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toiletwipes · 3 years

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and i'd give up forever to touch you

chapter seven. opening up, inside and out.

Summary: Wilbur joins you on a late drive and knows you better, finding out just how fast he is becoming attached to you.

ao3 link. ~2.1k words. masterlist.

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he’s sitting outside, on the curb when you pull up in a compact car, music pulsing through the speakers and when you roll down the window, the volume too, and smile at him with half-awake eyes, he’s up in an instant, heart racing when he thinks back to just moments before.

to the moments when he doubted the continuity of your friendship, where he was so resolute that you would abandon him once he would become comfortable, once he showed himself to you completely.

you don’t give him a chance to think that again as you leaned over and gestured for him to get in, “it’s cold wilbur, get in,” you chortled as he scrambled to his feet, as if he forgot to move for a second. giving the door a solid shut, he rolled the window up and moved the seat back a little, feeling more awkward than the cold you had warned him about outside.

“thanks for coming with me, will, i was going nuts with how quiet it is.” you offered little more than turning up the music as you pulled into the street.

“is there something... troubling you?” he asks, keeping on the dim light on the road, the sparse cars that pass them by.

you exhale deeply, eyes trained on staying in the painted lines on the road. “doing this cover and its responsibilities have dawned on me, and trying to figure out if this will be worth it- worth scheduling weeks, maybe months of time to even reach maybe the first two minutes, with our own two parts. maybe we should think about making it simpler, narrow it down to a piano and vocal duet, or a single guitar and-” you cut yourself off, pulling into the lot of a closed-down store, one of the few in this college-centric town.

“is that what you want to do?” you turn to him, your face sullen and eyes wandering over his figure, like he didn’t need to show himself at all, and that you saw him as he is already. and you had no qualms about what you saw.

“no, i don’t want just a simple cover, done in three sessions and- and have not a single drop of substance behind it. i want to feel the love sewn into frequencies every time i listen to it, i want to feel-”

you cut yourself off before smiling at him, “i want to feel alive when i hear it, because i know that’s how good it could be.” you trail off, looking out towards the windshield. “and i’ve only felt truly alive when making music, alive in a way that is beyond the pulse of my beating heart, you understand that, don’t you?” he stares into your face and finds it.

he sees you, bearing your true intentions behind this project. he wonders if you’re trying to share this intimate experience you feel with music with him.

he wonders how special you find him to want to share such a thing with him only.

“i don’t think i’ve ever felt it.” he admits.

“not even when you wrote your songs?” you question, head tilting to lie against the headrest.

he shakes his head, “i wrote those songs to help me cope with my life, something i didn’t understand at the time.” he wonders if you’re trying to do the same.

“i could show you, if you want, but fair warning, you’ll get addicted to the feeling.” you joke, and he smiles, but he knows you’re serious in the offer. with this cover, you’ll probably show him something he won’t forget for as long as he lives. it’s curious to see if he’ll survive it. “well- now that’s off my chest, how about some early morning mcdonald’s?” you say, as if trying to cut the thick layer of intimate honesty about oneself into diced cubes.

he blinks but you’re already driving to the closest mcdonald’s before he has a chance to respond. and you’re reaching into the cup holders, holding out your phone to him and telling him a pass-code. “play some music, it’s connected to the bluetooth already. or a podcast, though you don’t seem like the guy to listen to podcasts to me,” you speak and you’re giving him a quick grin before turning back to the road.

his heartbeat quickens when holding your phone, knowing your pass-code and knowing you have this solid trust in him to have given both to him. even if you didn’t know he has had thoughts that are dark in nature, it was.. exciting to say the least, he would almost say heartwarming.

but he does what you’ve asked of him, opening up the green music app and typing in the name of a song he thinks you might like.

though, when it plays out in the speakers, you spare him a glance. “you like sleeping at last?” speaking as though you were leaning towards dislike.

“is it- is it bad?”

you clicked your tongue, “not bad, just-” you hum, giving a soft laugh, “-just curious, didn’t think you’d like them, is all. we’re still new to each other, and yet, it feels like we’re old friends reconnecting.”

“you’re a big part of that, to be fair.” he folds his arms and tucked his back adjacent to the window and seat, turning to look at you fully.

you shrug, pulling into the parking lot and into the drive-thru. turning the music down as you rolled the window down, you give him a short look and he is turning his eyes on the painstakingly bright menu.

telling you what he wanted, you nod, and talk to the exhausted employee over the speaker about y’all’s order, pulling up into the second window.

reaching towards the back you are surprised to see will holding out a card towards you, you meant to deny it but he nudges it in your hands, and you just hand it towards the employee. the next few minutes are quiet, waiting for the food and handling both it and the drinks towards the passenger, passing the receipt and card back to the owner, and you drive off.

finding another empty lot, with a little less buildings in the area, you two begin to eat in the quiet of the night, sleeping at last smoothing out the edges.

when you crumple the wrapper in a ball, and toss it in the bag, you turn to face will yourself.

he faces you too when he’s done, trying not to show how the intensity of your stare is affecting him. “can i help you?” he asks, turning his gaze to the time. 2:47.

“this is the longest time we’ve spent talking to each other, and i realize you have a nice voice speaking as well as singing.” his mouth opens a little bit and his skin heats up more than any properly working heater.

“thank you- i guess?” he’s confused, he knows that, it’s on what he’s flustered about is the confusing part. is it the fact no one told him he has a nice voice, generally? is it the fact that it’s late and you must be focusing hard on his voice to stay awake? or is it the fact that you’re looking past his defenses once more and seeing him as he is? your honor, he’ll say it’s probably all three.

“you’re welcome.” and that’s when he focuses on you. you’re wearing his beanie, his jacket, and some shorts that ride up your thighs. and as you turn your gaze to your phone, turning it on to change the song probably, he glances at your collarbone. bare, save for his jacket. were you only wearing his jacket on your torso?

picturing you without it was already a bad idea, but imagining what he’d do to you like that- he moves his head forcibly, staring out into the darkness.

“do you want to go home or do you want to come over? rosie won’t mind you being there as long as we’re quiet because i don’t know what it is about you but-” you yawn, covering your face, “-i’m getting too tired to drive but you’ve only just gotten here, so, whatever you decide is pretty good with me.”

he thinks about going home alone, and slipping under the cold and unkind covers, shivering till the blankets warmed. and then he thinks about going home with you, and possibly sleeping on the too small of a couch for him and you there with your comfortable, soft ambiance. thinks about rosie waking the two of you up in the morning in her pajamas, making or picking breakfast up.

