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highqueenofelfhame · 3 years

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rowaelin month day ten

rowaelin month day ten -- single parents. masterlist // buy me a ko-fi // redbubble

The morning truly couldn’t have been going worse. Aelin had woken up to the nanny telling her she’d come down with the stomach flu. Aelin wasn’t cruel enough to tell the poor girl she had to work through it; instead encouraging her to drink as much water as she could and get some much-needed rest. Evangeline had apologized profusely, but Aelin was having none of it. She reassured her that she could figure it out.

It turned out she couldn’t. Her mother and father both worked sixty hours a week. Aelin knew that her mother would take a day if Aelin called, but she couldn’t bring herself to make the call and disrupt her week. Evie’s father had died in a car crash before she was even born. Everyone who was a viable option worked full-time jobs, leaving her three-year-old in her hands. She could call out, but she had a mountain of a workload that she’d left last night, reassuring herself she would get it done today. Everything she needed was at her office, so working from home was out of the question. All signs were pointing to an impromptu “bring your child to work” day.

The CEO of the company was a good friend of hers, and Aelin knew that Dorian wouldn’t mind seeing his goddaughter toddling around the office. In fact, she knew that he would eventually steal her away for a snack time at some point so Aelin could get some work done. It would likely be a snack that wasn’t mommy approved, but she would give him a free pass today.

It would be okay, she reassured herself as she struggled to get Evie to cooperate with getting her tiny arms through her yellow long-sleeved shirt. She was mumbling in an indecipherable language as Aelin nodded along, chiming in here and there like she understood every word. The reality was that she only understood a handful of words. One of them was juice, so Aelin made a mental note to make her a full cup of juice for the car ride to the office to keep her happy.

It didn’t take long to brush her hair into the tiniest pigtails to exist, with two little orange bows holding them in place. By the time she was fully dressed in her fall garb, complete with a tiny gray vest so cute that Aelin wanted to cry, she looked like a baby Gap model. Without a doubt, everyone at the office would be cooing over how precious she looked the second they walked through the door.

“Where going?” Evie inquired, her little head tilting to the side as Aelin packed her go-bag full of snacks and an outfit change just in case.

“Momma’s gotta go to work today, baby. You get to come, too. Do you want to see Uncle Dorian?” At the mention of Dorian, Evie’s eyes lit up as a broad smile pushed her chubby cheeks up until her eyes squinted closed. Aelin grinned and kissed her cheeks until she giggled wildly. Thank the gods that Evie was in a good mood today. Some mornings she woke up on the wrong side of the bed, fussy as all get out while Aelin tried to push along their morning. Thankfully today, she was full of smiles and giggles. It would make everything much easier if she cooperated.

After grabbing a sippy cup full of apple juice and shoving the bottle in her bag, making yet another note to put it in the fridge in the break room when she arrived at the office, she swooped Evie into her arms, and they were on their way.

Upon arriving at the office, Aelin was right. The two receptionists immediately fell in love with Evie’s tiny pigtails and her outfit. They cooed over her bright eyes, twins to Aelin’s own. It took longer than usual to make it to the elevator, where even several men commented on how adorable she was. It brought a smile to her face, but it dropped when she thought of her office neighbor.

Rowan Whitethorn was the hardass of the office. She was pretty positive that he hated her, and there was nothing she could do to change his mind. They spent their days arguing back and forth about anything and everything. Some days she was sure that he only did it to get a rise out of her.

Aelin had never seen him smile-- he only scowled. His assistant was constantly rushing around, losing his damn mind trying to meet all of Rowan’s demands in a day. More than once, she’d caught tidbits of his conversations with Aelin’s own assistant, the poor boy begging to swap just for a single day. Aelin could only imagine what Rowan would say about Evie being such a workplace distraction. She was positive there would be complaints about her squeals and giggles that he would hear through the wall.

There was truly nothing she could do, though. Too much needed to be done at work to take a personal day, and Evie was typically well behaved enough to be occupied until her mom got off work and could pick her up.

As she made her way down the hall, everyone oohed and ahhed over Evie. Aelin thanked everyone for their compliments, her heart spilling over with joy. Until she saw Rowan in the kitchen while she put away the juice. He was making coffee and, upon noticing Evie in her arms, an emotion she couldn’t quite place flickered over his face.

“I didn’t know you had a daughter,” he said, eyes going from her pigtails down to the boots on her tiny feet.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” She closed the fridge door and left the kitchen, gone as quickly as she had come. When she arrived in her office, she shut the door and put Evie down, watching as she ran straight for the couch and flopped over the side with a giggle bubbling out of her lips.

The single mother took a few minutes to take Evie’s toys out of her bag, even laying a few puffy snacks out on the table for her to snack on while she played. She went straight for them as quickly as Aelin sprinkled them out of the container. Aelin chuckled as she watched her for a moment, hands on her hips while she decided she was okay to sit at her desk and begin her work.

Evie was surprisingly self-sufficient while Aelin started her daily tasks. She played with the toys her mother provided and munched on her treats. Aelin heard a lot of babbling and a slew of giggles, a loud squeal pulling her from her work as her door opened.

Dorian leaned in the doorway, giving her a running start until he followed, darting across the room to scoop Evie into his arms. He spun her in circles with her legs flying behind her. She was laughing in a way that she only did with Dorian. Aelin seldom got that sound to come out of her daughter, but somehow, she wouldn’t change it for anything.

“I heard tales of a little princess fighting dragons in my office,” he said to no one in particular, but Evie seemed to understand that she was the princess. If there was anything that she liked in this world, it was being called a princess. She understood that word more than anything because Aelin read her fairy tales of princesses every night. Tangled was constantly on their TV, only to be replaced by Beauty and the Beast. They utterly enchanted her, and everyone in her life was constantly calling her a princess. She loved it.

The giggling continued while he tickled her sides and blew raspberries on her belly until the shrieking got so intense he made a face at Aelin and merely brought her into a tight hug as he said, “Sorry. Nanny out today?”

“She’s got a stomach bug. I had no other options; I’m really sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. You know I love any chance I get to see her. I’m not going to penalize you for being a mother, Aelin.” Evie was chomping her teeth near Dorian’s face, causing her best friend to laugh and hold her at arm’s length. “I’ll even take her across the hall for a bit so you can get more done.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” she replied, sighing and leaning back in her seat. Aelin really did have so much to do, to the point that she couldn’t even bring herself to tell him he didn’t have to do that. She would take whatever help she could get.

Her door was left open as he took Evie out into the hall, Aelin noticing that they weren’t going in the direction of his office but rather toward the kitchen. Her eyes rolled as she swiveled in her chair to face her computer and really dive into her work, leaning forward and exhaling a deep breath, willing herself to focus.

Quite a bit of time passed, and she was able to get a considerable amount of work completed. All of her emails had been caught up when Dorian edged into her office and cleared his throat. Aelin looked up, half expecting Evie’s outfit to be ruined by chocolate, but her little ray of sunshine was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is she?”

“I… may have taken a phone call and looked away for two minutes, and she vanished.”

“What?” Aelin was on her feet in an instant, rushing across her office and out into the hall. “What the fuck do you mean? How long has it been?”

“Since I lost her and started looking for her? Half an hour. I was scared to tell you.”

“My daughter has been missing for half an hour, and you’re only just now telling me? What the fuck, Dorian?” She hit his chest rather abrasively as she shoved past him, eyes scanning every room while she ran down the hall. How she was able to do it without toppling over in her heels, she wasn’t sure. All she could feel was the panic from her heart pounding in her chest to the shaking of her hands. The roaring in her ears made everything else sound muffled and distant, like she was standing at the edge of white water rapids. Even with her hands in fists so tight she could feel them shake, nausea building up in her chest.

“Evie?” She called out, a tremor rising in her throat that caused her voice to sound shaky and weak. Tears were pricking in her ears as she turned to run back to her office. She would call down to security to see if they could scan the cameras, and call reception to see if anyone had carried her out. From there, she would--

Her heart stopped beating when she glanced into Rowan’s office. It was the office directly next to hers, and behind his desk, Rowan held a snoozing Evie. Her little fist was gripping the lapels of his suit jacket, and he seemed relaxed while he flipped through papers with one hand.

“What are you doing with my daughter?” Aelin asked, stepping into the door. A few tears of relief slipped down her cheeks, and she was quick to wipe them, lest he make an asshole comment about it.

“I told that little shit to let you know I had her,” he murmured, barely glancing up from his papers. “I think that’s the final straw. He genuinely can’t do the most basic of tasks, I--”

Rowan paused when he looked up from his work. Something soft flashed in his eyes for a split second before he continued, “She was laying on the couch by the kitchen when I found her. She babbled something about Dorian, I think, and when I looked in his office, he was on the phone arguing with someone. You looked busy, and I know you have a lot to do, and when I picked her up, she let out the biggest yawn I’ve ever seen. By the time I’d walked back to my office, she was asleep. I told my assistant to let you know. I’m sorry that he didn’t, and I’m sorry that I didn’t follow up with an e-mail or a phone call. You just seem like you could use the help so you could get work done. I’m sorry.”

Not only was it the most that Rowan had ever said to her in a single conversation, but it was the kindest she’d seen him be to anyone. He wasn’t complaining about the little bit of drool coming out of the side of Evie’s mouth and soaking into his jacket. He was just holding her like he was so at ease with the situation and truly didn’t mind.

“You don’t wear a ring, and I’ve never heard you mention a significant other. Divorced?”

“Widowed,” she replied, sitting in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. Again, his face softened as he looked down at Evie.

“She looks just like you. She’s beautiful.” Ignoring the implications of that comment, Aelin smiled softly.

“Thank you. She is… everything to me.”

“I… I have a daughter, too. Briar. My wife died two years after we were married. Briar is six now, but Evie is… so much less temperamental than B was.” Aelin tried not to let the shock show on her face. Shock that Rowan Whitethorn was a father and shock that they shared a sad history. The curiosity to ask how she had died was strong, but she wouldn’t ask. Sometimes she hated it when people asked how Sam died. It was like opening a wound all over again.

“Oh, she has her days. Don’t let this fool you,” she laughed, dragging her fingers through her hair. “I didn’t know you had a daughter, either.”

Rowan flipped his computer screen so she could see it, and she was welcomed by a smiling little girl with stunning green eyes and brown ringlet curls. Her heart squeezed at the image, Rowan holding her in his lap and grinning so wide he had dimples. Rowan Whitethorn had dimples.

“She’s absolutely adorable.”

“She is.” Aelin smiled again, looking down at her hands and twisting the ring on her left finger that her parents had given her when Evie was born. It was her birthstone.

“You can keep working if you want to. I’ve got her.”

“She’s not bothering you?” There was hesitation evident in her voice as Rowan looked down at the sleeping girl in his arms. He smiled, brushing a few wild strands of hair back against her head.

“Nope,” he said firmly, looking back at Aelin. “Really. You must have a lot to do if you didn’t just call in a personal day. She’s sleeping. It’s okay. I’ll bring her back when she wakes up.”

“I-- okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m positive.” Aelin chewed on her fingernail for a moment before she nodded and stood, walking across his office and toward her own. Aelin paused in the door, looking over her shoulder at the man with such a harsh reputation around the workplace. This man seemed entirely different, a man that was brushing his thumb against her daughter's side while she slept with his shirt in her tiny fist. He seemed so utterly relaxed while he adjusted their position in his chair to keep working. It was almost out of character, his offer. But she wasn’t going to complain.

Rowan Whitethorn may have been the hardass of the office, but maybe he had a soft spot after all. @rowaelinscourt

#rowaelin #rowaelin month #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #tog #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfic #tog fic #tog fanfic #fluff #fluffy #rowaelin fluff #single parents au #briar whitethorn #evie galathynius #writing #my writing #masterlist

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existslikepristin · 3 years

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Please, No Virginity Puns

The most recent thing I posted before tumblr. It was on Choerry's birthday, and I am proud of that.

