Cause I got tiny fingers."

Vanilla nodded. "But then I thought that you could make them stay green longer with magic--ooh, or you could make them bloom and then close up and bloom again too!" She gave Maple a sheepish smile. "I'd try to do it by myself, but I dunno any spells that do that...And last time I tried making a spell by myself, I got in trouble."

Maple smirked. "Well, that'll happen when you try making a spell to summon some glitter and wind up making it rain sparkles around the castle for a whole day," she said wryly.

Vanilla pouted. "I knoooow," she whined. "I still don't get why Uncle Mont-d'or and everybody else got so upset. Glitter makes things look better, and everyone's clothes and armor and stuff was so sparkly!"

Fritter nodded. "And it makes 'em less scary. Uncle Monty said he was gonna put us in time-out with one of his books, but all I could think was 'Wow, I never saw Uncle Monty look so twinkly before.'"

Maple bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling; as hilarious as it was to remember her furious Uncle doused in a layer of rainbow sparkles, she didn't want to encourage that sort of behavior in her siblings. "Well this time, you'll have supervision when you use magic," she replied, easing her way out of her plush reading chair. "I'll find a spell that keeps flowers fresh, and you can practice it with me. Okay?" Fritter and Vanilla nodded eagerly, and Maple followed them as they trotted out to the royal gardens. 

"Yaaay, thanks!" Vanilla cheered. "And you can pick whatever flowers you want for your crown first, Maple!"

"But save some bluebonnets please, if you're gonna pick those," Fritter added hastily. "I wanna make one with blue and purple flowers, and bluebonnets are my favorite blue flower!"

The three of them arrived at the gardens, and Fritter and Vanilla set out to gather all of the flowers they needed to make the crowns they wanted. Maple pulled out a small dusty tome in her coat's inside pocket and leafed through its pages, looking for any spells she'd written that dealt with plants. "Hmm...Oh, here's one," Maple mused. "I think I wrote this for one of Mama's gifts for Mother's Day last year." Vanilla ran over with armfuls of various flowers in many colors and looked down at Maple's open journal entry. "To ex-tend the life-span of cut plants and flowers," she read aloud. "Okay, so do we just say the spell to the flowers and then they'll live forever?"

Maple set a small leaf in between the pages of her journal to mark her page. "Well, nothing lives forever," she replied. "I mean...you can raise skeletons and bodies with necromancy, but they still need upkeep and stuff so they don't fall apart. And spells to live forever usually have a really big downside like having eternal life but not eternal youth, so eventually you just turn into a little shriveled raisin and can't ever stop getting older…" 

Maple saw the confused and zoned-out look on her sister's face, and blushed at how she had started rambling. "Um. Anyway, the spell just makes the flowers last and stay fresh for a year or so," she said hastily. "We'd just need to use the spell again once a year to keep the flowers from dying. We'll make the flower crowns first, and then once they're put together we'll cast the spell."

Vanilla grinned. "Okay!" She went back into the garden's bushes to collect more flowers, with Maple following behind her to help. Soon the three of them had made a sizeable pile of flowers and stems to work with, and the three of them sat down in a small circle around the flowers. Vanilla sat next to Maple as she made her first flower crown. "What kinda flowers so you want for your crown, Maple?"

Maple reached for a few spiky sky-blue flowers to start making a crown for her twin sister Dochi. "Anything that's purple,' Maple replied, intertwining a series of stems with precision. "You probably know more about flower crown arrangements than I do, so whatever you make will turn out great."

Vanilla set to work on making the best purple flower crown in the world, and the three of them worked while chatting together. "Hey, should we all work together on Papa's? It's gonna have to be really big…"

Fritter nodded. "Do we have any flowers that look like donuts? He'd really like a flower crown like that."

"I don't think so," Vanilla said reluctantly. "But...flower crowns kinda look like donuts, right? So we can pick flowers that maybe look like sprinkles, or ones that are colored like they have sprinkles."

Fritter nodded and eyed his own flower crown, apparently admiring his handiwork. "I made this one just right," he said firmly with a smile. He held it up to show his eldest sister. "Look, Maple. It's not fallin' apart this time!"

Maple, who had put on Vanilla's finished crown for her and cast her spell to make them last, smiled and patted Fritter's head. "Nice job, Fritter." She took out her journal again and followed along with the incantation written on her page, and a small amount of green energy swirled around Fritter's crown before disappearing into the blossoms. Fritter carefully placed the crown on his head and smiled proudly, and then set out to help Vanilla finish a crown meant for their older brother Ube; Maple put the finishing touches on her crown for her sister Dochi, and set it aside.

After about an hour, the three siblings had made a set of crowns for their entire immediate family (as well as a few for their grandmother, and their grandmother's two companions named Zeus and Prometheus). Vanilla scooped up all of the crowns and hung them all on Fritter's arms--he had volunteered to be the "crown carrier" while they delivered them all. Fritter toddled in front of Maple and Vanilla while they looked for their family members in the Whole Cake Chateau. Maple flipped to a blank page in her notebook and scribbled down a list of everyone they'd made a crown for. "Grandma should be easy to find," she said. "She should've just finished having her mid-morning snack, so she'll be in the throne room with Zeus and Prometheus."

The three of them made their way to the throne room, but found that the doors were closed. The guards at the doors looked down on the children. "I'm sorry," one of them said, "But Big Mom's in a meeting with the Sweet Commanders about something important. Do you want us to pass along a message?"

Fritter wiggled his outstretched arms a bit. "Can you give her some of these flower crowns, please?" He moved to display the full set of flowers dangling from his arms. "The biggest one is for her, with all the pink flowers. And then the two rainbow ones next to that are for Zeus and Prometheus. And THESE are for--"

The familiar voice of Big Mom herself came from the other side of the door, and it immediately caused the guards to freeze in place. "Ah, is someone at the door?" 

Vanilla tried to peek through the small crack between the large doors to the throne room. "Hiiii, Gramma! It's 'Nilla and Fritter and Maple!" Her voice was as sweet as ever, even when talking to someone as terrifying and dangerous as Big Mom. "We can come back later if you're busy doing important Yonkou stuff. We made flower crowns!"