and he offers to drive for you, leaving you to doze off in the passenger side with piano notes trailing off in your ear.

~~~

parking in front of the dorm building, he leans over to shake your shoulder only to falter in his movements, your hunched over figure leaning against the window and your breath fogs the glass.

then you’re stirring awake, and you’re blinking the sleep away from your eyes and you’re looking right at him, for the third time, and he doesn’t know if he should be endeared by it or frustrated on how you can see him so easily.

but he’s turning the car off and walking around your car to open the door, helping you out and letting you lean on him for a second, never mind his skin itching to burn. you two walk to your dorm, unlocking it in the silent hallway.

the door creaks slightly as you push it open and aside, “you can have the couch or the bed, i’m too tired to care,” you walk to the kitchen and you open the doors to find something to drink, will recognizes it as an apple juice container. “though, you should try my bed, it’s too good to be true,” seeing will’s face you wave at him to follow you, though your movements sluggish, you prove you’re still conscious.

pushing your bedroom door open, he finds the papers from earlier stacked and he finds you hopping up onto your bed, with the apple juice between your legs and you patting the space next to you. he doesn’t make nearly the amount of effort you put in to sit beside you, and he begins to regulate his breathing to calm down, being near anybody really would put someone like him in a tizzy, he rationalizes.

“after i finish this, i’m going to pass out, you can do the same wherever.” and in a much more alarming speed, you chug the half-full container and cover your mouth when you’re done, giving a slight burp. “and i won’t say i told you so,” your lips lift up as if you meant to smile briefly but you were too tired to commit to the action.

leaning over to put the jug on the desk, you are left with shuffling in your spot until you’re covered by your blanket with your feet underneath will’s legs.

“night, wilbur, see ya in the morning,” you mumble to yourself mostly, but he hears you and he mumbles something similar, leaning his head against your wall and arguing with himself internally.

he has a chance, now.

when he looks straight at the dresser, he can see the camera, almost tauntingly.

though what sends chills down his spine isn’t your cold, uncovered feet touching him, no it’s the fact that the things he moved to cover the device, they’re gone and it’s almost noticeable.

it wouldn’t be hard to miss and it’s the fact that if he does take his chance and move it, you’ll know it was him. know that he was the one to put it there and take it away.

and then you’ll hate him, cut him off, take him away from the project, keep rosie away from him, and so much more. and nights like these won’t happen ever again. he won’t get these quiet moments with you, won’t get to appreciate a person like you.

so as he leaves to grab a blanket from the linen closet, and pads his way to your room, he decides that he’ll leave the cameras there, and he’ll take his chances.

maybe in a few months he can take it and put this whole thing behind you two, maybe you never even noticed it.

whatever happens later, he thinks, at least he had this night with you, tucking himself under the blanket and curling just nearly against you, and he feels at home next to you.

is that what you are, though? home? he wonders as he listens to your breathing for a few minutes, thinking that’s what you’d had to be. so open, so warm, and so comfortable to be around.

even if you hadn’t meant for it to happen, wilbur was swiftly becoming dependent, some would say addicted, to you and everything you’ve offered him.

but that would be a problem for a future will.

for now, he would sleep. and he would do it next to you. his worries can set themselves aside for a few hours.

...

tag list: @fxnxtical @ghostburlovebot @ollie-overscore @marinaloveswomen @roygbivp @beehive-syst3m @boiled-onionrings @mayempress @bringm3th3n1rvana @yui-san0

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#c: simpbur #simpbur x you #simpbur x reader #simpbur x y/n #mcyt au #au: band #au: college #and i'd give up forever to touch you fic

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wordsinwinters · 3 years

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Then Again, Chapter 5: Memories of the Halloween Fiasco

Summary: After an intense fight and a forced-to-share-the-bed situation during their junior year decathlon trip, Peter and the Reader examine their faults and failings. As they attempt to fix their mistakes and improve their friendship, that friendship quickly begins to evolve into something else.

Betas: @fanboyswhereare-you and @girl-tips-from-satan

Masterlist (with AO3 links)

Then Again, Chapter 5: Memories of the Halloween Fiasco

(Word count: 2,432)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29,

If I said that this was the worst week, and that yesterday was the worst day, of my life, I would be an absolute idiot. Of course it isn’t. But it does suck. It sucks a lot. A lot, a lot. The last few months have been pretty awful, but for some reason, this has been the worst week of them.

Y/N is just so happy. It’s driving me nuts.

I blame it mostly on Halloween. If Halloween hadn’t happened the way it did, maybe everything would be different and the other things would matter less.

That night, she and I were supposed to meet MJ and Ned at Ned’s apartment before going to Betty’s party. (Ned forced us into it, I didn’t really want to go in the first place.)

Anyway, she came to my apartment first so we could walk to Ned’s together. Just as I answered the door, MJ sent something to our group snapchat. The little popcorn sound echoed between us as I let her inside, the notification coming from both our phones. I pulled mine out of my pocket.

“It’s from MJ,” I said, opening it.

MJ, dressed as someone from the 1700s judging by the bonnet, was perched on the back of Ned’s couch and holding a whip outside an open window; Ned was in the background, running toward her from the hallway. He was wearing an Indiana Jones costume and his signature Don’t you dare, MJ! face.

I laughed.

“Look, MJ’s already tormenting Ned with his own costume,” I said, showing Y/N the picture before it disappeared.

“What?”

She looked at the screen and froze.

“It’s a costume party?”

I thought she knew, especially since Ned talked about it so much. I hadn’t planned a costume, but that’s because I was hoping if I showed up to Ned’s without one, he might tell me not to come at all. I guess it made sense though. I’d been wondering all week what she was planning to go as. I thought I even asked her at one point. Maybe not. Yeah. I wouldn’t have wanted her to think I was being weird.

“It’s not a big deal. I don’t have a costume either.”

She groaned.

“No, I should’ve paid more attention to Ned when he told me about it. I’ve been so… so out of it and distracted lately, and I can’t let him down like this. I know how much it means to him. I told him just an hour ago that I was completely ready for tonight. I can’t believe myself.”

I tried to console her a bit, make jokes and lighten the mood. But she was kind of right. Ned had been talking about it a lot and she had seemed pretty distracted the last couple weeks. Plus, we only had an hour before we needed to leave.

I remember wishing May were home. She would know how to help. But she must’ve been busy because she didn’t answer any of my texts.

As Y/N beat herself up for being unprepared, she kept pacing and wringing her hands. Then, she stopped.

“I always told myself I would never ask this,” she said slowly, “but Peter, can I… try on the suit?”

I always told myself I would never let my friends try the suit on. I didn’t want it to get complicated. I mean, once you get a hang of the suit, it’s kind of addicting.

In that moment though, I wanted to let her. She tends to get stressed when she isn’t one hundred percent on top of things and this was definitely one of those times. I thought it would help distract her while I came up with costume ideas. And maybe another reason I didn’t want to admit to myself yet.

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I let you try it out?”

She shrugged, the corners of her lips tugging upward. I smiled immediately, like a reflex. I could tell she was getting excited in spite of herself. Oddly, I realized I was excited too. I told myself it was a reaction to feeling helpful.

“I just thought Ned said something about it once. Like you were overprotective of it or whatever.”

“Pff, no way.” I tried to be nonchalant. “Ned is always saying crazy things.”

That wasn’t true and we both knew it. Awkward things, occasionally. Crazy, not so much.

I dug the suit out of my bag and tossed it to her.

While I waited out in the living room for her to change, I heard a sharp thud from my room. I ran to the door.

“Uh, you okay in there?”

An oomf later, she replied, “Yeah. I just tripped a little. The suit’s fine! Hit my funny bone, that’s all.”

I let out a sigh of relief. Not for the suit, obviously. It can take a beating.

A minute later, she called my name. Her voice carried a distinct… reluctance.

Outside the door again, I offered up a, “Yeah?”

I know, I know. I’m an idiot.

“Um, how exactly does this work? I can’t figure out how to make it not so… baggy.”

“Hit the spider.”

“Hit… the spider?”

“Yeah. In the middle?”

She groaned and opened the door.

I had to shove down the laughter rising in my throat. She was in the suit and holding it up by the collar, clutching it to her chest. I knew exactly how she felt. It’s one thing to look at the suit and imagine how powerful you’re going to feel once it’s on, but it’s another thing to have to step into it the same way you would onesie pajamas, knowing how undignified you look while doing it.

At that moment, she was helpless.

“‘Hit the spider.’ Really? What does that even mean?”

Her confusion was amusing, but how could she not see the black spider symbol right under her hand?

“Ignoring how ridiculous you look, which, by the way, is off the charts ridiculous, it means,” I said, stepping forward. “Hit. The. Spider.”

I lightly punched the spider symbol, as if it was a fist bump.

Probably a stupid idea, seeing as it was situated sort of… right between her, um, breasts?

Makes sense that she screamed a bit.

“Jesus! Are you serious? More of a warning would have been nice!”

The suit can be shocking if you aren’t used to it snapping like that. I’ve gotta admit, I was not used to it snapping on her. On me, yeah. Of course. But on her… not at all. Luckily she was too engrossed in the suit to have noticed my expression. I remember thinking, it definitely doesn’t look so ridiculous on you anymore.

“Oh my god,” she muttered, looking at her arms as she turned them here and there. “This is so weird.”

She moved her shoulders a bit as if testing mobility, then her fingers, toes, legs.

“This is… the weirdest sensation. I can’t tell if I hate it or if I love it.”

Actually, that’s probably the best way to describe how I’ve been feeling since then.

That night, we never ended up going to the party. Y/N called Ned to explain that she didn’t have a costume and he immediately said it was alright if we didn’t make it. Something about, “MJ is already enough to handle at the moment.”

Instead, we stayed in and watched Lord of the Rings while she kept experimenting with the suit. Testing different web shooters (she nearly destroyed my closet), watching Spider-Man Youtube videos in the mask and mocking my “poses” (for the record, I do not pose… as often as those videos suggest), and talking to Karen (they got on immediately). Once she started asking Karen personal questions, like her first one about me: “What does Peter talk to you about every day?” I decided it was time to end her Spider Time.

(Yes, I was worried Karen would tell her how often I talked about her— but to be fair, she’s my friend. Obviously I talk to Karen about her a lot. I just couldn’t figure out why it was more than Ned or Aunt May or MJ. And Karen had plenty of ideas I knew she would love to tell Y/N about.)

“That’s enough! Karen, say goodbye now!” I hurried.

“Really, Peter? We just started a real conversation. You didn’t tell me the system was basically a person! How many times have we talked about ethics and AI and you never brought her up? I’ve been so rude, I’m so sorry, Karen, if I had known-”

“Come on,” I begged. “I’m being serious. I don’t want the suit to be a thing with everyone. Better to stop now, before you get… attached.”

“Attached?” The left eye of the mask widened to match her sarcasm. “Worried I’ll steal it and hide in a cave, stroking the fabric? My precious Spidey suit?”

“Very funny,” I said. “And you just said, ‘My,’ so clearly, you are being affected!”

I reached across, about to hit the spider, when I realized exactly what the suit would do if I did, and pulled back.

Not a good time to accidentally see her naked.

I swear, I didn’t mean to think that. Especially because it’s not like she even was naked under it. But that idea — of one of my best friends, that way, in my room — took me off guard. Like a massive idiot, I jerked back too quickly. My ankle hit hers and she fell on top of me, simultaneously hitting the spider and setting off a series of awkward movements in which she tried to hold the suit together and I tried not to, well, see too much. (I saw a tiny bit, not going to lie.)

On the t.v., the Watcher in the Water began attacking Frodo, so the chaos of fiction and real life blended together in the worst way possible. The screaming from the movie made our own awkward grunts and “Sorry!”’s more intimate by contrast. Mostly it was just weird because she was practically drowning in the deflated Spider suit and as we moved against each other, trying to get off of each other, it wasn’t much of a barrier between us. Plus, the baggy mask on her face was a weird addition to the situation.

After untangling herself from me, she stood up gingerly and pulled the mask off. Her hair was a nest, a soft I-wish-I-could-reach-out-and-feel-it-moving-through-my-fingers kind of nest.

“D-do you mind if I change now?”

My mouth gaped. Here? Now?

“I mean, if I have to call May to escort you out, I do have her on speed dial.”

Without me here. Duh.

“Yeah. Sor-sorry. I’ll just, um, get up then.”

I must have looked like an idiot, staring at her from the flat of my back on the floor, practically spread eagle. Sliding past her to the door, I swear I could feel heat coming off her face. Then again, my own face was burning. But then again, that was because I realized I liked her. Like really, really liked her. So maybe her blush meant she liked me too?

That was Halloween.

Six months later, that memory plays back almost every day. On top of six months worth of other memories. She’s there, in my head, all the time. Simple things, like her ridiculous victory dance when she wins Scrabble or her helping Aunt May make dinner (and when it comes to food, she helps a lot— in terms of taste and frequency) or even Karen telling me that she sent me a text, they all make my chest hammer. It’s the absolute worst, all variables considered.

I don’t know. This week has been weird. Seeing her so excited reminds me of how she looked trying on the suit which reminds me of everything else from that night and how I’ve never worked up the courage to just ask if it meant anything. Knowing that it’s way, way too late to ask now makes me a bundle of nerves and serious regret. Plus, her unguarded joy and enthusiasm itself…. It’s a lot to take in. Sensory overload or something. It’s like, I catch a glimpse of her teeth as she’s laughing and my brain spirals into One Hundred and One Ways I Could Make Her Laugh If She Was In Love With Me Instead or Ten Kissing Scenarios In Which She’s So Happy We Can’t Kiss Properly Because We’re Smiling Too Much. This week, these imaginary scenes keep getting out of control. It’s driving me nuts.

I need to stop thinking about her. It’s impossible when we’re always together, though. All of us. I can’t tell which is worse: when it’s just us, or when it’s us and MJ. And Ned, obviously.

So the last few days, I tried to keep a smidge of distance. Yesterday was particularly rough. Ned and MJ convinced her to skip a bunch of classes with them. They sent me dozens of snapchats, half trying to rope me in, half reporting on their adventures. (My favorite was when they nicknamed Flash an Ass-Hat Rich-Boy Bitch-Boy. Or maybe it was the video of Ned where he dissolved into a fit of laughter because he couldn’t say the phrase more than twice without messing it up.)

At the end of the day, because we all have Psych in seventh hour, I may have annoyed them by leaving that class early. I couldn’t help it. Y/N was so stupid crazy beautiful happy and it was agonizing to watch her scribble notes back and forth with MJ, her pen clicking in the almost dark as she did everything she could to not laugh and disrupt the episode of Mind Games playing on the screen. I had to get out of there before I got, like, a boner or something.

That was weird. And graphic.

God, it’s such a mess. I’m such a mess.

The point is, I need to stop thinking about her like that and just forget what happened yesterday and this morning and six months ago.

That being said, it’s not exactly easy when she’s been pissing me off the last few days. This stuff with MJ and Flash is starting to seriously eat away at me. Some of it isn’t her fault, and I’m trying to work through that on my own, but plenty of it is and I can’t tell if she even cares how I (or Ned) feel about it.

I hate these secrets.

Next chapter

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millenialfanfictionaddiction · 3 years

Text

Go Go Let's Go! Let's Go! Dateko! (Pt 2. Smut)

⚠️THIS FIC IS 18+ NSFW, MINORS DNI ⚠️

Warnings: swearing, gross amount of fluff, oral sex (female and male receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cum play, cum eating, implied shower sex

Word Count: 7,000 +

Kenji refused to tell you where the tournament was in hopes that you would just not show. But you knew better. Not only would you get to see your son play but lord that coach!

You wandered into the Date Tech section as you lean over the railings. The team is gathered around the bench ad the coach is giving them a pep talk before the game

"Futakuchi you're mom came" Obara laughs as he nudges Kenji.

"Please don't make eye contact with her it will only encourage her" he says as he places his hands on his face.

Coach Oiwake turns to see you beaming as you wave to the team. He gives you a small nod and a smile as you blush and take your seat.

"Miss Futakuchi?" A voice from besides you says.

"Oh Moniwa! It's so good to see you!" You smile as you wave to the other boys.

The boys look at you as Moniwa introduces you "this is Futakuchi's mom! Miss Futakuchi, this is Kamasaki and Sasaya both former third years on the team."

"It's so nice to meet you boys! I'd like to apologize for my idiot son's ignorance as an underclassmen. He deserves to feel the pain of being team captain" you say as you smile to the boys.

The game progresses quickly as you catch glimpse of the coach looking up at you when he is able to spare a second. You catch his eyes smiling at him.

Kamasaki whispers to Moniwa and Sasaya "damn coach has got it out for Futakuchi's mom. You see those looks."

Moniwa rolls his eyes "come on man knock it off"

He looks to you ad he sees his former coach staring right at you

"Ok you right" Moniwa says as Kamasaki crosses his arms laughing.

After the game you proceed the hallway to wait for the boys with the third years. Kenji and the team walk up to you as Kenji rolls his eyes and buries his face.

"Oh knock it off Kenji. You act like I'm the most embarrassing thing in your life" you say as the third years and the team laugh.

"Mom notice how no other parents are here? That's because they care about their kids reputations" he says as he glares at you.

"Awe baby I care. Just not enough" you say as you laugh walking past the boys.

"Good game guys" you say waving as you round the corner.

You walk straight into coach Oiwake as he's reviewing his notes.

"Oh Y/N. I'm so sorry I didn't see you there" he says flustered

"Oh gosh it was all me! I'm such a klutz" you says laughing awkwardly.

"Say thanks for coming out to support the team. I know the boys appreciated it" he smiles.

"Everyone but Kenji" you chuckle as he laughs.

"I'm sure Futakuchi enjoyed it too. He's just into his roll as captain" coach says as he looks down.

"Say Y/N I was wondering" he says as he scratches the back of his head "would you like to have coffee sometime?"

You smile softly "of course Takuro! Only if we don't tell Kenji."

"Deal" he says as he smiles at you.

You started seeing Takuro as often as you could. You could talk nightly on the phone and see each other when you could. It helped that Kenji was the team captain and had his own active social life. Still it was hard to sneak away without him noticing.

You had been secretly seeing Takuro for a few weeks. Things were getting pretty steamy between the two of you. You had several heated makeout sessions with Takuro but nothing even went further. You always had to leave because Kenji expected you home and you already hated lying to your son about your relationship with his coach.

Takuro had asked you to spend the night with him the week prior and you had agreed. All you needed was a plan to convince Kenji of your absence. You start pondering as you begin preparing lunch. You had to tell him something as go why you wouldn't be home. He knew you didn't work this weekend so that wasn't good enough.

"Hey mom I won't be home this weekend" Kenji said as he rushed into the kitchen

well shit that was easy

"Oh where are you going" you question.

"Obara invited me to a party tonight and them tomorrow we are having a game with the third years. Those losers keep hanging around so we might as well put them to use" Kenji says as he chuckles.

You laugh "ok well don't do anything I wouldn't do"

"Geez mom don't set the bar too high. You literally use to sneak out of grandma and grandpa's house all the time" he laughed

"Hey HEY" you say trying to stay serious "ok yeah I was an awful kid. Go be free my child". You wave Kenji off as he bids you goodbye.

You smile as you text Takuro that you will be over tonight. You tell him your going to run to the store to grab ingredients to prepare dinner for the two of you.

As the night approaches you leave for Takuro’s house. You arrive at the store as you begin to shop. Suddenly a hand snakes around your waist as a face presses to your neck.

"I SWEAR TO GOD I HAVE A TASER" you scream as the voice laughs.

"I can't ever be cute can I?" Takuro laughs as you calm down from your near heart attack.

"Well not if you're going to stalk me! Jesus Takuro" you huff.

"I couldn't wait to see you sweetheart" he says as he kisses your neck. You giggle as he focuses on your sweet spot.

Unbeknownst to you, 2 pairs of eyes watch from outside the store window.

"Futakuchi isn't that your mom?" Obara says as he stops walking outside the store.

Kenji looks up and sees you hugging Coach Oiwake as he kisses your neck.

"What the fuck?" Kenji says angerly.

"Dude let's go before they see us" Obara pushes Kenji past the store window as Kenji feels his face heat with anger.

How could you lie to him?

You grab your groceries as Takuro carries them to your car.

You arrive at Takuro's house as you prepare to exit your car. He runs up to your car door, swinging it open as he grabs you from the seat.

"JESUS CHRIST TAKURO YOUR'RE GOING TO GIVE ME WHIPLASH" you scream as he tosses you over his shoulder, spanking your ass as he carries you inside.

He sets you down as he starts to kiss you deeply, pulling his track jacket off as he pulls your cardigan from your shoulders.

You giggle as he releases you lips and travels to your neck "impatient much? I just got here what's the rush big shoots?"

"Can't wait any longer" he says as he pulls away from you looking at you "you just drive me nuts Y/N. I just need you so bad."

He kisses you neck violently as he grasps you ass pulling you up to him. He signals for you to jump as he carries you to his room.

"Wait the groceries" you say in-between his kisses as his hands start to travel up your tank top.

"It's fine baby" he says as he lightly tickles your skin as he kisses you. He licks your lower lip asking for access as you pull away. You get up on your knees and crawl away from him towards the top of the bed. You sit on your knees and you cross your arms over your chest.

The man is flustered. His head hangs low as his arms rest on the bed, his muscles stretching his white t-shirt.

"No more sir until you get my groceries in" you pout as you look away from him trying to keep a straight face.

"Fuck-ok" he says waving his hand as he walks to your car to retrieve the groceries. You take the opportunity to strip your clothes, revealing your matching lace bra and panties set.

You kneel at the edge I the bed, waiting for Takuro to come back. Your hands resting on your lush thighs.

"Ok baby no-" Takuro begins to say as he walks into his room.

He stops as his eyes literally bulge from his head.

"Fuck" he whispers as he falls falls to his knees at the sight of your gorgeous body clad only in a small amount of fabric.

"D-Do you like it?" You say shyly. It wasn't like you to be self conscious but then again you haven't had sex in years.

Takuro can't speak.

you literally broke the man Y/N. RIP Coach Oiwake Takuro 2021

He just stares as you start to feel self conscious.

He gets up and walks over to you as he leans in front of you face. He smiles at you as he grabs the back of your head pulling you into a heated kiss.

He guides you back on the bed as you toy with the hem of his shirt. He straddles you as he sits up removing his shirt.

Fuck the man is built. For being in his late 40s he's sculpted like a Greek statue. You feel up his chest as he kisses you deeply exploring your mouth with his tongue. He releases you from the kiss as he stares down at you.

"Y/N I'm going fucking worship you baby" he says as he kisses down your neck.

You feel your core heat up as your panties begin to get wetter and wetter with every kiss. You can't help but moan as he reaches your sensitive spots.

He works his way down your chest. He kisses your nipples over your lingerie as he moves the straps down to kiss your shoulders.

"We are going to leave this on because it's driving me insane" he says as he tugs at your bra. The straps down on your lower arms as the cups barely hold your full breasts.

He moves to your stomach as he kisses every square inch. The man is romantic as hell!

"You ready sweetheart" he says as he moves his fingers into your panties.

You nod as you pull your lip between your teeth. You can't believe how wet you are.

Takuro slowly pulls down your panties as a string of your essence glides with the panties.

"Fuck" he says as he rests his head in your thigh "whatever God decided to bless me fucking THANK YOU"

You giggle as he kisses your inner thighs. You moan at the feeling and growing sensation. He looks up at you as he spreads your pussy lips with his fingers and takes a long lick of your wet slit.

You shiver as your back arches. Takuro takes no time diving into his new home.

Fuck you were so wet and you tasted so good.

"Holy shit Takurō. Fuck right there" you screams as your back begins to arch high and higher. You've never had oral like this before.

"Fuck yes yes yes right there keep going. Omg fuck I'm going to cum" you say as you grab his head and push it further into your cunt. You rub your cunt on his face as the rope inside you snaps.

You screams as you cum hard on your lovers face.

Takuro backs up as he kisses your thighs. He slowly inserts two fingers into your already sensitive pussy as he begins to move them.

"Cum again sweetheart. I need more" he says as he pushes two fingers into your sopping wet cunt. You're still riding out the high from your previous orgasm as he leans over, pulling you up to meet him in a deep kiss.

He grabs your hair as he pulls it back exposing the column of your neck to his lips. He probes your cunt faster as you feel yourself building up.

"Ahhh ahh fuck Taku, ah" you cry as he kisses your neck quickening the speed of his fingers.

"Come on baby give me one more and then I'll fuck this tight little pussy. Please give me one more" he says as you feel your core snap as your cunt spasm around his fingers.

You fall back to the bed as he stands up removing his pants. You stare at his long cock with wide eyes.

"I'll be gentle angel" he says as he reaches for a condom.

You shake your head "I want you to cum in my mouth. Fuck me raw and cum in my mouth Takuro" you say seductively as you pull your lower lip into between your teeth.

"Baby you- you can't say shit like that. Fuck" he says as he flips you around to all fours as he lines up his cock.

"Let me suck you please" you say looking over your shoulder with doe eyes.

"Later baby later I-I'm not waiting any longer to fuck you" he says as he slowly starts to push is cock into your wet entrance.

"Holy- Y/N baby you need to relax" he says as he grabs your hips stopping himself from moving further.

"Relax? I haven't been fucked in years and you want me to relax?" You say as you trust yourself backwards impaling yourself on his hard cock.

"Fucking shit Y/N! God dammit I want to last longer than a minute" he shouts as he spanks your ass. You refuse to listen as you propel yourself back to his cock as he tries to hold you off.

"I swear to God if you don't fuck me-" you say as he flips you around standing up and yanking you down to the edge of the bed as you lay on your elbows.

"You'll do what Y/N?" He says in a sadistic voice as he pushes his cock all the way into your cunt in one swift movement.

"Shit" he chokes "God baby this is the tightest cunt" he says as he pulls back, setting a brutal pace as his balls slap your ass.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel every single centimeter of his cock on your inside walls.

"Fuck Y/N baby are you close" he says as he looks down to you.

You're gone. Where even are you Y/N? Come back to earth Y/N!

"Shit baby I'm going to cum soon you feel so fucking amazing. Fuck I'm going to worship this pussy everyday until I die" he chokes

"Oh Takuro, fuck-fuck I'm going to cum please keep going" you manage to say as he pushes forward trying to bring you to orgasm.

You feel your core snap again as the quick rise and fall of your orgasms over sweeps your body.

"Fuck baby are you ready" he says giving you a moment to recover.

He pulls out as you sink to the floor between his legs opening your mouth to receive his juices.

He jerks his cock as you sit with your mouth wide open "Oh fuck Y/N- baby UGH" he says as he shouts rope after rope of cum into your mouth.

You happily accept his gift as he groans and pants, his abs retracting from the intense orgasm. He throws his head back as he finishes and you wipe up the little cum that managed to fall to the side your lips.

He pulls back ad he sees his fluids in your mouth and on your tongue. You close your mouth, reopening to show him that you had swallowed what he had offered to you.

He kneels down to your face as he pulls you into a deep kiss.

"That was the best sex I've ever had" he chuckles as you smile.

"Yeah it was at least a solid 8" you tease as his eyes widen.

"An 8? Well we can't have that now can we. Date Tech strives to be the best so I only accept 10 and above" he says grabbing you as he carries you to the shower.

He fucks you in the shower until your brain is numb. He suck is cock as you make him finish for a second time during your hour long shower. You both emerge completely blissed out and exhausted.

"I’m hungry" you say as you cuddle into his stomach and he pulls up close.

"Well it's a good thing I brought it those groceries" he says.

"You mean the groceries I MADE you bring in" you say looking up at him.

"Well the trip was worth it because look what I came back too" he says as he hoisting you above him to straddle his waist.

#dateko #date tech #Oiwake Takuro #justiceforthehaikyuucoachs #haikyuu #haikyuucoaches #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#team mom series #teammom #team mom

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kyloswarstars · 3 years

Text

ROOMMATES • Part 4

Divergent • College AU • Eric x Reader

ROOMMATES masterlist 💫 Divergent masterlist

You escaped your current living situation by moving in with your friend Christina – and five other college students. Little did you know that one of them was the guy who was your ultimate pain in the neck since your first semester. Now, you had to find a way to not strangle him in his sleep out of pure frustration. Also, you had to find a way to get rid of those weird butterfly feelings for him that slowly grew in your stomach.

Words • 2.3k

Warnings • mentions of drug use and unsettling text messages

The enemies to lovers story no one needed.

/////

In the following weeks you noticed Eric’s drive to make your life extra hard, by going against your opinions, decreased. You got along. Occasionally, your thoughts drifted back to that weird moment in the furniture store. Holding hands. And his fingers trying to intertwine with yours. If that was a deliberate action or an automatic reaction – you couldn’t say. All you knew was that the memory of it made your stomach twist and you didn’t like that.

The number of folded papers in your pockets had increased immensely. They were pulled out under the dinner table when you couldn’t endure Eric’s stares anymore. Or while waiting for the shower to be free. Or right after the ‚GN‘ knock at night when that stupid smile on your lips didn’t want to leave.

It was Friday. Friday was the weekly grocery haul day. It was your second time having to fulfil that task. The first time it had been with Tris who patiently showed you what everyone’s favorite snack was – Eric’s were those little pretzels covered in chocolate – and what kind of vegetables were an ultimate must buy.

It was Friday. And this time you had to go shopping with Eric. In the morning he told you to get read for noon. At noon he told you to get ready for five. At five he tried to push it back once more but you grew impatient.

„If we don’t go now, we don’t have to go at all today. All the fresh stuff will be gone,“ you pointed out, grabbed your backpack and didn’t leave him a choice anymore really. You put on your shoes and left the apartment. Eric was rambling something as he came rushing down the stairs after you.

„Where did you park?“

„Left.“

You walked ahead and tried to spot his car without being able. Further down the road you started to cross a street and suddenly felt a hand around your wrist. Eric nodded behind his back. „This way.“