Tags: TheLounge, Loona, Choerry, male reader insert, it's her birthday!, 100% butt stuff, I ate a thesaurus

~~~~~

It didn’t matter what you had to say anymore. Choerry was already on top of you, nude and keeping you muted with her tongue. How did you get there?

Well, moments prior, you were sitting next to Choerry at your small dinner table. She’s always insisted on sitting as close to you as possible in order to enable near-constant snuggling. It’s gotten a little annoying here and there, but you can’t help but concede to her innocent demands whenever she smiles.

Of course, and not that you’ve ever complained about this, that’s not to say that her demands aren’t always entirely innocent. Most of the time they are, but not always.

That day, for example, you woke her up with breakfast in bed. It wasn’t tradition, but you were just getting her back for the last time she did it for you. And what better day to present her, prone, with a pancake, pulverized potato, and porridge parfait platter… with toppings… than her birthday?!

It can be hard to tell if Choerry is acting or not at times, but you’d like to think that her cartoonish level of enthusiasm for the treat was entirely real. She carried that sunshine throughout the rest of your day, skipping through the park, greeting everybody on the way to, inside, and on the way out of The Lounge, at the surprise party that you helped all of her members get her with, and when she dragged you to her room.

Not a drop of alcohol had touched her lips that night, so it was all the more surprising when she shoved you onto her bed and stated matter-of-factly-but-also-vaguely that she wanted you to put a thing in her butt. Her words came out of her mouth like shimmery soap bubbles.

You had to pause for a moment to process her words. You were certainly up for some sexy times with Choerry. You had anticipated it was going to happen when she put your hand down her pants near the end of the birthday party with no attempt at subtlety. But her exact word choices had you rubbing your temples out of exasperation, even as she stripped herself down to her ridiculously cherry red lingerie.

Your chance to admire that rare view was lost to history, however. She removed the lingerie from her body while she claimed your lips. Your disappointment at not getting the opportunity to remove it yourself quickly faded when she popped back up though.

Her breasts were as perky as her attitude, and also your dick. She was quick to notice the latter and made quick work of your clothes too. She sighed satisfactorily at the sight of your sword and stooped to supply it with a suck and some slickening slobber, so you suspected the sex was starting summarily; more swiftly than standard, it seemed.

Concerned for her well being, you made sure to ask if she had lube available. Again, you weren’t going to complain about her gusto, but she lacked the anal experience that some of your mutual friends had, at least you assumed. Sure enough, there was a bottle mere feet from her reach in her drawer. She grabbed it and jumped back on top of you, pouring it generously over her ass crack and your cock with surprising accuracy for someone so engaged with a hot and heavy kiss.

You were sure you had something to say on the matter. Perhaps some additional words of caution, maybe some other words of encouragement. It didn’t matter what you had to say anymore. Choerry was already on top of you, nude and keeping you muted with her tongue. How did you-- come back around to the exact same thought that the story began with?

“It’s okay, right?”

You attempted to blink away your stupefaction. “O-okay?”

“Mhm! For me to… you know!” She leaned in and whispered directly into your ear, “Put your penis in my butt.”

Ah, yes. The demand that you had nearly forgotten in her flurry of kisses, now slightly reworded to include your dick in the equation. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Just checking!”

“We’ve… done this before.”

“I know!” Choerry swooped back in to continue kissing you, implying that she had no intention of expounding further. Her fingers wrapped around your cock, massaging the whole length to ensure that the lube had maximum coverage.

Your breath caught as you felt her readjusting you, tapping you around between her legs as she tried to match you up with her intended target purely via exploration. Your cock was ground between her ass cheeks, the tip slid over her clit, and dipped briefly into her pussy. A groan was the only complaint you could give to only being given a half second of her fantastic heat.

You didn’t have to wait long to get it back. Her ass opened up to the pressure she applied against it with your dick, but exceptionally slowly. Choerry released a series of little exclamations into your mouth as she pushed. She tossed the lube bottle to the side and snatched your hand, curling her fingers into your palm.

Finally, the last pop came, and was followed by a short slide. With no more manual guidance necessary, she grabbed your other hand as well, which promptly slipped out of her grip considering the amount of lube present.

Choerry released you from your kissy bliss to look at her slippery hand, a mixture of anger and amusement on her face. She tried a couple more times to hold your hand with it, but you liked this look. You easily slithered your hand out from under hers every time she slapped down. It was like watching a cat trying to catch a laser pointer.

It was just another reminder that no matter how deep inside Choerry you may physically be, she’ll never stop bringing a goofy-ass smile to your face.

Finally, you relented and entwined your fingers with hers, locking your knuckles together so you wouldn’t fall apart. She glared down into your eyes, but a grin still crept through. “Thank you,” she said, lips tight and nose scrunched up.

With you fully in her grasp, Choerry straightened herself up, allowing you the opportunity to look up and down her sublime figure. Though her movement caused her to cause you to penetrate her a bit further which caused her to flinch slightly, she kept herself aloft on her knees to not go too far all at once. She closed her eyes and took a series of deep breaths there, as calmly as if she was meditating.

As much as you wanted to go ham on her ham, you didn’t want to hurt her, so you contented yourself with watching her chest rise and fall. “Happy birthday…” you whispered.

“You’ve already told me that today,” Choerry intoned, eyes still closed like she was drifting off into her own little world.

You laughed. “I was saying it to myself! Have you seen you?”

She smiled again, and said three words in a voice that made it seem like she was speaking to an audience on the edge of their seats, “Okay, I’m ready.”

Her fingers constricted around yours, so you questioned if she was, in fact, ready. But you wouldn’t be the one to stop her.

Choerry’s tight tush trucked its way toward the top of your tower twice to tighten her take on the task at the time, before torturously trending testicle-ward. She temporized without taking your entire tool.

So hypnotized were you with her graceful movement that you didn’t even notice the frustrated moan coming up your throat until it was too late.

Her eyes popped open. “I’m sorry!” She sounded like she meant it, too. “This is… tough.”

“Take your time,” you said, straining your voice for comic effect.

“Could have used that four paragraphs ago,” she said, continuing her extremely slow descent down your shaft.

The odd statement distracted you just long enough for Choerry to finish her drop. No longer did space separate your pelvises. You grew concerned again when she winced and bit her lip from the inside.

“Choerry, we really can do something else. Don’t hurt yourself please.”

She gave you an exaggerated, indignant gander. “Rhetorical question: Who gets to choose the cake on her birthday?”

You held in your “cake” joke.

“It’s me,” Choerry’s voice was far too chipper to make this talking-to sound as stern as you were sure she wanted it to come across as. “As birthday lady, I get to pick the cake, and I get to feed it to you if I want to.”

You held in your “cake feeding” joke.

“And tonight, the cake I pick is my bum.”

You opened your mouth to comment on her most excellent selection of the word “bum” in the midst of a scenario where your cock is fully inside of said bum, but you instead gasped a sharp breath.

Choerry ground forward, pulling your dick with her and anointing the lowermost part of your stomach with the juices being lightly sprinkled from her clit.

“Besiiides,” she continued, re-angling her hands to she could tickle the backs of yours, “We have all the lube! Even some that’s got a certain special flavor to it!”

“Just some?”

“Yeah, ooh,” she crooned, apparently quite enjoying the grind back down your pelvis, “I didn’t get it all at once. Now guess the flavor!”

You waited for her grinding to pause again to be able to think straight, “Does it start with a ‘C?’”

Her smile grew. “Yes!”

“Is it a fruit?”

“Yes!”

“Is it… cherry?”

“Failure!”

“Wha--”

“It’s coconut!”

If you weren’t so established in your hand holding with Choerry, you’d have palmed your face. Thankfully, thoughts of how she could have possibly expected you to guess that were pushed to the back of your mind as she resumed her removal of your breath with a series of fanciful body rolls.

Finally fucking her fanny felt fictional. For while not the first foray there, far-fetched was the philosophy that it was fielded often, the front being the favored fornication fissure for the foreseeable future. Unless, of course, you could make this an especially special session.

But woe was unto you. Choerry had the upper hand(s) figuratively as well as literally. But, perhaps, you thought, this was exactly what she wanted and you could wait your damn turn to take control.

And you liked letting her anally probe herself this way, so, you know, what were you to do but enjoy the ride?

Over the course of her self-imposed ravaging, Choerry’s meditative breaths became ragged. Her eyelids fluttered at regular intervals. Through it all, she held her phantasmagorical demeanor. A couple of times she reached for the lube bottle and shotgunned it somewhat inaccurately between her legs, but it did the job. You were happy to see that she was still considering her own comfort.

In fact, to your surprise, her mouth opened wide in a silent shout. Her core trembled anticipatorily. Her hands held yours with a colossally increased lewdness. And those two mystical words trickled from her tongue with a high-pitched susurration, “I’m… cumming…”

Choerry’s grinding came to a grinding halt. Her body jerked and she fell onto you. Your cock sprang free of her ass in, and as a result of, the same motion.

You untangled one of your hands to stroke her back in the most adoring fashion you could muster. After chewing on a thesaurus for the prior hour, you were sure neither of you really needed any more words.

She stayed there for a spell, and you were happy to let her. It was so late it was nearly no longer her birthday, but her birthday it still was. She deserved the rest, along with the rest of your undivided attention.

Her whole movement consisted of her back going up and down as her lungs attempted to revive her fighting spirit, and her thumb lovingly shifting over the divinatory lines on your palm. You wished she would do something about her hair plastered on your chin, but ninety-nine percent of paradise is paradise enough.

You were disappointed when Choerry rose once more, slimily straddling your stomach. She detached her hands from yours to give the hair on either side of her face a good backward flick over her shoulders, and she sighed with contentment.

It was a shock to hear her speak again after such a prolonged reticence, but her unerringly cheerful voice was entirely welcome nonetheless.

“More please.”

You couldn’t then, and you still can’t help but concede to her innocent demands. Her smile just touched the corner of her lips. Sure, some of her demands aren’t so innocent, but… How did you get here again?

#loona smut #kpop smut #choerry #male reader insert

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kaseyskat · 3 years

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HEY REMEMBER THAT DRABBLE U ASKED FOR FOREVER AGO????? HERE IT IS, DIDN'T EDIT :)

The throne room was dark. Everything seemed to be covered in gray tones as the room was silent. It was a vast space, but it couldn’t feel more suffocating. Even when there were only four people in the room. Sasha, Anne, Andrias, and that thing.

Sasha glared at it. Her hand tightened around the handle of her blade, the creature just glanced at her. Grinning as it faced forward again. Sasha huffed in annoyance as she turned away. Anne stood on the other side of the throne, both girls standing guard as Andrias knelt before Mar— it.

The old king was rambling about plans, but Sasha never paid attention to him. They didn’t like when she was listening—and they always knew when she was—so they would punish her. Except, it was never through her, they always hurt her friends in her place. It’s how it kept them in line. Sasha knew Anne and Marcy were under similar orders. That was the deal after all.

Behave and you get some time with Marcy.

They tried the whole uprising thing, fighting back. That didn’t work. They weren’t some damn protagonists, they were kids. Kids who got more than they asked for. And a long time ago Sasha would’ve been mad at Marcy, and she was, but that time has long since passed.

Now everything was about staying together and staying alive.

Even if it meant leaving the frogs and toads.

That… still hurts.

She can’t imagine how much pain Anne is in for leaving the Plantars.

“Sasha.”

The blonde glanced up, eyes meeting Anne’s as the girl pointed at the creature. It was standing, waiting with a bored expression, “Come strength. It is time.”

Sasha quickly scanned the room, Andrias was gone. When did he leave? She quickly stepped in line beside Anne, the trio walking up to their room. It never had any problems staying with them, it knew Sasha and Anne would never hurt Marcy.

The door closed and locked after them as they all piled into the large room.

“I will see you tomorrow.”

Sasha and Anne nodded, and it was gone. Sasha swooped in catching Marcy as the girl stumbled, blinking the orange away. Anne was already setting the pillows on the giant bed.

“So,” Marcy breathed out, a small pained chuckle as Sasha and Anne moved her weary body to the bed, “didn’t cause too much trouble right?”

Anne snorted as Sasha snickered, “You’re always trouble.”

“But we got you.” Sasha finished. It was a code for the three of them, realistically Sasha knew it wouldn’t stop it from lying, but it helped. It helped feel like they still had control of something.

“I’m changing first.” Anne mumbled as she moved to the bathroom. Sasha looked down at her own black armor, save for a pink gem at the center of her chest plate. It looked nothing like her old armor, and felt much more clunkier. And cold.

“Are you going to change to?”

“In a bit.” Sasha mumbled as she rubbed her cape. The cloth was much rougher.

The girls fell into silence. Marcy tried to blink back sleep, it was always pushing her so hard now.

“Get some rest.” Sasha whispered, running a hand through Marcy’s hair.

“Not yet. Anne has to be here too.”

Sasha only nodded. At this point they were just happy to have each other. They couldn’t have much more anymore.

The blonde took off the metal and the cape, she never fully changed like Anne. She didn’t want to pretend everything was okay.

Anne came out of the restroom in pajamas, if Sasha let herself she could pretend it was just another sleepover. But she couldn’t.

People have died. They lost the war. Marcy was only around a few hours. They couldn’t joke like they used to. They were prisoners to the enemy. Forced to work with it if they didn’t want to lose each other. Nothing would be the same.

“Sasha?”

The blonde snapped out her thoughts as she glanced at Anne and Marcy. Both girls stared worriedly as they waited for her. Sasha only offered a small smile as she slid into her spot next to them. One arm around Marcy and one hand holding Anne’s.

For a moment the only noise was their breathing. A sound Sasha swore she would never take for granted again.

“Do you think we’ll ever be free again? That we can have normal lives again? Or...” Marcy’s voice drifted off, a sniffle ringing out, “I’m sorry.”

Sasha slowly rubbed circles on Marcy. A long time ago she might’ve made speeches of hope and encouragement and freedom, but those were just empty promises now. Just lies.

“We forgive you.” Anne replied, her voice shaky, “We’re together.”

Sasha shut her eyes. We forgive you, because it wasn’t okay or fine or good. They just weren’t mad. And in all honesty, together itself is a miracle. Sasha took a shaky breath, just focus on what they have, not… not the other stuff.

At some point Sasha must’ve slept because she was startled awake. The wall to their room exploded. The blonde rolled off the bed as Anne and Marcy also ducked for cover. Smoke coated the air as silhouettes jumped in.

“We need to find them!!”

Oh shit.

“We’ll get them out. Now let’s see who is here.”

Oh no. No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no.

Sasha’s breath caught in her throat as the smoke settled. There standing in the opening were the Plantars and Grime. Sasha heard Anne gasp. The amphibians, for their part, also gaped. No one moved or made a sound.

Until it spoke.

“Take them down or be punished.”

Sasha’s hands began to shake, tears pooling in her eyes as she grabbed her swords facing Grime. She couldn’t be the reason her friends got hurt. Distantly Anne did the same facing the Plantars. Grime only stared at her gobsmacked. Looking between the blade, herself and it.

The toad glared at it. Sasha took a shaky breath as she got in a battle stance.

“I’m sorry.”

Sasha charged.

IBBY THIS IS SO GOOD BUT IM SHSJKHKSKFKGKBKXLCKBK

#on the floor #im gonna be thinking about this all night thanks #sashannarcy #marcy wu #anne boonchuy #sasha waybright #kasey answers

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puckngrind · 3 years

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Leave Her Wild: Chapter 17 - N. MacKinnon

Summary: MacKenzie hires Drew while Nate's season seems to ramp up.

Warnings: smut, swearing, human emotion, mention of injury, pandemic, I'm forgetting things as I didn't actually edit this.

Word count: 4,002

Series masterlist / Puck ‘n Grind’s masterlist

March.

Nathan’s strong forearms warp around Kenzie’s blanket. His lips find her temple. She moaned at his presence but kept typing away.

“Why are you out here and not in my bed?” Nate hops over the back of his couch to lay next to her. She looks over at him with a smile.

“Need to get the contract out.” Kenzie whispers her hands about the only thing exposed from the blanket burrito she created for herself. Nate’s hand tries to find the opening.

“Just tell me if you have anything under here or…”. Nate bites his lip as his finger tips find her unclothed core.

“Nathan Raymond!” She squirms lifting her hand to swat at him. “I need to finish this contract.” She leans down to kiss his depressed looking lips.

“You are actually letting me see it. That’s a first.” Nate eyes her screen then rolls his head to watch her.

“It’s Drew’s. You are gonna know anyway so it’s not a secret. He’s going out east to shadow me while you are in LA again.” Nate nods. “When I’m done you can press me against that window if ya want.” Kenzie clicks her tracking pad a few times. Nathan’s face shocked by her statement. “Mr. MacKinnon, your mouth is gonna catch flies if it remains open.” Kenzie barely takes her eyes away from the screen.

“I… I… Holy shit did you just? I mean. Damnit. I fucking love you.” Nate sits up. “You are forever keeping me on my toes Kenz. Never know what you are gonna say.” He gets up.

“I didn’t mean you had to move. I’ll be done in like 20 minutes. Please, stay.” Kenzie looks over at him. Her curls pointing in every direction imaginable.

“Well, that was hot as fuck and the only thing I’m gonna think about for the next 20 minutes so I’ll go play a video game and try to forget for now.” He kissed her lips making sure his hand was covering over his erection. Kenzie giggled at the sight of it. “You did that. You. I’ll be forgetting about the image you planted in my brain over there in the corner.” Nate grabs his discarded sweats from the night before as he walks away. Kenzie watches intently then goes back to working quietly humming to herself as she does.

She could hear Nate’s gaming rhetoric as she shut her laptop. With the blanket still fully around her, Kenzie toed towards him. He definitely didn’t hear her with his gaming headphones on. She in one swoop straddles him.

“Oh fuck. Kenz.” Nate’s eyes go wide. “Yeah bro, it’s my girl. I’m out.” Kenzie turns her head to see the live stream and the comments blowing up. Nate reaches around her taps a few things then removes his headset.

“You were…” Kenzie gulps and feels the heat in her cheeks.

“Streaming. Sorry, yeah. I should’ve told ya.” Nate’s hands graze down her back to rest on Kenzie’s hips. “Thankfully the blanket covered all of your body.” Nate’s lips attach to her neck.