Big Mom was quiet for a few seconds, and then chuckled. "Ahhh, how nice," she cooed. "Please, come in! Your mama and papa are here as well!"

The guards reluctantly opened the doors for the three of them, and they stepped inside to see their parents as well as their Aunt Smoothie and Uncle Cracker. It seemed that Big Mom had called a meeting with her three Sweet Commanders, and Katakuri's wife had been allowed to sit in as well. Vanilla skipped inside and ran up to her grandmother's gigantic throne to give Big Mom a hug; she couldn't even measure up to her grandma's knees, but that didn't stop her from wrapping her grandma up in a hug as best as she could. 

Big Mom chuckled and reached down to hold Vanilla in one hand and held her up at eye level to give her a kiss. "Mamamama, this is such a nice surprise," she said sweetly. Vanilla beamed and pointed down at the array of crowns on Fritter's hands and arms. 

"We made yours extra big," Vanilla said, "And pink too, since I know it's your favorite color! And Zeus and Prometheus have rainbow ones!"

Upon hearing their names, Zeus and Prometheus floated down to Fritter in order to eye the presents for them. Fritter, who was always a little nervous around Grandma and her Homies, held out three crowns meant for them and Big Mom herself. "H-here ya go," he said quietly. "We didn't know your favorite colors, so we m-made it with every color…" Zeus, a fluffy animated cloud, smiled and wiggled his head until the crown fit on top of him; Prometheus, a small sun, did the same and the two of them carried the giant pink crown to place on their master's head. 

Maple placed a comforting hand on Fritter's shoulder and led him to a spot between their parents. Their mother Etherea smiled at the two of them and patted their heads. "I was wondering where you three had wandered off to," she mused. "Dochi and Ube are busy sparring outside. Do you want me to send their crowns to them?"

Fritter nodded and handed his mother the two crowns meant for their siblings: a light blue one for Dochi, and one with dark red flowers for Ube. Etherea murmured a small incantation and the two crowns floated out of a nearby window to make their way to Dochi and Ube. Fritter climbed up into his mother's lap to place her crown on top of her head--an elegant combination of purple roses and black petunias. Maple took a seat next to her mother, eager to tell her all about how well her spell had worked once this meeting with Big Mom was finished.

Big Mom set Vanilla down, and the young girl immediately ran to her parents to give them both a hug as well. "We made some for you too! Ooh mama, yours came out super pretty!" She looked over at her Aunt Smoothie and Uncle Cracker with an apologetic frown. "Um, we don't have any for you...but we can make some more if you want one!"

Smoothie shook her head with a bemused look on her face. "Don't worry," she replied. "I wouldn't want my helm to ruin something so precious."

Cracker smirked. "And my sparks would just set 'em on fire," he added, pointing to the firecrackers that adorned the ends of his hairdo. "But thanks for the offer, kiddo."

Fritter held up the final flower crown on his arm and reached up towards his father; even when he was seated, Katakuri was still too tall for him to even attempt to reach. "And this one's for you, Papa," he said. "We all worked on it together. See? It's got flowers that look like they got sprinkles on em, so it's like a donut flower crown!"

Katakuri carefully reached down to pick up the circle of flowers without crushing any of them, and peered at the blossoms all around it; each flower was either white or a light shade of pink, with multicolored speckles all around it. He smiled behind his scarf and set the crown on top of his head before gently patting Fritter's cheek with one finger. "How do I look?"

Cracker had to bite back a laugh at seeing his stoic big brother in a rainbow-speckled flower crown, and Smoothie couldn't help but smile at how cute the whole scene was. Maple gave her father a silent thumbs up with a small half-smile on her face, and her two younger siblings followed suit. "Like a Donut King," Vanilla confirmed. Fritter nodded, and Katakuri let out a small amused "mmm" (he never really laughed unless he was alone with his wife and children--or his Sprinkles, as he sometimes called them). He outstretched his arms for his three children to gather in his lap, and all three of them climbed aboard and settled comfortably with their flower crowns. It wasn't long before they fell asleep during the meeting, and Big Mom subtly had one of her servants take a picture of Katakuri in his own flower crown with Etherea and the three sleeping children all in frame. Cracker and Smoothie both smirked at each other; they'd never imagined they'd see their fearsome big brother look so adorable.

[santoteez]

In The Bronx- Hongjoong (1)

Part: 1 of (?)

Parts 2 and 3 now available!

Genre: Drugdealer!Hongjoong, Drugdealer! SeonghwaAU, Eventual Angst, Eventual Smut, Eventual Fluff

Word Count: 1.6k

Requested: no

Warnings: MC is a black female, mentions of drugs, mentions of child neglect & abandonment, swearing, mentions of sex, Hongjoong’s brother is inspired by Mingi

NOTE: This fic does NOT, in any way, shape, or form, portray the way I view any member of Ateez nor does it depict their true personalities or actions. This AU is just that. An AU.

Hongjoong sat at the kitchen table of his one-bedroom apartment, bagging the white powder-like substance in tiny Ziploc bags, before moving onto the pungent-smelling plant. He knew it was wrong, but he did it for his family. Since he was little, it had always just been him and his brother.

His mother left them at the steps of a crackhouse when Hongjoong was just five. Minjoon, his younger brother, was just a month old. He remembered nothing of their mother, and for that Hongjoong was grateful. She set the baby carrier down next to Hongjoong’s jittery legs before running into a car with an unknown man who had a prominent scar on his face. A policeman saw the two boys crying from the street, which prompted a raid, although Hongjoong and Minjoon’s mother was never found, not even with the clue of the man’s scar which Hongjoong provided.

They spent years in and out of foster homes. It was a desperate struggle to keep the boys together. No one wanted to take in two boys at once. Nine times out of ten, the family wanted Minjoon alone. Hongjoong took no offense to that, if he were them, he’d only want Minjoon too. Minjoon was a parent’s dream. He was smart, talented, and studious. Most importantly, he wasn’t a rebellious teen with trust issues instilled in him from seeing his mother run away from the stoop where she told him to stay put. Hongjoong spent his teen years being ran out of foster homes, for reasons he thought were absolute bullshit. After all, how did he know his foster mom would freak out catching him in bed with a senior during his freshman year?