His hand was immediately gone after telling you to change directions. Still, the spots where his fingertips had touched your skin was burning as if they had left marks. I don’t like that at all.

You were well prepared. After all you had the complete day to brace yourself for the struggle you expected. The shopping list was in your pocket, though not the only paper in there, the community money was in your backpack and you took a drag, or five, of Will’s joint earlier.

The store wasn’t that filled as you thought it would be on a Friday. Good. A lot of people made you nervous.

Eric pushed the cart and already at the first stop, fruit section, he remembered that your last discussion had been a few days ago. Too long. Time to settle for a new one.

„Take the blueberries.“ He pointed to the little containers as if you didn’t know what blueberries were.

„I want apples so I’m getting apples,“ you stated.

„Blueberries are super high on antioxidants, you know.“

„Cool but I don’t want to eat thirty tiny things. I want to eat one thing.“

„Fine. But I want blueberries.“

„Then take them yourself. You’re not decoration, Eric. You have hands to use them.“ You shook your head at how ridiculous he was. You weren’t his personal shopping assistant, this was a team work thing.

The veggie section wasn’t any better. You just tried to work your way through the shopping list and directed Eric on what else to pick. Admittedly, since living with your roommates, your eating got a lot healthier because they actually knew how to cook.

You completed the booze area, cheese heaven and dairy aisle without any further debates and turned into a new aisle. Then took a step back out of it again to look down the hallway.

„What now?“ Eric stopped the cart in time before running you over.

„I thought I saw someone I know.“ No one was there though. And if that person, you that had been there, really was there, you were glad they disappeared. Meeting ghosts from the past was under no circumstances something you wanted to happen while Eric was around.

Snack aisle. You grabbed some nuts for you and also the chocolate pretzels without thinking twice. Which caused another awkward moment when you placed them in the cart. Was life to be full of awkward moments now?

Eric looked at you bluntly, then forced a smile on his lips. You picked out the favorite snacks of your other roommates as well to show that his wasn’t the only one you remembered.

Whenever you turned into a new aisle you nervously checked if there was a ghost from the past. You never found one and were incredibly relieved when you made it through check out and had stored all the groceries in Eric’s trunk. And the backseat.

„Smartie waved at me yesterday,“ Eric said as the car rolled from the parking lot onto the street.

„Are you sure you didn’t imagine that?“

„It was close enough to be counted as a wave,“ he admitted. Though, talking about penguins broke the tense atmosphere. You hadn’t even been on the road for a minute and Eric pulled into another parking lot. He stopped at a diner drive thru window. „Milkshake?“

„Doesn’t look like I can say no now that we’re here.“

He rolled down his window and you were greeted by a waitress. She asked what she could serve you.

„Two milkshakes,“ Eric turned to you. „What flavour do you want?“

You leaned over to the window. „Strawberry, please,“ you smiled at the waitress and found yourself – too close to Eric’s face. Half leaning on his chest he mumbled a ‚for me too‘. Yep. Life would be full of awkward moments from now on.

You saved yourself to the passenger side and tried to hide the heat rising in your face by looking out the window. In fact you rolled it down to get a cool breeze. No chance, though. Chicago didn’t want to help you with that today.

„There you go!“ The waitress handed your milkshakes to Eric and you carefully made sure that this time your fingers wouldn’t touch. You sipped on your milkshake all the way back to the apartment.

The more often you took the way up and down the three flights of stairs, the more your muscles grew used to it. On moving day your legs had trembled so bad. Now, that all the groceries were up in the apartment you didn’t notice a single muscle being impressed by the stairs anymore.

Eric kneeled at the fridge, you handed him all the groceries that had to go in there. When you fished his blueberries out of the bag you couldn’t bite back a remark.

„Here, Eric. May they taste as good as my apples.“

He just shook his head and put them away. Once all the food that had to be cooled was put away, you stole away to sit on the balcony and finish your milkshake. He actually joined you.

„Why do you want to become a doctor?“ That question slipped faster than you had thought it to an end in your head.

„The obvious reason. To help people.“ He sipped as loudly on his milkshake as you did. „Why are you studying math out of all terrible things?“

„Same reason as yours,“ you bluntly stated.

„Yeah?“ Eric had stared at you ever since you sat down on the balcony. You had noticed that out of the corner of your eye. Now you looked at him as well.

„Yes.“ A smile grew on your lips. That was what you hoped you would be able to do one day.

/////

The evening atmosphere on the balcony was relaxing. Will came and joined Eric and you at some point. Then Christina got back home as well. One after the other found a spot on the balcony floor to squeeze in and contributed to a growing conversation.

It was warm instead of hot and Four provided everyone with beer. Tris suggested to head out to the beach all together soon. Everyone was all hyped for her plan and you hoped they wouldn’t notice that your excitement for that was just nonexistent. Nevertheless you enjoyed them making plans for everyone together. Christina didn’t exaggerate when she said, all those weeks ago when she suggested for you to move in, that all the roommates were like family.

Eric got out of one of the two lounge chairs. „Who wants pizza?“ And that question was the most rhetorical question he could’ve asked his roommates. Because everyone wanted pizza.

In this house pizza was made all by hand. So far the only pizza you had eaten here were takeouts someone brought home. The thought of completely self-made pizza sounded too good to be true.

Eric navigated his kitchen ‚staff‘. It seemed that when it came to pizza, he was the chef.

„Tris and Chris, you’re slicing the veggies. The guys can prep the tomato sauce.“ You waited to get a task too but so far he didn’t trust you with anything.

Eric grabbed flour from the shelf, oil and some water and yeast from the fridge. He placed it all in front of you on the countertop and fetched a bowl out of the cupboard. Balancing some sugar and salt down from the shelf, he came to stand right next to you.

„Did you ever make pizza dough yourself?“ He lowered his head a little for you to understand him better with the loud bantering about the vegetables that was going on behind your backs.

„Not really.“ You were a little overwhelmed. Not even cookie dough was within the realm of possibility for you.

„Wanna try?“ Eric’s voice sounded encouraging. He must’ve noticed the look of horror on your face.

„Don’t blame me if it’s gonna be a total mess.“

„No worries,“ he stated and he lowered his face a little more. „I’ll teach you step by step.“ His body came closer as well. It actually closed that little gap between your sides as he reached for the yeast. He crumbled it into lukewarm water and told you to add some salt and sugar. It had to set for ten minutes until you could continue with the flour. And during those ten minutes you realised that his body didn’t accidentally close that gap between your sides. Eric did it on purpose and he held it there. You sensed he gave you the chance to bring some space between you again but… you didn’t want to. You physically couldn’t, just couldn’t break the contact. It was way too intriguing, almost electrifying. And for ten minutes straight, he lowered his upper body to shield your nonchalant conversation about penguins – of course – from the others.

When the yeast-water-mix was ready, his following instructions were only whispers, so you had to keep close to him. Why was he doing that?

He added the mix to the flour, along with some oil, and dug his hands in to start kneading. The way his hands applied pressure, provided by his arms, made you… look. To say the least. To be honest, it turned into a very distracting sight. Eric kneading pizza dough? Come on. You had to give in and admit to yourself that this was something you couldn’t deny being totally sexy. The arm muscle escalation, whenever he flipped the dough and kneaded in once again set off a chain of thoughts you really didn’t want to have in a kitchen full of roommates.

„Wanna try?“ Eric asked with a brief glance in your direction, luckily unaware of your current admiration for his arms.

„Nah,“ you mumbled. In hopes to keep watching his arms. You were able to do so for a few more minutes. And were entirely embarrassed when you turned around to find Christina and Tris look at you with a mischievous grin on their lips. You deserved that.

From then on you kept a good distance between Eric and you. While the dough had to rest some. Later during making the pizzas and baking them. Only twice you met eyes with him during dinner. He probably didn’t even notice. After all, why did your brain make such a big deal about it? You were certainly not playing in Eric’s league nor was there even profound reason to think about that.

You were just roommates. Former enemies going onto maybe being some sort of friends.

And then there was a knocking on your wall again. Long, long, short. Long, short. GN. You turned to your wall and foolishly smiled at it. When you didn’t respond right away, the knocking was repeated.

Just as you wanted to knock good night as well your phone buzzed. For a second your pulse quickened, wondered if it was Eric because you didn’t respond soon enough.

You fished for your phone and unlocked it. It wasn’t Eric.

you were seen today

Your heart stopped for a second and then started beating in light speed all of a sudden. You opened the chat.

was that your new lover? already got someone new whose life you can fuck up?

or did you break up because of him?

The text messages didn’t end. Peter still understood very well how to provoke and intimidate you.

ANSWER ME

Do you think I’m just gonna let that sit???

You left the chat and threw it into your sheets. It bounced with a thud up and against the wall but you didn’t care. You searched hectically for a paper but all the clothes you grabbed were empty. The phone buzzed again. First you didn’t pick it up, scared it was Peter again. Then you rummaged around your sheets to find it because maybe it was Eric this time asking what that sound was. It wasn’t Eric. Again.

you’ll regret it. believe me y/n

/////

Taglist • @longlostinanotherworld • @dosentier • @dhunhdchrih • @coryisagee

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hermannsthumb · 4 years

Note

Could you please write #43 grandparents/neighbors one?

43. we’re having our family meal at my grandparents’ house this year so fingers crossed your parents still live next door and you grew up to be even hotter

from winter writing prompts here

oh god this one got so long. sorry everyone! thank you to @k-sci-janitor for the alien bit because it was so fucking funny

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

Holidays have gotten a little weird to manage since Newt transformed into a fully-fledged adult with an apartment and a job and stuff, so while he hasn’t made it to the big Geiszler celebration in Germany every December since starting college out of elementary school, he still tries to make a point of dropping by his dad’s for dinner and a movie or something to fill his holiday quota. It’s fine by him; he loves his family, but they’re definitely overwhelming, and trying to submit final grades and work on syllabuses for the next semester all while distant relatives ruffle his hair and ask him when he’s going to hit his growth spurt is not his idea of a relaxing time. It’s a constant point of contention between him and his dad. This year more than most, apparently.

“Your grandmother misses you!” he tells Newt sadly over their Chinese takeout. “She calls me every week to ask how you are, and why you never visit with them. Every week.” He waves a fork at Newt. “You’re breaking her heart.”

“I’m in the lab, like, twenty-four-seven, dad,” Newt sighs. It’s a well-rehearsed conversation at this point, but it doesn’t get any less tiresome. Especially because he knows his dad is lying about the phone call thing—Newt is a great grandson and texts his grandmother plenty, thank you very much, he would know if he was breaking her heart. “I’m working straight through winter break this year. Seriously.”

“That’s what you did last year,” Newt’s dad says. “And the year before that…” Newt turns the volume up on the TV to cut his dad off before he can segue into the next part of his argument, which is (usually) that Newt needs to work on his personal life, maybe settle down, produce some grandkids of his own. Or at least adopt a cat. Also well-rehearsed.

He’s not sure why he says what he does next—maybe in a desperate attempt to distract his dad further. Maybe because of the sudden onslaught of childhood memories the mention of his grandparents’ house brought on. “Hey, do you remember that boy who used to live next door to grandma?” he says. “He had the weird haircut and always dressed kind of funny?” Old-fashioned, and a little too formal for the sort of things that little kids tend to do, climbing trees or playing in the mud—sweatervests and polished loafers and starched-white knee-highs.

Newt’s dad blinks at him. Newt half expects him to declare that Newt is nuts, and that he has no idea what he’s talking about, like this is one of those horror stories where the childhood friend turns out to be some ghost who died fifty years prior. The clothing would match up, he guesses. But he smiles in recognition a moment later. “You mean the Gottlieb boy?” he says.

“Gottlieb,” Newt echoes. It sounds familiar enough. “Hermann, I think. When I’d stay with grandma for the summer we would play together every day. I wonder what he’s doing now.” Hermann was a smart guy, a real geek like Newt; he used to carry a graphing calculator around in his pocket and build the most goddamn pristine model spacecrafts Newt had ever seen. Hermann’s dad shipped him off to a prestigious boarding school the last summer Newt spent there, when they were around twelve or so. Newt started at MIT not long after. “Dude’s probably designing rocket ships by now or something.”

“You could ask him yourself if you came with me,” Newt’s dad laughs. “The Gottliebs never moved away, and their children actually visit. I’m sure your Hermann visits, too.”

“Ha,” Newt says. “Yeah.”

It’s snowing by the time Newt and his dad finish their movie, and Newt (fearing his dad’s driving even in ideal conditions) declines the offer of a lift home to trudge his way through it to his T stop instead. It’s nice to have the chance to be alone with his thoughts, anyway, because he can’t seem to get funny little Hermann Gottlieb out of his head. What is he doing now?

A quick Facebook search on the train produces a few Hermann Gottliebs, but none of them promising—none of them have the brown eyes or strangely angular face (devoid of any baby fat even that young) Newt remembers, none of them are from the right German countryside, none of them went to a preppy English boarding school. Google (utilizing the information Newt does have) is a little more rewarding, and by the time Newt presses the button to request his stop, he’s scrounged up a decent amount of info: Hermann Gottlieb has a doctorate in astrophysics, Hermann Gottlieb publishes papers at a slightly terrifying rate, and Hermann Gottlieb turned out kinda hot.

As Newt stares down at a slightly grainy current photograph of his old friend—haircut and clothing unchanged, a cane in hand, some round librarian glasses perched on the end of his nose, wide mouth twisted into a scowl—he suddenly recalls another thing about Hermann Gottlieb: the summer Hermann was sent away to boarding school was the summer that Hermann kissed Newt goodbye, shyly and tearfully, under the shade of the tall maple tree in his yard. It was the last time Newt ever saw Hermann. It was Newt’s first kiss.

“Oh, boy,” Newt says.

He texts his dad when he gets back to his apartment. When do we leave?

Newt feels like the belle of the fucking ball when he steps into his grandparents’ house a week later, snow dusting his shoulders, small suitcase clenched in his hand. His cheeks are kissed; his scarf and hat and leather jacket are brushed off and tossed onto a coat rack; his hair is in parts smoothed down (too messy!) and ruffled (too flat!); he’s hugged more times than he has been in the entire last year, probably. “Still playing around with bugs in the dirt, eh, Newt?” his grandfather booms, tucking Newt into the crook of his arm with enough force to knock Newt’s glasses off.

“Actually,” Newt squeaks, scrambling for both what he remembers of his very rusty German, and his glasses before they can hit the ground, “entomology isn’t really my main focus at—”

“Newt’s studying jellyfish now,” Newt’s dad declares proudly. “He went on a diving expedition this July.”

“Diving? How exciting,” Newt’s grandmother says.

“Yeah,” Newt says. He pushes his glasses back on. “Yeah, it was fascinating, I was lucky to get the funding for it. You wouldn’t believe the sorts of—”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Newt’s cousin says.

“My little Newt’s a daredevil!” Newt’s dad says.

“It’s not that dangerous,” Newt says. “As long as you’re—”

“What happened to that nice man your father said you were dating?” Newt’s grandfather says. “With the, the what was it, the poetry? The poet? We thought you’d bring him!”

Newt flushes. Trust his dad to talk up some random guy Newt dated in March like it was a long-term affair and not an elongated one-night stand that fizzled out after three weeks. Though maybe that one’s on Newt—it’s not like he mentioned the one-night stand part to his dad, after all. He definitely didn’t mention that the guy ended it with a poem, too. “We broke up,” he says, weakly. He wriggles out from the throng of the crowd. “Look, it’s so great seeing you all, but I’m actually, like, really tired, soooooo…?”

“Oh, of course you are,” Newt’s grandmother says. She pats his head. “What a long flight you must have had! We’ll send someone up for you for dinner—you can have your old guest room.”

“Cool,” Newt says.

He scurries up the stairs.

The guest room he slept in during those summers is almost exactly the way he remembers it, but a little dustier—the floral quilt on the bed, his grandma’s sewing table crammed into the corner, the bookcase stocked with a weird combination of kid’s books and illustrated encyclopedias that Newt used to pore over for hours as a kid, often with Hermann. Newt draws back the embroidered curtains and peers out the window at the Gottliebs’ snow-capped house next door. Hermann’s window was directly across from his. It still is, technically, though the curtains (these navy blue and embroidered with little constellations) are pulled tight, and Newt has a feeling that Hermann hasn’t set foot in his old room in well over a decade. Two decades, probably.

He remembers the one summer he showed Hermann how to make a soup can telephone, and they managed to string it all the way across between their windows before discovering it kinda didn’t work as well as Newt said it would. He remembers when Hermann’s dad banned him from the Gottlieb house for tracking water all over their front hallway after he and Hermann went wading in the creek, but it was really Hermann who did it, because he forgot to take his shoes off and they got soaked, and Newt just took the fall for it so Hermann wouldn’t get in trouble. And when Hermann asked Newt to play astronaut with him, and Newt insisted on being an alien and mimed the chestburster scene from Alien, and Hermann freaked out so bad he fell in a mud puddle and got grounded for ruining his clothing, and Newt got grounded for that and for watching Alien when he wasn’t supposed to, and they spent the following few days staring sadly out across at each other before Newt’s grandma finally got tired of his moping and sent him to work weeding the garden. He remembers knotting a little friendship bracelet for Hermann out of embroidery thread he found in his grandmother’s sewing basket and Hermann vowing to keep it until he died.

Newt’s half of the soup can phone is still on the windowsill, though the string snapped and crumbled apart years ago. He picks at the peeling Chicken Noodle label, so distracted that he almost doesn’t notice the light suddenly seeping through at the edges of Hermann’s curtains, or the way they’re pushed open—almost.

Hermann—real, live, adult Hermann, botched haircut and round glasses and all—stares out at Newt with a shocked expression on his face. Newt drops the can with a clatter.

Then he waves.

“Hey, Grandma?” Newt says, poking his head into the kitchen. Tonight’s dinner is a massive pot of soup boiling away on the stovetop, dessert a mountain of cookies and tiny pastries on serving platters on the counters. Newt hasn’t had food that looked this good since he moved out, to be honest. The intersection of Newt’s sad lack of cooking skills and his attempts at vegetarianism means he eats a lot of boxed mac-and-cheese and frozen Vegetable Lovers’ pizzas. “Are you—?"

“Oh, Newt!” Newt’s grandmother says. She sets down her wooden spoon. “Are you feeling rested, then?”

“Yeah,” Newt says. “Grandma, I was wondering, could I—uh—maybe run some food over to the Gottliebs? To be…neighborly? We just have so much, and—”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Newt’s grandmother says. “They keep to themselves, mostly, but I can’t imagine they’d turn it down. You might even see your little friend again! What was his name? You were so fond of him.”

“Hermann,” Newt says, quickly shoving cookies into a red-lid plastic container. “Thanks, Grandma.”

He tucks the tupperware under his arm and nearly wipes out on the icy front path he runs to the Gottliebs’ so fast. Before he can so much as catch his breath and knock, their door swings open; Hermann, dressed in a tacky Hannukah sweater, arches an eyebrow at him. “I saw you sprint over here like a bloody madman,” he says, in blessed English. He must’ve remembered how shitty Newt’s German was when they were kids. “Hello, Newton. What’s so terribly important?”

His voice got deeper—expected—and he swapped out his German accent for an English one somewhere along the way. Probably at his stuffy boarding school. He also got taller—he’s got a few inches on Newt now, but Newt admits that’s not exactly hard. God, he’s even hotter in person. “Uh,” Newt says. Why is he here? Oh, right. He thrusts out the tupperware. “I brought some cookies over for you?”

Hermann peers down at the offering over his glasses. His forehead wrinkles. “How considerate,” he says. He pulls an olive-green parka on and steps out onto the porch, tugging the door shut behind him. He taps at a peeling porch swing with the end of his cane. “Just leave them there. Would you like to take a walk?”

It’s freezing, and snowing, but for some reason, a walk sounds like the best idea in the world right now. “Yes, please,” Newt says, and chucks the cookies onto the swing.

“I must say,” Hermann says, after their meandering walk around the Gottliebs’ yard takes them to the old maple tree. The branches are bare, but thick, and shield them from most of the falling snow. Hermann’s breath puffs out white in front of his angular face. The last time I stood here, Newt thinks, he kissed me. “I really did not expect to see you.”

“I didn’t expect to see you, either,” Newt admits. “From what I remember, you and your family weren’t—uh—well, very close. I didn’t think you’d be coming back to share in the holiday cheer with them, is what I mean.”

The corner of Hermann’s mouth twitches up. “That’s certainly one way of describing it. Yes, I suppose you’re right—my father is a bit of a bastard, isn’t he?” Newt laughs awkwardly, unsure whether to agree or attempt to weakly the defend a guy who openly hated him for being a bad influence on Hermann most of his childhood; he’s grateful when Hermann continues and saves him the choice. “This is the first year I’ve come home in a long while. My brother’s just had a daughter, you see, and I thought I should start getting used to playing uncle.”

“Oh, congrats,” Newt says. Hermann shrugs, and Newt has the distinct feeling that this is Hermann’s older brother, who used to dissemble Hermann’s telescope and hide the pieces around the house when Hermann annoyed him, and tattled on Newt and Hermann to Hermann’s parents the one time Newt snuck in to see Hermann after he got banned. He always made Newt thankful that he was an only child. “Same here, actually. Not the uncle thing—I mean I haven’t visited since I was in college. Too busy.”

“I know,” Hermann says, and then adds teasingly (in a way that makes color flood Newt’s cheeks and his heart beat just a little faster), “I’ve looked you up online. Er—quite a bit recently, in fact. I was curious. You’ve made quite the name for yourself, haven’t you, Dr. Geiszler?”

“I,” Newt squeaks, and then coughs. “I mean, I guess? I like…science.”

“I oughtn’t be surprised,” Hermann says. “You were always giving me bugs, and salamanders, and funny little frogs—”

Newt liked bugs, and salamanders, and frogs, but he liked Hermann more, and the gifts had a lot more to do with the latter than the former, because what kid wouldn’t want bugs or salamanders or frogs, right? Not that Hermann ever appreciated them—especially not the worms Newt would pluck from the sidewalks after rainstorms. He thinks he got grounded for that one, too, because his grandma wouldn’t believe that he really wasn’t trying to terrorize the poor Gottlieb boy. “And what about you?” Newt says. He pokes his elbow into Hermann’s side. “Dr. Gottlieb? Guess those model rockets paid off.”

(“No, Newton,” Hermann would snap at him on the rare occasions he would allow Newt to watch him piece one together, “the glue hasn’t dried yet. You have to be patient, or else it’ll fall apart.”)

“Not yet,” Hermann says, “but I hope soon.”

Hermann smiles at him. A snowflake catches in his eyelashes—his long, pretty, dark eyelashes. “Do you remember when you kissed me here?” Newt blurts out.

“It’s hardly the sort of thing I’d forget,” Hermann says. He reaches out and tucks a piece of Newt’s hair up into his hat. “I like your tattoos—I saw the photographs on your social media accounts. They suit you.” Newt wonders if this means Hermann saw the shirtless selfie he posted on Instagram. “I’m also pleased to see you’ve gotten your braces removed. It wasn’t a very pleasant experience last time.”

Then he leans in and kisses Newt. Again, technically. It’s so light and brief Newt hardly believes it even happened. Their glasses clack together, and when Hermann pulls away, he straightens out Newt’s.

“I confess,” Hermann says, “that I’m wholly pleased to see how you’ve turned out. I hope that wasn’t too forward of me. I’ve been thinking about doing it all night.”

“Jeez, dude,” Newt says, blinking at him, his head swimming just a little. Hermann looks smug. “Not, uh, not too forward. So. Uh. You wanna get dinner or something this week and catch up?”

Hermann snorts, and nods.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years

Text

"Doppelganger" *Part 9*

I don't know if this counts as two chapters today, but there will probably be another one up late tonight which most of you won't see until tomorrow, so I think this is cool to drop now.

Reminder: We are nowhere near the end people, don't worry.

Part 8

Part 10

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

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

::Let’s rewind that back::

As soon as you felt that orange liquid run down your throat, your mind blacked out. You woke up in a dark, dark room. You blinked a few times, trying to get your bearings. And then in the distance you saw a light. You ran towards it, it was a small window. You ran to stare out of it, and you saw...Nevada? You could hear your voice echoing around you.

“Vada,” You heard your voice eerily happy. What the…? Then it dawned on you, what Rafael had said about being under Olivia’s spell. It was like he was stuck in his body, screaming to get out. This must be what was happening. Oh God, this was hell.

You saw “yourself” fighting the love of your life. There had to be a way to stop this, there had to be. You ran every direction in the pitch black, trying to find a wall to hit. You ran to the window, banging on it. You felt the room, your “head” shaking, hurting. The window began to crack, you yelled:

“RAFA!!!!!!” You heard yourself speaking. Your eyes filled with hope, but then the weirdest thing happened-- you could hear Nevada’s voice booming through your head.

“NO. YOU HATE HIM. KILL HIM.”

What the hell. What the hell?! No! This could not be happening. You saw your body push him away, walking back to Nevada, then making out with him.

This was a nightmare.

-------

The Next Day

Rafael decided to do something he really didn’t want to-- ask for Olivia’s help.

He nervously walked into the precinct, as soon as he locked eyes with Olivia the biggest smile appeared on her face.

Crap.

“Rafa!!!” She ran over to him and started to give him a kiss, but he stopped her.

“I--Uh, Liv, can I-- can we---?” He gestured to her office.

“Ooooh, private time. Absolutely,” She took his hand and led him inside.

“Now, where were we?” She wrapped her arms around his neck but once again he pulled away from her.

“No, Liv-- Look,” He sighed. “...The...me, that came to you yesterday. That wasn’t...me,”

“....What are you talking about?”

“I…” Rafael hesitated. He knew if he told Olivia about Nevada, she could tell the whole squad, maybe the entire police force. They’d always think he was Nevada pretending to be him, he’d lose his job, maybe his career if they never caught Nevada. But they had to catch him, otherwise he’d never see you again. So really, he had nothing to lose.

“It was Nevada Ramirez,” He finally admitted.

“...I’m sorry, what?” Olivia half laughed. “The drugpin of The Heights?”

“Yeah he-- we, have the same face,” He felt stupid saying it out loud.

“....So what are you, twins or something?”

“No, not at all.” He shook his head. “I...I had no idea. You know he’s always been a ghost, nobody’s seen his face before,”

“So how have you?” She raised an eyebrow.

“....He has Y/N,” He gave her a puppy dog face.

“Ah,” She nodded. “I see," She shook it with a sad laugh. So, yesterday when you were talking about ditching her for me--”

“That wasn’t me,” He gave her an apologetic face.

“Right,” She nodded sadly.

“You don’t believe me,”

“No actually, I do,” She continued to nod. “It did seem pretty odd that you would just come waltzing in here and denouncing your ‘true love’ for me,”

“Liv I’m sorry he did that-- I really am,” He laid his hand over hers.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” She shook her head with a sad laugh. “I guess I kind of deserve it,”

“Well--” Rafael made a face.

“So why did you come here then?” She gave him a look.

“Because I believe you when you say that you really love me,”

“You do?”

“Yes, but you need to believe me when I say that if you truly love me, then you’ll let me be happy with whoever I choose, even if it’s not you,”

“....So you want me to help you get her back,” She raised her eyebrow.

“...AND take down the most notorious criminal in New York,” Rafael added. “Think about what that will do to your reputation,”

“Right, because I care so much about accolades,” She rolled her eyes. “But...I guess I don’t really have a choice. I mean if I don’t help you, it’s not like I’ll get you anyway. And if I let her die, then I’ll never even recover our friendship,” She looked at him sadly. “And I do cherish that,”

“Me too, Liv,” Rafael took her other hand. “I swear to you, I really do,”

“Alright then--,” She smiled while squeezing his hands in return. “Where do we start?”

“....I’m gonna need your signature on some things,” He said in a "I'm really sorry to ask this but--" tone.

------

Meanwhile

Nevada paced his penthouse apartment while your body sat there like a robot. Inside the black hole of your mind prison, you were screaming at yourself to run, make a break for it, something.

“God DAMMIT!!! You screamed. You jumped up and down, pounding on your ‘eye window’. You felt yourself shaking your head, it was pounding. You were coming out of it.

“I…” You started to speak, but realized he still thought you were still under his power. You quietly stood up and tried sneaking towards the door while he kept pacing and looking at his phone, waiting on Rafael’s call. You had almost made it to the door of the penthouse when out of the corner of his eye, Nevada caught you trying to escape.

“Hey! No no no, you sit back down!” He commanded you.

“Fuck you,” You spat as you threw open the door and started to run out and down the hallway, but were met with two of Nevada’s men with guns.

“Ayyyy, hermosa,” Nevada shook his head with a laugh. “Do you think I’m estupido, not having constant supervision? I’m a very wanted man-- in many ways,”

One of the men grabbed you and forced your arms behind your back.

“Now why the sudden change, mujer?” He stroked your face. “Don’t you like being mi reina?”

“I’ll never be your anything, you piece of shit!” You yelled.

“Ooooh!!!! Kitty’s got claws,” Nevada laughed, but soon turned serious. “....You must need another dose, don’t you? Dios mio that’s annoying,”

“Keep her here, I’ll be back,” Nevada ordered his men who dragged you back to his penthouse. He sighed and walked down the hallway to the elevator.

“Always gotta do everything myself…” He shook his head. While he was walking, his phone pinged in his hand. A text from Rafael:

“I have your papers,”

“Ah, bien,” He smiled to himself as he got on the elevator. “At least something’s going right today,”

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

Nevada entered the old woman’s shop, with an unamused glare on his face.

“Ah what now, penjedo?” She crossed her arms.

“Tu anciana estúpida!” He grabbed her by the throat. “Why didn’t you tell me your voodoo only works in a time limit?”

“Well what did you expect, tonto?” She gasped as she wriggled in his hands. “Uno y hecho? That wouldn’t be very good business practice,”

“Ah I see,” Nevada chuckled as he released the old woman. “I can appreciate a good buscavidas such as myself,” His smile turned to an evil scowl. “But not with me. Now you’re going to make me enough of your poción that I can keep mi puta under my thumb for a very, very long time. Or I might not be so nice the next time I decide to visit your little pawn shop,”

“That’s going to take a while, cabron,” She scoffed.

“I’ll wait,” Nevada crossed his arms with a smirk, pulling up an old rocking chair.