“I… Nate…” Kenzie’s brain was running in overdrive as she tried to process.

“It’s okay. No one saw anything and there were only a few watching. Plus most everyone knows I have the best girl in the damn world.” Nate pulls Kenzie’s tense body into his chest. “Is your promise from earlier off the table now?”

“I turned on the fireplace so the windows wouldn’t be so cold.” Kenzie whispered the shock still apparent in her voice. “Do people record your streaming? Do you?”

“Sometimes. It’s super early and I didn’t announce anything so mainly just some Europeans stuck at home.” Nate’s words were comforting. “I mean, I don’t hate that they know you cannot get enough of me.” His laugh radiates.

“Funny Nate. That thing is off, right?” Kenzie turns her attention to his gaming set up. Nate nods. She slinks down to her knees pulling his boxers and sweats off with a little lift from Nate. Kenzie’s hand grabs the base and looks up at him. His eyes trained on her every move. Kenzie’s lips find the tip as she makes her tongue and hand meet. Kissing back up until she takes him fully in her mouth.

“Oh Babe.” Nate grips the sides of his chair while Kenzie works him. Her cheeks hollow then pops off him. She looks up with a smile.

“Shall I continue or do you want to finish over there? As promised…” Her finger motions to the wall of windows. Nate stands picking Kenzie up as he does. “Well that’s my answer.” She giggles as Nate grunts.

He presses her back to the window. Kenzie looks to the side to see the street below. Not a sole in sight being it was so early. Nate’s lips sucking on that spot above her collarbone that made Kenzie weak.

“No one can see us. There is a mirrored film on the outside, member?” Nate’s hands shift Kenzie’s weight easily making her shout out. “Now I can let you go and take care of business or….”

“Fuck me Nate.” Kenzie interjects. “Please!”

Nate shifts their bodies again so he can lower her right on his cock. His hips shift causing both to moan.

“You feel amazing Kenz.” Nate whispers in her ear as his hips snap again. “Please tell me you are close” he begs. Kenzie doesn’t say anything but wiggles her fingers in between their bodies to find her clit. Nate places one hand on the glass keeping the other at her ass to make sure she doesn’t fall. The two worked together to hit their highs. Kenzie’s back squeaked on the glass making the couple breathlessly laugh.

“How about we shower then go back to bed for a few?” Nate wraps his arms around Kenzie and stands up with her still attached to him.

“I can walk damnit.” Kenzie wiggles trying to use the sweat in her favor.

“Just let me carry you, my Love.” Nate kisses her to stop the protest.

"Do you think your cleaning lady will know that's my ass print on the window?" Kenzie looks back at the outline of her back on the window Nate just had her pressed against.

"I'll wipe it down later." Nate kept walking back to his room with a laugh.

The world seemed to be crumbling around them when March rolled in. Everything in the news was about shutdowns, the CDC recommendations, and what could happen in the US. Kenzie was packing up for her trip to New York where Drew was shadowing her.

"Maybe you should just cancel your trip." Nate watched her move from her luggage on laying next to him, to the closet then bathroom.

"Maybe I shouldn't go?" Kenzie placed her hands on her hips and looked down at him. It as about the only time she towered over him.

"Yeah, have you seen the news? You are going into one of the busiest cities for a meeting that you could do over a phone call." Nate looks up at Kenzie's not so happy face. "Kenz?"

"Why don't you not go to what, Vancouver, San Jose, and LA? What happens if you get stuck in Canada, eh? Your Canadian citizenship means shit to my country?" Kenzie bites her tongue in anger.

"Kenz, that's not what I meant." Nate shuffles to his feet and pulls Kenzie's tense body into him. "I meant, I'm worried about you. That's all." Nate brushes her curls out of her face.

"I'll be fine Nathan." Kenzie looks up at him, the annoyance still in her eyes.

"I know you will be fine. You are the strongest woman I know. You know what your dad told me when I first met him, right?" Nate moves so his forehead was pressed against hers.

"Nope." She pops the p remembering the conversation but not wanting to admit she was listening in.

"He told me to leave you wild. Let you be you. Don't try to change you or conform you to what I want. He told me that if I don't want you for you, I need to find someone else." Nate moves his hand to her jaw. "Here is the thing, I've done that. Well I think I have..."

"You have." Kenzie whispers.

"But I want to think that you need me sometimes. Would love if you sometimes let me take care of you. To let me be worried about you going to a giant ass city when a global epidemic is happening around us." Nate runs his thumb across her cheek as he lifts up to look MacKenzie in the eyes.

"Pandemic. And I do." She tilts her head into his hand.

"Do you?" He squinted. His hand sliding to the back of her neck.

"I do. I love you. You have let me be me and we've grown together, have we not?" Kenzie turned the questions back to him.

"We have. And if you want me to not play, I can stay back." Nate's fingers creep up her scalp.

"Nate, I would never ask you to not play for me." Kenzie leans into his touch. "Now if you don't stop I'd need to repack that bag because it will be knocked off the bed." Kenzie closes her eyes. Nate leans in to kiss her. The same way he kissed her in Washington when they weren't even dating yet. The way he kissed her when words weren’t enough. Like he was never letting her go. "Nate." She mumbled biting at his lip. His lips slowly pull away.

"Fine. I'll finish that later." He hums then hops back on the bed to watch Kenzie pack.

Drew and Kenzie flew into JFK as Nate and the Avs flew into Vancouver. She prepped him the whole flight, taxi ride, and dinner. Drew only got a break when they watched Nate play and lose in Vancouver. The late game and work caused both of them to fall asleep before the end. The next morning, Kenzie kicked Drew out to his room across the hall so they could have their first morning meeting that lead to the bigger one on Monday. After the meeting, Kenzie took off down the street without a word to Drew.

"Where are you taking me now? Do you realize it's Saturday? Talk about baptism by fire. Damn." He shouted with a laugh.

"This way. Lunch! Aren't you hungry?" Kenzie looks up then pulls her curl in between her fingers as she determines which way to go.

"Starving... but I always am." Drew grabs her hand. "Mac, slow down!" He pulls her towards him as a bike cuts the corner hard. Swearing as they do.

"Thanks Drew! I haven't been in the city in awhile." She looked both ways then popped into a small bodega.

"This is a grocery store." Drew tries to stop her again.

"Yup, this way." She points to a door that leads to a small restaurant that resembles Gus's pizzeria. She nods at the cashier then slips into the booth.

"Well that meeting was interesting." Drew finally blurts out.

"Yeah, think you can handle Monday? They might ask us to stay Tuesday too. Just depends really. You can back out. I'll find another position for you..." Kenzie bites her lip as her mind and eyes race.

"Mac, I'll be fine." Drew placed his hand over Kenzie's hand.

"Oh, yeah." She flicked at his palm. "Do you want to be called Andrew or Drew? I strictly go by MacKenzie if these type of meetings." She swished around her water in the glass looking at Drew's face.

"Drew is fine and I'm sure I'll fuck up and call you Mac. I'm gonna apologize now for that." He shifted his attention to the window and street. "How do you find these places by the way?"

"Gus taught me well and years of travel make me want to explore beyond the mainstream." Kenzie snapped her fingers at him to refocus on the meeting strategy they had.

"Boss lady Mac is maybe even tougher than running mate..." Her phone rings and Drew stops talking.

"Hey Nate!" Kenzie winks at Drew.

"Happy to report that my Canadian ass is back in the states." Nate chuckled, Kenzie could hear the chirps around him.

"Well I'm glad but you could've just texted me, ya know?" She bit her lip and Drew rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, just needed to assess how your meeting went and text doesn't help." Nate admits.

"Well. Drew is a pro but don't tell him that." She wrinkles her nose at him.

"Well tell him I said hello and to take care of my girl while you are there. I'll call you after we get off the ice in San Jose. Love you." Nate's voice was low and muffled.

"Love you too Babe." She hangs up the phone with Drew making gagging noises.

"I thought the honeymoon phase was over with the heart eyes and stuff... yet I just witnessed that. To the group chat!" He pointed up his finger as he started to text. He flicks his finger on his phone a few times with a crease in his forehead.

"Um, have we forgotten how to spell? M-o-s-i." Kenzie mocks.

"No, remember how to do that I just have a jump in my social media following. I maybe get one a week and it's usually someone wanting me to join their bitcoin team." Drew didn't look up from his phone.

"Hmmm. Well it could be a few things. You are now on my team's website and there was an announcement sent out to all current clients." Kenzie pulls her curl again letting it bounce in her face. "Let's finish eating and then head back to the hotel. M'kay?"

Monday's meeting was there before Kenzie and Drew knew it. Wild flowers showed up at her hotel room door with a note from Nate. She breathed them in then looked at the time. No way he would be up on the West coast and she knew he would answer if she texted him. The meeting was at two so she knocked on Drew's door to take a run. She giggled when he was already dressed to go.

"I know you Mac. Nervous energy means extra runs. Let's go. Could we do some site seeing on this loop?" Drew started at the stairs with a laugh that echoed.

"Shhhh! I like this hotel and they WILL ban me if you act up!" She hip checked him through the door. The city almost seemed abandoned for the Big Apple. Kenzie lead them bobbing and weaving through different areas so Drew could see the sites. She made him run up and down the library steps and snapped a picture when he did the Rocky move at the top. They were relaxed which is exactly what they needed.

The meeting went smoothly. Drew charmed the executives as Kenzie hit home the main points. She was thankful when the handshakes at the end were happening that she even had the idea of Drew joining her team. It was the right choice. She Facetimed Nate who was done with morning skate. Drew piped in to assure Nate they would stay up to watch the game even with the late start. Nate made Kenzie promise if she was tired or got wind they would need to meet the board again that she wouldn't stay up. She crossed her fingers and nodded before they said their goodbyes.

She knew the board would want to meet with them again. She was glad they booked their flight home Wednesday morning even though Nate would be home Tuesday. The email came right before puck drop.

"Tomorrow, 3pm. Same place." She plopped on the bed next to Drew. "How's the New York pizza?" She watches as he shoves more in his mouth.

"I still don't know how you do it with the food but this is amazing." Drew points to the screen. "I see your man." Kenzie's eyes find Nate easily. The focus had been on him. She loved seeing how cool and collected he was under presser. The calculated Nathan MacKinnon knew exactly how to get his team where they needed to be.

"They really do like talking about him, don't they?" Kenzie asks more as a rhetorical question.

"You know if Gabe doesn't resign he'll be Captain, right?" Drew answers.

"Where did that come from?"

"I've been doing some reading. That's all. Interesting stuff out there in the hockey media world. Lot's of what ifs. It's fascinating." Drew shrugs his shoulders. The two banter as the game goes on. In the second period Kenzie jumps off the bed.

"Where is he?" She gets close to the television searching.

"His line isn't out." Drew comments.

"NO! He's not on the bench. Have they said ANYTHING?" She looks over at Drew is scrambles to get his phone in his hand. "OH MY..." Kenzie puts her hand over her mouth as the announcer notices Nathan's absence on the bench. "Did he get hurt? He doesn't just leave. I need answers!" Drew's hands come to the side of her shoulders.

"Let's sit down and listen to them talk. I'm googling. Go ahead and text Nate. If he's in the room he might answer or someone else might." Drew moves with his hands still on Kenzie's shoulders. He has her sit on the chair then turns up the volume on the tv.

"The replay shows nothing out of the ordinary. Has he been dealing with anything?" Drew looked over. Kenzie felt all the blood leave her face.

"No, not really. I mean, bumps and bruises. A scratch here and there but nothing he's told me." She starts to type out a text as her phone rings.

"Hey Babe." Nate's voice is strained.

"Are you okay? Why are you not on the ice? I... I... I..." Kenzie starts to stand to pace.

"I'm okay. Can you hand the phone to Drew, Baby? Please." Nate grunts. Drew takes the phone from her hand.

"Yeah. For sure. Okay. Anything else? Yeah, that works. Don't worry about it. Hold on." Is all Kenzie heard before Drew was handing her the phone back.

"I love you and I'll see you soon. Okay?" Nate goes to end the call.

"I love you too Nate." Her eyes go wide as she sees Drew typing away on his phone. She ends the call and looks up at him.

"So I lied to your boyfriend." Drew announces. "Do you think I can handle this meeting alone?" He doesn't look up.

"What do you mean lied?" Kenzie waves her hand in his face knowing she doesn't have the strength to take his phone out of his hands.

"Well, I promised I'd keep you here and make sure you put your job first. He's heading home tonight and has a doctor's appointment first thing in the morning." Drew looks up.

"What the what?" Kenzie's mouth dropped open.

"Do you think I can handle the meeting?" Drew's voice was stern.

"I mean, yeah. It's to get to know you. And really, would be good to see you standing on your own." Kenzie breathed through her nose.

"Good. So pack what you need and I'm taking you to the airport. I just booked you a redeye back to Denver." Drew flashed his phone at her.

"You did what?" Kenzie feels the emotion in her throat.

"What do we need to pack here? What can I take or need? Let's move it Mac." Drew claps and the two step into gear.

Her flight felt like eternity. She found Mosi and a very tired Remy waiting for her at the airport. She hugged them both tight.

"Their flight should be getting in now. Where are we taking you?" Mosi squeezes Kenzie's hand.

"His place. I have a key." She whispered. The whole ride to Nathan's condo Remy and Mosi filled Kenzie's head with crazy stories. Mosi has so many classroom stories she could write a book. Remy had gone home for Mardi Gras and was reminiscing about the good times and when he first took Kenzie.

"Good luck Kenzie Lou." Remy wrapped her up and kissed the top of her head.

"Let us know if you need anything." Mosi assured her as Kenzie backed up from the car.

She made her way up to his place. It was dark so she knew she beat him. Placing her bag in his room she returned to the door opening. In walks Tyson and Cale with Nate staggering between them.

"Boys, I got him." She appeared out of the darkness of the hall. Tyson smirked at her. Nate's sad eyes couldn't quite focus on her. She closed the distance and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Hey." She whispered.

"Why are you here?" Nate raises his eyebrow.

"You." She pecks his cheek and says her goodbyes to the boys. "Now, this injury. Is it hockey or sex related?" She smirks.

"Kenz!" He shakes his head at her.

"Both?" She laughs.

"I told Drew you needed to stay." Nate hobbles towards the hall.

"And we decided I needed to be here." Kenzie moves his arm around her neck while her arm slinks around his waist.

"Kenzie. Seriously, it's not that bad." Nate argues.

"Says the man limping."

"Yeah, yeah." Nate stops and turns towards her. He presses his hand on her lower back bringing Kenzie in close. "Thank you."

"Thank you?" Kenzie replies.

"Yeah, for choosing me." He dips down to kiss her lips.

"Oh, I wish the boys heard that sap right there!" Kenzie giggled into his lips.

"Yeah, they hear it all the time." Nate admits.

"I don't even wanna know, do I?" Kenzie starts to walk further down the hallway.

"Um, well..."

"Don't answer that Nate." She snaps. "Let's get you stripped from your flight and into bed, kay?"

"Oh, sexy talk there!" He drew out his words.

"Did they give ya anything at the rink, huh?" Kenzie felt his weight in her. She placed him on the bed to undress slowly.

"Yup but I don't feel it." Nate tires to take off his shirt but she finishes it.

"Sure ya don't. Let's just slip into bed. I'll make sure not to cuddle you too much. No funny business tonight." Kenzie slips off her sweatshirt and leggings. She slips under the covers with him in just her camisole and undies.

"You are gonna tell me not to touch you when you look like that?" Nate lifts up the covers. "Really?"

"Nathan. I'll go put on a parka or sleep in the other room." Kenzie's voice was stern.

"Fine. Light petting? Kissing?" He wagged his eyebrows. She pecked him on the lips.

"Good Night Nathan." Kenzie rolled over to turn off the light.

"Fine. I'll just spoon you." Nate cuddled in making a noise of comfort when he found the perfect spot. "Thank you again." He cooed in her ear.

"You keep saying that."

"I mean it."

"I know you do. Get some sleep Nate. We have a doctor to see in the morning. I love you."

"Fine. I love you too." He huffed before finding the rest he needed.

#leave her wild fic #nate mackinnon #nate the great 29 #n mackinnon fic #nathan mackinnon #better late than never #happens in the 2019-2020 season

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novelconcepts · 3 years

Note

I’m sure I’m not the only one hoping you’ll expand on your earlier post about the greenhouse “flat above the pub” flirt-o-Rama if Flora hadn’t...gone and been possessed and all.

“You know I live above that pub, right? Told you that already. Got a little flat right above the boring little pub.”

She knows what she’s doing, is the thing Jamie can’t quite wrap her head around. She absolutely knows what she’s doing. Where on earth is the woman from five days ago, the one who looked at her with such bruised eyes and swollen lips and tried plaintively to pull at her jacket? Where did she go, and who is this bold version in her place?

Dangerous, probably. Already, she’s lowering whatever meager defenses Jamie had managed to craft over the past week. Already, she’s blowing right past them as though never there at all, and Jamie doesn’t fully understand this. She’s never had trouble blocking someone out before--at least, not someone like Dani, who makes her feel...makes her feel...

Good. Makes her feel like the brightest thing in the room, most days. Makes her feel like no one has ever wanted her there so badly before.

The woman’s only kissed her once, and already it feels like she’s made a home for Jamie somewhere in her heart. Somewhere under all the bad she’s carrying, under all the flinching she’s done, all the death and loss and fear, there’s a place for Jamie. If she wants it.

She’s looking at Jamie now like she’s proud of how she walked in here this morning. Like she’s proud of how closely she’s standing, how she’s biting her lips now to hold back a grin so enormous, Jamie can’t help but return it. Five days away, and she returns to someone who knows what she’s doing--and what she’s doing is flirting so hard, it’s a wonder the table doesn’t catch fire.

Did that on purpose, she thinks wonderingly. What the fuck is happening.

***

The coffee, in its own way, worked. Not that she thought Jamie would actually like it, because honestly, it’s bad coffee--and Jamie is just too British for words--but the thing is, it was never meant to be liked. It was only meant to make Jamie smile.

Which it did. Eventually.

Or, she did. Is doing. Right now, as the words tumble out of her--Would you wanna get a drink? Away from the house. Away from all this. That could be kinda boring, right?--a part of her is desperately terrified to realize, she is doing this. She is leaning against this table, clutching a mug of truly toxic coffee, watching Jamie suck in her cheeks like it’s doing a damn thing to erase that smile. She is saying the words she’s been playing over and over in her head for five days running:

“You. And me. Could get a boring old drink. In a boring old pub.” God, her heart is sprinting. It’s entirely possible she won’t get out of this sentence, with all its halting hesitation, alive, much less this greenhouse. “And see where that takes us.”

And this is the part where Jamie will melt, she hopes. Swoon, even. The part the coffee laid road leading to, a glorious red herring approach. Here, where Jamie will see that she means what she says, and she’ll grow faint with whatever affection Dani has earned, and this will all be--