Eventually, Hongjoong turned 18, and gained legal guardianship of Minjoon, much to his foster parents’ dismay. They had planned to adopt Minjoon but seeing as though Hongjoong was his only known blood relative and had the means to take care of him as well as his own place, it was a no brainer for the judge that he be appointed as Minjoon’s caretaker.

What the judge didn’t know, however, was how Hongjoong came to make all that money. Sure, he had paystubs from a clothing store, but did he have to explain that he was fired a week before the court hearing after word got to the manager that he was a drug dealer in his spare time? No. And for as long as Hongjoong could, Minjoon didn’t have to know either.

That’s why every day from the time he dropped Minjoon off at school until it was time to go pick him up again, Hongjoong sat at their kitchen table and bagged his product, preparing it for pickup. As much as he’s wanted to quit, he was recently moved up to kingpin after his boss retired and left the business to him. Plus, it paid the bills and he just needed a little bit more to send Minjoon to college.

Hongjoong glanced at the clock. It was almost time for him to go. “Where the fuck is Seonghwa? He has to take all this shit from here.” He sighed. As if on cue, the door unlocked, Seonghwa flying in.

“I’m late. I know. I got caught up.”

Hongjoong looked up from the table. “Caught up in terms of women, or in terms of business?”

“Business. But I handled it.”

Hongjoong stood up, making sure his keys were in his pocket. “You always do. I gotta bounce, make sure all this shit is gone before Minjoon is here.”

“As you said, I always do. Oh yeah, HJ,” Seonghwa wasted no time tossing the product into his Northface backpack as Hongjoong put on a pair of sneakers and head out the door. “Santana is waiting for you outside her building.”

Seonghwa was Hongjoong’s right hand. The two started pushing weight around the same time, forming an unbreakable bond. When the business was left to Hongjoong, his first rule of order was to appoint Seonghwa as second in command. After all, he was the only one he could trust with a key to his apartment and the job of making sure word of the job never makes it to Minjoon.

Hongjoong hopped into his all-black, Nissan Altima, turning it on and pulling out of the parking space. The guys back at the warehouse clowned him all the time for choosing to drive such a mundane car, but he called it being smart. A Lamborghini or Aston Martin in the heart of The Bronx was a huge red flag. Who would think to suspect the guy with a Nissan?

Aside from his brother, the one person Hongjoong was willing to do anything for was Santana. Santana was a 5’4 dark skin woman that lived nearby. Hongjoong tried for months before he was able to capture her attention. He always saw her on her way home from work when he did his nightly drops. He always looked forward to seeing her hips sway and her curly hair either down her back or up in a bun. She never responded when he said “Goodnight” or “How you doing” but that didn’t stop him from saying it every time. It wasn’t until Hongjoong asked about the book he saw her carrying one of the few times he saw her during the day.

“You’re reading Aurora. That’s a great book.”

“You read?” She asked skeptically.

“Of course. It’s about a ship traveling to Tau Ceti to form a human colony, right? You owe me a date if I am.”

And the rest is history.

Today was Santana’s day off, so Hongjoong pulled up to her building where she was already standing. She was dressed in Nike from head to toe with Bred 1s on her feet. Her face was beat to the gods, with red eyeshadow to match her sneakers and lip gloss coating her full lips.

She hopped into the passenger side and Hongjoong leaned in for a kiss.

“Ms. Davis, as beautiful as ever.” He said when she pulled away.

“On our way to get Minjoon?” She asked, putting on her seatbelt.

“The one and only,” Hongjoong said.

“Nice. I love that kid.”

Hongjoong side-eyed her playfully. “Calm that down.” He said, laughing when she rolled her eyes at him. “Nah I get it. He’s pretty amazing.”

“Amazing? HJ, he’s UNDEFEATED. All-star quarterback, captain of the debate team, student body president? Isn’t he on his way to win prom king?”

Hongjoong nodded proudly. “He’s gonna take over the world someday.”

Santana grabbed his free hand. “Only because he has the best of the best in his corner, every step of the way.”

Hongjoong lifted her hand to his lips, kissing them softly. They drove the rest of the way in silence, occasionally singing along to the radio. They pulled up to Minjoon’s high school just in time to see him walking out, a crowd following him through the doors, girls calling out to him and swooning when he reciprocated. He broke into a slow jog when he saw Hongjoong’s car, Santana hopping out of the passenger seat to greet him and move to the back. Hongjoong told her numerous times that she didn’t have to get out, but she insisted. She loved seeing them interact with one another. It was one of the few times Hongjoong looked completely carefree; the way he should look all the time.

“Santana! Long time no see!” Minjoon shouted, beaming at the short girl.

“Minjoon, the man of the hour. I see all those girls eyeing you.” She winked.

“Don’t give me so much credit. I learn everything I know from the man in the driver’s seat.” Minjoon laughed, hopping in the car.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just don’t bring no girl with a belly to the house. I’ll crack your shit.” Hongjoong dapped him up.

“Same goes for you. If Santana so much as gains an ounce, I’m coming for your head.”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes. “That’s none of your business, I’m grown.”

“It becomes my business when I can’t sleep because all I hear is your name being screamed from the living room.”

“I bought you Beats! USE THEM!”

“Seriously? That’s your solution?”

“They’re noise-canceling. What’s that whisper shit called? ABCD?” Hongjoong asked.

“ASMR, babe,” Santana said in between laughs.

“There you go. Fall asleep to that shit.”

They went on like this until reaching the house. There, Seonghwa was standing outside with a couple of guys from the crew. Minjoon hopped out running to him.

“Seonghwa! How you been, playa?”

“Shit. Not as good as you, Youngblood. Look like you living on top of the world nowadays.” Seonghwa smiled at the young boy.

Hongjoong watched the interaction from the car, staring intently.

“Are you ever gonna tell him?” Santana asked.

Hongjoong knew what she was referring to. As far as Minjoon knew, Hongjoong was an overnight stock associate for Costco and was saving up to go to college, after having gotten his GED a couple years back. Faking the paystubs and documentation for Minjoon’s school was a piece of cake, with his boy San, who managed the local storefront, providing him with anything he needed. There was even video evidence of him working, should he ever need it.