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

It had been about an hour since Rafael had texted Nevada and he still hadn’t gotten a response. It was beginning to drive him nuts, thinking about why he wasn’t answering. What was he doing? What was he doing with YOU? It was torture. On top of that, he hadn’t gotten any sleep last night just replaying the events of last night over and over in his head. He knew you were in there, he saw you. And those brief moments that you were in his arms, he was terrified he’d never have that again.

“...You look like hell, Rafa,” Olivia’s voice knocked him from his thoughts.

“Thank you?” He laughed sarcastically.

“You should go home, take a nap,”

“But what if--?”

“I’ll forward your texts and calls to my phone, so if he responds I’ll call you and wake you up, okay?”

“....Okay,” He said reluctantly. He didn’t know how much he trusted Olivia with access to his phone, but it wasn’t like she could contact you and mess with you. He left her office and headed back to his place to take a nap.

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

Before he knew it, there was a knock at his door waking him from his sleep. He walked out of his bedroom and towards his front door.

“Liv you could have just called--” He started to speak, but the image in front of him rendered him speechless.

You were standing right in front of him.

“...Y/N?”

“Hi baby,” You smiled as you pulled him into a kiss. He picked you up and carried you inside, not breaking the kiss as he sat you on the couch.

“How did you--?” Happy tears started rolling down his cheeks as stroked the side of your face, before he had a horrible realization.

“....This isn’t real, isn’t it?”

“Not yet,” You smiled sweetly, stroking his face as well.

“Right,” He nodded with a sarcastic smile, remembering when this situation was reversed. Wait, when it was reversed.

“But this is you,” He held your face in his hands.

“Well duh,” You shook your head with a laugh. “You think you’re the only one who can dream walk?”

“...I don’t think that’s actually a thing,” He gave you a look.

“It is for us,” You pointed out.

“Because of our love?” He said semi sarcastically.

“Because our love can do anything, Rafa.” You placed your forehead against his. “Haven’t you figured that out by now?”

“I suppose I should have,” He chuckled.

“In fact, right now I’m not even under any of Nevada’s powers, the dumbass didn’t think he’d need to keep me under,”

“Wait so, so he’s not having sex with you right now?” His eyes perked up.

“Rafael!” You hit him playfully. “Gross,”

“Yeah you say that now…” He made an uncomfortable face.

“Look, we don’t have time to unpack all of...that,” You made a face, not really wanting to talk about what you’d eventually have to discuss.

“Just-- Just know, that whatever happens when you see me in person, whatever I say or do to you, it’s not me,” You assured him.

“I know that carino--” He smiled at you while stroking your hair.

“Yeah I know you know that but I need you to know that,” You took both of his hands and squeezed them tightly.

“...Okay?” He gave you an amused smile.

“Just-- I need to hear you say that you know that, okay?” You pulled his hands toward you.

“I just said--” He started but you needed this.

“RAFAEL,” You crossed your arms. “I am doing my damndest to astral project my brain into yours, the least you can do is humor me,”

“Okay Okay,” He softly chuckled, pressing his lips to yours. “I know it’s not you,”

“Okay,” You smiled, pulling him into a deeper, more passionate kiss. A kiss that rivaled your epic “yellow swirly memory floating” kiss.

“Te amo, mi amor,” Rafael whispered, knowing how much his spanish speaking meant to you. “Te amo mucho,”

“I love you too, Rafael,” You kissed him one more time before the both of you were pulled away back into consciousness.

----

Rafael was woken up by the sound of his phone going off, it was Olivia. She had forwarded you the text from Nevada:

“Excellente. Meet me outside your courthouse, wearing your black and pink suit. I’ll be waiting in a town car,”

Great…

------

“Hey amante, nap time’s over,” Nevada shook you awake from your nap in his bed.

“What now, Vada?” You grumbled sleepily.

“Good news baby, we’re going to see your abogado,” He smiled sweetly, before pulling out a champagne bottle full of bright orange liquid.

“But first...a toast,” He added with an evil grin.

Oh no...

#rafael barba #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba fanficton #law and order svu fanfiction #nevada ramirez fanfiction #nevada ramirez x you #nevada ramirez x reader #nevada ramirez #trouble in the heights #doppelganger

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pies-writes-and-more · 4 years

Text

счастье

Word Count: 3,532

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: you may cry from the wholesomeness, seriously.

A/N: Instalment #5 in @wxstedhexrt‘s and my Falling collection! Series Masterlist can be found HERE. Please read the poem first as it is the whole centrepiece of the fanfic :) If you need or would like a typed out version of the poem instead of the photo below, here’s the link to it on Destiny’s blog :) All the fluff in the world is in this fic, I’m telling you.

счастье (Russian): happiness (pronounced schast'ye according to Google Translate)

For the first time in a long time, Y/N woke up with pure silence. It was odd at first and she had to remind herself that the lack of laughter and voices drifting to her room from the kitchen wasn’t because the Avengers had all up and disappeared. Instead, this peaceful start to the morning was only alive because she wasn’t at the Avengers complex. It was a cooler sort of spring morning and Y/N could feel the slight breeze creep in through the window they had left slightly open in the evening before. The wind gently pushed and pulled at the long ceiling to floor curtains and allowed for the sun to creep in just enough to say good morning.

Y/N shifted under a heavy warm arm that encased her into a warm hug, gently prying herself from the gorgeous man who was sleeping quietly next to her. She stifled a giggle as she moved to brush some of his loose hairs away from his face, soft snores falling from his slightly ajar lips. This was his first time he hadn’t been half awake or tossing and turning all night in weeks, so Y/N decided it was best to let him rest. She pressed a small kiss to his nose, noting the slight flutter in his eyelids and smiled before sliding herself off the large bed.

She shivered slightly as the warmth from his body disappeared from her skin. She had gone to bed in only a bralette and some shorts, preferring to be warmed by cuddling but now, she was regretting not wearing something a bit warmer. Her eyes searched the room quickly before landing on a shirt on a nearby chair, pulling it to her and slipping it on. He must’ve thrown it there last night before passing out, in which case, maybe he wouldn’t notice she stole it. Although he didn’t seem much bigger than her, his shirts always felt a bit baggy on her and made her feel protected and small. She was still for a moment, feeling the softness of the fabric, breathing in the smell of his soap mixed with her laundry detergent. If she could carry this scent around with her everywhere, she would.

Maybe it was the soft calling of the birds or maybe it was the sparkling dew on the grass but as Y/N walked slowly to the kitchen, she paused in front of the nearby window. She looked out into the warm pink and orange hues of the sun and she almost wanted to just run outside and feel them on her skin. It was beautiful out here in the middle of nowhere. The two of them had spent almost all day yesterday driving up here to this little Airbnb that Wanda had found them after realizing just how exhausted the two of them were. (“I don’t want you two to come back until you forget how to be productive!” And with that, Wanda practically threw their suitcases out the door. Y/N had been thanking her every chance she got.)

It almost felt like a dream. Not just the gorgeous view from the window or the silent little cottage-like house they were staying in for the time being. But the whole last few months. Y/N’s eyes moved back to the bedroom door, thinking about all the late nights talking and laughing at movies, spilling secrets and even convincing him to do a face mask once or twice. She thought about the very beginning of this relationship, the stammered responses, the yearning she had felt for his touch, the fleeting glances.

Her mind drifted to thoughts of their first kiss, her stomach lurching forward into twists as she remembered the brush of his light lips on hers just before he disappeared for a month.

“Be safe,” she had practically begged him, tears forming at the corners of her eyes as she held his arm in her hands. “Please.”

He had given her that almost sorrowful smile, reaching up to touch her cheek and using his thumb to gently wipe away an escaping tear. “I’ll be alright, doll, don’t you worry about me.”

“What else am I going to do without you for a whole month?” She joked softly, trying to smile but it was hard. This was the first time she wouldn’t have contact with him when they weren’t on a mission together.

“Annoy the shit out of Steve for me,” he offered with a smile. Here he was, going in deep to meet with an informant, Y/N was freaking the hell out of her mind and he was standing there smiling. There was a calmness to him, even though Y/N and him had talked about his worries going out into the field for so long. So how did he look so calm looking at her now? Y/N tried to be positive but deep down, she was worried this was the last time she’d ever see him. Her eyes tried desperately to memorize the look on his face, just in case. Her mind had raced with questions when they first ordered Sam and Bucky on this mission. Why did it have to be him? Why couldn’t Steve go? Why did it have to be for a month? Why did it have to be off comms?

But all those questions were answered too easily for her to insist that Bucky stay here. The informant barely spoke any English and Russian was their first language so of course Bucky was a good candidate. Nat was away on a completely different mission with Wanda and Tony so she couldn’t go instead. They wanted to build trust with the informant but also, he could only give them parts of information at a time so a month was the bare minimum at this point. And since they were entering enemy territory, Steve thought it would be best to not have communications hacked. The two man team would have very minimal contact with the base, only to check in about their safety or to ask for immediate emergency help.

“Time to go, Tin Man!” Sam called from the other room. Y/N could tell from the shadow on the floor that he hesitated before at the door before deciding to give the two of them some space and staying outside. “I’ll wait for you in the jet.”

Bucky shouted out a response to him but present Y/N could barely remember what it was. All she could remember was the ache in her stomach as he started to pull away before he turned back and lifted her chin up so smoothly with his fingers. Y/N practically melted as she felt his lips on hers. It was a soft kiss, passion and love melded their bodies together as he held her close, leaning his forehead on hers as they took a breath, before he brushed her hair away gently.

“You’re my one and only, doll,” he whispered, taking her hand in his and squeezing it gently. “I’ll come back to you before you know it.” With a kiss on the back of her hand, he left and Y/N’s lips stayed tingling the whole month he was gone.

That had been the worst month of Y/N’s life. She had made Steve go nuts, bugging him with constant questions of is he okay, what’s the next step, has he heard from them, is everything on schedule-

Y/N smiled to herself as she remembered tackling Bucky to the floor when he got home, squeezing his tired body in a tight hug and ultimately feeling so bad when she realized how bruised his whole body was and she had definitely made it a little worse. But she couldn’t help it - the whole time she wondered would he leave her before she got the chance to tell him how she felt? Would their connection be severed before it ever really existed?

“S’alright, doll,” Bucky had laughed as he sat up from the floor and had gladly accepted her offer to take him down to the infirmary. She had thought all month about how she wanted his coming home to be, would they share another passionate kiss? Would he ask her on a proper date? Would Sam say something stupid and ruin the whole thing?

Maybe the first two would’ve been true if the latter hadn’t come first. Sam had popped his head in to see how Bucky was and loudly expressed how awkward and tense the air was in the room.

“So does this mean y’all are gonna bang? Cause like the wall between my room and Bucky’s is thin and-” Sam started, quickly ducking the blood pressure gauge that Bucky threw at his head. “Rude,” he scoffed but shot a grin at Y/N before disappearing.

It wasn’t long before Y/N felt at home and comfortable again with Bucky by her side. The two of them snuggled in front of the TV with cups of tea and some snacks, watching old cartoons as if they were an old couple.

“Y/N?” Bucky had whispered after a while. Y/N’s eyes were closed, her head leaning against his chest as she relaxed her stiff body into the warmth of his arms.

“Mm?” She hummed, peeking an eye open to see him staring at her. “What?” She giggled, both eyes opening now in embarrassment. His smile was so soft as he watched her without responding for a moment, eyes noting every inch of her face.

“I missed you,” Bucky’s voice was a little shaky and he cleared his throat whilst his eyes turned away shyly. Y/N smiled and poked his cheek playfully in response.

“I missed you too, Bucks.”

“No, I mean…” he hesitated and shifted a little so they were facing each other. “Being away from you for a month made me realize… just how hard I’m falling for you.”

Even thinking back to that moment made Y/N’s heart flutter just a little. The words that left Bucky’s lips repeated in her head over and over again as she moved to the kitchen and pulled out some food to make breakfast with. She thought about how she had kissed him after he told her all that because she wasn’t sure if she could word her feelings right. She smiled as her mind reminisced about the weeks after, the stolen kisses in the hallways between meetings, snarky responses and flirty comments during sparring, and just the comfortableness of it all.

It wasn’t long before Y/N realized that she had just cracked an egg onto the counter top instead of into the pan because she was daydreaming. She laughed at herself a little, cleaning up the mess and deciding to try and figure this old looking radio that sat nearby in a way to keep her mind present.

A slow melody crackled to life on the speakers as she started to cook properly this time, her hips swaying to the beats of the music. She hummed along to the music that she recognized, listening carefully to the lyrics of ones that she didn’t. As the bacon sizzled in the pan, she wondered what kind of music played while Bucky grew up. What kinds of sounds did he have memory with?

She daydreamed about the alternate universe where Bucky had stayed in his own timeline and maybe she had been born into it. Would they have still gotten along? Would he have still asked her out? Would they dance until the night was dark, would he come meet her family and promise not to take her out too late? Or would he be that playboy that Steve often teased about? Would she get a cheeky wink from him across the room as her only interaction with him? Would she roll her eyes in response? Because that was often her response when she kept cocky guys nowadays.

Interrupting her thoughts was the sound of an all too familiar tune starting to play on the radio. Her eyes glanced at it with a smile, as if thanking the hosts for playing such a slow song to match her slow start to the morning.

Wise men say only fools rush in But I can't help falling in love with you

Y/N found herself humming along but it quickly became soft singing as her lips traced around the lyrics she’s known for years. As each word left her lips, she thought about how many people were listening with her and were singing along, how many people knew this popular tune. She wondered if even Bucky knew it and wondered what his thoughts were when he had first heard it. Her eyes noted the now cooked eggs and bacon on her pans, reaching over to turn the oven off and looking through the cupboards to find some clean plates. She pushed the eggs and bacon onto two plates, waving them off as she started to clean.

“Shall I stay Would it be a sin If I can't help falling in love with you”

Two arms wrapped around Y/N’s waist suddenly, making her jump at the tug of her center to a warm body behind her. She looked up from the sink where water was cooling down the pans, and behind her shoulder to find Bucky’s head nuzzling into her neck. “You left me alone,” he whined into her hair, lazily pressing kisses to her skin.

“You were sleeping!” Y/N laughed as she tried to squirm out of his grip to continue cooking. “I thought you’d be exhausted. You practically drove all night up here.” Bucky’s grip around her tightened as she turned off the tap and tried to turn to face him.

The pout on his lips made her grin grow wider, “You left me,” he insisted. “And then you stole my shirt!” He huffed, tugging at the hem that was brushed up against her thigh.

Like a river flows surely to the sea Darling so it goes

Y/N smirked and couldn’t help but admire the just-woke-up look on Bucky, him standing there in grey low waisted sweatpants, “You look better without a shirt,” she laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“You were singing,” Bucky suddenly said as they swayed to the soft music playing in the background. “I like it when you sing,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Some things are meant to be Take my hand, take my whole life too

“Our breakfast is gonna get cold,” Y/N brought up, face flushing with embarrassment that he had heard her, stepping away from him and starting to move towards the food.

“Dance with me,” Bucky asked quickly, a firm grip still on her waist. “Please, doll?” His eyes were pleading like a child again, that oh so adorable look in his eyes that Y/N had a hard time saying no to. She bit down on her lip and nodded slowly as Bucky turned the volume up on the radio before pulling her into the living room which had more space.

For I can't help falling in love with you Like a river flows surely to the sea

Soft hums left Bucky’s lips as the two of them swayed to the music, his gentle but strong arms guiding her. For a moment they stood there, just holding each other and listening to the beats of the music.

Darling so it goes Some things are meant to be

Bucky smiled as their eyes met, taking her hand and lifting it up slightly, his other hand pressed into her waist. He guided her into a slow dance, breathy giggles and laughter leaving their lips as he twirled her around the room. She couldn’t help but feel like she was dancing on a cloud, Bucky’s movements so free and flowing that she almost couldn’t believe this man was behind them.

Y/N gave a little bit of a squeal as she felt Bucky tilting her back, his chuckling making her feel all the more embarrassed as he dipped her so low, she was almost positive they were going to fall over.

“Don’t you trust me?” He teased as he brought her back up and twirled her around some more, a twinkle in his eye and a wide smile on his face.

“Depends,” she shot back with a laugh, trying to catch her breath from her laughter, “We’ve fallen over before,” she pointed out, thinking about the time she jumped out of a window for him, or the times she’s knocked him over with hugs, or even when they’ve just tripped over each other’s feet. The smile on her lips was starting to burn at her cheeks and she realized in that moment that she wished the song would never end.

Bucky pulled her close again, pressing his forehead against hers once more. Y/N watched as his lips parted and she thought he was going to shoot back with another snarky remark. But instead, his low voice started to sing along,

“Take my hand, take my whole life too”

Y/N hadn’t ever heard Bucky sing before. Soft hums here and there, a melody to his words sometimes, but never fully sun. She wanted to close her eyes, focus solely on the word he was singing but his eyes held her soft gaze, looking like they were trying to say something.

“For I can't help falling in love with you For I can't help falling in love with you,”

Y/N wondered if he could feel how warm her face was getting as they slowly swayed to the music. She wondered if he could hear how fast her heart was beating, if he could tell her hands were shaking. Was this the first time the word ‘love’ had left his lips? The first time he was admitting such strong feelings for her? Sure, she knew he liked her enough to ask her out and come to this middle-of-nowhere house with her, but was he really admitting he loved her?

Bucky tilted her chin up slightly as the melody drifted away from his lips, and he kissed her as if it was the first time and the last time. He held her close as their lips sparked something magical, feeling both a passion and a hunger for each other. The song had disappeared and the radio hosts’ voices were feeling so far as they talked about current news and weather. Y/N’s lips felt Buck’s depart and her eyes fluttered open to see him staring at her, with a sort of gentle love in his eyes. Time felt like it had slowed down in that moment, like the world had been put on pause and there was no such thing as monsters who whispered little dark thoughts into their ears. Here, in his arms, in this far away house, was going to be where their happiest memory was born.

After a moment of silence, Bucky’s lips parted again and Y/N wondered if he would say it, if the three little words would leave his lips. She wondered if they were even ready for that, was it too soon? Did he really feel that way? Was this all going way too fast, especially because back in his day, romances were an awful lot slower?

“Thank you for breakfast, doll,” he whispered to her instead with a smile, stepping back from her and pressing a kiss to her hand with a playful bow, as if she was a princess to be courted.

“Where’d you learn to dance like that?” Y/N asked curiously as the two of them grabbed their plates of somewhat warm food and plopped onto the living room couches. Y/N tried to stabilize her hands, still feeling a bit wobbly after hearing those words leave Bucky’s lips. How long would it take for her heart to slow down? For her skin to stop having goosebumps in response to this tender and loving touch?

Bucky smiled to himself as he started to cut up his eggs, “Back in my day, dancing was the best date you could have. Just forget everything around you and dance, have some fun, be surrounded by smiles.”

“Mm well I kinda like just dancing here with you here,” she admitted shyly, getting up to turn on the coffee machine and find some coffee cups for them.

If she had turned back to look at him, she would’ve seen the look on his face that Steve liked to call ‘love-sick puppy dog’. He watched her as she glided around the kitchen, smile on her face, and he wished he could’ve kept dancing with her for longer.

“We can dance any time you like, doll,” Bucky told her as she turned back to smile at him. “If you’ll have me, maybe I can be your dance partner forever.” And the smile she gave him in response was all he needed.

Small dances in the little cottage-like house’s living room became dances in their bedrooms back home. Sometimes he’d twirl her out of a hug or they’d sway just a little in the hallways. The two of them were like in their own little world, dancing to both music and silence, as if the world of anxieties was a universe away.

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

Seriously though, I get so emotional writing these fics. I hope you guys are enjoying them! Destiny and I are always screaming our heads off and we love to hear that you guys are liking them too :D

MASTERLIST // Destiny’s Blog! <3

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #reader insert #reader insert fic #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #avengers x reader #avengers x y/n #avengers x you #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #falling series #this was so fucking fluffy #fluff

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thefantasygirl3 · 4 years

Text

Negaverse stories: You're gonna have a bed time

Genre/warnings: Comedy, Slice of life, Action.

Word count: 5 287

Summary: The Darkwing Ducks are having a bit of a family dispute, with half of the team refusing to sleep at a proper time. An argument breaks out but is quickly interrupted by a villain attack. Now they will have to fight crime with only two heroes on top of their game.

Notes: I decided to continue writing some fun little adventures for my negaverse boys, because I refuse to let this hyper fixation go. I hope it’s a fun little read for you all. Edit: Gonna link my fanfiction.net as well, which might make it easier for some to find my stories.

Night was falling over all of st. Canard as people were already tucked in tight to sleep. Midnight was getting closer and closer. Quackerjack was fast asleep on the couch, snoring and drooling as he laid sprawled out cartoonishly. But as he was snoring loudly, a loud noise suddenly woke him up and he rolled off the couch and face planted on the floor. He let out a low groan and pushed himself up off the ground, his attention directed towards where the noise was heard, which happened to be the workshop. The duck headed over to the door and peeked inside. He saw Megavolt, sitting by the workshop table with the dismantled stereo he had started working on getting fixed earlier that day. Quacks gave away a soft yawn as he entered the room, walking up to the distracted man and stood beside him. "Hey, Sparky. How long have you been working on this?" He asked as he tilted forward to get a peek at his work. Megavolt gave his wrist watch a quick glance before he answered with "since 6 I think". "What?! You've been working for 6 hours?! When were you planning to go to bed?!" He huffed angrily and leaned in close to the rat, making him move away so he could see what he was doing again. He got angry that the stubborn rat just ignored him and kept working. "Sparkyyyy! You can't keep doing this! You need to go to bed at a reasonable hour and actually SLEEP!" He scolded him while he took the tools out of his hands and put them back into his tool box. "Hey! I'm busy, ok!? If I get into the zone, I can't just break my concentration! I need to finish it before I can stop!" He responded frustrated as he tried to take the tool box back, but Quacks moved it out of the way. "No! You need to go to bed! Now!" He demanded and put the tool box on top of his work shelf. "I'm not a kid! You can't make me!" He growled as he walked over and took it back down. "Wanna bet?" Quacks said with an annoyed squint, grabbing a hold of the box as well.

Meanwhile Bushroot was laying in his bed, sleeping soundly. Until he woke up, muttering under his breath "... I'm thirsty". He pushed himself up from his bed and wandered out into the hallway so he could grab a glass of water. That was until he noticed some light escaping the bottom of Liquidator's door. He cocked his head a bit and decided to take a peek inside to see what was going on. Liquidator was sitting by his computer, editing some ad he was tasked to make. Bushroot slipped inside and walked up beside him. "Hey. Bud. What… um… are you doing there?" He asked him softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. The dog turned his head around and gave him a tired smile. "Ah. Hey Reginald. I'm just finishing this ad before I call it a day" He explained as he looked back at the screen to continue his work. "You know it's almost midnight, right?" The plant asked and looked at him curiously. "... oh. Oops" He muttered as he saw the time in the corner of the screen.

Bushroot sighed and crossed his arms, shaking his head and muttering "Oh bud. We've discussed this!". "It was a mistake! I swear!" Liquidator tried to excuse himself as he turned around to the other man. "Liste bud. I know how you feel. You want to make sure it's perfect. You want to impress the rest of the guys so they will respect you. It's a totally legit feeling to have. But overworking yourself and tiring yourself out isn't going to solve anything" he told him as he put his hands on the other's shoulders reassuringly. "But… it needs to be good. I can't send in something bad" the water man replied with a frown. "You won't! You're too self critical. It was good the way it was, doesn't need 10 reworks" Bushroot sighed and gave his shoulder a light pat. Liquidator gave a small smile and muttered "you're right. Maybe I should get some rest". "There we go. Now, save your work and get to bed" the other man said with a grin and watched as his friend started turning off the computer, before he quickly added on "Oh! And I'll be taking the power cord". "WHAT?! YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" He suddenly yelled as he turned around to face the still calm plant. "It's just to ensure you don't turn it back on in the middle of the night. And don't use the 'what if I need to start early' excuse. You're the only one who's putting that stress on yourself" he told him off with a stern voice, as if speaking to a kid. But they were then interrupted by a loud sound from downstairs.

The two rushed over to the stairs and saw the other half of the Darkwing Ducks pulling and tugging at a screwdriver. "LET GO OF IT! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME SLEEP!" Megavolt yelled as he struggled to pull the tool loose. "Oh yes I can, if I knock you out cold!" Quackerjack replied as he tightened his grip on it. Then the two noticed the other men by the end of the stairs, staring surprised. "... workaholic refuses to sleep?" Bushroot asked with one raised eyebrow. "Overgrown baby throwing a tantrum" The other duck answered as he got distracted enough for Megavolt to take the screwdriver back, making him give the rat a hard glare. "Alright guys. This is getting ridiculous! You two need to get a hold of yourselves and get working on a proper sleep schedule! These sleeping problems are going to affect our work!" He groaned and put a hand to his face, letting out a big sigh. "Yeah. I agree. You guys can't pull more all-nighters. You need-" before Bushroot could finish, a small alarm went off, signalling that something bad was happening in town. The dog and rat grinned and ran over to the couch that would get them to their secret hideout, taking the opportunity to escape the discussion. "Sorry! No time to discuss this! Justice awaits, chuckles!" Megavolt said with a satisfied grin, plopping himself down onto the couch beside Liquidator. The other two just sighed and walked over to sit down with them, pulling the lever that was disguised as a statue which spun the couch and transported the four to their base.

They emerged from a secret entrance, already dawning their hero outfits as they landed stylishly. Megavolt rushed over to the computer and started to tap away at it. "According to the drones, there is a big collection of police around the tool shop. Though on closer inspection, most of the officers have been knocked out cold. And there appears to be some sort of white smoke coming out of the entrance and windows" he informed the others as he tapped away at the keyboard. "I think those are clouds" Bushroot added as he walked over to get a better look. "Aha! That's it! This must be the work of King Dreamland! He's putting all those cops and security to sleep so he can rob the store undisturbed!" Quackerjack announced as he pointed at the light, soft looking clouds, already rushing towards the van so they could get going to stop the crazed criminal. Liquidator let out a yawn and dragged himself over to the van and hopped into the back, muttering "right. Then let's get dangerous!". Bushroot groaned as he stepped inside it as well, grumbling annoyed about how neither he or the rodent should be doing anything dangerous in their state. Megavolt sat down in the passenger seat beside the clown, glancing over as he got the car started. "You know I can still drive. You don't gotta-" as he tried to convince him he was perfectly fine to drive, the duck gripped the wheel tightly and hissed like an angry cat, shutting up any further argument. He then hit the gas and they drove off downtown.

They soon reached the store, parking right behind the cluster of police cars and unconscious cops, floating around on soft, fluffy clouds. "Definitely the work of King Dreamland" Megavolt remarked as he watched a sleeping officer drift by the car. "And it seems his work is almost done!" Bushroot exclaimed as he pointed at the figure inside with a big bulky bag of things in his hands. This caused the Darkwing Ducks to hop out of the van and rush the building while pushing clouds out of the way.

As they got inside, they spotted the hazmat suit wearing villain with cute cartoon stickers of clouds and stars on it, still loading up the bag with wire cutters and a sledge hammer. "We are the terrors that flap in the night! We are the alarm clock that wakes you up one hour late!" Liquidator started talking as purple smoke began to fill the store, causing him to swing around and stared at the cloud of smoke. "Ah! Darkwing Ducks!" King Dreamland yelled in surprise as he backed up from the voice. "Aw come on! At least let us finish our intro!" He groaned frustrated as he reeled back and launched his fist towards the villain, knocking him back into a shelf of nuts and bolts. Quackerjack quickly grabbed a hold of his toy wind-up teeth and threw them at him, causing them to bite down onto the suit sleeve and pinning it to the shelf. He started tugging harshly at the captured sleeve, grunting as he couldn't get it loose. "How dare you?! I'll have your heads for this!" He yelled while using his other hand to pull as hard as he could. "Zip It, snore fest!" Megavolt mumbled as he aimed his finger at him. His view suddenly got a little blurry and he let out a soft groan, feeling a bit of tiredness take over for a short moment until he shook himself back to reality and fired a bolt of lightning. Dreamland gasped and covered his face, but took a peek after he heard the bolt miss him, bounce off of a circle saw and shoot right back at the group and knock Bushroot to the floor. "GHA!" He yelled as he hurt his back upon landing. "Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry, leafy!" The rat exclaimed in shock as he ran over to help him up.