She’s grinning. Jamie, not quite facing her, is grinning.

“You know I live above that pub, right?” This is not, Dani recognizes, exactly what one might call a swoon. This is the expression of a woman who has done extremely quick math and come up with a calculation Dani had sort of hoped she’d swing right past. When she’d swoon.

She is not swooning. She is, instead, leaning slightly back, eyebrows raised appraisingly, reminding Dani in one fell swoop that there are people who are eager to flirt and people who are good at the art. And that Jamie, for all her glower and loner tendencies, is very, very good at the art.

“Told you that already, didn’t I?” Her voice is almost soft, definitely teasing, her expression perfectly arranged to say this is my territory, Poppins, and you had best be careful how you tread in my garden. “Got a little flat. Right above the boring little pub.”

And then she’s...turning back to the work. Turning away, not a blush to be found, not even the hint of a swoon. Dani’s expression, so carefully schooled into neutrality, is breaking into the biggest grin of her life and Jamie has the temerity to not even keep eye contact.

“I mean--you maybe...mentioned it--”

“Only,” Jamie goes on, still focused on the task at hand--which Dani does not in the least understand, though there’s something to be said for Jamie in profile: head bent, eyes attentive, hands working into soil. Jamie never quite looks so alive as when she’s working, as though it is only in garden or greenhouse that she truly allows herself to flourish.

Would she look that alive, Dani wonders with unbidden curiosity, anywhere else? Maybe in the boring little flat, maybe with me, maybe--

“Only,” Jamie repeats, darting a small glance her way. Dani realizes she’s staring, closes her mouth. “I figure there are plenty of places two people could go on a date. Which is, if I’m not mistaken, what you’re suggesting. Isn’t it?”

“It...I--yes.” No point denying it. No point trying to wash away the simple brazen fact. A boring little date. It’s not a big deal. It doesn’t have to be a big--

“So,” Jamie says, her voice still doing that dangerous thing Dani doesn’t quite understand and can’t quite turn her attention from. That dangerous half-soft, half-amused thing that is all accent, all in control, all turning Dani’s own courage back on her like a firehose. “We could do it anywhere, couldn’t we? Doesn’t have to be the pub.”

“I--” Dani resists the urge to close her eyes. She’s going to make me say it. She really is. This wasn’t the plan, exactly. The plan had been so much simpler. It had not taken into account Jamie, who is going down into this thing with her willingly--but maybe not easily. “I mean, I just--”

“Just curious,” Jamie goes on breezily, drawing her hands from the soil at last and taking a slow step closer. The space between, already limited at best, reduces to nearly nothing in that single motion. Dani swallows.

“About?”

“It’s particular,” Jamie points out. A slight shift of hips, a nearly negligible twist of the waist, and she’s got Dani backed into a corner. Or, more accurately, against a table. “The pub. Bit curious, is all, why you’d want to get me into that pub.”

***

This poor woman is going to burst into flames, Jamie thinks, and maybe they’ll both deserve it. She isn’t upset with Dani anymore--has found in the span of about five minutes that there’s no staying upset with Dani when she turns those huge blue eyes on full-force, stands just so, puts on the bravest face Jamie has seen her wear since stalking Peter Quint through the night. She isn’t upset, exactly.

But Dani seems to think this was going to be easy. A cup of coffee. A slick line. She seems to think Jamie was just going to lean into it.

Which she is. In her own way.

She’s careful not to touch Dani, not to press in with her body to such a degree that Dani will feel trapped. She’s only standing, a tiny width of space between them, her hands loose at her sides. Only standing, polite, smiling, waiting for an answer.

“Bit curious, is all, why you’d want to get me into that pub.”

“I don’t--I think--I mean--” Dani shakes her head slowly, her eyes wide and imploring. “Do you not...want to get a drink...”

“Didn’t say that.” The last five days haven’t been enjoyable. Burning sick days, pretending to be too ill to check in on the house, had felt cowardly. The shame in her stomach, twisting like acid around the hot desire of the memory, had felt familiar in the worst way--like being seventeen again, not knowing where to put all of these too-fierce feelings. Anger would have been easier. Disappointment, shame, embarrassment--each too heavy to put down on its own--had made for the worst kind of cocktail.

This, though. Dani looking at her--not needing to tip her head back, not needing to peer down, simply looking straight ahead and making perfect eye contact--feels good. Feels better than good. Feels like she’d felt in the moments before the flinch, when Dani had grinned into her mouth and pushed hard against her like she’d been waiting for this moment for days. This, Dani drawing deep breaths, clutching her mug, feels liking picking up right where they’d left off.

Dangerous, she thinks again. Dangerous, to let Dani in this way. Dangerous, to admit how alive she feels, teasing her this way.

Dangerous, every time Dani’s eyes flick to her lips and back again.

“You’re really not going to say it,” she says, shaking her head in a parody of disappointment, reaching in gently to pluck the mug from her hands and set it aside. “Poppins. Really. First rule of flirting.”

“What’s that?” There’s a challenge in Dani’s smile, she thinks. A challenge so light and so free--and so intoxicating in its authenticity--she can’t help but laugh. She makes a show of leaning close, watching Dani’s eyes darken, watching Dani’s breath catch.

“Always be ready to commit.”

***

She’s going to kiss me, Dani thinks. Here. Now. Six in the morning, she’s going to do it.

But, of course, Jamie doesn’t. Jamie, who thought it had been her Dani was trying to get away from the other night. Jamie, who took it so to heart she hadn’t even come back for nearly a week.

It’s been so strange, going through the motions without Jamie around. Strange and hollow, and Dani knows--the way you know you can’t keep holding your breath much longer--life will never feel quite as vibrant without Jamie in it.

Didn’t take long at all, she thinks, remembering the shadow of a young man standing before a dying fire. Didn’t take long at all, but I can’t not know that.

Jamie’s here now, a crooked little half-smile on her lips, her eyes bright, but there’s something she’s still holding back. Something she’s still not absolutely sure Dani won’t let fall, split upon collision with the ground.

She isn’t going to kiss Dani. She’s just going to stand here, making her crazy, smiling exactly like that.

“Always be ready to commit.”

And there are other things Dani could do, it’s true--laugh, push at her shoulder, make another horrific stab at imitating her accent. There is plenty Dani could do.

But just now, with Jamie standing this close, with the air crisp and this single room so different than it had felt days ago, she’s not sure she can be blamed for what she settles on.

Not sure anyone could blame her for sliding a hand around Jamie’s middle, pushing off the table, using the momentum to twist until it’s Jamie backed against the table, Jamie looking at her with genuine surprise on her face.

That, Dani thinks with terrified glee. That’s the look I was going for.

"Consider me committed,” she says, and though Jamie had been careful not to touch her, she finds herself unable to do the same. Her hips press Jamie backward, one hand clenching at the small of Jamie’s back. The other finds Jamie’s sleeve, less for contact, more a desperate bid for balance.

“Touché,” Jamie says in a low voice--not that easy flirtation tone this time, but something less in control. “My, ah. Hands are dirty.”

“Do you want me to come back later?”

Jamie laughs, leans forward, shakes her head. “Didn’t say that.”

It wasn’t the plan, to kiss her here. She’d meant only to apologize--or, not apologize, but make clear that she was sorry how it had gone, that there are paths she very badly wants this to take that are the right way, the best way, the way it should have been all along. She’d meant only to make that clear, to land her proposal, to make Jamie feel a fraction as giddy as Jamie makes her every damn day.

And yet, with Jamie kissing back, Jamie making a helpless sound of frustration as her hands tip backward to grip the table behind her instead of ruining Dani’s coat, it feels right. It feels like meaning what she’s said. It feels like commitment.

“For the record,” she adds, pulling away to breathe. Jamie’s knuckles are stark around the table, her elbows bent, her chest heaving. “This is why I’d like to get you into that pub. Or your boring little flat. More of this.”

“Could’ve just said so,” Jamie says, and maybe it’s not swooning, exactly--but the flush in her face is deeply satisfying all the same, particularly when she tips her head back to allow Dani access to her neck.

“I thought I’d be polite about my desire to get you into bed, thank you.”

“Polite,” Jamie repeats, her voice sharpening when Dani slips a hand into her hair and kisses just above the collar of her jumpsuit. “Right. Completely slipped my mind.”

“I am,” Dani insists, pushing her harder against the table, “very polite.”

She is alive, here in this greenhouse, choosing Jamie. She is alive, and she is free, and she is all but breathless when Jamie--patience giving at last like the final strand of a snapping rope--slips both hands into her coat and clenches her hips. Jamie, who is so alive with her hands at work, and so much more so now, kissing until Dani is sure they’re both going to give up the idea of a date altogether and just settle for that rumpled little couch.

“Okay,” Jamie says at last, tipping her head away. Her hands are under Dani’s sweater, tracing the warm skin of her back, and Dani finds she couldn't care less about the dirt. “Okay. You’ve made your point, Poppins.”

“I have?”

“Mm.” Jamie leans her head down against Dani’s shoulder, exhales almost shakily. “No scary-bug flinch. Very good. Best save the rest for the boring little pub, yeah?”

Dani doesn’t want her to go. Doesn’t want her to pull free, put those hands back to work with plant and seed and root. Jamie is grinning again, brighter than anything Dani has seen in days, and Dani wants to stay within sight of that smile for the rest of her life.

“You’ve got kids to wake. And I’ve got...um...things.”

“Things,” Dani repeats. Jamie nods.

“Important things. With...plants...the work.” She reaches vaguely for a trowel, gestures with it like she’s considering bringing it to war. “Look, it’s early, I was not prepared for any of this, Poppins.”

Dani laughs, extricating herself at last and recovering her mug. Leaving is the last thing she’d like just now, but Jamie isn’t wrong--the kids will be up soon, and the day will fall into its usual register. Except, this time, she’ll know Jamie is out here, thinking about boring pubs and boring dates and the least boring kiss of Dani’s life.

“Would,” she says, pausing at the door to glance back, “you call what you’re feeling now a swoon, by chance?”

Jamie blinks. “I--um.”

“Never mind.” The answer, Dani decides, is almost certainly yes.

***

Honestly, thinks Jamie, watching her stroll--stroll! as if Dani Clayton strolls anywhere!--out the door, she did every last bit of that on purpose.

“Swoon,” she mumbles, shaking her head. “Don’t fuckin’ swoon.”

It would, she thinks as she tries in vain to remember where she’d left off, explain the vague sense she might at any moment pass out--but Dani doesn’t need to know that.

If she gets any more brazen, after all, Jamie is going to be in serious fucking trouble.

#fanfiction #ficlet #the haunting of bly manor #the haunting of bly manor spoilers #dani x jamie #damie #there we go--we love an extended scene that just gently snips out the ghosts #from a...glorious ghost show it's fine we're all find here enjoy the lack of possessed-child interruption

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naralanis · 3 years

Text

little bumps in the road (pt. 20)

PART TWENTY OH MY GOD YOU GUYS WE’RE NEARING THE END

Ahem. Previously on LBitR...

The next time Lena wakes, it’s to the weirdly familiar yet inconceivable exasperating sound of loud, obnoxious slurping.

Before she can even begin to blink the bleariness out of her eyes, the sound assaults her ears again—it is so visceral it disconnects her from the space she’s occupying (namely, the bed on a DEO medbay somewhere) and transports her somewhere else, far, far away, to a diner in the middle of nowhere. With Kara.

The slurping resumes and she sits up like a shot, fast enough to make herself dizzy. She’s still in handcuffs, and her sudden movement makes them rattle noisily against the railing of her bed, cutting her movement short abruptly and making her bounce back into her pillows.

“Kara?”

The name leaves her lips before her brain can fully catch up with the improbability of that logic, though it arrives at that conclusion moments later, when Lena’s eyes adjust and see Nia’s quirked eyebrow eyeing her back curiously as she sips from a plastic to-go cup.

“Nope,” Nia quips after another unnecessarily loud slurp. “Just little ol’ me. Here,” she extends a hand to Lena, who takes the second to-go cup the young woman offers without even thinking. “It’s kale. Your favourite—for reasons unknown to mankind.”

Lena takes a tentative sip—she has to lean forward, a little clumsily and awkwardly, since the handcuffs don’t allow her to bring the cup closer to her face.

Nia pulls a face at Lena’s second, much less tentative sip. The smoothie tastes amazing, and it makes her release a happy little hum before she can catch herself, and Nia’s offended grimace reminds her so much of Kara. It’s weird, but a happy kind of weird, and Lena knows it’s probably the last reprieve they’ll get before shit well and truly hits the fan. So, she’ll take it—the reprieve and the smoothie.

Nia watches her down half of her cup in a matter of seconds with an expression close to abject horror. “Gross,” she mutters, then slurps again at her own smoothie, a purple concoction that admittedly looks quite good.

“Don’t judge me,” Lena says, amused and smacking her lips with delight. “I’ve been eating nothing but fast food for weeks. I can’t remember the last time I even saw a vegetable.”

Nia laughs. “No judgement, I have nothing against vegetables. I love salad. I just don’t blend it.”

“Well, thank you for my blended salad,” Lena drawls with a waggle of her brows. “I—and my arteries—deeply appreciate it.”

“You and your arteries are welcome,” Nia says, pulling out the rickety metal chair by Lena’s bedside and plopping down rather ungracefully. “I thought I’d keep you company for a little while, if you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Lena begins, but there’s something off about Nia’s tone—a slight warble of worry that Lena only spots because the young superhero won’t meet her eyes.

“Not that I don’t appreciate your lovely company,” she starts again, fiddling with the straw of her drink. “But… there’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”

“There’s a ton of stuff I’m not telling you,” Nia replies easily, though her eyes are darting around everywhere in the room, except to Lena, in clear discomfort. “I’m a woman of mystery.”

Lena taps her nails against the plastic of her cup, squeezes it slightly, jostling the ice and making the plastic bend and creak as she scrutinizes Nia’s face. The young woman’s playfulness has all but vanished, and there’s a tension in the air that wasn’t there before, and it worries Lena.

“You’re here to keep an eye on me…” she starts with the obvious, watching for the most minute changes in Nia’s expression to indicate whether she was in the right path. “… because of Lex—no, that’s too easy; everything is because of Lex.”

There’s a slight sag to Nia’s shoulder’s, a microscopic shift to her brows, and they tell Lena what she wants to hear without words. “Because of Kara,” she breathes, and the way Nia chokes on her smoothie all but confirms it, and Lena immediately snaps into panic mode.

“Oh my god,” she gasps. “You heard something—you know something,” she says, free hand clenching around the flimsy sheets of her bed. It’s not a question, and Lena doesn’t phrase it as one, but the guilty look on Nia’s face answers it perfectly either way. “Is she here? Is she on her way?! Nia, you can’t let her come, we have to stop her! It’s a trap! She cannot come!”

“I know, I know, Lena,” Nia says, forcing a bit of calm that is not naturally occurring in her tone at the moment. “Please calm down; Kara is not in National City,” she grimaces. “At least not yet.”

“Then where is she?” Lena asks, voice wavering in a way she doesn’t even attempt to control. “She absolutely cannot come here.”

“I know,” Nia sighs. “We know. She was spotted by one of Lex’s satellites in Mexico.”

“Mexico…” Lena murmurs, mostly to herself. “For some sun, probably. Is she alright?”

“I would assume so; she was a literal blip on the radar, almost too fast to be picked up at all.”

Lena breathes a deep sigh of relief, sinking into the miserable pile of crappy pillows at her back. “Good,” she says, closing her eyes, already trying to map out the next steps from here. “Good, that means we still have some time.”

Nia quirks a brow in question. “Time? Time for what?”

Lena looks at the young woman like she’s gone insane. “Time to foil whatever Lex is planning to do next,” she explains as if Nia is missing something painfully obvious, because isn’t it? Painfully obvious? Does Nia just expect her to sit tight, handcuffed to this bed, while Lex continues with whatever lunacy he has in store for Kara?

“Brainy said the implant can’t be removed or disabled from a distance, but I was the one who created the system they run on. If I could somehow sneak into the mainframe, maybe I could—”

“Woah, woah, woah, let me stop you right there, Lena,” Nia interrupts, looking panicked. “Hold your damn horses—you are not going anywhere except another, more secure facility. You’re not stepping foot in LuthorCorp—no way.”

“Nia,” Lena hisses, vaguely aware she’s close to sounding like a petulant child, but not even remotely close to caring. “I have to—I’m the only one besides Lex himself who stands a chance in hell of disabling those systems.”

“No way, Lena. No. It’s too risky.” Nia says with an air of finality.

Of course it’s risky. Lena’s not blind to that simple fact—never has been. But the other simple fact is that any world with Lex Luthor in it presents more risk than anyone would be willing to accept.

“What’s the alternative, then? Keep me here, handcuffed, while Kara swoops in for a rigged death match against my brother??”

Nia flinches, and that tells Lena everything she doesn’t want to hear.

“Oh my god, you are,” she practically yelps, watching Nia shrink into herself at her outburst. “You can’t just keep me here! I could help, I could—I have to help—”

“I can, and I will!” Nia suddenly shouts, standing up so abruptly she sends her chair screeching backwards across the floor. “Don’t you understand, Lena? Lex wants to use you and Kara against each other. Every time I close my eyes, I see my friends—my friends, Lena, which includes you, you asshat! I see you two killing one another, over and over again! It’s already happened once, and I cannot let it happen again!”

Nia’s shoulders are shaking—her smoothie dropped and now leaking all over the floor. Lena can see the tears threatening to spill from her eyes; her fists are clenched and trembling at her sides, and all Lena wants to do is reach out and hold the young woman’s hands in her own, to tell her everything will be OK.

But can’t make those assurances; they both know it.

Nia releases a breath—it comes out as a sad little laugh. “You won’t be… you know, you won’t be handcuffed,” she says, as if the restraints were the whole point. “You’ll be at another facility, out of Lex’s reach until this is all over.”

Lena shakes her head, but she doesn’t have the heart to tell Nia that it’s useless. There’s no place Lex can’t reach. “What about Alex?” she asks instead. “She’s got an implant too.”

“Alex will go to the secure facility with you. She volunteered—she doesn’t want Lex to use her to hurt Kara either.” Nia sighs, finally looking Lena in the eye, though she looks defeated. “Lena, I know this isn’t ideal. But we’re running out of time, and we’re running out of options. It’s the best we can do.”

Lena doesn’t voice her disagreement—her gaze makes it clear enough that Nia sighs again, sinking back into her chair with a frown.

The silence is tense; Nia is not looking at her. Lena runs through all the possible arguments she thinks of in her head, before deciding they are all moot. The decision has clearly been made.

But Lena is stubborn. To a fault, really.

“Nia,” she whispers, waiting for the young woman to raise her head to look her way. “Why did you take me to Kara? When she was on the run?”

Nia shrugs. “I had a vision of you two—Kara was wearing her suit, but she had short hair.”

“And what happened?”