“C’ mon Santana, don’t start that shit.” He refused to meet her gaze.

“You can’t keep him in the dark forever. Eventually, he’ll find out. He’ll be mad you lied to him.” She pointed out. If there’s anything Minjoon valued, it was honesty. Knowing his only family lied to him would crush the boy like no other.

“I know that. I just-” Hongjoong paused, looking for the right words. He glanced back out the window to see Minjoon giving Seonghwa a very detailed re-enactment of last week’s football game.  “Not yet. Let him be a kid for a little longer. I never got that.”

[whiplash-story]

CHAPTER VIII

Kyler

* * *

“Astro 7? Come in, what’s your status?”

“Great! Everything’s going according to plan!” Kyler yelled.

Everything was most certainly not going according to plan.

He’d made it successfully out of the hangar, barrelling over a few guards on his way, but the Corinthians had quickly found their way to their own vessels, and it seemed his hull wasn’t as fortified as he’d thought. His stolen ship was taking heavy fire, and it wasn’t faring all that well.

The smell of smoke filled his nostrils and Kyler swore heavily as he maneuvered the ship between the soaring trees and dodged as many of the blasts as he could.

It didn’t exactly help that the ship’s systems felt the need to point out his current situation--”You are under heavy fire,” a robotic voice announced.

“I’m working on it,” he said through gritted teeth, fully aware that the system had no A.I. and most likely couldn’t hear him. Cracks splintered in the glass of his windshield as more of his attackers’ ships soared in front of him. He fired his shuttle’s weapons, but the blasts glanced harmlessly off the armored hulls of the newer carriers. Kyler’s heart thundered inside of his chest. He was surrounded--and utterly screwed.

“Surrender yourself,” came a blaring voice over the radio of his ship, “and perhaps we will spare your life.”

Ha. They’d hand him right over to Rzer for the bounty that hung over his head, and the only reason that Rzer would ever spare him would be to get information about the resistance--and then he would kill him. Yeah, right.

“Go to hell,” he responded coolly.

The ships pressed in closer, and Kyler had the fleeting thought that this was not how he wanted to go out.

His mind whirred. Corinthians were an advanced race, yes, with stronger weapons than almost any other race in the galaxy, but they were hesitant to spark disagreements with other planets unless there was money involved--especially ones they thought could beat them. Yeren was nearby, and far more powerful than Corinth. If he could get there, they wouldn’t follow him. He’d be safe--well, as safe as he could be with a few million hanging over his head. All he had to do was get off this godforsaken planet and get inside Yeren’s atmosphere.

Cake.

It was time to do something stupid.

Kyler scanned the ships in front of him. His was smaller, but that made it faster, sharper. And maybe he was surrounded on all sides, but that still left one way to go.

Up.

Kyler slammed the acceleration and yanked the throttle back as far as it would go without coming loose entirely. He barely had any room to get a start, but the ship did well, skyrocketing upwards like a bullet. It clipped one of the crafts in front of him as it did. A sharp crash resounded through his shuttle, but it survived, the circle of attackers growing more and more distant as he shot through the atmosphere.

“Yes!” Kyler grinned, blood still pounding in his ears.

“Structural damage to the right wing,” the ship replied.

He groaned at the reminder that he still had a ways to go before he could celebrate. Yeren was already visible in the distance, but the smell of smoke had grown stronger, and the ship harder to control. And the Corinthians hadn’t left his tail yet; they had settled into a formation behind him. Blasts shuddered against the hull once more.

There was nothing much to do besides fly; he pushed the ship harder and harder, firm on the acceleration and weaving between the fire until Yeren was within reach.

And then the lights on the console flickered. No, no no no--

“Structural damage to the main power core.”

“Fuck!” he swore. Yeren was so close. He gripped the throttle with white knuckles, but the ship began to falter. It needed power--a thought came to him suddenly, and he cursed himself for being so stupid. He had power. With a deep breath, Kyler shut his eyes as blue sparks began to dance along his fingers. He pressed his hands against the console, praying it would work, and let a surge of electricity pass through his body and into the vessel.

It whirred to life. The lights came on, brighter than before, and the ship made a final push through into Yeren’s atmosphere. He threw a glance over his shoulder, watching as the Corinthians fell back. A cheer rose in his throat, but it died very suddenly as he realized that the power surge had been short-lived, and he no longer had control of the ship.

“You are losing altitude,” the robotic voice declared.

Kyler yanked the throttle desperately, trying to aim away from the sprawling silver city and towards the empty hills. The ship sputtered, the ground coming at him faster and faster. Panic flooded him very suddenly.

“Hey, Commander Nova?” He pressed a finger to his comm and choked on the smoke filling the craft as he abandoned the controls altogether, struggling with the hatch. It would be better to land on the grass from this height than be trapped in the wreckage, he decided. But the door wouldn’t budge. He cursed again and screwed his eyes shut.

“So,” he said, trying to keep his tone even, “I might be a little late to our rendezvous point.”

He braced himself as the ship slammed into the ground.

* * 

Kyler woke up on a stranger’s ship with a splitting headache.

A soft groan escaped his lips as he sat up slowly, fingers brushing against his temple. He blinked in surprise when they met a soft white bandage. Strange. His eyes flitted around the room.

The ship was small but sleek, with white walls and long windows and strange potted plants scattered around. Whoever owned this ship had money--and they also had him, he realized abruptly.

Instantly, the worst possible scenarios came to his mind--bounty hunters, Yertian officials, maybe even some of Rzer’s men themselves--whatever it was, he was probably going to have to fight his way out of this one.

On the plus side, this ship would make a kickass gift for Nova and the rest of the Resistance.

Nova, he thought suddenly, and pressed a finger to his comm. “Commander? Can you hear me?” Nothing but static. The stupid thing was busted.

Kyler huffed as he swung his legs over the metal bed he sat on and stood up. His aviator’s jacket was gone, but his cargo pants and shirt remained--both singed and peppered with holes, he noted. He walked--stumbled--out of the room and into a narrow hallway that seemed to lead to the main cortex of the ship, where he could hear an unfamiliar voice. With carefully soft footsteps, he crept down the hall.