King Dreamland took this opportunity, while the hero team was distracted and reached back to his backpack tank and grabbed the hose nozzle on the side. He pointed it at the befuddled green man and whispered "night night" before he fired a white puff of cloud at him. Megavolt heard the noise behind him and suddenly shouted "Watch out!" And pushed his friend out of the way. The cloud then completely engulfed him, making him disappear within it. Quackerjack gasped and covered his beak in disbelief, shouting a weak "No! Megsy!". He soon came back out from the cloud, lying lazily on top of it with a big, relaxed smile. "Hey… this is… pretty nice" He mumbled with a soft yawn. "You terrible tired tyrant! Hope you enjoy the prison beds!" Liquidator growled and ran at the suited man, hardening his hand so it would give him a hard smash. But the villain noticed how slow he was seemingly going and swiftly redirected the punch towards the teeth holding him stuck. As soon as he was freed from the shelf, he hopped back and pointed the nozzle at him. "You seem tired, doggy! Isn't it past your bedtime?" He said in a cocky voice before he fired another cloud at Liquidator, capturing him as well. "Well this has been fun, but I gotta get going. The night is still young!" The villain yelled back as he ran out the door and left the remaining two heroes with their friends now out of commission.

Bushroot ran over to Liquidator and gave him a light shake. While laying on his stomach on the cloud, he curled up into a ball and murmured "just five more minutes please, Reginald". "No! Liquidator! We need to catch that guy! Don't give in to your sleepiness!" The duck yelled while trying to shake him awake. Quackerjack, on the other hand, gave the rat a curious look. "... how are you feeling, smart guy?" He asked with a twist of satisfaction to his voice. "Sooooo… good… I think I'll take a little power nap" he answered his friend as he closed his tired eyes and let his leg dangle lazily over the edge of the cloud.

"Quackerjack! We have to get them off of these clouds! Come on! You've got to have something in your pockets that will help!" Bushroot ran over and shook the jester's shoulders violently. "Oooor! We don't do that! Think about it for a sec, spuds! These two finally WANT to go to sleep! We just got our little domestic issue solved for us! King Dreamland just did us a favour!" He said with a smug grin on his face, removing the leaf hands off of him.

Bushroot lit up from that realization and glanced between the two sleeping heroes. "You're right! They're sleeping like babies! But… what now? How are we going to stop King Dreamland?" He asked with a worried expression. "Pfffff! We've taken down villains separately before! The two of us can take on this one weirdo!" Quackerjack said confidently and put an arm around his fellow duck. "Yeah! You're right! Let the sleepyheads rest while we handle the hard work!" The plant nodded and chuckled, grabbing his friend's arm and pulling him out of the shop, in the general direction of the villain.

King Dreamland was walking down the street, cackling to himself as he flung the bag of tools over his shoulder. "Wow! Those guys were having an off night!" He mused to himself while speeding up his pace. But he was soon caught off guard by a tree branch suddenly appearing in his way and knocking him over. "Good job, tree friend! Now, you better stop whatever you're planning to do with those tools right now!" Bushroot yelled as he and Quackerjack were rounding the corner, starting to approach him. The villain pushed himself up from the ground and rubbed his head, quickly reaching for his nozzle and firing it at the two. The clown duck pushed his friend back and pulled out a gun from his endless supply of toys, firing it at the cloud. It caused an umbrella to pop out of the barrel, blocking the white puff from consuming them whole. "Darn!" Dreamland yelled as he turned right around and escaped the two while they were distracted. "He's getting away! After him!" Jacky said as soon as the umbrella was closed, pulling his co-hero along to give chase.

King Dreamland ran as fast as he could from the heroes, making a sharp turn into the mall. The two chasing him were slowly catching up, spotting him as he dashed into the mall and quickly following after. As they got inside, they scanned the area to determine where he went. "... There!" Quackerjack yelled and pointed at the bad guy, just entering into a sports shop. They ran inside and started looking around for him. They didn't spot him immediately, so they searched around the place. After a second of looking, Bushroot bumped into him. He screamed in fear and began to run. The plant man yelped surprised and started to run after him. "What are you planning to do with those things, you fellon?!" he yelled after him as he was right on his heels. "You'll see! Once my scheme is put into action! Ahahaha!" he laughed diabolically and held up the bag triumphantly. "OOOH! When I catch up, you'll pay for what you did to my friends!" Bushroot growled angrily as he just kept running, starting to pant a bit as he was getting exhausted from running. Quackerjack just stood beside them both, giving a quizzical glance between them. "What are you doing?" he asked as the other two looked at him confused. They then glanced down and saw that they were just running on a treadmill. "Oh. Well that's embarrassing. Anyways, I'm off!" King Dreamland jumped off the treadmill and ran out the shop again. "We got to catch him!" Jacky said and pointed towards the door. "Get me off of this thing first!" his friend yelled as he was still running and panting. "Oh. Right" he muttered and reached over to push the first button he saw, hoping it would turn it off. It just sped the treadmill up and shot Bushroot back into a wall of jump ropes. He was dizzy for a second, until the other duck pulled him up off the ground and dragged him along.

They ran into the next store, which was a music store, and saw the villain trying to sneak out the back door. Bushroot extended his arms and grabbed a hold of an electric guitar, slamming it into the hazard suited man and launching him into a drum set. He emerged with a big, broken drum around himself. Quackerjack started laughing and pointing at him, finding the slapstick hilarious. Dreamland growled angrily at being humiliated. It was then he spotted where the hero was standing, right underneath a hanging piano. How cliché, but perfect. While bushroot approached to apprehend him, he wriggled his arm loose and sprinted over to the violins, grabbing one of the bows and using it to cut the rope holding the piano and sending it plummeting down onto the jester's head. Bushroot gasped in horror and stared at the broken mess of a musical instrument. The suited man took this opportunity to bolt out the front door with his bag and ran as fast as he could. "Quackerjack?! Are you ok?!" the duck ran over to the piano and asked worriedly, rummaging through the debris until he found him. He sat up straight and swayed slightly, spitting out some piano keys before he could crawl out of the wreck. "Just fine" he muttered before heading out with his friend and pursuing the villain again.

They were soon walking through a hobby store, looking through the isles to find the bad guy. They headed down an isle with different types of paint lining the shelves while darting their eyes all around them. They kept completely quiet as to be able to hear him. It made the entire place eerily silent, like a ghost house. King Dreamland was spying on them from the other side of the shelf, watching them draw closer and closer to his position. As soon as they were near, he gave the shelf a hard shove and made it topple over towards the two. Bushroot looked up at the falling shelf and gasped in shock, giving Quackerjack a push out of the way before he was buried in pain bottles. The other duck yelped surprised before he gave away a growl and looked up at the villain, who ran away and started climbing a shelf. He bolted after him, pulling out a yo-yo from his pants and swinging it around as he got ready to attack. As soon as he reached the bottom of the shelf, Dreamland had already made it up there and picked up a big jug of pink paint, dropping it right down on top of his head. It made a painful indent into his noggin and he fell back onto the floor, getting a thunk on his beak by his own yo-yo, just for some salt in the wounds. "Ha ha ha! Wow! You guys suck! Guess you're nothing without all your team! You better just give up, I can see the bags under your eyes from here! I'm off to blow off some steam… all over town! See ya!" He taunted the two, blowing a raspberry at them, which stained his visor with spit before he hopped down and rushed out the back.

Bushroot managed to wriggle himself out from under the shelf, being completely covered in different splashes of color. He rushed over to Quacks and helped him up off the ground concernedly, looking at the jug that was still lodged into his head. The jester pulled it off of himself and straightened himself out with a proper tug on his hat tails. He then looked over at the plant man, starting to giggle quietly. "Wow. You're looking even more colorful than Megavolt during June!" He joked and snorted into his hands at the rainbow colored duck, who just rolled his eyes and pulled his friend off the floor. "Come on, Quackerjack! We gotta go and find where he went!" He grumbled and rushed both of them out the mall. "But where would he go to "blow of steam", huh?" The other asked as he got no chance to even put back the jug of paint before they were off. "Blow of steam… hmm… all over town! He's going to release his clouds all over town! Probably from a wind turbine! We got to hurry!" Bushroot realized quickly as he pointed towards the nearest wind turbine and headed towards it at top speed.

They arrived at their destination after a bit, immediately noticing that the lock on the door had been cut. "So that's why he got tools!" Bushroot growled angrily and stared at the wide open door, thinking over what their plan of attack was. His head was a little cluttered at that moment, having received a real beating earlier and been running around a lot, so he just shook his head and tried his best to focus. Quacks, on the other hand, just walked right inside. But he then saw the long stairwell leading up to the top and stopped right in his tracks. "... UUUUUUGH! Why STAIRS!? I'm tireeeeed!" He whined and leaned back in defeat. "Come on. We'll make it up there. We need to. For our friends!" The other duck sighed exhausted and began climbing up the stairs, determined to get the bad guy.

A few minutes later, they had reached the top. They were both huffing and puffing heavily, eyes bulging out of their heads as they stopped to catch their breaths. "After this… I'm removing the top floor… of our house!" Jacky groaned and hunched over while leaning on his knees. Bushroot leaned back against the door behind him to rest his tired legs, but was surprised as it started to slowly slide open and make him fall backwards out of the doorway. He looked up with a surprised look until he saw their target a bit away, carrying and setting up a smoke machine. "Hey! Stop right there!" The jester yelled and hopped out beside his friend, pointing at their enemy with a pissed look, mostly because of the pain he had caused them.

King Dreamland turned around and looked at the two weary heroes, grumbling a flippant "geez, do you guys ever give up?". He then set down the smoke machine and pulled the nozzle from his backpack, aiming it at them both. "Alright. You found out my plan. So now what? What are you planning to do to stop me? I mean look at yourselves! You're going to pass out any second" he spoke casually to them as he lightly waved his weapon around, showing how nonchalant he was about all of it, clearly not taking the whole situation seriously. "Don't underestimate my stubbornness-" "determination" "DETERMINATION! We'll put a stop to you right now!" Quackerjack yelled at him and pointed a firm finger while glaring irritated. "Alright. Put a stop to this" he shrugged and shot a big cloud at them. The jester gave away a shriek and covered his face, preparing for the collision. Bushroot shot up from the floor and extended his arms, wrapping them around the other's waist and janking him out of the way.

King Dreamland growled in rage and stomped his foot. "Why won't you lay down and die?!" He shouted as he glared at the two with absolute fury. Quackerjack looked down at his pockets and started rummaging through them to find something he could use to stop the villain on a rampage. He then felt something in his pockets that he didn't expect to have. It gave him an idea and he looked over at the plant holding onto him. "You have to toss me!" he told him hurriedly. "Huh?" he just responded to the cooky duck's request, not sure he heard him right. "THROW MY BODY AT HIM!!!" he then shouted, startling his friend into just doing as told and throwing him as hard as he could. Quackerjack flew straight at the villain and before he could fire another cloud, he was tackled and had a crazy clown climbing and scuttling all over his body, like a racoon who was also an expert climber. He stumbled around while he was being jerked left and right from the whirlwind of a hero. "Get… OFF ME YOU TIRED LOON!!!" He shouted as he finally managed to rip him off and toss him towards his co-hero, knocking him to the ground.

Bushroot quickly pushed Quacks off and got up to rush at the king, ready to whoop his butt. He picked up a sledgehammer from the ground that his enemy brought and swung it at him. But he dodged out of the way and backed out of yet another swing at him, avoiding every attempt at knocking him down. "Man. You guys really suck at this! Can't even land a punch!" He chuckled and grabbed a hold of the hammer, janking it out of his hands and aiming the hose in his face. "Time to visit dreamland."

He shot him right in the face. But he was not greeted by a soft, fluffy, sleep inviting cloud. He was instead splattered in the face by a load of pink. "H-HUH!?!" Dreamland exclaimed, bewildered as he looked into the nozzle and only saw pink. He then looked towards his back to see what went wrong, to discover that his usual tank had been replaced by a jug of pink paint. He then looked up at the other hero and saw him holding up the actual container, giving them both a thumbs up. Dreamland stared at him in shock, unable to believe he was outsmarted by two extremely exhausted dummies. This was unbelievable! He couldn't accept this! But as he was starting to have a breakdown of rage, bushroot looked over at Jacky and yelled "Rubber band!", Which he was tossed quickly and snapped it around the villain, finally capturing him. They both walked up to each other and jumped up and down in joy, cheering about their victory until the tiredness finally started to set in and they fell over onto the ground. "... Let's just get the other two." "Yeah. Let's go" they concluded while laying limply on the ground.

They had finally made it back to where they first had fought King Dreamland and helped the cops wake up before they handed him over to them. They then went inside and spotted their friends, peacefully floating around and sleeping soundly still. They looked so much better than they did earlier, well rested and happy, having these relaxed smiles spread out on their faces. "Ha… They must have had a nice nap" Quackerjack muttered with a fatigued smile as he stared at the sleeping Megavolt, then made the cloud disappear with this tool he took from Dreamland, causing the rat to fall down onto the floor with a thud. "Huh?! Whu?!" he suddenly woke up and looked all around him confused, not sure what had just happened. Quacks handed over the tool to Bushroot, who used it to get rid of the cloud from under Liquidator. But unlike the other duck, he gently caught the dog before he fell onto the floor. "Huh? Hey! How dare you?! I- Uh… Wait. Where did he go?!" he asked puzzled as he looked around, helped back onto his feet by the guy holding him. Megavolt got back up again and rubbed his neck a bit. "Hey… I'm feeling pretty refreshed! Huh!" he pointed out and stretched his arms, letting out a small groan. "Glad to hear it, sparks" Quackerjack grumbled and patted his shoulder. As the rat turned around to him to say something, he immediately stopped himself and looked shocked at his friend. He looked HORRIBLE! Baggy eyes, tired expression, slouchier posture than usual. He was looking absolutely EXHAUSTED! Liquidator thought the same as he got a good look at Bushroot. "Uh… hey… Reginald… Feeling ok?" he asked nervously and put a hand on his shoulder. "You two look like trash!" Megavolt just said, pointing at them both. "Well I was trying to be nice about it, Elmo" he grumbled at the straight forward remark.

"It's ok! We're fine! We captured King Dreamland and everything is good now!" Bushroot told them while trying to look like he wasn't currently dying. "Yeah! We are totally fine!" Quacks added on and grinned at their friends. "... Clearly you're not. You're zombies!" Megavolt sighed and walked over to them, starting to lead them outside towards the van. "Yeah. You two need to go to bed immediately!" Liquidator added in and opened the back of the van for his friend to hop in. Quackerjack opened the driver side door to get inside, but was pushed to the side by the rat, who sat down in the seat. "No. You are not driving like that. Get in the passenger side!" he demanded, pointing to the other side of the car. The duck grumbled angrily and walked around to the other side. He got in and sat down while glaring at his friend. Bushroot looked at Liquidator and muttered "It seems the sun is starting to rise… I'm worried I won't be able to go back to sleep." "Yeah! I don't even feel that tired! It's so early anyways now, so I probably won't be able to fall asleep anyways!" the jester noted to Megavolt, but was completely ignored by him so he could drive.

As they made it back home, Quackerjack was fast asleep in the passenger seat, snoring and drooling onto his shoulder. Liquidator looked over at Bushroot, who looked like he was about to faint as well. "Hey. We're home. Let me help you inside" he spoke softly as he gently put his arm around his shoulders, helping him out into the garage. Megavolt walked around to the passenger side and opened it up, picking the sleeping duck up and just carrying him inside without complaint or snarky comment. Gosalyn was just walking down the stairs, hearing someone coming home. She was in her pyjamas, holding onto Mr. Banana Brain and rubbing her eyes. "Another mission?" she mumbled sleepily, then noticed her two dads, one half asleep and one completely knocked out. The dog hushed her softly, nodding a little towards Quacks. He let out another gentle snore and leaned his head into Megavolt's chest. She nodded and smiled, walking over to him and laying the doll into his lap. "Night daddy" she whispered to him before she turned around to Bushroot and whispered "Night papa" to him. "Good night, my little apple seed" he murmured sleepily. Liquidator and Megavolt both grinned and started heading upstairs to put both the dorks to bed, finally.

#Megavolt #quackerjack #bushroot #liquidator #darkwing duck #negaverse #Gosalyn Mallard #nega megavolt #nega quackerjack #nega bushroot #nega liquidator #nega gosalyn #fanfiction #fanfic #friendly four #dwd fanfic

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

TLTNL- EXCESS OF PHLEGM

"Remus, can I speak to you." James snapped before Harry could even think of passing the book along, his tone in no way implying that as a question.

Remus got to his feet slowly and dragged his feet to the hallway, he'd been expecting this, and was almost happy at the delay Lily caused.

"James, I can fight my own battles," she snapped at him, eyeing Remus with more worry than anything as he trudged off. Considering everything that had been going on, it hadn't even crossed her mind to hold any of his comments against him.

"I'm not daft enough to think otherwise," James agreed, flicking his eyes to her and smiling for a moment before going for the stairs himself. "I'd still like a word with him."

Sirius followed as well, and Lily and Harry exchanged wary looks before going into the kitchen and prepping an early lunch.

He may have been expecting it, but Remus was no more pleased to be hearing from these two than they clearly were trying to ask him what his problem was. He hadn't meant to make it so plain there at the end, and bitterly regretted he had such a hard time hiding his emotions around here.

The two exchanged a look before James launched off, "What has gotten into you lately? Picking fights with Lily? Snapping at everyone for the stupidest things? I'm sorry Dumbledore's been acting like a prat lately with everything going on in Harry's time, but you're driving me nuts Moony!"

Remus almost wanted to smile. Prongs had left him perfectly open to either vent about this lesser, though still pressing agitation on his life, or correct him. He considered the first for several moments before finally stating, "Acting a prat? James the man's gone off the world and left the lot of us to rot! The best part is, he's pretending like he hasn't!"

Sirius watched him steadily beat out his rant, and wished he could say more. He couldn't though. He knew Remus looked up to Dumbledore, his idol. To hear of all the things he'd done would be hardest of all on him, like Harry realizing the true nature of the Marauders last year. The difference was they couldn't Floo Dumbledore, ask him to make them feel better about ruining Harry's life, their life.

When Remus was finally done he slumped back against the wall, looking utterly exhausted, but finally one of the lines creasing his face faded away for getting it all out.

"I know Moony," was all Sirius could think to say.

"You should really chat with Harry," the look on James' face made it perfectly clear of the double in there. Of course he could just mean Remus could go to Harry and talk to him about Dumbledore, only those two had such a close connection to the Headmaster and could understand each other...or anything else, like they needed to.

Remus didn't disagree, but he was almost afraid to as well. Afraid that he'd say the wrong thing to him, again. Terrified Harry's promise was wrong, that he vanished from that teenager's life, or worse, that he stayed and only made things worse like he was now. He couldn't bring himself to say this to either of the people he most wanted to though, because they had more of a connection to Harry than he'd ever had a claim to. He wouldn't put anything more in between any of them, this was a problem he had to deal with on his own.

They came back in to find Harry and Lily having a lively discussion about Slughorn.

"I mean, who decides to turn down a job by faking being attacked?"

"Obviously Dumbledore wasn't there to take no for an answer, I can see Slughorn doing something so drastic," Lily said peaceably as she stirred a pan on the stove.

Harry was at the table cutting up some vegetables, by hand of all things, and didn't even seem to notice their entrance with his back to the hallway. He was just as busy keeping Hickory from stealing carrots from his pile as he was chatting with his mother.

"How did Dumbledore even know where Slughorn was, he was on the run and hiding from Death Eaters? And of all things, how did Dumbledore know he was a chair? And how did Dumbledore know he was faking all that? He never even told me why we were there at midnight, I wouldn't want someone popping in on me at that time either."

"I can't begin to imagine what goes through either of those men's minds," Lily sighed with exasperation, dumping the sauce into a pot and giving it a sharp crack with her wand, causing some red wine to start pouring into the mixture as well.

"The least surprising part was that he tore the house apart in less than two minutes, and how he was still trying to put details up as we were walking in-" Harry froze as he went to pass the vegetables to her and saw the others. He didn't even seem sure what expression to make, so settled for an uneasy smile, eyes still flickering to Remus and away just as much as the other two now, guilt heaviest of all he couldn't do anything right by anyone.

"You think he'll ever run out of questions?" Sirius asked as he plopped himself into the chair nearest Harry and kicked his feet back on the table, leaning the chair back.

Easily breaking all tension when Harry gave an already knowing smile, and didn't have to wait for the show his godfather had started.

Lily didn't even glance over her shoulder, merely sent a tripping hex instead and causing him to topple over.

Sirius made several colorful statements as he got himself back to his feet and then harangued Lily about her enforcing such archaic rules. The other three were too busy laughing at them all through the meal to even consider such things as awkwardness, especially as they all got so easily pulled into it themselves.

They went back to reading with the first bit of pleasantness they had all day, and Remus didn't even consider it as he took the book from Harry to begin. He knew he'd have to confront the larger problem, soon, but for now he'd take the blessing of his friend doing what he always did, giving him more time.

Harry and Dumbledore approached the back door of the Burrow, which was surrounded by the familiar litter of old Wellington boots and rusty cauldrons; Harry could hear the soft clucking of sleepy chickens coming from a distant shed. Dumbledore knocked three times and Harry saw sudden movement behind the kitchen window.

Mrs. Weasley's voice could neverosly be heard telling them to declare themselves.

As soon as Dumbledore said who it was, the door opened to reveal her.

She greeted them with surprise, Dumbledore had warned they wouldn't be here until morning, but Dumbledore explained Slughorn had been more persuadable than expected.

"He didn't even want them there!" James balked. "What in the world was his plan involving till sunrise?"

"I'm, grateful, we didn't have to find out," Lily said slowly and not as if she really meant it, it certainly would have been fascinating to hear of more of his other plans that didn't involve Harry being such an enticing return.

Then he greeted Nymphadora.

"Tonks is back!" Sirius cheered at once.

"I can't wait to hear what she was up to," Remus agreed with a cheerful smirk, clearly not able to kick that good mood out now that Sirius had put it in here.

Harry looked around and saw that Mrs. Weasley was not alone, despite the lateness of the hour. A young witch with a pale, heart-shaped face and mousy brown hair was sitting at the table clutching a large mug between her hands.

"What happened to her pink hair?" James pouted. "I liked that."

"Maybe she just got back from business and hasn't even realized she'd like to change it back," Lily shrugged.

Harry thought she looked drawn, even ill, and there was something forced in her smile.

All of them frowned in concern for that. None of them even knew her that well, not even Harry really, but she'd been a little bright spot all of the last book and it was genuinely depressing to hear of even more sobering things going on in this future to someone they so normally would have called cheerful.

Certainly her appearance was less colorful than usual without her customary shade of bubble-gum-pink hair.

She quickly excused herself, thanking Molly for the tea and sympathy.

"Sympathy for what?" Lily muttered, catching on that word and wishing to pull the girl aside herself and have a friendly chat if she could.

Dumbledore asked her not to leave on his account, but she really insisted she couldn't stay,while not meeting his eyes.

"Oooh, what kind of tiff is going on there," Sirius demanded with a touch more interest than was called for. He'd really liked hearing of Tonks and if Dumbledore was yet another obstacle in another person's life, he'd really start struggling not to start acting like Moony earlier and gripe at this mans every doing.

Molly invited her to dinner this weekend, Mad-Eye and Remus would be there.

Sirius let out a righteous bark at once, before jabbing his finger into Moony's face, "aha! You are coming back around, so I don't want to hear another word out of you whining about this!"

"Is this only when I'm in the actual chapter, or just in general you don't want to hear me, because frankly I won't be accommodating either," Remus said with such a stupid smile in place it ruined his sarcasm. He'd honestly convinced himself so much that he'd fall back out of Harry's life without another mention, coming over for a dinner was the best news he'd yet heard.

Harry smiled along with the others for this, but he had a funny feeling in place as he kept that smile. He suddenly wondered if it wasn't Dumbledore, but someone else Tonks was trying to

avoid. Mad-Eye seemed the most likely of those two, being fellow Aurors...right? What could they be fighting about though? Then he pushed the whole thing off, telling himself to stop thinking about things so much, it was likely nothing at all Tonks couldn't work out for herself.

Insisting otherwise, Tonks hurried past Dumbledore and Harry into the yard; a few paces beyond the doorstep, she turned on the spot and vanished into thin air.

"The apparition spot was out by the broom-shed?" Harry questioned.

"You can have it two separate places, the entrance and the departure," Lily explained.

Harry noticed that Mrs. Weasley looked troubled.

Dumbledore chose to leave as well, parting with Harry and telling Molly â€˜your servant,'* before following Tonks, vanishing at precisely the same spot. Mrs. Weasley closed the door on the empty yard and then steered Harry by the shoulders into the full glow of the lantern on the table to examine his appearance.

Molly turned to Harry and first noted how much he'd already grown since she'd last seen him, then asked if he was hungry. Harry agreed he was starving.

Lily made a little tisking noise of disapproval, well remembering Harry saying how little he'd eaten before now and it was his own doing that time. At least he hadn't carried that in here.

As Harry sat down, a furry ginger cat with a squashed face lumped onto his knees and settled there, purring.

"Crookshanks is back!" Sirius cheered with just as much enthusiasm as he had for Tonks, at least a cat couldn't depress him!

"Are you going to do that for everyone who turns up at the Burrow?" James asked curiously.

"I might," Sirius sniffed.

Harry asked Hermione was here as well while happily tickling Crookshanks behind the ,ears.**

Mrs. Weasley agreed she'd arrived the day before yesterday, rapping a large iron pot with her wand.

"Err," Lily couldn't help but say with some general concern. "I know I brought this up your last Christmas, but does Hermione ever spend time with her parents?"

Harry merely shrugged. He'd just been happy to spend the majority of his holiday with both of his friends, he hadn't questioned it farther than that. Ron had sometimes to ask a question about Muggles in general, but Hermione never really spoke about her parents, well, anymore than he did the Dursleys.

It bounced onto the stove with a loud clang and began to bubble at once while she continued everyone else was in bed.

She tapped the pot again; it rose into the air, flew toward Harry, and tipped over; Mrs. Weasley slid a bowl nearly beneath it just in time to catch the stream of thick, steaming onion soup.

James couldn't help but make a little humming noise, that was one of his favorite dishes.

She waved her wand over her shoulder; a loaf of bread and a knife soared gracefully onto the table; as the loaf sliced itself and the soup pot dropped back onto the stove, Mrs.

Weasley sat down opposite him.

She asked him about Slughorn, but Harry had his mouth mostly full of soup and merely nodded. She went on to explain he'd taught her and Arthur,

"I didn't know that," Lily blinked in surprise.

"Kind of fascinating, when you realize how many life spans teachers influence," Remus muttered for himself.

and had been at Hogwarts at least as long as Dumbledore. How had Harry liked him?

Harry shrugged and gave a noncommittal jerk of the head.

She agreed she understood that, he could be charming, but wasn't to everyone's taste. He'd never even given Arthur the time of day, hadn't seen him as much of a highflier.

"Shows how good Slughorn's stupid talent really is," James scoffed.

Just went to show even Slughorn made mistakes. She didn't know if Ron had told him yet, but Arthur had been promoted!

James was the only one not immiedly happy at this, and that was just because he was still making a funny face at having said the same thing as Molly. This was genuinely wonderful news! The man had deserved it long before now!

It could not have been clearer that Mrs. Weasley had been bursting to say this.

"Well I can't really blame her," Lily agreed cheerfully, "I'd be just as bad if my husband even bothered to get a job." James widened his eyes with a look of pure innocence while the couple exchanged a loving smile knowing they would indeed be just as proud, James had certainly not shut up to the only three people who would listen any time she did...well anything.

Harry had at that moment swallowed a large amount of hot soup, searing the inside of his throat, which possibly lead Mrs. Weasley to think his tears of pain were for this.

Sirius did start snickering hysterically at this.

She went on to explain Scrimgeour had opened several new offices to help recent circumstances, and Arthur was now heading the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects.

"Much more of a mouthful than his old title," James said in surprise.

"Sounds to me like he's dealing with all kinds of things now, not just Muggle Artifacts, so I'm sure he's more than pleased," Remus agreed.

It was a big job, he had ten people reporting to him now!

Sirius let out a low whistle in surprise, and further concurrence.

Harry asked what exactly that was, and she explained he helped manage artifacts that people kept trying to pass off as real items to protect, when in fact they were more often than not cursed things for a quick buck. He was more busy than ever, and it was silly to miss his Muggle rubbish.

Sirius had been reading with more interest than anything, up until the very end, where he couldn't help but snicker.

"Honestly, it's as if the man can't have a hobby," James agreed lightly.

Mrs. Weasley ended her speech with a stern look, as if it had been Harry suggesting that it was natural to miss spark plugs.

"You mean it's not?" Sirius demanded. "What on Earth has my life come to!"

"More spark plugs, apparently, and I can't disagree you need them to the head," Remus smirked.

"Thank you Moony," Sirius nodded along, "that's just what I wanted to hear."

Harry asked if he was still at work, and she uneasily agreed he was, and in fact running late.

She glanced to her clock, which showed all nine Weasleys on each hand, all of which were pointed to mortal peril.

James had to fight very hard against a surprised snort of laughter, and only just managed it from the fear stopping his breath short. What did that mean?! Was it because Harry was there? Surely not!