“I’m not sure,” Nia admits, biting at her lip nervously. “I’m still trying to decipher it. But I knew—with or without the vision, I just knew you wouldn’t… kill her. I knew you two had to be together for any of this to work.”

Lena takes a deep, deep breath—she’ll analyse whatever Nia’s trying to convey later, but now she has to grasp at the only out she has.

“Together you said,” she repeats, voice breaking. “Then you’ve got to let me help her.”

<< Previous || Next >>

#nara's word vomit #LBitR #supergirl #supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #fic writing #femslash #I cannot believe we're almost there #2 or 3 parts maybe #sweet suffering jesus #CAN YOU BELIEVE??#also look at me Not Being a Bastard #(this time)

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toomanyrobins2 · 3 years

Text

One Year: January

Summary: Clint Barton, college football star, has a new interest: Y/N Y/L/N. But with her father gone all of the time, a younger brother, and going to college, Y/N has no time for dating. Will Clint get the yes, or will life get in the way?

Pairing: Clint Barton x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Content warning: nothing really yet, douchey dad, occasional cursing, mentions of drinking and sex later

Notes: eighteen thousand years later here is the next chapter 💛

december // masterlist // february

Three days after Christmas, Y/N and Asher’s father rolled into town to throw a New Year’s event at the house for some new investors. As soon as he reappeared, she immediately fell off the grid, ignoring every text and call from Clint. Two days before New Year's had called her and left a message:

“Hey, gorgeous. I haven’t heard from you in a few days and now I know you’re ignoring my calls. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I want you to know that I’m not running. Saying I’m falling or you would be a lie because I’ve already fallen. If anyone ever heard this message, I’d made fun of for being such a sap, but I don’t care. Call me or text me and let me know that you and Asher are at least okay.”

Y/N had broken down in tears when she heard the message and as soon as Asher was in bed, she called him back: “Hi.”

“Hey, gorgeous. What’s going on?”

She sniffled, “My dad’s back in town.”

“Shit, I’m coming over.”

“What, no! You don’t need to do that. It’s just hard on Asher, which makes it hard on me.”

“You gave me a key. I’m coming over.”

Before she could argue, Clint hung up and drove straight over to the house. He immediately walked up to Y/N’s room and found her curled up on the bed. They didn’t speak as he just curled around her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest. It only took her a few seconds to start crying and Clint just held her tighter. Eventually, she fell asleep and from the dark circles, this was the first proper sleep she had had in days.

Clint had eventually followed behind Y/N and fell asleep. Around 2, a cry had him jolt out of bed. He felt her grumble next to him, but she was not fully awake. Another cry fully woke Clint up and he realized that it was storming outside and that it was Asher calling for Y/N. He got out of bed and hurried down the hall. When he got into the bedroom, the six-year-old threw himself into Clint’s arms. He wrapped his arms around the little boy and rubbed Asher’s back. “Did the storm scare you?”

He felt him nod against his neck. “Do you want to come to bed with Y/N and me? We could protect her from the storm together.”

“You protect me?”

“Always, buddy.” Clint carried Asher back into Y/N’s room and they crawled into the bed. She immediately pulled her brother close to her and Clint laid on the other side of him, his arm thrown across so that his hand was on her waist.

The next morning, the trio was in the kitchen making Mickey Mouse pancakes. Clint was determined to cheer up the Y/L/N siblings. Music was playing and laughter echoed through the room. Asher nearly fell off the stool with how hard he was laughing when Y/N flipped a pancake into Clint’s face. As soon as they heard the front door close, the air grew thick with tension.

Clint watched as Y/N’s whole demeanor hardened and she unconsciously moved to stand closer to Asher. He watched a handsome man with grey hair stumble into the kitchen in a wrinkled suit. “Late night?” Y/N’s voice was unrecognizable, hard, and unfeeling.

“Dinner with a client ran long so I just got a room at a hotel,” He looked past and zoned in on the unfamiliar man in the kitchen, “And you are?”

“That’s Clint,” Asher piped up, “He’s my friend and Y/N’s boyfriend.”

He took a deep breath and put one hand on the small of Y/N’s back and held the other out to shake, “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Y/L/N.”

“Pleasure. I’m assuming you will be my daughter’s date to the party?”

“Party?”

“Yes,” the older man flashed a charming smile and Clint started to understand how this man got away with everything, “A party for my investors on New Year’s Eve.”

Clint squeezed Y/N’s waist in comfort, “I wouldn’t miss it.”

Y/N tried multiple times to convince Clint not to waste his time at the party, but he wouldn’t hear it. Even after he arrived with his garment bag thrown over his shoulder, she was trying to talk him out of this. She babbled away as she put on her makeup, “I‘m just saying that I know that Bucky is throwing a party. Nat told me. You shouldn’t have to miss out on a good time because of me.”

Clint had just pulled on his shirt and marched into the ensuite. He spun her around so that she was trapped against the counter, “You are not going to convince me to leave.”

“But--”

He slammed his lips against her, feeling her hands travel up his chest to curl around the unbuttoned shirt. Clint wrapped one around her, pulling her as close as possible to him.

“Ew.” The couple separated and turned to see Asher standing in the doorway to the ensuite.

Clint kissed Y/N’s nose, “Nothing you say will change my mind. So get on board, gorgeous.” She just nodded dumbly, still reeling from the kiss. He went over to Asher and helped him up on the bed, “I have a surprise for you.” He pulled two ties out that were the team colors.

“We can match?” Asher was bouncing up and down.

“We can match.” Y/N watched from the doorway as Clint showed her little brother how to tie a tie. Emotions whirled through her. She hated that their father wasn’t the one having these little moments with Asher. However, she was in deep with Clint as he didn’t just tolerate Asher, but went out of his way to care and love the young boy. Y/N didn’t know how it had snuck up on her but in the last three months, she had fallen in love with the dorky blonde football player who she swore she wasn’t going to give the time of day. She shut the door to the bathroom and pulled on her gown.

When she opened the door, the two boys were taking selfies in the floor-length mirror. They turned to look at her and both their eyes widened. Asher was the first to speak, “You look so pretty, Y/N.”

She grinned and gave him a kiss on the cheek, “And you look so handsome. I’ve got two good-looking dates tonight.” Clint was still staring and moved closer, swooping in for a kiss. Y/N could have cried with laughter at how affronted he looked when helping up a hand to stop him, “I’m wearing lipstick.”

“I don’t care,” he kissed her until she was breathless.

The happiness and ease that they felt in her bedroom were dashed as soon as they walked down the stairs and were enveloped by the party. Y/N was trying to keep her composure as her father used Asher as a performing seal. Clint’s hand gripped her tightly, trying to keep her calm, but she was dying inside as she watched her little brother try to make their sperm donor proud. It was late into the night at this point and she could see that the young boy was struggling to keep his eyes open. She couldn’t hold it in any longer and wiggled her hand out of Clint’s. “Gorgeous…”

“I’ll be okay. Go see Tony and Pepper.” She made her way over and smiled charmingly at the guests, “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but it’s gotten very late. Dad, it is way past Asher’s bedtime.

He waved his eldest child away, “Oh it’s fine, he’s having a good time.”

“He actually has a playdate tomorrow and needs to be rested. So, he should really start his bedtime routine.

Her father’s eyes hardened, “I’m the parent and I’ve decided he’s okay to stay up a little while longer.” She scoffed and her father tried to shoot her a look. Asher started to well up at the tension and Y/N pulled him into her arms. They walked away from the group and she shot her father a glare as he followed them, “He should’ve been in bed over two hours ago. Don’t claim to be his parent when you haven’t done a damn thing. I’m the only mother he’s ever known. I’m the only parent he’s known in the past 6 years.”

“Not right now. This is not behavior for in front of guests. Why don’t we step into the study for this discussion.” He was gripping her arm and that’s what brought Clint back over to their side.

Y/N quickly passed the half-asleep Asher to him, “Would you mind taking him just for a few moments. I’ll be there soon, but I need to have a quick word with my father.”

Clint gripped her waist tight, “Are you okay?”

“No, but I need to be,” she kissed both of their cheeks, “I’ll be up soon. He’s going to need a bath since he’s covered in frosting.”

Y/N didn’t look back even though she felt Clint’s gaze on her as she walked away. The minute the door shut her father exploded, “How dare you! You don’t behave like that when we have guests over. It isn’t proper.”

“Screw proper behavior! I’ve been proper every day for nearly my whole life. Ever since mom got sick. You haven’t been around to try and now you claim that Asher is the product of anything you’ve done. That kid is amazing because he’s done everything without you. I did the midnight feeds and diaper changings. I’m the one that went to the library and checked out parenting books. When he fell off his bike, I helped him up, cleaned his cuts, and told him to try again and not to give up. I’ve done his back-to-school shopping, got his Halloween costumes every year. I helped him with his homework and I got a car so that someone could be there to pick him up every damn day. I’ve been to every concert and sports game. You don’t get to suddenly reappear randomly and use us as a pretty family in front of your friends and investors. You just a sperm donor.”

“I think you forget your place, young lady.”

“Ha. Don’t try to parent me. You’re not a parent!” Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she tried to get herself under control, “If you were, you’d know the bare minimum isn’t good enough. Money isn’t enough. Your children deserve love and support. Asher deserves someone who shows up and that’s not you. Never again will you be allowed to use him for your business. I will make sure that he has a sleepover or appointment to take up his every hour when you’re in town. You are a stranger that happens to live under the same roof as us a couple nights a year. We’ve just been along for the ride. You’ve missed every birthday party and every Christmas morning for too many years. That’s over 20 birthdays so far. That’s 6 years of Christmas shopping I’ve done alone. That’s decorating Christmas trees without you. That’s late nights making birthday cakes. That’s the first steps, award ceremonies, and graduations. That kid is my life and I am his. You haven’t been around. Do you know how many nights I spent with him and he would ask why you weren’t there? Eventually, he just gave up hope. I’m glad your business is thriving but in the process of making this all happen, you forget something so much more important. You forgot your kids. Well, guess what, I never forgot. Not for a second. I’ve missed so much of my life for Asher and I won’t regret a second of it. He’s not your kid. He’s mine. And if you excuse me, I need to put him to bed.” She left the study, head held high, and headed straight for Asher’s room.

When she didn’t find them there, she hurried into her room and found Clint reading a book, with the six-year-old conked out on his shoulder. Y/N decided to take a moment and walked down the hallway and sat on the window seat, listening to the party still raging below. She rested her head on the window, feeling the cool January chill on her forehead. Silent tears of frustration rolled down her cheeks. She heard a throat clear and turned to see Clint standing a few feet away. He didn’t say anything, instead, he just let her curl up against him. He picked her up, carrying her to her room. He knelt down and slipped her heels off. Her breathing was shallow, as the argument played over and over in her mind. He pulled the dress down her shoulders and replaced it with one of his shirts that she’d claimed. He toed his shoes off and climbed into bed, pulling her down. They one curled around Asher and Clint looked at her, “You don’t need to talk tonight. You don’t even need to talk tomorrow. Just know that when we do have this conversation, it won’t scare me away. I’m in this for the long haul, whatever that means. I love you.”

It wasn't perfect, at that moment it wasn't even good, but the ball had dropped and it was January 1st. A new year and Y/N was going to make sure that life was better than ever before.

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

@be-patient-be-good

@spntiel

@mycosmicparadise

@itsnottilly

#toomanyrobins #avengers imagine #avengers #avengers au #avengers x reader #Clint Barton #Clint Barton imagine #clint barton x reader #Hawkeye #Hawkeye imagine #hawkeye x reader #Jeremy renner #Jeremy renner imagine #Jeremy renner x reader #college au

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siriushxney · 3 years

Text

➛ searing light | chapter three

— pairing ; darkling!dream x sun summoner!reader

— au ; shadow & bone

— wordcount ; 2k

— warnings ; death, blood, guns, cursing(?)

— note ; this chapter was super fun for me to write, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

previous | next

if it hadn’t been for the squallers standing over head, hands held in front of them manipulating the air around them to glide them forward — you wouldn’t have been able to tell which way was west.

with the only light sprouting from a blue lantern — a light specificity designed by the materialki as to not draw the volcra’s attention, yet provide the otherwise blind grisha and soldiers present on the skiff with light.

wilbur had wandered off slightly — far enough that with the minimal light on board, you weren’t able to make out his facial features, but close enough that if something did happen, he would be able to get to you swiftly.

niki had chosen to stay by your side — out of the two of you, she was unsurprisingly the most confident and collected given the circumstances.

“you’re worrying too much,” niki’s voice was soft — not even loud enough to be considered a whisper, but with the fold demanding utmost silence, you could make her out.

“it’s hard not to worry when you’re in the middle of a place you were taught to fear,” the darkness stretched for miles on all sides of the skiff. “wilbur shouldn’t have even been on this damn thing, let alone me.”

“well whose fault is that?”

not offering a response, you turned your back to the blonde as much as you could. grisha stood at every corner of the deck. there were squallers, heartrenders, a single inferni, and niki — the durast.

they had for the most part gone with grisha that could inflict damage without a dramatic show — but the inferni was there for if things flipped suddenly.

the sharp and ice-like wind didn’t cease the further you had made it into the fold — instead, it’s currents were stronger and more harsh — its temperature making your fingers feel as if they had frostbite within seconds of being exposed.

if you didn’t die from a volcra, maybe the cold would do it.

you swayed forward with the gust of wind that carried from behind — a foot coming to balance yourself alongside your hands placed on the edge.

“shit!” a tiny whisper was heard from your side, but as you turned to look — you couldn’t make out anything.

while her presences was still beside you, you couldn’t see her at all — wilbur either.

“what just happened?”

“the lights out,” niki’s voice was more distanced now, no doubt trying to get the light back on without causing a fuss. “it’s not lighting.”

“just give it a few seconds,” another voice joined her own — it was the inferni.

clicks and taps could be heard from the two as the poke and prodded at the light, desperate for the thing to light up once more.

“miss, what’s happening?”

“the light is out, but we’ll get it back on in a few moments, soldier.”

you had heard it before you had seen it.

the attempted drags of it against the side of the box, the nervous and desperate pants, and the sound of the flame bursting to life.

an orange light emitted from the single match held in carey’s hand.

grisha stood dumbfoundedly and soldiers starred in fear.

“blow it out!” the inferni rushed forward, stopping only short so she wasn’t directly in the light. “you need to put that flame out right now, or you’re going to get us killed!”

carey’s hands shook as he brought the match closer to his face — his shaky breaths making the flame dance wildly the closer it got.

but with the dancing flame and the devastatingly fear-stricken boy, the thing behind him was illuminated as the flame was brought to his face.

“carey-“

the creature screeched as it launched up and off of the skiff, swooping down to sink its claws into the boy's shoulders, and dragging him into the darkness above — his screams echoing through the fold.

orange, yellows, and reds erupted from beside you — the match that had once been in carey's hand now laid in the center of a large and rapidly spreading fire.

volcra’s cries and wings flapping could be heard drawing closer, and with the ever growing light, you could see the shapes of them swoop and fly overhead.

“everyone get down-“ the inferni was grabbed by a volcra — the creature dragging the girls body towards the side of the skiff and through the wood and steel entirely.

splinters of wood and shards of grisha steel bursted upon impact, sending you and those around it back and shielding yourself with anything you could. with clumsy and stiff feet, you had fallen to the deck — hands and arms brought up to protect your face from the wood and steel.

“are you okay!” niki called from the pole that held the blue light — no longer concerned with lighting it, but hiding and protecting herself.

“I don’t know-“

screams of soldiers and grisha alike polluted the air — the scratching of claws on the deck, the sound of flesh being torn, guns firing from all angles, and pleas for help going unanswered.

they were being picked off one by one by the volcra.

“Y/N, look at me!” you turned your head from the scenes of violence — too shocked and fearful of what you were witnessing to fully pay attention to your surroundings. “you stay right there okay? you don’t move from that spot — i’m going to try and get wilbur back here, okay?”

wilbur.

where was wilbur?

“oh my saints-“ you were on your feet in an instant, shakily walking with knees about to give out, searching for your best friend- your family.

“wilbur!”

—

niki watched as you abandoned your place of safety, despite her words encouraging you to stay put.

you were stubborn — and that was going to get you killed.

with a frustrated grunt and a quick glance around the deck, niki searched for anything she could use as a weapon. as strong as she may have been both in sheer power and the small science — her hands were of no use against them.

she manipulated metal, glass, and plants — not flesh and beasts.

instead, she searched for a weapon.

a lone gun, no doubt dropped by a now fallen soldier, laid in the middle of the deck, catching her eyes as it glinted in the light.

with outstretched and still hands, niki focused on the molecules of the steel that made up most of the firearm — drawing them tighter and tighter as if she was gripping it with her own bare hands.

she jerked her hands closer to her body, the weapon following — the gun slid across the deck of the skiff as it knocked into her boot.

picking up and inspecting it quickly, she nodded. “you’ll do just fine.”

looking up, her eyes searched through the chaos on board, trying to find either you or the lanky boy that she had come to learn was named wilbur.

“why couldn’t you have stayed put, and why did you have to walk away?”

—

“wilbur! where the hell are you!”

a soldier knocked into you in his haste to get away from the beast that flew overhead. while you had expected the volcra to follow after the screaming man, it swooped in for someone else — their gun falling from their hands, and their body dangling from the creatures boney and grey claws.

it had taken you a moment to realize what was unfolding in front of you.

“Y/N!”

“oh my saints- wilbur!”

the man clawed at the grotesque talons that gripped his uniform, trying desperately to get the creature to let his body drop.

frantic eyes looked for something to help him with, but you came up short — every thing that could have been helpful, was too far away — and with the height that the creature held him at, there was no way to reach for him.

“move!”