A man sat at the controls, holding a radio that crackled with a voice Kyler couldn’t fully understand. A moment passed and the ship’s pilot responded with a curt, “Thank you for the report. Dismissed,” and set the radio aside.

Kyler stepped forward, but before he could make another move, the man had turned around in his chair and was staring him down with cold, icy blue eyes.

“Where am I? Who are you?” Kyler demanded, his fingers crackling with blue electricity.

The man tilted his head curiously. “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” he replied, nodding at his sparking hands.

“Oh yeah?” Kyler scoffed. “And why the hell shouldn’t I?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt a wave of nausea and swayed on his feet. Oh. That’s why. “What did you do to me?” he groaned, clutching a hand to his bandaged head.

“Nothing,” his kidnapper said swiftly. “But you had quite the crash back on Yeren. Really, it was a spectacle. It’s a wonder you’re on your feet already.”

“I’ve got a thick skull.”

“I’m sure.” The man looked amused.

Kyler steadied himself against the wall, waiting for his head to stop spinning. “So you’re gonna take me back to Zetari? Hand me over to Rzer?” he said finally. “Fair warning, as soon as he gets what he wants he’ll probably knock that perfect head of yours right off its shoulders. Mount it on a wall or something—right next to a huge gold-framed picture of himself.” He rolled his eyes.

“Oh, I’m well aware of the...shortcomings of Zetari’s leadership. But the bounty isn’t what I’m looking for.”

Kyler’s eyes narrowed. That came as an unexpected surprise. “If you’re not a bounty hunter...then who are you, and what do you want?” he asked, brow furrowed. “I’m guessing you didn’t get me off of Yeren out of the goodness of your heart.”

The man laughed. “Not quite. My name is Nolan Sharpe. I’m the CEO of a clandestine research operation, and,” he paused, which seemed to Kyler like it was just for the sake of dramatics, “I have a job for you.”

“Yeah?” Kyler lifted an eyebrow and put on what he hoped was a somewhat intimidating scowl—which perhaps would’ve been a little scarier if he wasn’t currently using the ship’s wall as a crutch. “What makes you think I want to be your lackey?”

“It’s come to my attention that you went to Corinth in search of weapons from Vorlan, but he wanted more money than you have to offer.” Sharpe leaned forward, folding his hands in his lap. “I can give you the money. Better yet, I can supply you with weapons more advanced than anything Vorlan can offer you.”

Kyler’s mind whirred. This man already seemed to know far too much about him and his mission—but his offer sounded tempting. The last thing he wanted to do was return to the Zetarian underground empty-handed.

“I’m just supposed to believe you have that sort of money and tech?” he asked suspiciously.

Sharpe smiled and stood up from his chair, pulling out a long case from under the dashboard. “I thought it might take some convincing.” He opened the case.

Inside was a slim, shining prosthetic leg. It was made of silver metal, with electric blue lining and smooth joints. Kyler’s eyes swept over it, studying the design carefully; it was better made than anything he’d ever seen and looked more effective than anything he’d used before. Whoever this guy was, he really wasn’t messing around.

“It’s a blend of carbon fiber and a titanium-steel alloy. Extra light, but also extremely durable. And, you no longer have to switch between settings when you run or walk or anything else—this will do it for you. There’s even an underwater feature,” Nolan explained, a proud expression on his face.

Kyler felt his eyes grow wide and actually had to stop himself from gasping aloud. He reached a hand out to touch it, but before he could, the case snapped closed.

“So, we have a deal?” Sharpe asked. “You do the job in exchange for weapons? Or, I could drop you back on Yeren and we could pretend this exchange never happened.”

He chewed his lip in thought. He didn’t know if he could trust this Nolan character, but he had a better shot of helping the resistance if he had the money and the resources that he’d offered. And besides, that leg was pretty freaking badass.

“Alright, Sharpe,” he nodded finally. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Nolan smiled. “Wonderful.” He reached under the dashboard once more and handed Kyler a pile of clean clothes; his aviator’s jacket, freshly washed and sewn up, and under it a t-shirt and cargo pants not unlike the damaged ones he currently wore.

“Get dressed,” he said, gesturing to a bathroom. “We’ll be arriving shortly.”

[hiyo-silver]

Candles

Summary: It's finally Quinn's fifth birthday!

Pairings: Bill Denbrough/Eddie Kaspbrak, Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Stanley Uris/Mike Hanlon

chap 1 + chap 2 + chap 3 + ao3 link

Taglist: @fuckboykaspbrak @thesquidliesthuman @starboystan @rachi0964 @shewasthewind @beepbeep-losers @bigbilliamdenbro @jalenrose1122 @sleepygaybrough @itandstrangerthingsfanfic @boopboopreddie

The sun peers through the sheer pink curtains, leaving a sunset shade across the entire room. Eddie creeps over to the doorway, creaking it open just a bit more to see his sleeping daughter.

"Bill, look," he whispers, gesturing for Bill to come over and see. "Can't believe she's getting old," he adds, turning to bill and wrapping him in a hug.

Bill smiles softly, holding Eddie close to him, "oh god remember when we adopted her?" He reminisces, "she was so small."

"She was what? Three months?" Eddie remembers, pulling away put sliding his hands down into Bill's. "God, Bill, we've been parents," Eddie says with a grin.

"She's fucking five today, that's like- half way to ten," bill teases Eddie, pulling away to take only one of Eddie's hands and lead him to the kitchen. "Got the cake last night, freezer," he reminds, going to the drawer to find some candles.

Eddie pulls the pink decorated cake from the freezer, setting it on the counter to admire it for a little, "it's really pretty, decorated nice, store bought cakes for the win," he grins as Bill comes over with the number five candle.

"The cake is for later, but I also got a cupcake for breakfast, went all out," he grins, going to grab the cupcake from the fridge, "sugar high all day long," he chuckles.

"Ohmygod, Bill, that's the placebo effect," Eddie laughs, letting Bill open the plastic container before shoving the candle into the small cake.

"Still works, doesn't it?"

"Well that's how it fucking works, William," Eddie teases, shoving bill's shoulder playfully.