She noticed his staring and told it had been like that since You-Know-Who had been out in the open.

Lily tried to release a breath like that was somehow reliving news, but it wasn't all that convincing, they all had the same expression in place like they'd been thinking the same thing.

She couldn't check if it was only her family, she didn't know anyone else with a clock like it- She cut off in surprise as they watched Arthur's hand moved to traveling, and moments later, home.

She moved to the backdoor, but kept it shut to make sure it was him.

He agreed it was, but pointed out he'd say the same if he were a Death Eater. She still needed to ask the question.

"At least some families practice that," Remus gave a surprised laugh.

"Just because we don't do it at every door doesn't make us lax," Sirius rolled his eyes at him.

Remus failed to point out the Order seemed to disagree after losing another of its members.

After some exasperation she asked him what his dearest ambition was, and his response was to learn how airplanes stayed up.

Lily couldn't help a surprised giggle at that, finding more each passing time he spoke how much fun Arthur would likely have interrogating a Muggle if he had more of a chance.

She made to open the door for him, but apparently he was holding the other knob, as he refused to let it go until he asked what did she like to be called when they were alone?

All three boys made little ugh noises of entirely not wanting to know that, and Harry even almost went so far as to plug his ears before Sirius just got it done with.

Even by the dim light of the lantern Harry could tell that Mrs. Weasley had turned bright red; he himself felt suddenly warm around the ears and neck, and hastily gulped soup, clattering his spoon as loudly as he could against the bowl. It did nothing to help him hear the answer.

Lily offered a reluctant smile amidst all of the boys muttering how much they hadn't wanted to know that, "well, I'll give the man credit, no Death Eater would likely think to ask such a thing."

"Doesn't mean we wanted to know," Harry stated, as red faced in here as he was then.

"They're not meant for you to know, Arthur doesn't know you're there yet," James reminded.

"Then I'll happily pretend like I never found out," Sirius grumbled before moving on loudly.

He finally allowed the door to be open, Mrs. Weasley saying in exasperation she didn't know why he insisted on going through that every time he came home. If he were a Death Eater, he would have just blown down the door, not bother impersonating anyone.

"The point of it is to think up questions and answers they wouldn't think to ask in that scenario," Lily wisely endowed to Harry's suddenly uneasy look.

He nodded, but the thought hadn't been what if Mr. Weasley was right, it was the act itself he couldn't shake off. He didn't want to imagine what he would have told someone to save the life of another being tortured, the idea was too horrible to consider even as he forced his mind to ignore the echoing screams from a memory he hoped he was misunderstanding.

Arthur reminded as a Ministry employe, he needed to set an example for their kids. Plus, what if he really had been a Death Eater.

"His kids are all apparently asleep, who's he setting an example for?" Sirius snorted.

"And Merlin help those two if Molly answers that around their kids too," James agreed.

He smelt the onion soup then and looked hopefully towards the table, where he finally spotted Harry.

The two greeted each other cheerfully before he went into some details about work, like someone selling Metamorph-Medals. A thousand disguises for ten Galleons!

"A shame we can't really have something like that," Harry muttered, it would make his Transfiguration classes a lot more smooth he was sure.

All that really happened when they were put on was turning orange and sprouting tentacles, as if St. Mungo's didn't have enough to be getting on with.

Lily scoffed in further disgust of people, depressed this was more news than something she'd had plenty of time fixing herself on her time off.

Mrs. Weasley hesitantly said that sounded like the kind of thing the twins would do.

"They would never," James defended at once. "Even in school they knew when not to mess around."

Lily just rolled her eyes at him. Molly was just being a concerned mother, and Lily could think of several instances where they'd been idiots, and practical idiots.

Arthur at once said they were doing no such thing, they knew better.

Molly caught Harry yawning then and sent him off to bed,

"Aww," Sirius muttered in genuine disappointment, he was rather enjoying hearing about Arthur's job.

he'd be staying in the twins room.

"Why?" Remus asked in concern at once.

Harry asked where they were.

"Oh, I meant what's wrong with Ron's room, but that works too," Remus muttered.

She told they were sleeping above their shop in Diagon Alley, they apparently needed to with how busy they were.

All of them beamed at the thought, though unsurprised. This was by far the best thing a Potter had ever invested in!

She really hadn't approved at first,

"Didn't approve," Sirius repeated with an eye roll, finding that far too low brow for her trashing their things and telling them at every opportunity what wasted potential they were.

but they did seem to have a flair for business.

Harry called a goodnight to Mr. Weasley as he followed Molly upstairs, glancing one more time at the clock, all nine hands now back to mortal peril.

Lily couldn't help nibbling at her lip again, glancing fearfully at Harry and away with more questions for this poor family that she knew he couldn't answer.

Fred and George's bedroom was on the second floor.

James couldn't help but to start bouncing eagerly in anticipation, he'd been wanting to hear details about the twins room since he'd first heard of Ron's!

Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at a lamp on the bedside table and it ignited at once, bathing the room in a pleasant golden glow. Though a large vase of flowers had been placed on a desk in front of the small window, their perfume could not disguise the lingering smell of what Harry thought was gunpowder.

"A memorable entrance indeed," Sirius blinked in surprise before they all started snickering.

A considerable amount of floor space was devoted to a vast number of unmarked, sealed cardboard boxes, amongst which stood Harry's school trunk. The room looked as though it was being used as a temporary warehouse.

"It probably is," Remus agreed.

Hedwig hooted happily at Harry from her perch on top of a large wardrobe, then took off through the window; Harry knew she had been waiting to see him before going hunting.

"Aww," Lily cooed, smiling over at their own bright orange screech owl, Click, who more often than not chose to live off of the owl treats than hunt.

Harry bade Mrs. Weasley good night, put on pajamas, and got into one of the beds. There was something hard inside the pillowcase. He groped inside it and pulled out a sticky purple-and-orange sweet, which he recognized as a Puking Pastille.

"Hopefully not a sign of the rest of this book," James muttered, remembering several nauseating times already from Harry's past.

Smiling to himself, he rolled over and was instantly asleep.

Seconds later, or so it seemed to Harry, he was awakened by what sounded like cannon fire as the door burst open.

"I think Ginny realized he was there," Sirius couldn't help but tease, though the tiny little girl fawning over Harry had been replaced with the formidable fifteen year old telling his godson he wasn't leaving without her in that forest in his mind, so the joke held no weight.

"Be fair, Hermione's been known to attack hug him as well," James chuckled while Harry ignored them both.

Sitting bolt upright, he heard the rasp of the curtains being pulled back: The dazzling sunlight seemed to poke him hard in both eyes. Shielding them with one hand, he groped hopelessly for his glasses with the other.

He blurrily demanded what was going on, while a loud voice shouted they hadn't known he was here so early! Then Harry got a sharp blow to his head.

A girl reprimanded Ron not to hit him.

"Honestly, this really is a kind awakening, you don't want to know how these two have gotten me out of a bed," Remus rolled his eyes at Harry's face, a mix of pleased at his friends again and severe agitation with such an abrupt awakening.

Harry's hand found his glasses and he shoved them on, though the light was so bright he could hardly see anyway. A long, looming shadow quivered .in front of him for a moment; he blinked and Ron Weasley came into focus, grinning down at him.

They asked how he was, and Harry said never better while rubbing the top of his head.

"A much kinder response than I've ever given," Sirius chuckled.

Harry asked what time it was, and Ron said just past noon, their mum had only just told them he was here.

Hermione asked how it had been with the Muggles, had they treated him okay?

"Just brushing right past he's hardly gone to bed then," Lily shook her head, but found that a relevant enough question she didn't blame Hermione. They hadn't exactly been keeping better hours around here anyways.

Harry said same as usual, he hadn't really spent much time there thankfully.

Hermione, was scrutinizing Harry as though he was sickening for something. He thought he knew what was behind this, and as he had no wish to discuss Sirius's death or any other miserable subject at the moment,

"I can not blame you," Sirius said extra loudly to emphasize he wanted the same.

asked if he'd missed breakfast?

Ron promised a tray was coming up for him, then asked what he'd really been up to.

Harry didn't get it, and Ron told him to stop messing around, he'd been with Dumbledore!

"That always sounds far more exciting than it turns out to be," Lily shook her head.

Harry told that they'd only been getting a teacher out of retirement, and Ron looked disappointed as he began they'd thought- then Hermione gave him a warning look and he finished they'd thought it would be that.

"Well he's gotten much better at that picking up on things," James laughed.

"Getting a teacher out of retirement would be top of my list of things I thought you'd be doing too," Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Why'd Hermione want him not to ask about that though?" Remus was surprised. "Harry's never not told them what he's been up to.

"Maybe Hermione thinks that's a sensitive topic too," Lily rolled her eyes.

It made sense they'd need a new Defense teacher, what had he been like?

"It's nice to have more foreknowledge than the teenagers for once," Sirius laughed hard at that one.

"Technically we only know they're wrong about their assumption, not who the new Defense teacher is," Remus pointed out.

"Must you ruin all my fun?" Sirius rolled his eyes.

Harry said he looked a bit like a walrus, and he used to be Head of Slytherin.

"About sums him up as far as I'm concerned," James agreed.

Then he asked Hermione if something was wrong?

She was watching him as though expecting strange symptoms to manifest themselves at any moment. She rearranged her features hastily in an unconvincing smile.

"What is her problem this morning?" Sirius asked in exasperation.

"Harry's interrupting her and Ron's room the past three weeks?" Remus offered under his breath, causing Sirius to both snort and smile innocently, and Remus to hurry on before explaining the joke. Neither thought Harry would find it funny.

She said no of course not! Then quickly asked what kind of teacher he'd be?

Harry just said couldn't be worse than Umbridge.

"He's got me there," Sirius sighed, and there used to be a time Slughorn was his least favorite teacher, but Snape had already trumped that, now the man seemed like a blessing after that frosted catnip.

A voice from the doorway interrupted there was certainly someone worse than Umbridge.

"I find that hard to agree," Lily said at once with a disparaging look at her sons right hand.

Ron's younger sister slouched into the room, looking irritable, but still gave Harry a hi.

"That's certainly a contrast than glowing like the sun upon first meeting you," James smiled slightly, though it was just a bit saddening to hear of this girl's growing up more than he'd got to witness his own son doing so.

Ron asked what her problem was, and she shouted she was being driven mad!

Hermione sympathetically asked what had been done now?

Ginny returned she kept being spoken to like she was three!

Hermione agreed she was so full of herself.

"This is just rude, playing the pronoun game right in front of us," Sirius grumbled as this conversation just kept carrying on.

"I'm not sure who they could even be talking about," Remus agreed, "doesn't seem like Molly."

"Certainly not Tonks, who's the only other girl we've seen over there," James agreed, completely baffled.

"Maybe it's still someone new," Lily shrugged as she waved them on.

Harry was astonished to hear Hermione talking about Mrs. Weasley like this and could not blame Ron for saying angrily they needed to lay off for five seconds.

"Ron joining in on this just made it more interesting," Sirius didn't try very hard to fight off a smirk.

Ginny snapped of course he'd defend her, he couldn't get enough of her!

This seemed an odd comment to make about Ron's mother.

Harry scowled at their collective snorts and grumbled they all thought themselves so smart, he had just woken up!

He had just asked who they were speaking of when again someone came in the door.

Harry instinctively yanked the bedcovers up to his chin so hard that Hermione and Ginny slid off the bed onto the floor.

"They kind of deserved it after your morning," James chuckled.

A young woman was standing in the doorway, a woman of such breathtaking beauty that the room seemed to have become strangely airless. She was tall and willowy with long blonde hair and appeared to emanate a faint, silvery glow. To complete this vision of perfection, she was carrying a heavily laden breakfast tray.

"Err," most of them muttered, as this cleared up nothing. Harry wasn't being of much help, still blinking spastically as if he had a bright light in his eyes. Sirius though well remembered a girl of this description, and the next line only magnified that expression.

A girl in a thick French accent greeted ˜Arry, it had been too long!

"Oh, it's Fleur!" Remus yelped.

James let out a surprised whistle as this registered, "wow, her and Bill must be getting on really well for her to already be hanging around his house this much."

Lily was still rolling her eyes at Sirius for not just telling them this when he'd realized it.

As she swept over the threshold toward him, Mrs. Weasley was revealed, bobbing along in her wake, looking rather cross. Pointing out there was no need for this, she was doing it herself.

Flure said it was no problem, she'd wanted to come see him! Gabrielle would be so delighted about this as well.

"Merlin, how many people do they have crammed into that house?" Lily asked with some concern for this declaration.

"Bill and her are likely just there visiting with her, I doubt they're staying there," James shrugged.

Harry asked she was here to.

Flure corrected next summer, when the- then she stopped in surprise he didn't know.

"How could he know, he's literally just awoken," Remus reminded, clearly still far more against this than anything.

Her great blue eyes widened and she looked reproachfully at Mrs. Weasley, who said they hadn't a chance to tell him yet.

"She doesn't seem particularly excited for it," Lily noticed, a few things popping to mind.

Fleur turned back to Harry, swinging her silvery sheet of hair so that it whipped Mrs. Weasley across the face.

"Endearing," Sirius snickered.

Announcing her and Bill were to be married!

"Ah, well I was right," James smirked.

"Wonder what's got Molly so wound up about it," Sirius shrugged without much concern.

"Her first baby's starting his own family, I'm sure she's going through all sorts of things," Lily told, eyeing Harry's ring with something very acute to how Molly would be feeling, while unable to stop a pleased little smile of her own for these circumstances.

Harry just said oh blankly. He could not help noticing how Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, and Ginny were all determinedly avoiding one another's gaze.

Lily couldn't help but understand those girls, she hadn't thought much of Fleur either until Harry had gotten to know her a bit better.

He congratulated her, and she swooped down upon him and kissed him on each cheek while continuing Bill was very busy with his job for now so he invited her over here to get to know his family, though there wasn't much to do unless you liked cooking and chickens.

"Should I be worried she thinks things are going to be more exciting with him around?" Remus went wide eyed with some genuine concern for that.

"She met Harry when he entered the tournament he shouldn't, I can't blame her," Sirius reminded without any enthusiasm.

She waved him goodbye and bid him enjoy his breakfast before leaving.

Ginny whispered as soon as she left Mum hated her.

Molly snapped at once she did not, she just thought they were rushing into this engagement!

"Well I can't say a word," Lily muttered with a gleaming smile. She never would have thought herself the kind to marry right after school and have a family started, and Bill would be about that same age. She wouldn't change her life for anything though, and would of course caution her own child not to do the same.

Ron pointed out they knew each other for a year, still staring groggily at the door.

"I think someone's still got a Veela infatuation," Sirius said wisely.

Molly said that certainly wasn't long enough! People were doing this across the country, all this uncertainty with You-Know-Who! It was the same last time, people eloping left, right, and center.

"Yes. And?" James asked with an unconcerned smirk as he fought the compulsion to go over to his wife just to take her hand.

"Prongs, you are not the example to be setting for anyone," Remus scoffed.

"Oh, and you are?" Sirius challenged.

"You're all idiots, so I don't know what you're comparing," Lily reminded.

Ginny reminded as well as her own parents, and Molly went slightly red before pointing out they were made for each other.

"Right," James drew out the word defiantly, Molly had just turned herself into a bit of a hypocrite, again.

Whereas Bill and Fleur didn't have a thing in common. He was down to earth and hard working, where as she-

Was a cow, Ginny happily inserted. He loved adventure and glamour, probably why he fell for Phlegm.

They all snorted in surprise, that having been the last thing they'd expect Ginny to call anyone.

Mrs. Weasley snapped at her daughter not to call her that as Harry and Hermione laughed.

"I don't see where she gets off telling Ginny that," Harry said a bit defensively, "she was just bad mouthing Fleur as well."

"Do as I say, not as I do," Sirius shrugged.

She went back downstairs then, while Ron was still shaking his head like he was punch-drunk.

Harry asked didn't he get used to it with her over here so much?

Ron agreed mostly, but not when she just jumped out like that.

"It's the Yule Ball all over again," Remus snickered.

"I do hope Fleur's told Bill about that exciting tale," Sirius agreed.

Hermione furiously called him pathetic, striding away from Ron as far as she could go and turning to face him with her arms folded once she had reached the wall.

"Never mind, they're still squabbling, and ignoring the fun side of acting like a married couple," Remus muttered.

Ginny protested he couldn't want her around forever? Mum was going to find a way to stop it.

"Oh, she wouldn't go that far," Lily disagreed. "She may not approve, and I'm sure she's told Bill as much, but I can't imagine her standing in his way like that."

"I can," James scowled, well remembering her harshness of the twins, and his own best mate last time she'd been around.

Harry asked how she'd managed that, and Hermione explained she kept trying to have Tonks around, like she hoped Bill would fall for her instead.

Ginny agreed she'd much rather have her in the family.

"Yeah, I can see it," Sirius grinned.

Harry just laughed, having an odd feeling this was in fact the exact opposite of what was going on, but not quite far off either?

Ron didn't buy it, no bloke in his right mind would fancy Tonks when Fleur was around.

"Oh now that's not fair," Remus frowned for that. "I've much more enjoyed hearing about her than some pretty French girl."

"Got to agree with Moony on that one, she'd be much more fun to have around," Sirius nodded.

Tonks is okay-looking when she wasn't doing stupid things to her hair and her nose,

"I thought that was when she was at her best," Remus snipped.

"Go for the girl with a sense of humor," James agreed, very purposely looking to his wife who was snickering along.

Hermione agreed Tonks was even more intelligent, being an Auror.

Harry contradicted Fleur had been in the Triwizard Tournament, that had to take some brains.

"Intelligence wasn't a factor for that Harry," Sirius snorted in surprise.

"Plus, she came in last," James agreed.

"Oh stop, the lot of you, we're not having a contest over this," Lily fought to straighten her face and scold.

Hermione snapped not him as well!

Ginny scornfully asked if he liked the way she said ˜Arry?

Harry, now regretting having spoken at all, tried to say Phlegm, err, Fleur-

"Apparently Ginny's nickname was catchier than I first thought," Sirius snickered.

but Ginny just interrupted she wanted Tonks in the family.

Ron pointed out she hadn't been much fun lately, acting more like Moaning Myrtle the past few times she'd been around.

"Do they know something about that?" Lily asked, her concern for this returning at once.

"Let's find out," Sirius agreed.

Hermione snapped that wasn't fair, she still hadn't gotten over it! He was her cousin!

Sirius blanched in surprised, that had not been the answer he'd been expecting!

"Nah, surely that's not it," James tried to say casually, though the hitch in his voice made that anything but. He couldn't even continue, but looked away from everyone, despising his mind for reliving those last few moments all over again.

Sirius muttered a bit at Hermione still managing to bring this up before pressing on for the fifth time already about this.

Harry's heart sank. They had arrived at Sirius. He picked up a fork and began shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth, hoping to deflect any invitation to join in this part of the conversation.

"Food has been known to solve many a problem," Remus agreed while trying to examine his nails and ignoring the ringing in his ears.

Ron scoffed that was ridiculous, they'd barely known each other, he'd been in Azkaban half her life and their families never met.

"Close enough to the truth," Lily whispered, watching Sirius' face drain of all color for being further reminded of this. He'd probably spent more time laughing about Tonks in here than he ever had with her.

Hermione snapped that wasn't the point, she thought it was her own fault he'd died.

Harry asked how Tonks would work that out despite himself.

"Yeah, I thought I took the blame for everything," Sirius happily falsified his voice to mock Harry's when trying to say that. For some reason his godson didn't appreciate the attempt.

Hermione reminded she'd been the last one fighting Bellatrix before it happened.

Ron said that was stupid, but Hermione reminded it was survivors guilt. She'd heard Lupin had tired to talk her around,

Harry couldn't help making a funny noise at that, though he wasn't sure what it was. Not quite laughter for Hermione's assumption.

but she'd been really down, having trouble with her Metamorphosing!

"Her what?" They yelped in genuine concern.

She hadn't been changing her appearance at will, probably shock.

"Now I'm really convinced something's wrong, and it's not me," Sirius' frown turned heavier than ever for his poor little cousins health.

"I'm sure that's the first time you've ever said that," Remus tried to playfully snip, but it fell flat. If it wasn't having to hear about Sirius, it was some other travesty happening in this future, and Tonks really was a light they could have used right now.

Harry was surprised that could happen, but Hermione said she was sure it could if one was really depressed.

"I can see it," Lily murmured uneasily. "Magic can have an affect on your state of mind, so I suppose the physical aspects would also be a bit touched."

"Whatever it is, I hope someone's trying to help," Remus huffed, still more worried than anything he wasn't being of any good to the Order even if he was clearly still around in some way.

Molly popped back in to ask Ginny to come help her with lunch.

"No, the conversation can't go on without her!" James dramatically wailed, causing the others a fresh burst of laughter for theatrics at least.

Ginny protested she was talking! Mrs. Weasley wouldn't hear it and said now! Ginny huffed she just didn't want to be alone with Phlegm, then swung her long red hair around in a very good imitation of Fleur and pranced across the room with her arms held aloft like a ballerina.

"A sight to behold I'm sure," Sirius forced a chipper mood again as well to go along with Prongs while Harry genuinely gave an affectionate smile for the show.

Harry took advantage of the temporary silence to eat more breakfast.

"A worthy cause," Remus chucked.

Hermione was peering into Fred and George's boxes, though every now and then she cast sideways looks at Harry. Ron, who was now helping himself to Harry's toast, was still gazing dreamily at the door.

She pulled a small telescope out of one and asked what it was.

Ron cautioned to be careful, though he wasn't sure. If Fred and George had left it behind, probably meant it wasn't ready for the shop.

"We all know what their last tests were like," Lily agreed with a small smile.

Speaking of his brothers, Harry asked if Percy had come around yet?

Lily perked up the most for this answer, the others were clearly still far more disgusted he'd even done such a thing.

Ron said nope.

Harry was shocked, Voldemort was back in the open now, he had to admit his parents were right.

"Clearly that's not enough for him to admit he was wrong of all things!" Siris snapped.

Hermione said Dumbledore had offered something along the lines of it was easier to forgive others for being wrong than right.

Ron agreed that was the mental sort of thing he'd say.

Harry conversationally put in he'd be taking private lessons with him this year.

Ron choked on a bit of toast and Hermione gasped, both shocked he'd kept that quiet!

"When exactly was he supposed to insert that into the conversation? When he was getting socked in the head, or Ron was drooling over Fleur?" James chuckled, though he knew he would have been just as bad if that had been dropped at any time.

Ron at once wondered where he, his voice tailed away. Harry saw him and Hermione exchange looks.

"Well they've clearly been having conversations without you again," Sirius pouted.

"Been doing that last year as well, and I'd be happy for them, if it weren't about me," Harry sighed.

Harry laid down his knife and fork, his heart beating rather fast considering that all he was doing was sitting in bed. Dumbledore had said to do it. ... Why not now?

"Because it would have been nice to go a whole five minutes without thinking about it," James sighed unhappily, but didn't begrudge Harry getting this out of the way either rather than dwelling on it his own some more.

He fixed his eyes on his fork, which was gleaming in the sunlight streaming into his lap, and began explaining those lessons had something to do with that prophecy.

Neither Ron nor Hermione spoke. Harry had the impression that both had frozen. He continued, still speaking to his fork,

"It's only polite, you should involve the utensils for all they do," Sirius nodded along while Remus gave him a light smack before he continued him on.

they knew the one, from the Department of Mysteries.

"Not a lot of other prophecies you could be referring to," James muttered agreement.

Hermione whispered it had been smashed, while Ron tried to interrupt the Daily Prophet had said, but Hermione shushed him.

"Hermione's allowed to interrupt but he's not?" Lily gave a halfhearted giggle.

Harry agreed he'd read those articles, and the prophet had it right, then he quoted the last lines for them, neither could live while the other survived.

"Is that really the only part your grasped on?" Lily demanded, wringing her own hands in an effort not to hold her son closer. "You've had experience with at least one other, surely you know not to take them at such face value!"

Harry couldn't bring himself to look at her, fight back, or contradict at all. He wished there were some other interpretation he was missing, but it all felt so inevitable it merely ate away at him what they'd think of him when it came to pass.

The three of them gazed at one another in silence for a moment. Then there was a loud bang and Hermione vanished behind a puff of black smoke.

Sirius startled a bit, before he burst out laughing. "Well, I guess we know what that," he went back and checked what exactly it was Hermione was holding, "telescope did!"

"The opposite of helped you to see, I like it," James chuckled in agreement.

The boys rushed to her in surprise, but she was already stepping out of the smoke, waving a hand in front of her face now with a black eye, gasping it had punched her!

"Oh, even better!" Remus yelped in surprise, still snickering delightedly at the gag.

Sure enough, they now saw a tiny fist on a long spring protruding from the end of the telescope.

Ron, who was plainly trying not to laugh,

No one was bothering with that in here.

promised her his mum could fix that.

Hermione said not to worry about that now,

"Sure she wouldn't have said that under any other circumstances," Lily snorted.

while rushing to Harry's side. They'd wondered if it was something like this, after all Lucius had said,

"It's no wonder the Prophet put this together, apparently everyone just knew this was going to happen," Harry sighed.

"Not if you don't want it to!" James reminded so forcefully Harry had to remind himself not to jump. "You can make your future whatever you want it to be!"

Harry glanced at him then, at all of them, and it really hit him why they were all so against this prophecy. Not because of his destiny being entwined with Voldemort, but because they refused to believe it was so inevitable Harry would be the one to do it. They just wanted him to have his own future, not be forced into this like Voldemort had done to them so many years ago, or so soon from now. He held tight to that knowledge, actually smiling as he promised, "Well, I'm sure you'll see to it it never gets this far."

"Absolutely," Lily agreed with all the confidence in the world.

She whispered if he was scared?

He admitted he had been, but now it felt like he'd always known he was going to face him at the end.

Sirius had to bite hard at his tongue to convince himself not to tell Harry that didn't have to define him, least of all allow someone else to tell him so! If he chose never to face Voldemort again he'd tear away anyone who tried to stop him.

Ron eagerly jumped on the topic of Dumbledore's lessons, saying he wouldn't be doing that if he thought Harry didn't have a chance.

"As eloquent as ever that one," Remus frowned more for the way he phrased it than disagreeing.

Hermione agreed he was probably going to learn powerful countercurses and anti-jinxes.

"I wouldn't really think so," Lily tugged at her hair in thought. "Voldemort is one of the most knowledgeable wizards there is, it must be how he's gotten as far as he has in his conquest. Not just anyone can come back from what he did after all, so it should be something more along the lines of other ways to defeat him than outright spells."

"Your idea has merits, but teaching him how to turn those statues into impervious shields wouldn't go awry either," James decided.

Harry did not really listen. A warmth was spreading through him that had nothing to do with the sunlight; a tight obstruction in his chest seemed to be dissolving. He knew that Ron and Hermione were more shocked than they were letting on, but the mere fact that they were still there on either side of him, speaking bracing words of comfort, not shrinking from him as though he were contaminated or dangerous, was worth more than he could ever tell them.

Lily sighed lovingly for her son, still as oblivious as he was at eleven. No one had thought this for a second anymore than they'd believed Ron and Hermione would take his cloak back at Fluffy's door. The smile on his face still showed otherwise, if not double more so because of those around him now.

She finished a bit anxious at least he knew of one class he'd be taking this year, wondering aloud when their OWL results would show up.

Harry distractedly said some time today, and Hermione shrieked!

"I think Hermione actually just had kittens," Sirius chuckled at such a reaction.

"To be fair, this is the most important moment of her life," Remus lightly mocked.

She leapt to her feet and darted down the stairs at once. When Harry arrived ten minutes later, fully dressed and carrying his empty breakfast tray, it was to find Hermione sitting at the kitchen table in great agitation, while Mrs. Weasley tried to lessen her resemblance to half a panda.

"A memorable depiction I shall never forget," James snickered.

Muttering to herself as she examined a text how her bruise wouldn't budge, she'd never come across this before!

Ginny agreed it was probably part of the twins trick so it wouldn't come off.

"I'd trust her on that," Sirius said a little to knowingly, and Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know when his godfather had tired much the same thing on anyone else.

Hermione squeaked it had to! She couldn't look like this forever!

Mrs. Weasley soothed they'd figure out something, while Fleur inserted Bill had told her how amusing Fred and George were.

"I'm guessing Bill wasn't on the end of many of their pranks then," Lily smiled.

"Or he actually does find them funny and can laugh along," James pointed out.

Hermione snapped she could hardly breathe from laughing at it!

"Those twins really should consider themselves lucky they aren't there for this," Sirius said while still unable to wipe away a smile for this imagined carnage. "We'd have an epic war about the house, considering this is the first time she's fallen victim to them personally."

"It's a miracle it never happened in school," Remus agreed.

She jumped up and started walking round and round the kitchen, twisting her fingers together and pleading with Mrs. Weasley she was sure no owls had come this morning?

Molly promised she'd have noticed, while Hermione barely heard her, still muttering about how she knew she'd messed up Ancient Runes, she'd certainly made one serious mistranslation.