a body crashed into the side of yours, and a gun was seen in your peripherals. niki stood, shoulders squared and eyes full of disgust and determination — no one was fighting back, so she would take this into her own hands.

the trigger clicked as she pulled it — bullet after bullet emptying into the creatures pale skin causing blood and anything else you could think of, falling down onto you and the deck.

with a final round buried into the creatures flesh, it’s talons loosened and gravity pulled wilbur down — his body crashing into the wood below.

your feet moved before you could even process anything — niki following shortly behind.

sliding on the deck was painful — your knees filing with splinters and soaking in the blood of the now deceased, and your own from your own wounds. but you paid no mind to it — not when wilbur coughed wildly, clutching his chest as he blinked up into the darkness.

“are you okay!?” your hands searched for any wounds that could’ve been caused from the nasty creatures sharp claws.

“i’m fine, i’m fine,” he brushed your searching hands away — and while his eyes told you that he was in fact okay, they also held fear.

that could’ve been the end.

this could be the end.

“not to break up this cute moment, but I advise us to get to the back of the skiff — we’ll be sheltered there.”

wilbur sat up with the help of niki and you — his chest still rapidly rising and falling from the adrenaline that had rushed through him moments before.

he looked up, his eyes taking in your watery and distressed eyes — you had seen your life flash before your eyes despite being the one watching his life get out on the line.

it was terrifying to watch someone that you considered family teetering on the edge of life and death.

taking your hands into his own, wilbur smiled to the best of his ability. “i’m fine, Y/N.”

you offered a smile back.

and watched as his eyes widened, and mouth opened in a shout.

this time, you had felt it before you had heard it.

the claws ripping through the fabric of your uniform — parts of your skin being scratched and bloodied by the creature dragging you up.

wilbur's hands held onto yours — niki gripping your arm as if it was her lifeline, desperate to get you out of the volcra’s hold.

the gun that had been used before laid bulletless and ultimately useless now.

there was no way to help you like you had wilbur.

“goddammit! let them go you bastard!” wilbur screamed at the creature as if it would understand him. at this rate, he was going to attract a lot more volcra with the screaming he was doing.

“wilbur, you have to let go-“

“for once in your life, worry about yourself more the those around you!”

volcra grew closer and closer to the last remaining soldiers and grisha on deck — wilbur and niki in the open for attack.

you had been here to protect wilbur.

and it seemed that you might be the one to get him killed.

“wilbur- wilbur look at me!”

his eyes met your own — tears falling without care as he watched you give him a grim look.

“you have to let me go-“

the volcra jerked your body in attempt to free you from their grip — but the two persisted and held on. but the heat from the flames and the fear and adrenaline pumping through your veins caused their hands to slip — the grip they once had faltering as your body was pulled higher and higher.

with one last jerk of its body, the volcra had torn you away from the duo who now sat horrified, looking up at your body that was being pulled further and further up.

this was the end.

it had to be.

heat had been the first thing to flood your body. cold fingers and cheeks that felt like ice, now turned to hot blood pulsing under the skin.

the next thing was the light. a searing light, before you felt the claws that held you in the air disappear, sending you hurtling back down to the deck below.

— tag list ; open

@dreamslittlebitch // @sleepingalaska // @infinitelycharmed23 // @dovesgrangers //

#🖇.dreamwastaken #searing light #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #dream smp x reader #dream smp imagine #dream smp fanfiction #dream x reader #dream imagine #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken imagine

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years

Note

What if Bella was the older sister of the witch twins?

For the sake of my sanity, I’m going to say that Bella shows similar abilities to those she does in canon.

Prior to Edward appearing in her life, there was no hint Bella was in any way gifted. Her first large hint was that the mind reading vampire couldn’t read her mind.

However, that said, Bella is also very oblivious when it comes to herself and her own abilities.

Edward convinces her she’s not, in fact, gifted and that she’s instead a freak of nature whose thoughts don’t work like everybody else’s. This is despite Aro and Jane in New Moon and Aro going, “Yup, you have an extremely powerful gift”. When Eleazar tells Edward and Bella, this is somehow news to them.

Bella also never clues in that it’s fucking weird to hallucinate your boyfriend, showing up only in very dangerous situations, where he sometimes feeds you information you shouldn’t know or gives you solutions you wouldn’t have thought of. Bella’s first instinct with Laurent, on her own, would never have been “LIE, BELLA, LIE!”

She also never clues in that her occasional prophetic dreams are also weird as hell and give her information she really shouldn’t be privy to (her jumping to the conclusion of vampire with Edward is insanity, as is realizing that she hadn’t lost her sweater but it was somehow stolen by a vampire in Victoria’s newborn army and that by the way she has a newborn army).

She does clue in that the ability to smell a droplet of blood from across the room is goddamn weird but chalks that up to being Bella. She smells blood, it’s gross, the end.

So, as a child, Bella might have been showing signs of being gifted all the damn time. She might very well have been having precognitive dreams, conversations with Proto Hallucination Edward, and smelling blood from a mile and a half away. Honestly, it’s probably very likely she was, but that’s just what being Bella is like so she pays no mind to it.

You don’t have prophetic dreams about what you’re going to get for your birthday? Weird.

That said, before I got in this tangent, what I wanted to note is that in canon Bella’s gift is never blatant. She finds out odd information that she really shouldn’t know, but it’s usually not something impossible for her to discover. She’s not Alice, who as a human was fully aware that she sometimes saw futures that might or might not come to pass.

Bella comes across as odd but not a witch.

Jane and Alec were blatantly gifted as human and using their abilities in the village left and right. They had witch stamped on their forehead in a way that Bella might not.

That said, maybe they round up Bella and try to burn her alive too, after all if it runs in two out of three then Bella probably is a witch too. Bella, in trying to protect her siblings, might be outright murdered or burned alive for that as well (perhaps even before Jane and Alec are torched in which case their beloved older sister is murdered by the town).

Regardless, if Bella is alive by the time Aro swoops in to save the twins, she’s probably turned as well just on the off chance that she might have a gift. She does, though whether it’s the mind sheilding we saw from canon is hard to say, as I believe much of that was influenced by the need to protect herself from Edward.

Depending on whatever ability manifests, Bella either becomes the third person to strike the fear of God into the vampire world or else is on guard duty with Renata. I imagine she and her siblings get along well, though there’s a rift between them as Jane and Alec will never grow up. She’s probably the closest to them along with Aro, but she’s not the same as them and they not the same as her.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #bella swan #jane #alec #the volturi #vampire gifts #meta #headcanon #opinion

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theficplug · 4 years

Text

Can I Come Home {Atticus (lovecraft country) Fic}

Atticus Freeman x Black Reader

Warnings: smut (21+)

(Ayida-Weddo is a loa of fertility, rainbows, wind, water, fire, and snakes)

(Atticus wants to come home after his little adventures. Reader isn’t having it.)

The incessant knocking at your door pulled you out of your concentration on rolling the last bit of your hair. It had been a week of perms and presses. You were more than ready to listen to your vinyls and relax by yourself away from the troubles of whatever was going on in this hell of a country.

The person at the other end of this door had other plans for you apparently and as an adventurous woman living alone you weren’t about to take any chances.

You grab the small pistol out of your brown fur coat on the rack and closed your eyes as your fingertips begin to spark little flames.

As you slowly creak the door open, Tic lowers his glasses and his face comes into view.

You let out a deep sigh of relief as you lower the pistol to the ground and the fire simmered down.

“BOY! You play too much knocking on my damn door at this hour of the night! I almost blew your ass clean to Mississippi, Atti ! I figured you’d drag yourself here after you finished parading around God knows where else with Miss Letitia Fucking Lewis.” you say reluctantly unlatching your screen door to look at your ex boyfriend face to face.

Even in the moonlight you could still see the bronze glow cascading from his sculpted cheeks, to his beautiful broad nose, and down to his cupids bow. He was standing there biting at his plump bottom lip nervously while awaiting you.

“Whoa . HEY. HEY . HEY!” He yelled with his hands up as he ducked down.

“Now, baby look, i-” Tic stammers across his words trying to plead his case as you press the cold bottle of Cola to your reddened lips as you give him the cold shoulder.

You shook your head and closed your eyes to summon snakes around his ankles as he hopped side to side kicking off the illusions.

“Town is small, Atti. Everybody talks. A postcard to know that your knucklehead ass is still alive would’ve been nice. But to hear from Betty with the uneven bob at the salon that you’re back in town running around with Leti of all people. You know good and well we haven’t seen eye to eye since junior high. I know we broke up but that don’t mean you had to disappear on me like that. Your triflin behind ain't no good Atti-. Why are you even here?” You ask him pointedly instead of going off on your tangent.

The audacity of him to show up after months of barely 3 postcards from him and a few dodgy and quick calls in the middle of night spewing all types of things about monsters and shapeshifters and both kinds of wizards.

He grabs you gently around the arms and presses a soft kiss to your lips while holding your chin between his fingers.

“Just wanted to see you, that’s all.” He says simply in that tone he uses when he wants you to let him inside. Granted, you knew you were gonna let him inside and come inside but you wanted to watch him sweat.

“I should summon rain over your head...You hungry?”

After huffing and puffing you decide to ease the screen door open fully so that he could embrace you properly.

You turn your head and his kiss lands on your cheek instead. His gaze fell upon you intensely as he caressed over your cheek where his lips had been moments before. Atticus’s gaze falls from your warm oak coloured eyes to your neck, to your collarbones, and down further where your robe was slightly open and the neckline of your silk red gown had fallen lower.

You lean in to breathe into his long black coat. The Chanel Pour Monsieur that you gifted to him before he left for the war evaded your senses. You hiss softly before smiling against him, feeling his large calloused and frigid hands run up the back of your thighs to cup under your butt and lift you onto him.

“What, you run around all summer and come back here in the winter when you're cold and lonely and realize that she wasn’t gon’ stick around? Is that it? Your summer fling is back on the road?” you question with a huff and a roll of your eyes.

He chuckles deeply and shakes his head as he walks with you still wrapped around him into your small quiet little cozy candlelit home with Ella Fitzgerald , These Foolish Things playing softly in the background.

“Town talk goes both ways, baby. I heard you were playing backseat bingo with Martin Thompson, the preacher? Really?” he questions as he licks over your neck and jawline pressing kisses along the way.

“And what is there for a lonely young woman to do when her man writes her a letter trying to rationalize falling in love with a goddamn ninetail fox. I saw Letitia coming. Seen that a mile away. I knew there would be women and men along the way for us. But, a fox, well baby you had me beat on that one. A descendant of Ayida-Weddo herself wasn’t enough? Bible Boy was good to me. He would make sure I made it home safe and sound every night from the shop. Bought me that fur coat and everything.” you say and he drops his head with a chagrined expression.

Atticus sits you down on your own two feet and looks at you for a moment. Both of his hands on your hips.

“And what did you do for him, hmm?” He asks tracing his hands over the ties of your robe letting it fall open in one swoop.

“You really wanna know?” You scoff and swat at his hands for asking such a witless and invasive question.

“I’m sorry, baby.” he whispers before lowering to his knees. He places one of your shea butter lathered feet in his hand kissing it softly before moving to the other.

Atticus wraps his strong arms around your waist and kisses your belly button.

You push his mouth from suckling open mouth kisses onto your clothed mound and saunter away from him and over to the record player.

You search through the collection until you reach Big Mama Thornton. You laugh to yourself as “Hound Dog” starts to echo throughout the room.

“You’re ever the jokester ain’t you?” Atticus says with a laugh of his own as you sway your hips to the music and dance over to him.

“Dance with me” you call out to him as he comes up behind you and you gasp at the feeling of how hard he is just from caressing you moments before.

He meets your movements grinding with a shimmy of his own as he matches your movements of doing the twist and you sway your hips flush against him. His hands ghost against your thighs again and up your body. He takes note that you’re not wearing anything under your silk nightgown.

Atticus caresses over your breasts carefully massaging over the almond coloured buds as you let out a soft moan and place your hands over his.

You turn your head to kiss him again this time less innocently than before as you guide his hands in yours and slide them down your body while never losing the beat of the song.

Goosebumps begin to pepper your skin and your breath hitches as his hands settle between your thighs. He brings his fingers to his mouth before moving between your legs again.

Atticus’s nails drag softly up your left thigh as he grips it and brings you closer to feel how he’s already hardening for you. You ride his hand for a moment trying to control your temperature that’s already too high for the average human body.

The flames of the candles dance as your excitement and wetness heightens and you tap against his thigh to warn him.

He laughs deeply as he works over your clit skillfully and methodically. “I remember” he says simply and your eyes roll back as you utter the word “out” assertively.

All of the candles burn out instantly and you revel in the feeling of his fingers treating your body and your flower like a Shenzhen Nongke Orchid.

“You’re two seconds away from making me nut in my trousers like we’re back in your dorm all over again.” he mumbles while nipping at your neck and your deep dark chestnut eyes slowly fade to a golden hue to a soft glow of scarlett red.

You nod giving him your consent as you lay over the couch. You wiggle your ass in the air , knowing that he’s watching while working his boxers down too.

He slowly works his way into you before slowly pulling out and watching his member glisten fully saturated by your nectar as he works his length up and down you before entering you again.

The little gasp you let out echoed through the room and the candles were lit again momentarily with the flames dancing around as you bury your face into the couch pillow.

He gripped your hips firmly bringing you back and down onto him as his other hand gripped your silk gown.

“Mhmmm, hmmph.” was all that left Atticus’s mouth as he sinks into your warmth the second time.

“Careful. Slowly, I don’t want to hurt you.” you rasp as he circles his hips finding the right rhythm for both of you as the little pants and shrieks fall from your lips when he pushes deeper into the right spot.

“All the times I’ve made love to you and you haven’t hurt me once. I won’t mention the time you singed off one of my eyebrows though. That was my fault, I shouldn’t have tried to wake you up like that.” he soothes as he moves your silk gown up further to massage over your back and cheeks.

His large hands soothing over and kneading the knots and kinks from standing on your feet most days doing countless amounts of roller sets and bang cuts.

“I know.” you whisper to him with a small laugh of your own. You drop your head slightly and arch your back when his hips finally rests flushed against your cheeks.

Your mouth goes slack as he picks up his pace but then pulls out.

“What the hell was that?” you question as you turn to face him.

“Just wanted to see that’s all. Wanna look at this pretty face all glossy eyed and reciting my name like a poem.” he teases as he leans in to connect his lips to yours again, this time letting his tongue glide over your bottom lip until you’re suckling it softly.

He’s massaging his dick against you slowly as you pout and huff against his lips. Your legs begin to shake slightly and you can feel yourself heating up more.

“Shh shh shh, what do you want? Use your words.” he asks as his fingertips ghost over your breasts up to the sides of your face. The chill of his hands feeling like bursts of fresh air against you.

Atticus lifts you once more to set you on the edge of the couch, his fingers tracing over your inner thighs.

“You’re really going to tease me after I’ve already waited months to feel you. I really don’t want to get Martin to finish the job especially when you have the best d-” you let out a muffled moan as he places his fingers into your mouth and thrust into you again.

You suckle his fingers, envisioning something else much bigger as he leans you on the edge of the couch and gives you what you’ve been missing for months.

Resting your forehead on his shoulder you close your eyes enjoying the feeling of being full of him.

You can feel him twitching inside of you as you begin to work down onto him, bouncing and coating his dick with you.

You caress your own body letting your hand wander to your clit , skillfully massaging as Atticus watches on.

Both of your moans and sounds of him pounding into you flows with the music as you both cry out into each other’s mouths as your orgasm rocks through you both.

Your fireplace goes out abruptly as you throw your head back and let out little uh uh mhhmmms.

Atticus leans down to place tender kisses between your breasts as he cums inside.

You slowly continue your rhythm riding out the little waves of aftershock as his hips stutter and he lets his own praises of you fall from his lips this time.

He slowly pulls out and swipes his thumb over next to your lips trying to fix your lipstick.

“Leave it, I was getting ready for a shower and the bed anyways. . . I’m sorry Atti.” you say to him softly as your fingertips trace his soft skin now donning a purple deep burgundy colour after being pressed against you for so long.

“You’ve made me feel the best I've felt all damn year. You ain't got a thing to be sorry for. I’m the one that came to apologize. I was just too bullheaded to realise that everything isn’t about just me. I regretted it the moment I got there. . The war. Ji-Ha. You finding out about Leti the way you did. It wasn’t like that in the beginning. I was supposed to go off and figure all out on my own. Somewhere down the line after you see enough crazy shit together. Things get all mixed up.. I’m sorry for all of that too. I just wanna come home. Tired of all these things that don’t make no sense when everything that makes perfect sense has been here the whole time.” he explains and you nod along listening to his words, mulling them over.

“Well you definitely scared the shit outta me… I checked that mailbox everyday for months waiting for a letter from you. And I think whatever you were searching for out there scared the shit outta you too. I think all of this made us both realise that we don’t really wanna be without each other..But next time if you’re gonna go off, play detective, and uncover some great family mystery,the smartest decision would be to take the walking fireball with you. Yeah? And who’s Christina? ” you ask him as he carries you off with him towards your bathroom.