"She's going to be so excited, that's the point," Bill smiles, picking up the cupcake with both of his hands, being careful not to smudge the flowers frosted onto the top.

"You ready?" Eddie smiles, putting his hand on Bill's shoulder with a grin.

"I can't believe she's fucking five," bill says as they start to walk to the bedroom, creaking her door open carefully, and slowly the two of them start whispering singing Happy birthday.

She wakes pretty easily after hearing her fathers, turning in her bed to face the direction of the door and opening her eyes. As soon as she sees the cupcake she shoots right up into a sitting position, a huge smile on her face. Exactly what Eddie and Bill had been going for.

"Happy biiiiiirthday deaaar Quinnie," Bill grins, "happy biiiiiirthday to you," he finishes, sitting on the bed next to his daughter. Quinn looks excitedly at the cupcake.

"Make a wish, sweetheart," Eddie smiles, kneeling in front of them.

She looks at them for reassurance before blowing as powerfully as she can at the candle. "What did you wish for, Quinnie?" Bill asks, pulling the candle out of the cupcake, licking the frosting off.

"Can't tell you, won't come true," she smirks defiantly, taking the cupcake quickly, licking the Flowers off the top first.

Eddie shakes his head slowly but grins anyways, "Billy, how silly of you, you taught her that," he chuckles.

"Just making sure she remembers," Bill says with a smile, smoothing his hands over Quinn's hair and standing up as Eddie does, standing behind Eddie with arms wrapped around his waist. "Party in a few hours, should probably get ready," he says more to remind himself than his husband.

"What do you even wear for a birthday party for a five year old? Cargo shorts?" Eddie jokes, turning his head back a little to kiss bill's cheek.

"Guess so, don't suppose it matters?" He chuckles, separating from Eddie carefully, "hey, Quinnie, I'm gonna shower, you finish that, throw the wrapper away, and then daddy and I have another surprise for you," Bill grins.

"What's the surprise!?" Quinn asks loudly, eliciting a wince from Eddie, her eyes wide.

"It's a surprise for a reason," Eddie teases, taking bill's hand to lead him to the bathroom, "now go shower, William, you reek," he jokes, pushing Bill the rest of the way out of the door.

Quinn goes about finishing her cupcake quickly, sitting on her bed, swinging her legs back and forth excitedly as she waits for them to return. After what seems like forever, the two come back freshly showered with a shiny pink bag, handing it to her with a proud grin.

She tears it open, tissue paper littering the floor as she does, pulling up some fabric to reveal a satin pink princess dress, hopping up onto her feet to wrap her dads in a tight hug for the three of them. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" She exclaims, a smile as wide as her face plastered on.

"You're welcome," Bill grins, he'd picked it out, he's always been an expert gift giver, and the reactions always made the searching worth it.

"Go on, we'll finish getting ready, guests will be here soon," Eddie smiles, "Put on the new dress, shoes in there too," he grins.

An hour later, a knock comes from the door before the figure lets himself in, "Uncle Richard is here! Come give'im a hug," he shouts, grinning brightly.

"Richie! Richie!" Quinn shouts back, holding the skirt of her dress up as she runs into his arms, him lifting her and spinning her around.

"I hear someone is five too, eh?" He smirks, pulling a card out of seemingly nowhere and handing it to Bill and Eddie to hold onto.

"I am!" Quinn shrieks happily, putting her arms around Richie's neck, "What's my present?" She asks seriously without losing her childish smile.

"I gave your daddies money to let you pick something," Richie grins, holding her above his head with his hands under her arms, "I love your dress! Fit for a princess!" He proclaims, putting her back on the floor and ruffling her hair.

"Ooooooh!" She shrieks out, jumping up and down once after Richie returns her to the floor. She scrambles back to the kitchen, admiring her cake from the floor, sneakily reaching her finger up to take a dab of frosting, but Eddie notices, lifting her up and away from the cake.

"That's for later, sweetheart," he reminds with a chuckle, bringing her back out to the living room and plopping her on the couch.

Someone peeks through the left open door, which proves to be none other than Stanley Uris, followed by Mike and their kids, Andy and Jenny.

Mike was carrying a small lilac wrapped box, a white ribbon tied around it, handing it off to Bill as soon as he sees him. Bill takes it, hugging Mike with his free arm, "Thank you for coming!" He greets, putting the box on the coffee table with the card from Richie.

"We wouldn't miss it for the world," Mike grins, patting Bill's back before releasing him from the hug. Andy and Jenny stand behind Mike's legs, "Sorry, they're going through a 'shy' phase," Mike explains.

"Ah, I understand," Eddie jumps into the conversation, returning from small talk with Stan, multitasking as he watches Quinn to make sure she doesn't try again to deface the cake.

"Yeah, happens to all kids, Stan here never grew outta it!" Richie jokes, his voice a little too loud, clapping a hand on Stan's shoulder.

Stan gives Richie a scowl, a look that could kill if looks could. "Beep beep," he says dryly, like they always have, though they always thought they'd grow out of it.

"Ah c'mon Stanny! Just one!" Richie complains. He turns to Eddie next, "How's that mom'a yours?" He asks, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"You know I haven't talked to her in years," Eddie sighs, fidgeting awkwardly with his fingernails.

Richie softens slightly, "Yeah, sorry Eds."

"It's fine," Eddie sighs, disappearing into the kitchen to sort the food situation.

Bill looks a bit awkward for a moment until he meets Stan's gaze, "Bev and Ben are coming soon!" He announces, changing the subject as quick as he can.

As if on cue, the two arrive, a baby carrier in tow. "We miss anything?" Ben asks as he opens the door wider, not wanting to jostle the carrier on the frame.

"Not really," Stan shrugs, "Eddie, they're here!" He calls to the kitchen, rapping his knuckles on the kitchen door.

"Coming!" Eddie calls back, already calmed down from the incident. He comes in a few seconds later, carrying the cake out with two hands, five glowy candles propped up from in the frosting.

The group awkwardly starts singing, slow and off pitch, Quinn grinning huge and Bill videoing the entire thing on his phone.

Eddie reaches Quinn on the couch, prompting her to blow the candles out at the end of the song, her struggling with them immediately. It takes several minutes of her huffing and puffing for Eddie, chuckling, to admit that they were joke candles, not meant to be blown out easily like that.