"I never had the class, so I don't know what she's on about," Sirius went wide eyed with innocent curiosity.

"Because I missed this," Lily told him blandly while he continued on, high on his own cleverness.

And her Defense Against the Dark Arts practical was no good at all. She thought Transfiguration went all right at the time, but looking back-

"She O'd everything," James stated as if noticing the weather.

"She can't be entirely perfect, she might have gotten an E in Defense, especially if she's freezed again." Remus said fairly.

Ron barked at her to shut it, she'd be walking away with eleven Outstanding Owls.

Hermione wailed she had failed everything!

"Nah, then we'd know she got Malfoy's," Sirius said brightly.

Harry asked what happened if that were true, and Hermione told you were to have a meeting with Professor McGonagall, she'd asked at the end of last term.

"Whom I'm sure laughed hysterically first," Lily shook her head affectionately.

"Though I don't think any student has ever failed every single OWL," James properly explained. "You do need to revisit with your head of house to further discuss your career options though, if you've happened to not get a grade that didn't align with your path."

"Or you can have the option to retake it, and have to pay to do so, same as if you needed an OWL grade for a course you didn't take," Remus told.

Harry nodded, as he considered all of this, knowing no grade in the world would get him into a class with Snape again...but maybe Slughorn? He certainly didn't feel very worried about his future as an Auror still hanging.

Harry's stomach squirmed. He wished he had eaten less breakfast.

Fleur chose to explain that at Beauxbatons, they took those grades after six years, not five,

"I can see both sides to that," Lily said curiously. "If you wait until your sixth year, then you've an extra year to study for the classes you really want to excel in-"

"But there's no year in between taking two major exams for your life," James happily butted in with the other side.

"Well Fleur always thought her school was better, so I'm sure she'd be happy to rebuttal," Sirius shrugged, not wanting to hear either, just happy he'd never have to take another test again.

Fleur's words were drowned in a scream. Hermione was pointing through the kitchen window. Three black specks were clearly visible in the sky, growing larger all the time.

Harry was rubbing at his ear but looking a little grey, while the others all lit up with so much excitement to hear this they couldn't even laugh at Hermione's overreaction.

The three students huddled worriedly around the window as the birds descended, Mrs. Weasley having to squeeze past them to get the window open where they each landed in front of their carriers.

Harry moved forward. The letter addressed to him was tied to the leg of the owl in the middle. He untied it with fumbling fingers. To his left, Ron was trying to detach his own results; to his right, Hermione's hands were shaking so much she was making her whole owl tremble.

"I'm sure the poor birds have had worse done to them, like being vomited on," Sirius said slyly.

"I regret ever telling you that," Remus grumbled.

Nobody in the kitchen spoke. At last, Harry managed to detach the envelope. He slit it open quickly and unfolded the parchment inside.

Ordinary Wizarding Level Results

Pass Grades

Outstanding (O)

Exceeds Expectations (E)

Acceptable (A)

Fail Grades

Poor (P)

Dreadful (D)

Troll (T)

Sirius honestly skipped right past all of that nonsense, they already knew that.

Harry James Potter has achieved:

Astronomy A

Care of Magical Creatures E

Charms E

Defense Against the Dark Arts O

Divination P

Herbology E

History of Magic D

Potions E

Transfiguration E

"Congratulations!" James cheered while Lily did a little whoop of joy for him. Harry honestly found it hard to believe he'd done so well, much better than he ever would have given himself credit for in all the classes that mattered.

"Looks like McGonagall's Auror training is going to be completely unneeded, you managed all that yourself!" Sirius bounced happily in place.

"I'm still stunned stupid he got an E in Potions! It's hard to believe he learned anything in that class!" Remus looked struck dumb.

"Gee, thanks," Harry laughed lightly, though he didn't at all disagree.

Harry read the parchment through several times, his breathing becoming easier with each reading. It was all right: He had always known that he would fail Divination, and he had had no chance of passing History of Magic, given that he had collapsed halfway through the examination,

"Nobody cares about that class anyways," James waved off at once, fighting back the compulsion to scream some more at the mention of that particular exam.

but he had passed everything else! He ran his finger down the grades . . . he had passed well in Transfiguration and Herbology, he had even exceeded expectations at Potions! And best of all, he had achieved "Outstanding" at Defense Against the Dark Arts!

"No surprise there!" Sirius puffed up his chest. "He's been a natural at that from the start!"

"You did extremely well, you should hear that no matter how unsurprising it is," Lily told him gently as well as a rebuke to Sirius, who simply grinned in agreement rather than replying to her.

"Will you tell me what grades you got now?" James quickly asked her, batting his eyes pleadingly.

She just raised her brows at him in disbelief. "What makes you think I remember them all so many years later? I'm not as conceited as you lot, constantly lording over-"

"I'm guessing O in Potions, Herbology, and Charms, and at least an E in everything else," Sirius said loudly around her.

She blushed faintly, and had to take some niggling from Harry before finally admitting, " Well he wasn't wrong about the first three, but I got an A in my Ancient Runes and Transfiguration..."

"And," James happily prompted when it was clear she was refraining from saying something else.

She released a blistering noise before finishing, "and a T in my History of Magic. I was so busy studying for everything else, and it just sort of fell through the cracks there at the end-"

"Is that all?" Harry chuckled. "You did as well as I did Mum."

"Doesn't make it any more fun to remember," she huffed with a gleaming smile.

"Can't wait for your NEWT results now," Sirius said cheerfully before going on.

He looked around. Hermione had her back to him and her head bent, but Ron was looking delighted, noting he'd only failed Divination and History of Magic, and who cared about those! They swapped papers, Harry glanced down Ron's grades: There were no "Outstandings" there. ***

"Really?" Sirius said in honest surprise. "You'd think he'd have aced some class, I know he'd gotten on just as well in Care of Magical Creatures as Harry, what with his dragon keeper of a brother giving him some extra knowledge."

"Ron never took his classes to heart though, I'm sure he didn't even try his hardest, like others," Remus said pointedly to Sirius' careless shrug.

Mrs. Weasley praised her youngest son when she saw his results, telling those seven owls was more than Fred and George had gotten together!

"Still on that eh?" Sirius rolled his eyes.

"I don't want to hear it from the lot of you who stopped to recount yours," Lily snipped, "and then demanded mine."

Ginny tentatively called for Hermione, who still hadn't moved.

"Maybe she actually didn't get an O in everything," James went wide eyed in concern.

"I think I'll faint from shock," Sirius began fanning himself for a moment.

Hermione said in a small voice she hadn't done bad.

"Or she's just embarrassed she made such a big deal out of it and actually doesn't want to show off," Remus shook his head.

Ron walked over and snatched her paper away, then laughed she was actually disappointed she'd only gotten an Exceeds Expectations in her Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL.

"Wow," James mouthed theatrically.

"She's actually disappointed in herself," Sirius scratched at his temple for this reaction.

"She did admit Harry's beat her out in previous DA exams, I'm not too surprised about this one," Remus shrugged with an extra, though still tentative, smile at Harry, who returned it at once.

He looked down at her, half-amused, half-exasperated. Then declared them all N.W.E.T students, and asked his mum for more sausages.

"The proper response!" Sirius burst out laughing.

Harry looked back down at his results. They were as good as he could have hoped for. He felt just one tiny twinge of regret. . . . This was the end of his ambition to become an Auror. He had not secured the required Potions grade. He had known all along that he wouldn't, but he still felt a sinking in his stomach as he looked again at that small black E.

"I wish Dumbledore had told you what position Slughorn was coming back for now," Lily clucked her tongue sadly for that frown he was easily hiding now at knowing better. "Would save you a summer of stressing over this."

"At least McGonagall will set him straight at the beginning of the year," James reminded cheerfully.

It was odd, really, seeing that it had been a Death Eater in disguise who had first told Harry he would make a good Auror,

"Yeah, the irony of that has crossed me several times," James gave a heavy sigh.

"Doesn't make it any less appropriate given how your life's gone," Sirius pointed out.

but somehow the idea had taken hold of him, and he couldn't really think of anything else he would like to be. Moreover, it had seemed the right destiny for him since he had heard the prophecy a few weeks ago. . . . Neither can live while the other survives. . . .Wouldn't he be living up to the prophecy, and giving himself the best chance of survival, if he joined those highly trained wizards whose job it was to find and kill Voldemort?

The four around him made faces at this again being brought up, but now that Harry felt he better understood where they were coming from, he easily brushed past their concern as he happily watched his mother grab the book to continue.

HPHPHPHP

*This was a really weird line to me when I first read it, and I had to google if that was an actual saying or I just got some odd copy. Turns out it's an older way to say goodbye, especially to a lady. The more you know.

**I'm really not sure why Hermione was here for this summer holiday. She could have met up with them in Diagon Alley if she really needed to, but even then she wasn't essential to what goes on there. Why not have her spend the majority of the summer with her parents like she'd done before? I'll go more into this in the next book with their last mention, but still.

***I am genuinely insulted by this, Ron couldn't get one Outstanding? In Care of Creatures or something? She did for the other two, Hermione was obvious but still, Ron could have outshone Harry in one class, or at least have it be mentioned he got a higher grade than him in something.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #HP #HBP #The Life That Never Lived #Marauders #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Potter

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nightklok · 4 years

Note

28 Chickles?

76 Kiss Prompts [Open]

Is it cheating if I use an old prompt meme to complete today’s prompt? Probably but I had a majority of this written out so might as well finish it! Thank you for requesting this and sorry it’s a bit late! :O

Kloktober Prompt: Day 14-Preklok Whumptober Prompt: No 27-Power Outage

28. First kiss

It was the first band Pickles joined a few years after Snakes N’ Barrels disbanded. It was a band that would disband not long after being signed and before they could even produce their first album. The genre didn’t felt like it belonged to him compared to his previous band’s genre and it felt more like a job than anything else. However, it paid the bills and got him to at least work with music once again. Even if it felt like he was once again working from the bottom up, at least he wasn’t entirely lost and was knowledgeable on how the music industry was. He hadn’t really tried to get back into making music after Snakes N’ Barrels disbanded. Despite the offers from various groups, he had ignored them all without even giving a response. He ended up shifting from a music-related job to a non-music related job and dealing with the horrible addictions that never left his side. As if by fate, it took one DUI related charge to end up having Charles Foster Offdensen, a freshly graduated law student, to take his case. Somehow, he ended up winning that trial and Charles asked for no money but simply to be his manager and lawyer. It was honestly laughable. He hadn’t worked with bands or even gone solo so how could someone even want to risk their career by being associated with him? He was serious and spoke in a way that meant he looked at every outcome and wanted it regardless. It took a few days of convincing and Pickles agreed even though he was sure he was a lost cause (pun intended). His new manager proved his worth and got him band auditions fairly quickly as a lead singer. As quickly as they happened, they quickly ended successfully with tons of accepted phone calls. Pickles never really did felt like he fit in with any of them, however. There was no spark he felt playing with them like with his previous band and he was wondering if it was worth straggling in some newly licensed lawyer to his troubles. Charles never did judge him though unlike his previous managers. He listened to his complaints and how he felt with an open mind and tried to adjust the best he could. However, he had a feeling that most likely the ‘heavy’ sound Pickles was looking for wouldn’t be available or at least for the moment. At the advice given, he had accepted the offer from the next band he passed the audition for. It was a rock band that was a bit heavier sounding but it was better than the other bands, and he tried to make his peace with that. It didn’t take long for them to record a single, send it to record labels, and soon get signed. He thought he would be happy that a record label signed onto their band so quickly but he found himself not feeling that euphoria once felt when his first band was signed. The moment he signed his name on that contract, it felt like he was just signing up for a job above all else. The fear that perhaps he just simply overstayed his welcome and would never be able to make music again was running through his head. If not music, then what else was there for him? As the other band members began pestering the poor secretary for directions to the nearest bar, Charles trailed behind to keep up with Pickles. He wanted to say something; he could tell he didn’t seem happy but the only words that came out of his mouth were, “Well, ah, how about I buy you a drink? To celebrate?” That seemed to be enough for Pickles as he turned to look at him with a small smile, “A free drink and getting signed? Sounds like a good day to me.” ____ If Pickles had to be reminded further that the band most likely had the same behaviors as his previous one, it was their excessive drinking and somehow finding someone to buy coke off before the drinks even arrived. Within minutes, they were already high, and trying to out drink the other. Even for Pickles’ standards, they weren’t worth trying to keep up with. Pickles sat alongside him, taking advantage of the free nuts that were provided as he drank his beer. He was surprisingly quiet for once; he barely spoke a word since they arrived and mainly just asked the bartender for more drinks. Charles didn’t say anything either. Not that he didn’t want to but what could be said when he’s forced to watch his new clients already drink their first potential paycheck away? Like watching the same movie for the umpteenth time, unsurprisingly came the women and men. He found himself not even surprised when one by one his new bandmates began leaving with said people. They were either making out with them, taking them to one of the bathrooms, or leaving the bar altogether to some nearby hotel or something. That didn’t mean he wasn’t asked to go along. An occasional bandmate would remember he existed or one of the people drunkenly recognized him and asked him to join. He was reminded way too much of the nights spent in shitty hotels with people whose faces he’d barely even remember. It felt like as he aged those memories became less and less positively memorable and only left a bad taste in his mouth. He politely declined and watched his last bandmate leave the bar with some girl close by him. He was ready to leave to go home himself, “I guess we should call it a night,” He finished his beer quickly, ready to pull out his wallet. “I did say I would be paying,” Charles answered as he pulled out his own wallet, “And if you’d like, we can go to my place. It’s quieter and we can discuss a bit about the meeting with the record execs tomorrow.” “You did say it was for only my drink. Not the rest of the guys,” He grinned at him as if having won some game of thinking one step ahead, “But sure, could use some company.” There was a slight back and forth over who was paying the tab but eventually settled on a compromise that they would pay for half of it as they both knew the other bandmates would never pay them back. Hopefully, the revenue from the new album would be more than enough to cover that expensive tab. The two walked out of the bar and into the pouring rain that almost came out of nowhere. And unfortunately, Charles’ car was parked at least four blocks from the bar. Even though he had offered to make the run himself and drive back to get him, Pickles went with him. He hadn’t drunk himself to oblivion and at least didn’t slip on the mud or complain about getting wet. By the time they reached his car, they were soaked to the point where air-drying wasn’t much of an option. Charles had to turn on the AC to prevent the windows from fogging up. The cool air, even if it was as low and away from them as much as possible, did nothing to help relieve them from being soaking wet and cold. He didn’t have a blanket or anything with him, so he had to hope for the best that a near-half-hour drive wouldn’t result in them getting sick, “Sorry, I have to keep the AC on for a while.” “It’s fine. Do you have clothes I can borrow when we get to your place?” “Of course.” Between the sound of rain hitting against the car, the windshield wipers, and some Creedence Clearwater Revival song playing from the radio, it filled the silence when they didn’t talk. What they did talk about was trivial things or light jokes about getting sick. It had eventually died down when Pickles quietly dozed off. They reached the apartment a bit longer than usual because of the rain and sudden heavy traffic. Pickles had woken up just as Charles was beginning to park his car in the lot. He stretched as he got out of the car, adjusting his wet clothes that must’ve stuck to his skin like glue. To say he was cold was an understatement but the beers he drank thankfully didn’t keep him from freezing. The elevator was working this time and there was no one else there or when they reached his floor. It was as silent and eerie as walking into some unfamiliar hallway at night could be. The sound of wet shoes and socks against the floor was audibly heard, squeaking against the floor but was muffled by the bolt of lightning that came by. Even though it wouldn’t make much of a difference aside from mud, Charles told him to take off his shoes and leave it by the doorway when he unlocked the door to his apartment and let him in. As directed, he took off his shoes and left it to the side as the other did the same. His apartment was as ordinary as it looked for a lawyer just starting out. Nicely put together furniture and decorations that did make the place look a bit more put together. Maybe it was all Ikea furniture or something, Pickles wasn’t really one to keep track of furniture brands and shit. Either way, it looked nice and inviting to him compared to his own shitty studio apartment. He followed him to his bedroom where he had shown him a drawer that was full of warmer clothes. He found an old college sweatshirt and pants to go with. It’d probably be loose on him but anything was better than the wet clothing that was only reminding him further of how cold he was. Charles showed him where the bathroom was to change, “You can leave the clothes by the sink, I’ll throw them in the wash. Make yourself at home,” He told him before he went to his room to change. He put on whatever casual clothing he had and towel-dried his hair as much as he could. It was still damp to the touch, but he could live with that. He did see the bathroom was open when he stepped out, grabbing his clothes and putting them in the hamper. He’d take them to the washing machines downstairs when he got the chance. He went to the kitchen, grabbing two glasses, and poured brandy in both of them. Coffee or tea was his usual go-to when he had guests over but he knew Pickles enough on what he would prefer, and that was neither most of the time. He found Pickles in the living room, staring at the collection of law textbooks and framed awards that were either in the bookcase or framed near it. “You did fencing in college?” He asked as he looked at one of the plaques on the wall. He took the brandy Charles offered with a quick ‘thanks’. “Yes, actually. I was president there for the last, ah, two, or three years of college.” “Wow. You’re really full of surprises.” He laughed. “How so?” “Well, you’re some lawyer who wants to be a manager and for a has-been like me. That’s gotta be costing you more than if you just stayed as a lawyer. Recording that single must’ve not been cheap. And that bar tab either. ” “I’ll admit these expenses weren’t cheap but I have had money put aside for it. We’re signed now, so I’ll be getting that money back soon.” He answered. “You’re a little too optimistic about this, chief. You’ll be lucky if we even get a hit single.” “Well, it’s a risk, isn’t it? Working at an industry like this is a risk and I’m well aware of that. I might get that money back. I might not. We’ll see.” He answered, “but I suppose that’s where you come in if you want me to get my money back.” Maybe, it was the beer, brandy, and the eventual sickness looming over but it was hard to take him seriously, “You’re really putting so much confidence in me that it’s funny, really. Y’know there are people I know that do what you’re doing and before you know it, they’re stuck working at 9 to 5 jobs down at Santa Monica instead of retiring. At least you’re...like the same age as me? I won’t fuck your life up that much.” “You’re not gonna fuck up my life. I have a plan for this, Pickles. If the next band doesn’t work out, we can try another. You still have a name-” “A name?” He laughed bitterly, “What name, Charles? The one where the news talk about me with a DUI charge? Or a drug overdose? Or the one who sang for some stupid band with a stupid genre that’s clearly a joke now! Hair metal. that’s what they call it now! What kinda person would take someone who sang for hair metal seriously?” Charles knew he was right. His name in headlines was almost never for anything good. But all it took was one look in him to see that he still had...something. Something that not a lot of musicians had and something he’s probably yet to discover himself, “But you still have a chance, don’t you? You still have a voice to sing with and that should be more than enough to make a new name for yourself. The only person isn’t really believing this is you.” “What do I have to believe in myself for, Charles?” He shook his head as if he had mentally answered his own question, “God, I’m such a fucking idiot. I shouldn’t have let you get dragged with me. I should just go and quit or something. I’ll be saving you a lot more time and money if I just-” The lights flickered for just a moment but a clap of thunder quickly shut them off. Charles cursed under his breath as he went over to one of the switches to flick them on and off. It was completely off, “Guess we’re stuck like this for a while.” “Just fantastic,” Pickles muttered. He finished the rest of his brandy, “Look, I’ll just go. Save yourself the trouble-” “It’s literally pouring out and you’re drunk. I’m not letting you leave,” He answered. He watched his expression and sighed, “But clearly...there are things that you need to talk about, right? I mean...if you really did want to quit music altogether, why did you say yes when I asked to work for you?” He wanted to say it was just because he wanted to humor him. But even then, was it really the answer? He looked down as he shrugged, running his hand through his hair, "I dunno. I guess I thought I was getting a second chance. Some good job I’m doing at keeping that second chance, aren’t I?"

“I think you’re doing well with what you can do. It’s just hard to find a good band to blend with nowadays I suppose,” Charles said. He approached him closer. He wanted to help him but he was scared of having him run off when he was so close to having him open up to him, “But you still have the same potential as you did when you started in the band.” But you clearly need to work out whatever you’re going through just let me help you-

Pickles at least didn’t try to leave and instead agreed to coffee. He sat in the kitchen chair as Charles boiled water on the gas stove. There was a comfortable silence between them as they didn’t say anything and only listened to the relentless rain hitting against the window and the thunder that occasionally sounded. He poured the water and instant coffee to two mugs, letting him use the milk and sugar to his liking which was borderline sweet.

Charles used the rest of the milk for his coffee and threw the carton out. He sat in the chair opposite him, taking a sip of his coffee that quickly warmed him up. Pickles didn’t say anything and he didn’t want to pry so he didn’t say anything either.

“Can I ask you something?” Pickles asked as he stared at the mug. He couldn’t meet his gaze.

“Sure.”

“Why did you wanna work for me? Any other band or celebrity with a cleaner record could easily take you in.”

It was a question that Charles knew would come up inevitably and he had prepared for it in advanced. Prepared professional and cordial sentences that might not mean much but would at least mean something meaningful to Pickles. Though, that was with the implication that they would’ve been in some professional setting. Not in his apartment with Pickles wearing his old clothes and after he had probably poured out more of his feelings than he had intended to. It was only fair he did the same, “Well, to put it bluntly, your music saved my life and I only wanted to return the favor I suppose.”

Whatever Pickles had expected, definitely wasn’t that. He looked up to meet his eyes, green eyes somehow illuminated by whatever light the window gave. “What do you mean by that?”

“I was a teen too when you started with the band. Probably just as angry and misunderstood as you were. Didn’t have a family or really anybody to turn to or much hope for my future. I just never understood when people said that music saved their life. Until I came across that first album and I really understood the feeling. It was made me decide to go into music business though I honestly admit I didn’t expect to ever be working with you until I was assigned your case.”

“And I’m guessing you took it as a sign or something?”

“Something like that. I mean, I would’ve been working for someone who basically shaped my career. It would be ironic, wouldn’t it be?”

Pickles was silent afterwords for a good while. Most likely to take the words in and realize just how much Charles meant it when he promised him he would find him a band and get his career started again. Charles was legit. Charles wasn’t saying this to get something out of him. He was being genuine and it brought in a whole new swarm of thoughts he hadn’t thought of in a long time. He looked at him with a sad smile that told a thousand words even if he said only ten, “I wish we met earlier. We could’ve had fun together,”

He must’ve been lonely, Charles quickly realized. And it was for good reason too; his band members were nearly a decade or so older than him and he most likely never talked with people around his age. As fun as it must’ve been getting to feel like an adult talking with adults, it could get tiring too and sometimes makes one wish they spoke about bullshit to someone their age. He knew that all too well, “Me too. But, at least we know each other now and I promise that it’s only going to get better from here.”

“You really believe in me, don’t you?” Pickles asked.

If the months and money and time Charles did wasn’t enough, he didn’t know what would. He knew that sometimes words just confirmed the actions so he nodded, “Of course I do. I wouldn’t be taking such a risk if I didn’t.”

What he didn’t expect to happen though was for Pickles to being to cry. He had his hands on his face, elbows on the table, and tried not to show he was crying. But his sniffles and tears seeping through his hands easily gave it away. The tears weren’t of sadness and Charles knew that well enough. It was enough though for him to still go over to him and hold onto him tightly. He felt him wrap his arms tightly around him as the cries turned to sobs as he let however many years of pent up feelings and loneliness finally resurface and wash away like the rain.

Eventually, they pulled away. There were no other words that really needed to be said. It was just one look that said what they wanted to say but neither had the words to say it. It was Pickles that kissed Charles. It wasn’t those kisses that were meaningless and full of absolute desperation and hastily made to get on to the point. It was full of a tenderness and warmth that neither hadn’t felt before or for a long way. It was warm and against the coldness of the apartment from the rain and darkness, it was enough.

____

They lied down in Charles’ bed with a blanket covering them. Even if the room was a bit chilly, the warmth from the blanket and each other was more than enough.

“You could always go solo.” Charles said as he stared up at the ceiling.

“I guess...but I’m kinda tired of being in the spotlight. I mean, I like it and all but being at the center of it? Gets exhausting.” “Hm, there’s guitar auditions you can always do. You can always do that,” Charles pointed out.

They know it’s not gonna last. The band, that is. Most likely the band would fizzle out into obscurity and never be remembered within a month.

“True. Probably still have my Les Paul in my apartment somewhere.”

Charles honestly wished he could make him actually be happy. He did know that this was a problem he couldn’t exactly fix. As much as he wished he could be, there was a limit and he was sure he already was nearing it. He could only help as much as he could and be content with it; convincing Pickles to get back into music and letting him take direction in how he wanted to pursue music was one of the only things he could do. Being there for him, not as a manager/lawyer, but as someone who cared for him on a personal level also was something he could do. And he could do both; he was great at multitasking. “For the next band, I wanna play drums. I wanna be in the background this time,” Pickles murmured sleepily as he wrapped an arm around him.

“I’ll look into drum auditions tomorrow,” Charles answered. He would’ve protested at them breaking boundaries, it certainly wasn’t professional, but who conducted meetings in bed anyway? He held onto him, feeling the slight dampness of his dreads that were still not completely dry but didn’t care. Mentally, he reminded himself to find that newspaper he looked at the other day. He vaguely remembered an ad trying to find a drummer for some metal band. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be too late and that they would need a lawyer or manager as well.

The rain was still pouring and the power wouldn’t come back on until just a few hours later. But for at the moment, neither of those things really did matter. They held each other in silence, listening to the rain as eventually they fell asleep.

#kloktober #Caffeinated Insomniac Writings #chickles #metalocalypse fics #Thanks again for requesting this!!!#whumptober #fic #I will post this to AO3 later for now I write something else-#wumbo-calling #pickles the drummer #I had to rewrite some scenes because I completely forgot about the first kiss holy shit how stupid am i #I will refix this in AO3 but for now just enjoy the hastily added paragraph

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third-rail-vip · 4 years

Photo

Wide Awake

Summary:

“It’s quiet out here... too quiet” might be fun to say, but when it’s 2am and quiet as hell in Sanctuary, sometimes it’s just boring.

A sleepless MacCready pays a visit to the only other person who might still be awake.

Notes:

Tumblr fluff prompt: “what are you doing here? it’s late.” I accidentally deleted the ask because i’m an idiot.

Beautiful screenshot of the night sky at Sanctuary very kindly lent by @mutantenfisch

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3873 [AO3 link] [Then I Met You - Series Link]

MacCready couldn’t sleep. Lay in his darkened room, he huffed out a sigh – cigarette smoke mingled with condensation in the cold air. A cursory glance at his watch told him it was pushing 2 am.

What felt like too many hours ago, he’d found a spot in one of Sanctuary’s many unoccupied houses and bedded down on a mattress that seemed to be more springs than anything else, but it would do. He’d slept on worse.

Not that sleep seemed to be on the cards.

Nah, the mattress wasn’t the problem. He just couldn’t settle properly the first night back in ‘civilisation’ after weeks on the road. His nerves were still on edge. He’d barely undressed for bed, only shedding his coat, hat and kicking off his boots. His rifle lay at hand by the mattress, ready for what still felt like the imminent possibility of attack. He’d studied the ceiling until his candle burnt down, then lay in the darkness, not even able to blame his usual turn on first watch for keeping him awake—they’d be well into Ivy’s shift by now.

Not that she’d be awake. She’d be enjoying a quiet night’s sleep, some space to herself and no monsters ready to jump out of the shadows.

Just whatever prowls the dark places in her head.

MacCready shook the thought from his mind; it wasn’t any of his business where his partner went in those glassy-eyed moments when the colour left her cheeks and she looked like she was watching something so real she could reach out and touch it. Something he had no idea how to even begin looking for. All he could do was watch her back if it happened again.

Instead, he busied himself fidgeting with a fresh pack of cigarettes— ‘fresh’ 200 years ago anyway —unable to decide whether he should just lie there and light another or get up and stretch his legs in the hope that the cold night air would either wake him up fully or put him to sleep.