“The dreams. I was wondering why I kept seeing snakes every day for a week. I ain't going nowhere. It’s gon’ take me all weekend just to explain all the shit I’ve seen in the last 6 months as it is-”

(not my best but i still hope yall enjoy! i’m knocking the writing rust off after a few weeks of not writing new stuff. seasonal depressive be hitting different. alright my boos x )

#lovecraft country #atticus freeman #jonathan majors #fanfic for black girls #lovecraft country fic

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panda-noosh · 4 years

Text

odd one out {draco malfoy x reader}

Words: 11.3k

Summary: You’re known as the only Weasley without magic. Draco Malfoy has always taken great pleasure in teasing you for this, and you have always been ready with a retort. Your bickering with the Malfoy boy has gone on for years, but is it all done in bad blood?

Notes: support my writing or ask me about commissions! - i can’t stop writing for Harry Potter and that’s really just what you’re all gonna have to put up with.

---

You don’t want to be here.

You don’t belong here, as you’ve been reminded a grand number of times throughout your seventeen years of living. To these people, you are nothing more than the unlucky one, a mistake. To these people, you are weaker.

The halls of Hogwarts aren’t exactly unfamiliar to you, despite being the only person in your household who never properly attended. You’ve been here many times throughout your life, visiting sick family members, accompanying your parents when they don’t trust you enough to leave you at the Burrow.

It’s your twin brother, Ron, who is in need now.

When you walk into the infirmary, he’s sitting up. Your mother squeals, throwing herself forward, wrapping her arms around his neck as you and your dad approach in a slow and careful manner, not wanting to startle Ron any more than Molly has already managed.

But even as you walk in and scowl at him, you can’t deny the relief that floods your system; the owl sent by McGonagall hadn’t even been fully read before Molly was slamming it down on the table, gathering her robes and telling you to get ready to leave. You had been busy doing your own school work, tucked away in the room you share with Ron during holidays, but was now barren besides your stuff.

He had been poisoned, according to your father. Nobody knows how, or by what, or by whom - just that Ron had drank something given to him by Professor Slughorn and had immediately started foaming at the mouth.

Now, however, he looks in good enough health that you don’t see it as a problem when you slip your hair tie from your wrist and flick it at him from across the room. He yells, flinching so fast he nearly takes Mum’s head off as she clings onto his neck.

Mum spins, glaring at you. “He’s ill!”

“He’s fine,” you reply, slipping onto the seat next to his bed. “How have you managed to poison yourself, then?”

Ron scowls. “I didn’t poison myself. Someone else did.”

“Who pays enough attention to you to want you dead?”

“Y/N!” Mum hisses. “At least give it a minute before you both start bickering.”

You and Ron roll your identical eyes before Ron sighs, letting his head fall back against the pillow. “None of you should be here. You know that, right? With all the stuff going on with You-Know-Who-”

Dad waves a dismissive hand. “We won’t let something like that keep us from making sure you’re okay.”

You raise your hand. “I personally said I wasn’t prepared to die just for you, but-”

“Y/N!”

But looking down at Ron, you see him smiling; you smile back. You know all too well the kind of boredom he must be feeling right now, all alone in the medical suite with nothing but his thoughts and Madame Pomfrey keeping him company. You remember all those Christmas’s when he would come home and tell you to be quiet when you complained about how lonely the house gets with everyone gone - now he knows how it feels.

Mum and Dad move on, telling Ron about how Bill sends his condolences and how the twins will be popping in soon to see him; you sit back, gazing around the room. Although you can use none of the stuff hung around you - in fact, it would most likely kill you if you tried - you know exactly what each piece of equipment does and how it is used. You reach out and gently twiddle the lid on a jar of unicorn hairs.

The door to the medical suite opens. You glance over your shoulder just as Madame Pomfrey peeks her head through the curtain, a grand smile on her rounded face.

A grand smile that falters as soon as she sees you.

This happens all the time; it’s one of the reasons you don’t like being inside Hogwarts if you can help it. You’re known by name amongst most of the staff, and none of them dislike you nor discriminate against you in any way - but they’re weird around you. They never know what to say, are never certain how much you understand compared to everyone else in your family.

“Molly, Arthur, Y/N!” Madame Pomfrey exclaims. “Minerva told me you’d all arrived a little earlier than expected.”

She shoots you yet another glance, giving you an uncomfortable smile. “You’ve grown so much since I last saw you, Y/N. How is the - uh - studying going?”

Muggle studies. She wants to say Muggle studies.

“Good,” you reply, already standing up. “I’m just gonna go to the loo a quick minute. Give you more room to work around Ronald here.”

Ron reaches for your hand. “Don’t leave me with-”

“Get well soon!”

You duck out of the medical suite and into the hallways, immediately pressing your fingertips to your temples; you hate it here, hate it so much, have never felt so out of place than you do right now, and it doesn’t even make sense. You know just as much - if not more - than some of the people in this god damn school. Just because you were never able to perform any of the hocus pocus bullshit they’re able to perform doesn’t mean you don’t know what you’re talking about. You grew up around it. You lived it - still live it.

You sigh and start down the hallways. You aren’t even sure where you’re going - you just know you’re not heading in the direction of the bathrooms. You pass a few people on the way, people who don’t know who you are or what you are, people who see you within the walls of Hogwarts and don’t even consider that you might not have the same abilities as them.

You smile; it might be your last chance to exchange niceties with them before they realise who you are and start avoiding you.

You turn down into another set of corridors, these ones empty as everyone filters into separate classrooms. They look quite spooky when deserted, unnaturally clean with the brick walls encasing you; you run your fingers along them, mind wandering to what it would be like to be within these hallways every single day for ten months out of the year.

A ghost swooshes over your head. You close your eyes, letting out an exasperated breath, preparing yourself for the inevitable-

“The Squib Weasley! The Squib Weasley!”

“Afternoon, Peeves. How are you?”

“All the merrier for seeing you!”

“Oh, yes. You always do enjoy taking the mick out of me.”

He swoops down and bunks your head; it doesn’t hurt too much, considering he’s a ghost, so all you do is glare at him as he kicks off the wall and bounces back up to the ceiling.

“Do a magic trick, Squib! I want to see a magic trick!” The ghost cackles, the bells on his hat jingling. “What about a nice card trick? They’re popular amongst non-wizard folk.” A storm of playing cards suddenly rain down upon you, and Peeves laughs even harder.

This is the kind of treatment you fully expect from Peeves. You look down at the puddle of cards, kicking them as you say, “I’m afraid I’m not that skilled. I can’t do any tricks, I’m afraid.”

“Useless Squib Weasley!” He bonks you on the head again. You growl, jumping up and swiping at his foot, but he merely kicks away from you, laughing even louder. “Useless Squib Weasley! Useless Squib Weasley!”

“Get out of here, you idiotic little corpse!”

Your head snaps round, blood draining from your face at the sound of that voice; you know it all too well, of course, considering it’s coming from a person you would much rather avoid.

Peeves cackles in your face one final time before vaulting down the corridor. His laughter only echoes so far before you and Draco Malfoy are left in complete silence, the only sound being his polished black shoes clicking against the marble floor as he walks towards you.

You look up at the ceiling, squeezing your eyes closed. “Malfoy.”

“Weasley.” He stops. Opening one eye, you can see he’s stopped directly beside you, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his robes, a smirk on his face. “What brings you here? I know it’s not the magic.”

“How did you figure that one out?”

“Just a hunch.”

“Mm.” You look at him. “I was visiting Ron, if you must know. Not that it’s any of your business, of course.”

“One thing I never understood about you was how you can have such an attitude with someone like me.”

You raise a brow, pretending you have no idea what he’s talking about. “Someone like you?”

He pulls his wand from his pocket and twirls it, casually, between his fingers. “A wizard.”

He says it like he’s talking to someone who has never heard the word before. He’s smirking like he’s expecting you to gasp and say “Wizard?!” He’s acting like you haven’t heard the exact same comment a thousand times before.

You nod slowly, watching his wand rotate. “Are you gonna try and hex me or something? Pretty cowardly of you, Malfoy, considering I have no way to defend myself.”

His smile fades into his customary scowl; he tucks his wand back into his robes, instead choosing to intertwine his hands behind his back. “You shouldn't be walking the hallways on your own, Weasley. Security measures have been heightened since the Dark Lord came back.”

“So I’ve heard,” you reply. The casual tone to your voice makes Draco’s eye twitch; you take a point for yourself in this silent competition the two of you have going on. “I felt like I was the safest one, considering Voldy-mort isn’t really interested in Squibs, is he?”

“That’s not the point; I can’t just be letting outsiders walk about.”

“I’m not an outsider. Dumbley-dore knows me just-”

“Stop with the stupid names-”

You lean forward, speaking louder just to annoy him. “Albus Dumbley-dore knows me just as well as he knows you. In fact, he probably knows me better considering he’s taught the majority of my family. How many Malfoys has he taught? Two? How many Malfoys has he liked? Zero.”

Draco glares. You smile, enjoying how easy it is to wind him up. He probably approached you thinking you would find his mere presence intimidating; he couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Well,” he drawls, straightening up. “I’ll be letting Professor Snape know of your presence, and the attitude you’ve taken with me. I’ll let him handle it.”

“Oh, Snape! Goodness, it’s been a while since I last saw his ugly mug. Let him know my parents and I will be staying in the Hogs Head for a few days if he wants to pop in for a chat.”

Draco growls, turns on his heel and stomps back the way he came; your laughter follows him, uncontrollable. It’s one of the few things you enjoy here at Hogwarts - seeing Draco, winding him up. You will never understand why he continues to approach you every single time you come and visit. He knows nothing he can say will affect you, as you grew up with five older brothers and a younger sister with an attitude - you’ve heard it all a hundred times before.

----

“See, this is so much more fun than Scrabble.”

You scowl, glaring down at the chess board. The moving pieces seem to have something against you. No matter how hard you concentrate, or which direction you direct your little white pieces to go, you never seem to be getting any closer to winning this game.

“Concentrate, Y/N,” Ron urges. He’s been laughing at you for the past hour and a half. “Where does your bishop need to be?”

“If you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll be directing my bishop right up your-”

“Y/N Weasley, enough of that!”

You jerk upright, sending the chess pieces scattering. The curtain is pushed open, revealing your mum, dad and Professor Burbage. Mum stands with a scowl on her face whilst Professor Burbage and Dad chat animatedly to one another, barely even registering the people around them.

“Honestly, who taught you to talk like that?” Mum grumbles, bustling over to Ron. She places the back of her hand against his head and scowls. “Your temperature is going up again, sweetie. Have you been drinking the potion Madame Pomfrey gave you?”

“Yes,” Ron grumbles, swatting Mum’s hand away. “It’s just warm in here. She never lets us open the bloody windows, Mum. It’s like I’m in prison!”

But Molly isn’t paying attention; after checking up on Ron, her attention snaps immediately to you. You meet her gaze and raise a questioning brow, freezing in your seat. It’s never good when Molly Weasley has her eyes on you.

“You alright, Mum?” you ask cautiously.

“Professor Burbage wanted to talk to you, dear,” she replies, and your heart instantly dips into your stomach,

Your head snaps round to where Burbage and Arthur are stood; they’ve stopped their animated chatter now, Arthur with one arm around Burbage’s shoulders whilst pointing at you with the other.

“This is Y/N!” Arthur exclaims. “Our little Muggle-expert. Honestly, Charity, I’ve worked in Muggle Artefacts for ten years, but I’ve not learned half as much from them as I have from our Y/N here.”

Your face flushes. “Dad.”

“Oh, don’t be humble, dear!” Molly exclaims, gripping your shoulders. “We were just telling Professor Burbage here all about your little solo trip to London a few months back, how you navigated the trains perfectly - ordered their own food and everything!”

Ron snickers. You slap his arm.

Burbage looks at you. Her eyes look tired, strained, her hairline thin and hair itself even thinner. Her nimble fingers are twisted in front of her, and she says nothing as she continues staring at you.

You glance at Molly, desperate for a bit of help, but Molly isn’t looking back. She continues massaging your shoulders as she says, “Of course, we don’t let any of them out on their own anymore - not with everything going on, but goodness, we were just so proud of Y/N when she came back in one piece. Apparently the train took an hour and a half to get from London to Birmingham! How bizarre is that?”

“Oh, Molly, dear,” Arthur tuts. “How many times have I told you that Muggle transportation isn’t the same as wizard transportation?” He shakes his head, turning to Burbage. “I’ve told her a thousand times, I really-”

Professor Burbage lurches forward and grabs your hand. You gasp, stumbling off your chair as she vigorously shakes it, nearly ripping your arm from its socket. Behind you, Ron has stopped snickering and is instead watching the scene unfold, clearly uncertain about what is actually happening.

“Y/N Weasley,” Burbage says, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s an honour to meet you finally. I taught all of your brothers, so I did - all except Ronald, who apparently isn’t interested in Muggle Studies.”

Molly sighs. “We told him-”

“You didn’t tell me anything!” Ron exclaims.

Burbage ignores them both. “I know you’re no Muggle, of course - it would be insulting to say you are - but I did always find Squibs most interesting characters. They’ve got one foot in wizard life, one foot in the Muggle life. It really must be an experience, shifting between two very different worlds.”

“Uh….”

“Go on, Y/N,” Arthur urges. “Tell her about London. Tell her about the. . . the - What was it called? The peasant?”

“The pheasant, Dad. It was a pheasant.”

“Oh!” Burbage cries suddenly, making you flinch back. “I’ve heard of those! Birds, are they not? Quite ugly little things, but very big. Very big for birds…” She trails off, muttering to herself. The entire time, her hand remains firm in your own, refusing to let it go as if in fear of you running away from this seemingly important conversation.

All you want to do is run away.

“Anyway,” Professor Burbage bursts, “I’ve just come in to ask if you’d like to attend my next lesson for a few minutes. I’ve got a N.E.W.T. class coming in and I know for a fact having someone like you involved in their learning would do them a world of good.”

Oh goodness, no.

The answer is immediate. The mere idea of standing up in front of a classroom of wizards to walk them through how you were the one genetic failure in the family is enough to make your stomach turn. You open your mouth to express this, but Arthur jumps forward before you have a chance.

“That would be an honour, Charity. An honour for Y/N and the family!”

Your eyes widen. “Actually-”

“Wonderful!” Burbage exclaims, grabbing your arm again. She wrenches you out of Molly’s grip, already ushering you out of the infirmary, the sound of Ron’s uncertain grumbles following you out. At least your brother can see how uncomfortable this idea makes you, but his chunterings don’t make any difference.

“Professor,” you beg, stumbling after her as she leads you through the crowded hallways. “Professor, I really don’t have anything to say to your N.E.W.T. students or whatever. I’ve been to London on my own once, and it really didn’t go as smooth as my dad is making it out to be. I nearly got mugged, like, four times, and there was this guy with a knife-”

“Here we are!”

You glance over; lining up against the wall is a group of seventeen year olds, all of whom are staring at you in a mix of confusion and amusement. Some of these people know exactly who you are, considering they’re in the same year as Ron, whilst others merely see a very distressed individual dressed in casual robes.

“Good afternoon, class,” Burbage begins, refusing to let you go into her classroom or to let go of your arm. “I hope we’re all well. Please enter, and take your books out.”

The line of students files into the class, and you and Burbage follow close behind. Your heart is racing, eyes flicking back and forth along the students currently scooping textbooks and wands out of their bags, whispering amongst themselves. Burbage’s classroom is decorated with moving pictures of Muggle buses and trains, Muggle supermarkets and schools - all of which you probably know less about than anyone else in this classroom.

Burbage pushes you towards a seat in the corner, kindly telling you to make yourself comfortable. You give her your best smile and sink into the plastic, crossing one knee over the other, resisting the urge to bury your head in your hands. Every eye is on you. Every single one.

You bite your lip and look around, and that’s when you spot him.

Of all people in Hogwarts, you never once would have expected to see Draco Malfoy unpacking a Muggle Studies textbook. The boy from a family of Muggle haters. The boy who spends every waking moment ensuring every non-pure-blood wizard in his vicinity is completely miserable is stood in a Muggle Studies classroom.

“Malfoy?”

His name bursts from your lips before you can stop yourself. You slap a hand across your mouth, turning to Burbage with an apologetic look that she raises her brows at, but refuses to comment on. Instead, she barrels on with the lesson.

You glance back at Malfoy, who is now staring at you with an open mouth; he’s going to laugh at you. Seeing you sat in the corner is going to bring him such amusement. You can already hear the jeers he’s probably going to throw at you as soon as this bell rings, how he’s going to make your life a living hell for the short period of time you’ll be here.

“Okay everyone, now that we’re settled, I’d like to introduce you all to a special guest who has so kindly offered to overlook our lesson today,” Burbage says after her introductions.

“Actually, Professor, I’d rather-”

“This is Y/N Weasley, one of the few Squibs I’ve had the honour of meeting.”

The class goes silent. You bite your lip, ducking your head into your hands before anyone can see the horror that is currently rising to the surface - you want to scream.

“Y/N’s parents were just telling me a few minutes ago that Y/N went into Muggle London - remember our last few lessons on Muggle London? - all on their own! Isn’t that incredible?”

“Terrifying,” Malfoy jeers. “What a hero!”

You grit your teeth - it’s started.

“Exactly what I was thinking, Draco! What an honour it is to be in the presence of such a brave soul.”

You look up through a slit in your fingers, giving Professor Burbage a pleading look, a silent plea for her to just stop, to just get on with whatever lesson she had planned while you sit in the corner and mind your own god damn business.

But she just smiles brightly. “Tell me, Y/N - how did the Muggle’s react to having a Squib walking amongst them?”

You lift your head, purposefully avoiding a glance at Malfoy; even without looking at him, his snickers are unmistakable. “They didn’t know I’m a Squib, Professor. I just looked like a normal person.”

Burbage’s eyes widen. “Really? They couldn’t even tell?”

“But Squibs are so obvious,” someone jeers from the far side of the classroom - looking over, you’re pretty certain you recognise the man as Zacharias Smith, someone Ron has always taken a disliking to, but only because Hermione threatened to go out with him one time. “Could they not feel the uselessness coming off you?”