He removes them for her, "Alright, everyone! Kitchen, cake!" He commands, already leading the 11 of them to the kitchen door.

He sets it on the counter, cutting it into thin slices, passing a piece to each person as he does, saving the largest piece for his own daughter, "And, here you are," he says with a happy finality in his voice, relieved that they've made it this far without disaster, he's always feared planning kids parties, but at least none of Quinn's had gone wrong.

[thiswasinevitableid]

3. Sweets for OT4 because Barclay making sweet things for his polycule is the soft that I need! Sfw, with mer Duck and Joseph?

Here it is! Joseph’s design is based on a Spotted Drum, Duck’s on a Mahi-Mahi.

Most days, Barclay’s house resembles a cookbook library. Today, it looks like a cookbook library that got hit by a catastrophic earthquake.

His goal is to find three perfect recipes to bring to the beach with him tonight, but he keeps changing his mind; whenever he settles on a menu, he turns the page or turns around and finds another contender staring at him from its glossy photo.

Indrid is the simplest; he likes sweet food in all his forms, though he’ll make concessions to the rest of the tastes from time to time. It was one such concession (to sour) that first introduced them. Indrid was shooting a fashion spread in town and came into Amnesty Lodge, where Barclay was working the counter at their little coffee bar. 

“I suppose I should get a slice of the key lime pie, since we’re in the keys.”

Barclay cut him a generous slice because he liked the curve of his smile. Indrid sat at the counter, took a bite, took a second bite, and then ate so fast his fork was a silver blur. He licked his plate clean when he thought Barclay wasn’t looking. There was a dot of whipped cream on his nose that Barclay almost offered to kiss off. But he exercised restraint and gave him a napkin instead.

Indrid came back the next day, and the next, and the day after that too. When Barclay asked how long the shoot was, Indrid admitted it was done three days ago.

“I, ah, I’ve been coming down from the city just for your food.”

“That’s the best compliment anyone’s ever given me.” Barclay leans across the counter, smiling when he spots Indrid’s eyes giving him a once over from behind his red-lensed glasses.

“May I have the chance to pay you some more? Perhaps tonight if you’re free? 

He was, and Indrid complimented him before, after, and during the night they spent together. Barclay would have been fine with a one-night stand, let the memory of Indrid’s tan, angular body under his hands carry him for the next few months. But the photographer came back at least three times a week and took Barclay out as much as possible. He learned Indrid was a big enough deal that he could pick and choose assignments and that he traveled often, but the longer they were together, the more he talked about moving his headquarters to Kepler.

Two years later, his office and studio are ten minutes from the apartment he and Barclay share. When he’s in town, he’s glued to Barclays side.When he travels, Barclay gets postcards signed with hearts or filled with sketches of what Indrid’s seen (and he always comes home laden with local delicacies for Barclay to try).

Wait, what were those hard candies he brought back and then ate all of? Yeah, that will work. Barclay checks to be sure he has heavy cream and makes a note to get pineapple from the grocery store. He’d hoped to avoid a trip out, but Indrid is worth it. Indrid is one of the best things to ever happen to him. 

He’s also the reason Barclay has to find three recipes and not just one.

A year ago Indrid was location scouting for a dramatic oceanside shoot. On a remote outcropping, waves splashing around him, a man popped up from the water to ask what the hell he was doing so far out and didn’t he know the tide overtook this rock real quick?

Indrid, a little strange himself, recovered quickly from being scolded  by a merman. And promptly asked if merman would like to pose for a portrait. If not, would he be able to show Indrid some good locations for photographing rays?

Duck, green-finned and strong, became Indrid’s guide to the reef. It didn’t take long before Barclay noticed Indrid getting dreamy-eyed when he recounted their adventures. Maybe he should have been jealous, but he was just happy his boyfriend found a hunky merman to show him the wonders of the sea.

These days, he considers Duck one of his best friends, a friend who also happens to make Indrid’s face light up like the Vegas strip whenever he smiles at him. 

Duck’s palate tends towards the savory side, and on days when he needs a pick-me-up Barclay will bring him a travel bowl of french onion soup and a hard seltzer, the two of them sitting on the sand and comparing notes on troublesome customers (or, in Duck’s case, park guests in the aquatic campground on the far edge of the reef. 

Actually, that gives Barclay an idea. He grabs the flour from the cupboard, sets it next to the jar of yeast and a bottle of wheat beer. They may be metamours and not partners but, as Barclay often jokes, he owes Duck big time. 

See, shortly after meeting Duck, Indrid guided Barclay down to a hidden patch of beach. 

“I want Duck to meet you, dearest. He also has someone he wishes to introduce to us.”

Duck barely had time to emerge before another merman pulled himself onto the beach and began asking questions. 

“See, this is why I asked him to come. Joe’s fascinated by the human world. Even swam under a glass bottom boat tryin to get a look at some tourists. Which was real dangerous.”

“You didn’t seem to mind  disciplining me for it” Joseph shoots a smile at the other mer, then continues his examination of Indrid’s camera.

With black hair, blue eyes, and a stunning white and black tail, Joseph is the most handsome man Barclay’d ever seen. Later, when he had to explain the fact he was attracted to both him and Indrid, he’d say that the difference in his boyfriends was like the difference between being fed by a classically trained French chef and Spanish chef pushing the boundaries of molecular gastronomy; radically different, but equally amazing.

Joseph, inquisitive and clever, began asking to see them whenever he could. Barclay started bringing food down for Joseph to try, played him movies on his phone, and fell harder for him whenever he laughed or smiled or made a bad pun. 

Some nights Duck, Indrid, or both joined them. Other nights it was just the two of them and water, Joseph lazily waving his tail back and forth as they talked. One evening, he dragged it across Barclay’s legs by accident and the human wasn’t quick enough in hiding his reaction.

“Should I do that again?”

“S-sure.” 

“Can I kiss you at the same time?”

“Yes! No, fuck, wait we, we need to talk to Indrid and Duck about this.”

“I suspect they won’t mind, but you’re right. We’ll take a rain check, big guy. And please pass me that cake.”