Whatever he chose, he needed to decide soon because the boredom was driving him nuts.

He sat up, suspiciously eyeing the sliver of moonless sky he could see through a hole in the unpatched roof above him. For a boy who grew up in a cave, darkness made him twitchy (not that Lamplight was a dark place, the clue was in the damn name). The thing he’d come to realise about the dark and the quiet was, if you didn’t know any better, it could too easily be mistaken for calm and safe. Once, just once, he’d let himself be taken in by it. And he’d have to live with that for the rest of his days.

These days, not that MacCready would ever admit it, he liked it better if there was just that little bit of light to creep past his eyelids as he drifted off, and maybe a bit of noise too, some sort of show that there was life around him; campfires, candles, even the tinny echo of Ivy’s pipboy broadcasting that jackass, Travis, at all hours would do the trick.

This quiet wouldn’t do at all. Too few distractions. Too much time to think.

Finally freeing a cigarette, he fumbled for his lighter in the darkness, flicked it a few times to no avail. A cursory shake confirmed it—empty. He tossed it aside, tucked the cigarette back into the pack and reached for his boots instead.

A walk it was.

------

The damn door creaked.

MacCready cursed himself for using it instead of the other one, which didn’t even technically have a door in it anymore. Idiot. He’d seen a glow through the window and hadn’t even thought. He’d just walked straight in.

Ivy’s house (the one she’d adopted, anyway) wasn’t like the one he’d chosen to hide away in. It didn’t smell like damp or have holes in the roof. Someone had gone to great effort to get it back to being homely. It still smelled like supper from that evening, leftover veg stew, and the vague scent of-MacCready sniffed-was that carrot flowers? Probably had something to do with that fussy old woman of a Mr Handy unit. He was undoubtedly why there was also a lingering smell of disinfectant.

Ivy had told him that it had stayed there cleaning its old masters’ house for two hundred years. What a loser.

From the meagre moonlight he could just make out the dark shapes of the kitchen counters ( there was the vase of flowers the robot must have decided to put out while playing house in honor of his new mistress’s return home), the rickety dining table they’d decided not to eat their supper at, and the couch that, on the one occasion he’d been stupid enough to throw himself onto it, turned out to be even more uncomfortable than the one in their usual room at the Dugout.

The faint welcoming glow of lantern light from the hallway to the bedrooms almost made him forget his midnight trespassing. He meandered forward – fully intending to announce his arrival– only to boot a water bowl right across the room. He dived forward trying to put an end to the metallic ringing and sloshing, but too late.

“Who’s there?”

Mac knew Ivy well enough to hear the edge of panic behind the warning in that shout. He clamped his hands onto the bowl, finally stopping it rolling, and looked up from his spot knelt in a puddle of dog water.

Ivy darted out from the farthest room, the one where the warm light spilled from, oh, and now he felt bad . She was dressed for bed in the over-large plaid shirt she’d picked up from some trader in Diamond City; something more comfortable to sleep in that her vault suit, she’d said - it hadn’t seen much use, given the amount of time they spent staying in places where it was safer to stay as armoured as possible, even when trying to get a night’s rest. Her hair was all over the place, like she’d been tossing and turning, trying to get settled as badly as he had. Frankly, she looked exhausted.

But only a real dumbass would tell her that right now, because the startled woman, whose house he’d walked into at 2am was currently levelling a pistol straight at his head.

“Woah woah woah! Angel, it’s just me!” MacCready stuck his hands up in the air, giving her a startled grin. He may be used to being on the end of the threat of her pistol—he couldn’t help having a smart mouth—but the actual pistol… that was new. “Is this a hold-up? You want me to hand over my caps?”

Ivy dropped the gun to her side with a muttered curse and flopped back against her doorframe.

“Mac? What are you doing here? It’s late.” Rocking her head back, she let out a shaky breath. “You scared the shit out of me.”

He shrugged apologetically from his spot on the floor, avoiding her question long enough for her to wander forward offering her free hand.

“You can get off the floor now, tiger,” she said with a sigh that edged into a smirk. “Like I could get any caps out of you anyway. Gunpoint or not.”

Now banter he could handle. It was one of his favourite things about her, she enjoyed his teasing and his joking, she even put up with his snarking. Plus, she’d offered him the perfect get out of jail free card to avoid any explanations about why he was there.

He let his gaze flick down the bare legs he was currently eye-to-thigh with, and back up to Ivy’s face, giving her an excessively dramatic eye roll.

“If you’re trying to impress me, it’s not going to work,” he drawled.

She withdrew her hand with a mock scowl and gave him a sharp, but not painful, kick—enough to send him from kneeling to sitting in the puddle of dog water—turned on her heel and wandered back up the hall to her room. With maybe a little more sway to her hips than was entirely necessary.

It was probably safer not to call her on it though, she was still armed, after all. Best just to stay put, watch maybe...

“I was in bed, thank you very much. There were blankets and everything.” She snarked back over her shoulder at him, finally giving a cursory glance as she reached her room before disappearing out of view. “I was just drifting off when I heard this absolute racket. And I thought to myself, it’s not Christmas for a few more weeks, so it can’t be Santa. Not that he doesn’t owe me 210 years’ worth of presents…”

And people thought he was the sarcastic one.

MacCready grinned, getting up quickly and bounding after her up the hall.

He was careful to avoid looking into the darkened nursery as he passed. His first time in Sanctuary he’d found Ivy staring into the room. She’d asked him if he thought they’d ever find that missing boy, Shaun, but he couldn’t answer. The sight of that damn crib haunted him. All he could think about was Duncan and how time was passing and he’d gotten nowhere. He’d just about managed to thickly mutter “yeah, sure”, which didn’t sound overly convincing to either of them, before he had to rush outside and try not to be sick.

Leaning on her doorframe, he peeked round the corner into the room. It was mainly taken up by an old pre-war bed that’d been fixed up like new since the last time they were there. There were clothes, sketchbooks and empty gumdrop wrappers strewn over a dresser in the corner - Codsworth mustn’t be allowed in here, there was no way he’d leave it such a mess. The glow that spilled out into the hallway came from an oil lantern balanced on the windowsill and a single candle, melting its way down on the bedside table.

On the bed was an open comic and more gumdrops. She hadn’t been sleeping either.

“If you don’t think you can get caps out of me, you can be damn sure you aren’t getting 210 presents,” he grinned, but Ivy was too busy rummaging through the dresser drawers to do anything more enthusiastic than throw a sock at him.

He flopped down onto his back on the bed and snatched up the comic and a handful of gumdrop. This bed was a damn sight more comfortable than the crappy mattress he had to put up with, that was for sure.

Grognak the Barbarian and the Jungle of the Bat Babies.

“Meh. I’ve got this one,” he complained as he munched on the candy, continuing to idly leaf through the pages anyway.

“Well if you wouldn’t mind not losing my page…” Ivy shot him a sharp look over her shoulder as she dragged on a pair of tatter jeans.

After weeks of sleeping in foxholes, broken-down houses and on rooftops, privacy between the two of them had become less of an issue, he’d gotten fairly used to catching sight of her trying to wriggle in and out of a vault suit in his peripheral vision, but he still couldn’t help smirking at the idea of the raised eyebrows there’d be around the settlement if they could see them now. He had to stop himself chuckling out loud, wondering what Garvey would think of his precious General having an ex-Gunner in her room in the middle of the night.

Best not to get too smart about the Gunner part… he’d heard about Quincy. Might have been years after his time with them, but that kind of association tainted the way people looked at a man.

Most people anyway.

He glanced over at Ivy who was trying to get her hair to behave. Christ knows why, it’s not like there was anyone to see it. It wasn’t Preston’s fault he kept catching on Mac’s last nerve, it was just… there were only so many times you could hear someone called a ‘good man’ without starting to wonder if that made you the ‘bad’ one. Not to mention the looks—he glanced at Ivy again—the way Garvey would go soft whenever she was helping that handyman with settlement stuff, or any other do-gooder crap. You’d think she was some kind of miracle.

He’d bet every last cap he owned that the man had never seen her pickpocket Gunners or watched those fingers crack a lock faster than any professional he’d ever met, just to break into a guy’s house because he rubbed her up the wrong way. No, MacCready might call her angel, but he was more than aware that she was flesh and blood.

Ivy plonked herself down cross-legged on the end of the bed, entirely derailing his train of thought.

“So, a gentleman caller at this late hour… tongues will wag.” She raised an eyebrow. “Did you just come here to frighten me or did you need something?”

Well now he felt like an idiot. There was no dodging the question this time, and she was watching him intently. Why was he here?

Because he was lonely? Heck no. He couldn’t sleep and he’d gotten used to having someone to talk to? He was bored? This place is too damn quiet and too damn boring. And how the hell could she live here before the war? Surrounded by boring houses with boring people and boring jobs and boring everything , when she wasn’t boring at all…

“I saw your light was on.”

“You couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

“Never can on the first night somewhere.” He gave in and shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage. “Still feels like I need to watch the shadows. Anyway, I gave up trying and figured I’d get some air.”

She considered his statement for a moment. He hoped she wasn’t considering too hard how much ending up in her house probably didn’t count as ‘getting air’.

“Air sounds good.”

Well, he couldn’t say he wasn’t a little disappointed at the turn of events. He’d just been getting comfy, wondering if he could sneakily doze off and then she’d be stuck with the couch - she could usually be relied on to be too nice to wake him if she didn’t have to. But he dutifully put aside the well-thumbed comic, grabbed another handful of gumdrops and waited for her to pull on some shoes and grab a spare blanket before they headed outside.

------

Ivy swore under her breath, something about Boston winters even without snow. She gave an exaggerated shiver and dragged the blanket around her shoulders before joining MacCready in the street. She probably should’ve grabbed a coat, MacCready mused, but she didn’t seem bothered enough to head back into the house. Instead she fidgeted on the spot, looking at him expectantly.

“It’s your walk,” she whispered after a moment, keeping her voice low for fear of waking the long since passed out settlers. He could just about see she was smiling at him despite the shadows of the house. “Lead on, boss. ”

Boss. He rolled his eyes at her, but led the way anyway, meandering slowly up the street towards the end of the cul-de-sac, their footsteps crunching quietly on the broken asphalt as they passed house after darkened house.

MacCready stopped when he reached the tree that dominated the end of the estate, not sure where to go next. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. They could wander the edge of the small island that housed the settlement, but that ran the risk of bumping into whoever was on guard and then they’d be stuck making awkward conversation. They could cross the north bridge towards the vault. No, definitely not. Ivy was one of the few people he knew who wanted to go near a vault even less than he did. Especially that vault. Anyway, they were meant to be distracting each other from lack of sleep, not creating more reasons for it.

Ivy must have noticed the lost look on his face (or just got impatient of waiting) because felt a tap on his arm. She didn’t wait for him to respond before dragging him towards the farthest house. Instead of going inside, she led the way to a ladder propped up against the roof.

“You’ve got your binoculars, right?” she whispered, pointing up the ladder. “After you.”

He gave her a confused look, but patted the pair strapped to his belt, and went ahead and climbed first - offering Ivy a hand when she reached the top. Other than a couple of tall trees, the roof offered an unimpeded view right across the commonwealth down to the coast.

They settled down on the broad roof tiles, feet in the gutter so they didn’t slip down. Ivy had offered to lay the blanket out for them to sit on but after her display outside the house, he wasn’t going to sit there and watch her shiver for the sake of keeping his ass warm. And he told her as much.

“Don’t let anybody tell you I’m not a gentleman,” he grinned after her laughter died down.

It was a hell of a view. Mac scanned the horizon, picking out the familiar shapes that loomed in the darkness; the jagged skyscrapers of Boston’s skyline - lit up by Diamond City’s unsubtle display of lights, the satellite bank out near the coast, and the freeway, snaking across the landscape towards mass pike interchange. That held his attention a little longer than the rest. Just one more item on his list of problems.

But Ivy didn’t seem to notice. She wasn’t even looking out across the vista, she was sat back on her elbows, staring straight up into the night sky.

He leant back too, looking across at her but he didn’t stand a chance of catching her eye, she was completely enthralled. After a couple of minutes he gave up and gently prodded her, “Come back down to earth, spaceman…” It was enough to get her to tear her eyes away from the sky and glance back across at him. A sad smile touched her lips.

“My dad loved looking at the stars. It was kind of his job... along with a lot of math. He taught at a college back home.” She didn’t often talk about before, and he wasn’t sure she’d ever mentioned her family. “You don’t know how lucky you are, seeing the sky like this. People would travel hundreds of miles for a view like this.”

“Seriously?” MacCready stared up, bemused.

“Seriously.” She smiled at him, or maybe through him. Her mind seemed to be somewhere else, but not in a bad way for once. “Have you ever tried to look at the stars when you’re in Diamond City? Even Goodneighbor? It’s far too bright, you can barely see anything. That’s what most places were like before the war. It was all streetlights stopping you from seeing ‘one of the best views in the universe’. That’s what my dad used to say, anyway. He used to drive me, my mum and my brother out into the middle of the countryside on clear nights like this. I swear he’d talk about space all night, if mum let him.”

“Sorry, I went a bit off topic…” She let out a small laugh and shook her head. “I think the point I was aiming for was it’s beautiful.”

“I suppose it is.”

He hazarded a smile in the dark. Starlight suited her. Sat there bathed in the soft glow, wide-eyed and taking everything in as though she was seeing it for the first time, she looked genuinely happy. Completely lost to the world, mind, with no idea of anything else happening around her.

“I’m probably boring you to death.”

“No. Well maybe a little.” MacCready couldn’t resist a chance to tease. “I read about stars when I was a kid. Big balls of glowing gas, yada yada. You said your dad was an expert, show me something I don’t know.”

Ivy sat up, giving him a determined look. Oh good, challenge accepted. “Fine. Give me those binoculars.”

He handed them over and watched her tracing the sky above them, leaning back to look further and further north east until she spotted what she wanted.

“You see that star?” she pointed. “The fuzzy looking one.”

“They all look fuzzy.”

“No they don’t! Come here.” She shuffled right up next to him, still pointing in the direction she was looking.

It took about five minutes of manhandling to get him looking in the right direction. He was having too much fun winding her up by purposefully not paying attention, and laughing too hard when she tried to move him by his chin because it tickled. Eventually, and only after she begged, he stopped still long enough for her to get him looking in the right direction - according to her anyway. To him it just looked like any other star.

“Ok, stay still will you?” This time Mac did his best as she squashed right up next to him, and pressed her cheek against his to make sure they were both looking where they should be. She produced the binoculars again, holding them so they had an eyepiece each, and finally he could see what she was talking about.

“Right, so it’s a fuzzy star?” he muttered from trying to keep his head still. There’d be hell to pay if he didn’t.

“Look again. See the ellipse shape?”

“Yeah, the fuzzy one. What about it?”

“Oh, there might be a couple more than just that one fuzzy little star.” She pulled away and handed him the binoculars, tired, but beaming. “More like a trillion of them, a couple of million light years away. That is the Andromeda Galaxy.”

“No shit- oop.”

MacCready clamped a hand across his mouth in a poor attempt to catch the curse that had slipped past his lips.

“Does that count as something you didn’t know?” Ivy giggled softly, stifling a yawn as she lay back down and pulled the blanket tighter around her. “Damn. I should’ve put some caps on it.”

“Yeah, I’d say it counts,” he grinned. “But trust me, I’ve learned not to make bets against you.”

MacCready lay back, staring at the sky, eyes fixed on that blurry star that turned out to be much more than it appeared. He opened his mouth to quiz Ivy some more, but in the quiet he could hear that her breathing had become soft and even. A glance confirmed it, she was fast asleep.

“Well, I don’t know how I’m going to get you down off this roof,” he whispered, reaching over to tuck an errant curl back behind her ear. “So it looks like we’re here for the night.”

He settled back again, pulling the brim of his cap down over his eyes before resting his head on his hands. This time sleep found him easily, a smile on his face, thinking of a little boy back home who would love to hear all about the stars.

#fluff prompt #mac x ivy #then i met you #ivy kendrick #maccready #robert joseph maccready #maccready x f!solesurvivor #maccready x sole survivor #in this house we love preston garvey - mac is just being a grump and he'll get over it #my writing

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once-upon-a-spemily · 5 years

Text

Like Sugar, So Sweet

Summary: Emily is trying to tell Spencer she’s in love with her, but maybe expressing her love via baked goods isn’t the most obvious method. Hey, they say the way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach!

A/N: I write a lot of Spencer pining, so I thought it was only fair to turn the tables this time. So here, have a pining Emily trying to win Spencer over by baking her lots of treats.

It starts because Emily doesn’t know how to get the message across. She didn’t think she was being subtle, but Spencer seems to have no idea that Emily is in love with her. Emily’s done everything she can think of, really, to drop hints.

She’s asked for help on homework she could’ve done on her own. She’s watched Spencer’s field hockey practices and walked her to her car after school. She’s been touchy, too.

But it’s like Spencer doesn’t even know.

Her grandmother always said the way to a boy’s heart was through his stomach and she figures that must be true for girls, too.

She knows Spencer as a Russian Lit paper due tomorrow, so Emily spends her night over the stove, whisking and mixing and measuring and baking and frosting.

She comes to school the next day with a box of a dozen red velvet cupcakes, each with a perfect swirl of cream cheese icing on top. Her fingernails still have red-dye under the tips but it’ll be worth it, she thinks.

“Spencer!” Emily says, catching up to her at her locker. “These are for you.”

Spencer opens the box and her eyes light up. “Em, these are gorgeous. Where did you get them?”

“Oh,” Emily says, chewing on her lower lip. “I made them.”

Spencer lifts her gaze to meet Emily’s and she just stares at her for a moment, mouth agape. “Emily…”

Emily shrugs, like it was nothing, even though it definitely wasn’t. “I knew you had a rough day ahead of you, and I wanted to cheer you up.”

Spencer closes the box, looks at her fondly. Emily’s heart flutters. “You didn’t need to make a dozen cupcakes for that, you know. Just saying hi is more than enough,” Spencer says. Her fingers tighten around the box. “But thank you. You actually made today survivable.”

Emily opens her mouth. Wants to say of course. Wants to say go out with me. Wants to say a lot of things, really, but the bell rings, and Spencer is grabbing her backpack.

She turns to go to class, stops only to say, “You’re an amazing friend, Em,” and Emily stands in the hallway, with red stained fingers, and she swallows.

It feels like she’s swallowing rocks.

II.

So maybe using baking as a way to tell Spencer she has feelings for her wasn’t the best idea. But Emily can’t think of anything else.

For some reason, the words are too much. She can’t stand the thought of Spencer not feeling the same way, or worse – feeling uncomfortable.

She needs Spencer to know. She just can’t tell her.

Her ideas are few and far between. She’s still brainstorming, or trying to at least, two weeks after the cupcake disaster. She’s at Spencer house, with Aria and Hanna. It’s the morning after a big sleepover and Emily is the first one up.

They didn’t sleep in the barn last night – not since Melissa decided she wanted to redecorate it, it’s been off limits. No, they all crashed in Spencer’s room, not for the first time. They slept in their usual arrangements – Hanna on the window seat, Aria on a pile of pillows on the floor. Emily in bed with Spencer.

Emily didn’t get much sleep.

She’s up and making coffee, mixing pancake batter while she waits for the griddle to get hot.

She hears footsteps and considering it’s only eight in the morning, she knows who it is.

Emily’s heart flips despite herself.

Spencer’s still got bedhead, and she looks so soft, it makes Emily’s heart ache.

“Mmm, coffee,” Spencer mumbles when she sees the pot. “I love you.”

Emily’s stomach drops like a stone but she finds it in herself to smile, anyway. “I know you.”

“I owe you my life.”

Emily laughs, and turns her attention back to the griddle, spooning batter onto it. “I’ll settle for Physics tutoring.”

“Deal.”

Emily rolls her eyes, watching the batter bubble so she knows when to flip. It’s a quiet morning. Just her and Spencer in the kitchen. She doesn’t hear Spencer get up, or walk around the counter. She almost bumps into her when she’s plating up the newest batch of pancakes.

“Oh, god, Spencer,” she says, careful not to drop the pancakes on the floor. “I didn’t realize you were there.”

“Sorry,” Spencer says.

She still hovers as Emily cooks, standing by her elbow, enough that Emily can feel her warmth. The caffeine must’ve not fully kicked in yet, because she’s still Sleepy Spencer. She rests her chin on Emily’s shoulder.

“You didn’t have to make breakfast, y’know,” she says, and her voice is still rough from sleep. Emily wills herself not to shudder. “You’re a guest in my house.”

“I figured at this point we were all more like family, anyway.”

Spencer pulls back, and there’s something in her eyes, something in the set of her jaw. It immediately has Emily wondering what she said wrong.

There’s a long, painful moment of silence and then, finally, Spencer speaks.

“I kind of hate my family,” she whispers. “At least most of the time. But you…”’

She trails off, and Emily doesn’t know what takes over her, but she bunches up Spencer’s pajama shirt in her hand, anchoring Spencer in place so she doesn’t walk away from this conversation. Maybe pulls her even closer, so they’re standing almost together.

“But me?”

“I could never hate you,” Spencer says softly. “Whatever you are, you’re not family. You’re better.”

Emily opens her mouth, thinks that maybe this time, she can say the words, and then she hears thundering footsteps and she lets go of Spencer, takes a step back right as Aria and Hanna come downstairs.

“We smelled coffee,” Aria says, still wiping the sleep out of her eyes.

“I made it Spencer-level-strong,” Emily warns them.

“Booooo,” Hanna says through a yawn. “You’re playing favorites again! Make coffee for the normal people, please.”

Spencer takes mock-offense at that, and a few minutes later, they’re bickering and laughing as they dig into pancakes, and it’s like the moment never happened at all.

III.

Emily is nothing if not determined. She and Spencer both have stubborn streaks a mile wide and Emily refuses to give up that easily.

Not until she runs out of ideas.

Spencer’s AP World History class is currently studying ancient Greece and they’re having some party in class before winter break and they’re all supposed to bring something.

Spencer is in the middle of writing three papers and she has an advanced math test in two days and she’s going to try and spend all night tonight making moussaka or something. It’s one of the things that drives Emily crazy about Spencer – she puts so much on herself and doesn’t stop and doesn’t stop and then is surprised when she can’t hold it all anymore.

It's one of the reasons she loves her, too.

Emily grabs everything she needs for her plan, walks to Spencer’s house and knocks on the door. Spencer opens it and she has her hair all tied up and she looks half-wild, with strands falling out of it. Emily reaches out and tucks one of the strands behind Spencer’s ear before she can help herself.

“I can’t hang out,” Spencer blurts. “I’m so–”

“Busy, I know,” Emily says. She shifts the bag in her arm, drawing Spencer’s attention to it. “I’m here to help.”

Spencer still looks a little suspicious – Emily gets it, Hanna and Aria are notoriously bad at helping, try as they might – but she steps aside anyway, letting Emily into the house.

Spencer hovers as Emily goes into the kitchen, unpacking the items she brought. After a minute, Emily looks up, shooting Spencer a reassuring smile.

“Go. Study. I’m making something for your AP World party.”

Spencer’s gaze flickers up to Emily’s equal parts warm and confused, but eventually she goes to sit on the couch with her notes and her computer.

They spend the night like that. It’s just the two of them, Spencer on the couch, doing her work, and Emily in the kitchen, layering phyllo dough and honey and nuts.

It’s 9:30 at night when Spencer gets up, stretches and walks over to where Emily is standing.

“Smells good,” she mumbles, trying to peer through the oven window.

“It’s Baklava,” Emily says shyly. She’d googled Greek recipes that morning.

That seems to snap Spencer out of her study-fog. “You made baklava?” she asks. She sounds so incredulous that for a moment, Emily is at a loss for words. She feels herself blushing.

“I mean…it’s Greek, right?” she says.

“No, I mean, yes,” Spencer says, still staring at her. “It is. I just…I can’t believe you did that.”

Emily relaxes, a little, and she shrugs. “It should be good. I used this amazing local honey and everything. Here,” she says and she reaches across the counter for the jar, dipping her pinky finger in before she even thinks about it.

The thing is, it all happens in a handful of seconds. Maybe three, maybe five. Emily dips her finger into the honey, she lifts it, Spencer sucks the honey off. Wraps her lips around Emily’s finger, licks it clean. And it’s over.

Five seconds, maybe.

It feels like a lifetime.

Spencer is staring at her, or at least Emily thinks that’s what happening, and Emily opens her mouth to speak when the timer on the baklava goes off.

They pull apart, and Emily pretends the heat on her face is from opening the oven, nothing else.

Apparently, the next day at school, the baklava goes over well.

VI.

She overhears Spencer talking to Aria about this amazing crème brulee she had on her date with Alex a few months back, and how she’s been craving it.

The thought of Alex kills Emily’s appetite entirely, but it also gives her an idea.

Cupcakes, pancakes – those are all basic. Easy. She could make those for anyone, anytime.

She’s currently standing in her kitchen at 11 PM, in her pajamas, with a bowl of custard and a blow torch. This, she thinks, is art. It’s sophisticated. It’s very Spencer.

She sprinkles sugar on top of the custard and turns on the flame.

She goes over to the Hastings’ the next day as soon as she can, knocking on the door.

“Hi Emily,” Veronica says, already gesturing for her to come in. “You know where she is.”

Emily smiles and makes her way up to Spencer’s bedroom. She knocks with her knuckles. “Hey,” she says, watching Spencer’s head whip up at the sound, watching the slow smile creep across her lips, “brought you something.”

“If it’s your algebra homework, I’ll pass,” Spencer teases.

Emily rolls her eyes and hands her a spoon. “This is a little tastier.”

She thinks, but maybe it’s just her imagination, that Spencer’s eyes flick down to her lips. Emily feels her confidence prick up just a little at that, even if it’s just wishful thinking. She reveals the crème brulee.

Spencer stares at the dish, and the seconds stretch out. Emily tries not to feel embarrassed, tries not to flush, but it’s hard, when Spencer drags her gaze up slowly. “Did you…?”

Emily nods. “Yeah,” she says. “For you.”

“For me,” Spencer repeats. Her voice sounds thick. “No one ever…does stuff like this for me.”

Emily’s heart breaks a little, but she scoots onto the bed, putting the dish in Spencer’s lap. “I do. I will.”

Spencer lets out a long, slow breath, and then she nods. “I know you do. You do it all the time. Not just with food. You’re always taking care of me.” Then she looks back at Emily, scooting closer, until their legs are pressed together. “Share it with me?” Spencer asks.

“Okay,” Emily breathes. “But you have to crack it.”

Spencer laughs and does as told, tapping her spoon against the caramelized sugar until it shatters and breaks. They sit on Spencer’s bed, trading bites of the dessert, and Emily tries not to shiver when Spencer moans at the taste.

Emily reaches up to wipe a drop of custard from the corner of Spencer’s lips and she’s just…

Emily is so tired.

She’s tired of people thinking she’s fragile, or not strong enough, or not brave enough. She’s so much more than anyone gives her credit for, and she’s tired of being scared.

“Hey,” she says.

Spencer looks up at her. “Hey.”

“I’m in love with you,” she murmurs. Her voice is steady and sure, because she is steady and sure. She knows she’s in love with Spencer, can’t dance around it any longer. “You don’t…you don’t have to feel the same way, I just couldn’t keep it in anymore. I’ve been trying and trying to tell you but–”

Spencer doesn’t cut her off with a kiss. Doesn’t sweep her off of her feet. No. She leans in, slides one hand over Emily’s jaw, drags her thumb across her lower lip.

“You love me?” she asks.

Emily swallows thickly. “Yeah, I have for a while now.”

Spencer’s eyes drop down to her mouth. “Can I…?”

“Yeah,” Emily breathes. “Please.”

Spencer doesn’t need any more than that, apparently, and kisses Emily like she is the only thing that matters. All of Spencer’s intensity, all of her laser-like focus…it’s all on Emily. It’s all on kissing her.

Emily feels like she’s going to melt.

Spencer crawls over her, lowering Emily onto the bed as she does.

“Want to kiss you, always,” Spencer breathes in between the kisses. “Want to take care of you this time.”

And oh, Emily feels heat curling in her stomach and she deepens the kiss, sliding her tongue against Spencer’s slowly.

Being brave, she thinks, pays off sometimes.

Spencer says the words I love you back, eventually. When their mouths aren’t quite so busy.

Emily spends the night. Spencer can’t seem to keep her hands to herself. She’s touching Emily all night, not even anything dirty necessarily, but it’s not like Emily minds.

It only becomes a problem in the morning, when Emily is trying to scramble eggs, and Spencer is still practically attached to her. She’s got Emily pulled against her, Emily’s back against her chest. She’s drawing circles on Emily’s hip with her thumb.

It makes it very, very hard to concentrate.

“M’gonna burn the eggs,” Emily chastises her.

“We have cereal,” Spencer says, pressing a kiss to the back of Emily’s neck.

“Spence…” Emily whines, which seems to do nothing to discourage Spencer, since Spencer just kisses up the side of Emily’s neck instead.

“You don’t have to cook for me all the time, you know,” Spencer says, when she takes a pause. “You’ve got me now. I’m yours.”

Emily huffs, as if those words don’t make her knees go weak, and she turns off the burner with the eggs still half-runny and turns around in Spencer’s arms, getting a kiss on the lips this time.

“I like cooking,” Emily says. “I like cooking for you. It’s how I can show you I care.”

Spencer’s features soften then, all warm and soft and Emily is giddy with the knowledge that she’s the one getting that look.

“I can think of a few other ways you can show me that,” Spencer says, and she intertwines their fingers together.

The door opens with a bang, then, before either Spencer or Emily can disentangle their bodies, and Hanna and Aria schlep into the house. They pause, look at the compromising position Emily and Spencer are in and then Hanna pushes a bakery box across the table.

“Thank god I got breakfast,” she says. “Clearly your hands were a little busy.”

And then she and Aria sit at the counter, talking about their week as if nothing new happened, utterly unfazed, and Emily giggles in spite of herself.

“Hungry?” Spencer asks.

Emily nods, and they pull up two more stools to the island, still sitting close enough that they can lean against each other as they sip their coffee and dig into the pastries that Hanna brought over.

#spemily #spencer hastings #emily fields #this is. some fluffy shit.#pll #fics

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