In addition to his other good qualities, Joseph has the most sophisticated palates of anyone, mer or human, Barclay knows. As in he can taste the notes of blackberry or chocolate that a wine label insists are there but Barclay can only sort of get a hint of. Barclay once bought him a sampler box of expensive wines, cooked oysters over a driftwood fire, and hand fed both to Joseph as he moaned and wiggled with delight, outlining in no uncertain terms what he’d do for Barclay as a thank you.

(He still can’t look at a bottle of white wine without blushing)

That means Barclay has to make something that's as sweet and sophisticated as the mer himself. Ripe peaches tickle his nose. He grabs his copy of Dessert for All Seasons, flipping to summer with a smile. 

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

“Okay, so” Barclay sets the bags down on the picnic blanket, “I, uh, I decided making one sweet thing wasn’t enough. I know that’s kinda silly but you three are so fucking important to me I wanted to do this right.”

“Doubt you’ll get any complaints from mr. sweet tooth.” Duck smirks. Indrid, lounging in linen shorts a moth patterned Hawaiin shirt, sticks his tongue out. The mer just blows him a kiss in response. 

“And there’s no need to apologize for being thoughtful.” Joseph drapes his tail over Ducks, “it’s one of your best traits.”

“Thanks, babe. Uh, so, Indrid, this is for you.” He lifts the pie plate from the ice chest, “it’s pineapple cream with vanilla whipped cream on top.”

“I love you.” Indrid takes the dish with wide-eyed appreciation. 

“Duck, these are for you.”

“Oh hell yeah, pretzels. Wait, is this-”

“French onion soup dip? Yep.”

“I’m gonna eat the hell outta this.”

“And, uh” he slides the cake carrier towards Joseph, “I found a recipe for a peaches and cream Prosecco cake. Hope you like it.” 

Joseph lifts the lid, licks his lips, then pushes the carrier into the center of blanket so he can roll and put his head in Barclay’s lap.

“You’re the best.”

“Indeed. Which is why we have something for you as well.” Indrid stands, stepping over Duck and then eeping when the mer gently whacks his ass with his tail. When he returns (stopping to bend down a pinch the sensitive upper back of said tail), it’s with the cake carrier Barclay looked everywhere for earlier today.

Beneath the pink plastic lid is a cake coated in milk chocolate frosting.

“‘Drid said this was the one you made yourself for your birthday.” 

“Oh fuck, the chocolate malt one?”

“The very same. We had to get a bit creative cooking it; Joseph suggested making the layers  in cast iron over a fire, which worked well. After all, we didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

The frosting message of “happy one year anniversary” gets a little blurry, and he wipes his eyes, “this is so fucking sweet, you guys.”

“You deserve it.” Joseph kisses his hand as Indrid rests his head on his shoulder, Duck scooching over to lay across Indrid’s lap. 

Barclay smiles, “We all do.”

[duskblight-chronicles]

‘Gonna Need a Grave’

[A Short Series of Introductions for Carter and his Antics: Part I]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W9chF9gYZqI

[Mood - Atmosphere Above]

Over the horizon came Carter, stumblin’ his way over a lone dune in the middle of the vast and unforgiving sands of Tanaris. Drudging through the grit, mud-caked and cracked leather boots carried the man only so far before finally, his weight gave way and to his knees he fell. Canting his head with one hand on his hat and looking up through rogue strands of blood-matted hair, the sun beat his already burnt face. “Fuckin’ trolls,” was all that came groaning out before he fell forward, tumbling down a dune for what seemed like forever until at last, he felt cozy in his new grave of sand.

A few days or some shit prior…

     The coin hit the table face up; a circular piece of crude metal fashioned by an obvious pisser of a coinsmith, hell, it was more oval than circle. On its face was what appeared to be a ship’s wheel with a skull in the middle. The carrier? Some low-life bastard with a bear gut, one golden tooth revealed by a grotesque snarl, outlined by a patchy bit of scruff accompanying a shit-stain of a face, finally capped off with a dirty bandana that kept whatever god-forsaken dome was underneath.

     Carter, who’d been kicked back in his chair and hidden by the shadows cast beneath the stairs of a little inn nestled away in Booty Bay, looked a hell of a lot better. Having been occupying himself with a cigar in the corner of his mouth and a glass of nearly-empty neat whiskey, he paid no mind to the gentleman before him.

     “Delver,” the old scoundrel croaked, his voice crack nearly shattering Carter’s glass which in turn caused him to wince a bit at the man. “Got a job for ya.”

     Carter raised a hand and slowly it formed a giant middle-finger. “I got one for you too, can you guess what it is,” he retorted through a smirk that curled at his lips, lifting his head just barely to peek from the brim of his hat.

     Growling, the pirate reached for his saber that hung in a tattered sheath no doubt storing a shabby piece of metal. But, he didn’t get very far. Carter reared his legs back and kicked the table right into the man’s legs and groin, catching the hilt of the blade and staggering him. The piano cut out in the bar and everything got eerily quiet save for some stray coughing or weird cat noises. All eyes were on Carter and the bloke. The pirate just stood there, quiet, his eyes shifting upwards at the barrel of a crude pistol just inches from his forehead. You could even hear his gulp.

     “How much,” Carter shifted his eyes with a raised brow around at the patrons before they all turned their attention back to whatever it was that kept em’ busy.

     A sigh crept out of the man’s parted lips before he spoke quietly. “A whole chest.”

     Carter chuckled as he withdrew the pistol and threw it back into its holster, plopping down and slapping the table with his hand. “Should’ve started with that.”

     “But I get to keep the relic,” he pointed at Carter with a fat finger, jabbing at him before moving to take a seat. It creaked under his weight.

     Shrugging, Carter plucked the now spent stogie from his lips and put it out on the table, twisting it as he spoke. “Could give a shit less what it is or who gets it, so long as I get the money,” his eyes shot back a glare that was obviously unnerving for his business partner.

     Finally, there was a bit of an understanding. The pirate scoffed, then it turned into a chuckle, then light laughter before he reached across the table and grabbed at the musty bottle of whiskey, helping himself to a glass of his own and raising it towards Carter. “Well Delver, we got a deal then.” †