You scowl. “Have you been paying attention in Muggle Studies at all? Squibs don’t give off a bloody scent, you dumb little-”

“But I thought Muggle’s dress differently to us,” a girl in the front row interjects, raising her hand pointlessly.

“They do, dear,” Burbage replies. “They tend to wear. . . shorter clothes. No robes. Correct, Y/N?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“So how were you not recognised as a Squib?”

“I wore Muggle clothes-”

“Your older brother told me Muggle clothes can make a wizards skin burn-”

“Y/N isn’t a wizard, you idiot. They’re a Squib-”

“They’re the same thing!”

“No, Squib’s don’t have magic, wizards do.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid, Gregg, or I swear-”

“Alright, class, enough!” Burbage exclaims, but it’s too late for that now. Questions are being fired at you from all directions, questions that seem most innocent to the oblivious but which actually cut pretty deep into the thick skin you possess.

The word Squib in itself doesn’t sit right with you - you’ve never identified as a wizard nor a Muggle, but there’s something about that word that just puts a bad taste in your mouth. Maybe it’s the way it’s spoken by others - like an insult, a sneer rather than a simple term. Maybe it’s the implications it holds - here is a person who comes from a family of people who can basically do whatever they want. Here is a person who comes from a family seen as mystical, but they are not the same. They were not blessed in the same way even though all odds were saying they should have been.

You swallow thickly, glancing over at Malfoy for a reason you cannot pinpoint - it’s not like he's a source of comfort. It’s not like he will be any different than the ignorant wizards currently yelling question after question at you. Nonetheless, your eyes find his, and it’s with a jolt that you realise he’s staring right at you with an almost worried expression on his face. A tilt to his head, brows furrowed, lips pursed.

You don’t know why you do it. You mouth the word help in his direction, and immediately he stands.

“Everyone shut up!” he hisses. “Giving me a bloody headache!”

The class fades into silence. Malfoy grunts, sits back down and ushers for Professor Burbage to continue the lesson, which she does with only mild hesitance. It’s clear she now realises that bringing you here today was perhaps not thoroughly thought through, but you don’t make a move to leave. You sit in the corner of the classroom as she goes through the lesson plan, keeping your head ducked in an attempt to ignore the stares.

Once the lesson plan has been explained, Professor Burbage tells the class to get on with their work before she says, “Y/N will be walking around to help anyone who needs it.”

You roll your eyes; will wizards ever get the hint?

You push yourself up from your chair and start your rounds of the classroom, ignoring anyone who actually asks for your assistance. At this point, you just want the lesson to be over so you can head back to the infirmary and play Ron in a game of Scrabble - you’re much better at Scrabble than he is, and winning a few rounds will boost your dignity after those horrific chess games you played earlier.

“Excuse me, can you help me with question-”

“Piss off.”

“That’s not very nice, Weasley.”

You stop dead. “What do you want, Malfoy?”

“I need help with question three - as I just asked.”

You scowl, glancing at him over your shoulder. He’s smirking, twirling his pen between his fingers in a way not unlike how he had twirled his wand only a few hours prior. You take a few steps back and glance down at his work.

“‘What mode of transport should a Muggle use if they want to move a sofa from one place to another?’” you recite. “Oh, come on, Malfoy. You’re not that thick.”

“Just give me the answer.”

“No. You’ll never learn if I just hand it to you.”

He scowls, kicking your shin beneath the table. “Are you alright?”

The sudden subject change nearly gives you whiplash, though it’s not nearly as shocking as the soft note his voice has suddenly undertaken. Your gaze snaps to him, an eyebrow raising. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You asked me for help literally two seconds ago. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

“I’m fine. Just - uh - a little shy when I'm the centre of attention.”

“A Weasley, not liking attention? That’s a first.”

You flick his ear. Malfoy grunts, swats your hand away before saying, “Why did you agree to come here?”

“I didn’t agree to anything.” Before you can think better of it, you tug the stool out from beside Malfoy and sit down, leaning over in an attempt to look like you’re just helping him with his work. “She came into the infirmary with my parents and basically dragged me in here - you know how my dad is with all that Muggle stuff. He wouldn’t let me say no.”

Malfoy snickers, pretending to write something down. “Is it true you wore Muggle clothes?”

“Don’t start….”

He raises a hand in mock surrender, that stupid grin forming on his face. “I wasn’t going to say anything. I heard - what is it? - Adidas? I heard they’re very comfortable-”

“You’re taking the mick out of me,” you hiss, slapping his arm. He bursts into laughter, and the noise seems to startle even him, as he immediately slaps a hand over his mouth, face turning bright red.

“I hope it’s just Muggle Studies we’re discussing over there, Draco!” Burbage calls.

Draco scowls, slowly lowering his hand before he glances at you and says, “I hate this bleeding class.”

“Mm, I gathered that. Never took you as the type to be interested in what Muggle’s get up to.”

“I’m not, but it’s an easy N.E.W.T.”

“That’s what they all say.” You nudge his elbow. “Just admit it, Malfoy; you’re interested in Muggle activities.”

“Shut up, Weasley, or I won’t help you out of your next ambush.”

You snicker, pushing away from the table. “There won’t be another ambush. I’m not stepping foot back in this classroom if I can help it.”

“That’s what I said during my O.W.L’s, and now look where I am.”

“See, this is when my Muggle education comes in handy; no need for crappy lessons like this.” You clap him on the shoulder. “I’ll see you around, Malfoy. Have fun learning about vans.” You tap question three on his paper. “V-A-N. You’re welcome.”

----

Hogsmeade is a good place to be for a Squib.

Magic isn’t necessarily expected. You can walk through the streets and nobody will be under any illusion that you’re different. It’s freeing, a rare experience when you spend half your life either not fitting in amongst wizards, or not fitting in amongst Muggles. There is no in between for you.

Today, Arthur and Molly permitted you and Ron some time to go into Hogsmeade together before you and your parents are due to depart to the Burrow again, where you will grudgingly continue your Muggle classes, steeping in your own boredom.

The streets would be considered empty if not for the abundance of Ministry officials littering the area; they stand outside every shop, talking to passers-by, warning them of the danger they are in by simply being outside. Kingsley Shacklebolt - a good friend of yours - gives you and Ron a stern look when you pass him standing outside Olivander’s.

“I thought Molly and Arthur would know better,” he says. “You two should be inside at all times.”

“It’s like the Order wants us to go insane,” Ron mutters when the two of you are walking away from what was undoubtedly about to turn into a proper scolding. “Honestly, what are the chances You-Know-Who is just going to turn up in the middle of Hogsmeade? I’m pretty sure I heard somewhere he doesn’t like the Saturday crowds...”

You and Ron continue to shop for a little while, though none of the stores particularly interest you. You love looking at the architecture and the fancy colours of each shop, but when you can’t really use any of the stuff being sold, the architecture isn’t enough to keep your attention seized.

Nonetheless, you trail after Ron because this may be the last time you are able to see him until Christmas, and you’ll be damned if you let your last few days of company go to waste. The colour is back in his face, that tiny sway to his walk returning now that the poison has officially cleared his system; though you will never admit it to him, the worry you felt sitting at his bedside these past few days has been eating you alive. To see him back on his feet and grinning again is like Christmas come early.

“Oh!” He latches onto your arm, snapping you from your daze. You follow the direction in which he is pointing, throwing your head back to groan into the air when you catch a glimpse of Quality Quidditch Supplies, Ron’s favourite place in the whole of Hogsmeade.

“Oh, come on!” Ron exclaims, dragging your protesting form forward. “Just a little look to see if they’ve got anything new in.”

“Why would they have anything new in?” you hiss, pressing a foot against the door frame in your attempts to make Ron let go of you. “The Quidditch season started months ago! Everyone’s already got everything they-”

“Don’t make me hex you!”

You groan, letting your foot slip to the floor. Ron tugs you into the shop after him, a bright smile on his face as soon as he lays eyes upon the Quidditch sets propped up on the far side of the shop. He scurries off, leaving you to awkwardly pluck at the bits and bobs that - apparently - have something to do with Quidditch. Growing up, you always found the concept of Quidditch to be quite intriguing. Charlie would never let a single family dinner go by without ranting about some team or other, and you were always inclined to listen.

However, you were never able to properly play. The only way you could ever fly a broom was when one of your older brothers would get it off the ground first before placing you upon it - which never really had the same effect, and has left you in many bad states over the years. Your mum put a ban on it when you were seven years old, though that never stopped Charlie Weasley from letting you have a go on his broom every now and then.

You glance over at the broomsticks as the memories pop into your head; they are magnificent looking. It’s with hesitance that you stalk over to them, running your fingers along the bristles at the end, imagining the magic seeping from your fingertips into the broom, watching it lift off the floor purely because you wished it to, because you want it to fly and nobody else.

You don’t even crave an expensive one, not like Harry’s, or Ron’s new one that he got when he was made a Prefect. You just want one - any of them would do, as long as they work, as long as it’s yours.

But that will never be the case.

You bite your lip and look down; this always happens. You’ve been able to push past these feelings of uselessness pretty well during this Hogwarts visit, but they push to the surface now.

“Oi! Weasley!”

You stumble away from the brooms, very nearly knocking over a display case filled with different Quaffles as you do so. Draco laughs, wading towards you with that long-legged stroll of his, and that stupid smile plastered all the way across his face. Him catching you ogling the broomsticks, knowing full well you can’t actually use one, is really the thing that tops off this already quite disastrous trip.

“What are you doing out of the castle?” you ask quickly, struggling to stop the display case from wobbling.

“I’m a Prefect. I can do what I want.”

“And you want to stand here and take the mick out of me, I suppose?”

Draco raises a brow, glancing behind you to where the broomsticks are mounted on the wall by invisible bonds. He looks back down at you, tilts his head and says, “Feeling a bit envious today, Weasley?”

You roll your eyes, hands still messing with the display case. “I really don’t - for the love of - I really don’t have the - Oh, my goodness, can you just use a spell and straighten this bloody thing?”

Draco laughs, but does as you say. With a flick of his wand, the display case stops wobbling and you can safely lower your hands to your sides.

“Thanks,” you grumble. “As I was saying, I really don’t have the time to sit here and listen to you go on about your fancy spells. Mum wants me and Ron back at the castle in about half an hour, so-”

“Oh, plenty of time!” And before you can pull away, Draco has wrapped an arm round your shoulders and is steering you back towards the wall of broomsticks. With his wand outstretched, he points to each one, uttering their names into your ear like a teacher giving a student a tour.

His breath tickles your neck, and you’re not sure why you’re so aware of it. His fingers are cold against the tiny bit of shoulder peaking from your robes, and again, it’s startling how aware of his touch you are.

“Have you ever flown one of these before?” he asks, after telling you what each one is called - this is information you already know, of course, considering you grew up in a household of Quidditch fanatics, but you let him ramble on anyway.

“No,” you reply. “Well, not on my own. My brothers had to get the broom off the ground for me and then I would ride around on it for awhile until the magic wore off and I - uh - landed.”

Draco hums. “I didn’t know that was possible.”

“Yeah. It is. It’s just stupid, and painful.” You shrug Draco’s arm off your shoulder and spin. “Quite like this conversation. Can I leave yet?”

Draco raises a brow; it’s that facial expression that always gets to you, no matter how many times you’ve seen it. You and Draco have watched each other grow up in tiny little bursts - you came to visit Hogwarts multiple times within the school year, and every single time, you somehow managed to have some sort of run-in with Draco. The two of you have bickered with one another from day one, but this facial expression is one that has always, always made you want to punch him.

“I’ll walk you back to the castle,” he says. He turns on his heel and starts walking before you have a chance to decline his offer. You splutter, frantically scanning the shop for any sign of your twin brother - it’s when you spot him talking to Seamus Finnigan that you groan and decide to give in to your fate. You have to jog to keep up with Malfoy.

“I know the way back,” you say, stumbling over your robes.

“I’m sure you do. That doesn’t mean I can’t accompany you.”

“I really don’t think I should be leaving without telling Ron first…”

“Ronald will handle the journey back perfectly fine on his own.” Malfoy glances back at you. “Plus, I don’t think Ron would like to hear what I have to ask you. It’s probably best we’re on our own.”

You falter, heart skipping. You don’t like the sound of those words, especially coming from someone as unpredictable as Malfoy.

You raise a brow, ignoring the way he smirks as he turns back, giving a passing group of third year girls a nod.

“Don’t look so worried, Weasley. The wand is staying beneath the cloak.”

“It’s not the wand I’m wary of.”

His smirk turns into a grin. “I was going to ask you if you’d fancy a trip to the Quidditch pitches later tonight.”

You stare at the back of his head as if doing so will somehow unravel the joke he’s clearly trying to pull right now. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t correct himself, doesn’t even snicker, though you can’t miss the way in which he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his robes.

“Sorry,” you reply sometime after. “I just. . . Can you repeat that?”

He groans. “It really isn’t a difficult question.” He looks over. “And it’s not a date, either. I just thought you might appreciate a little bit of flying time on the pitches before you leave.”

Is this Draco Malfoy being nice? If you weren’t currently witnessing it first hand, you wouldn’t believe it to be possible. You pick up your pace a tiny bit, just until you’re walking directly beside him when you say, “I can’t fly a broom, and you know that.”

“You just told me your brothers used to help you; I can get it off the ground, and then you take it from there.”

“And you don’t mind me using your broom? You’re not scared I’m going to break it?”

Draco shrugs. “I have more than enough Galleons to pay for a new one, Weasley, don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t worried,” you mumble. “But I - uh - I guess I could do that. It doesn’t sound too bad.”

Draco glances down at you. “I’ll meet you at the pitches at nine o’clock then.”

“Nine o’clock it is.”

---

You have to tell your parents you’re going to visit Ron.

They’ll never let you leave otherwise, not with Voldemort still breathing. Honestly, you can’t even blame them for the protective pull they’ve put on you, though you also can’t help but notice just how much stronger it is over you than it is for Ron - your twin brother had been in the infirmary after being poisoned only a few days prior, and yet they let him roam about Hogsmeade as much as he wants.

“You know it’s probably Ron they’ll go after before they come after me,” you recall telling them over dinner one night. Your mother hadn’t even looked up from her food, though you saw her jaw twitch with the idea you had just implanted in her head. “He’s the one that’s best mates with Harry.”

“You and Harry are also good friends,” your dad says, pointing his fork at you.

“Right, but not - like - best friends.”

“Y/N, we’re not discussing this over dinner,” Molly had snapped. “You’ll do as we say, and that’s final!”

Now you feel like you have no choice but to lie.

You inform your parents that Ron has asked for your company during his next study session in which he wants you to check over his essay and correct any spelling and punctuation he’s messed up on; a lie, of course, but Ron’s genuine lack of skill when it comes to basic spelling and grammar is an easy enough lie to ride upon. Your parents immediately permit you to leave, kissing you goodbye before sending you off to the castle under the moonlight.

The Quidditch pitches themselves are magnificent when it’s dark.

You’ve never been to a proper Hogwarts Quidditch match; you went to the Quidditch World Cup with your family a few summers ago, but you’ve always wanted to see Ron or Harry play.

Or Malfoy.

The rings stand tall, glittering gold in the darkness. The lights from the commentator’s stand have been kept on, and it’s almost as if night time doesn’t exist. You can see everything perfectly; the audience stands, the rings, the soft grass you are currently walking across to reach the very centre of the field where Draco Malfoy stands, his broom at his side, his robes fitting him perfectly.

He gives you a smile when he sees you. “I thought you’d gotten lost. Navigating around this place without magic can be a real pain.”

“As I’m so often reminded.” You nod to his broom. “A Nimbus 2001. Not bad.”

Draco shrugs, though his smirk is evident. “It’s carried me well.”

“Is that why you’ve never caught the Snitch?”

He scowls at you. “Do you want to fly it or not?”

You slowly reach a hand out, gently brushing your fingertips along the wood. It really is pretty - you can already imagine Ron’s face when you tell him that you somehow managed to have a go on a real Nimbus 2001, something Ron couldn’t even dream of doing.

You lift your gaze. Draco is staring at you, watching the adoration on your face, reminding you that you will forever be unable to do as he does. You flinch your hand away and stuff it in the pocket of your raggedy robes.

“Let’s have a look, then,” you say. “Get on it and show me how it works.”

Draco sets everything up. You watch him closely, recounting the steps you have memorised for no reason at all, steps you are intrigued by but will never use. He gives you one final look before he mounts the broom and takes off.

And he’s just as beautiful as you imagined.

You’ve seen Quidditch matches. You’ve watched players soar through the air for hours on end, watched them swerve between hoops and dodge Bludgers with an efficiency similar to that of a bird. You’ve seen it all, but it’s quite different when you’re watching someone like Malfoy have the sky all to themselves. There’s no dodging, no jerky swerves, no expressions of frustration. It’s just Malfoy and his broom, swerving between nothing, grinning down at you.

His blonde hair flashes silver every time he flies in front of the commentator’s lights. You place a hand on your forehead, blocking out the beams just enough to see him do a loop before he yells out your name and waves.

You laugh, unable to help yourself. Jumping to be seen a bit better, you wave your arms violently back and forth, hoping for no reason at all that Malfoy can see you, that he’s smiling down at you, having fun-

He does a final loop and then crashes to the floor, dirt flying up all around him, splattering his robes and his face, but he’s laughing and smiling as he jogs back to your side.

“Wow,” you say, giving him a round of applause. “That was good, Malfoy.”

“Thank you, thank you,” he replies. “Your turn?”

You nod enthusiastically, watching Draco set the broom up until it is hovering in the air between you.

“The magic bits all done now,” he says. “I’m assuming you know how to work the rest?”

You place your hand on the broom; immediately it deflates, becoming heavy in your hand when it should feel light as air. You frown, dropping it to the floor.

“It stopped working,” you say.

Draco hums in confusion, bends down and picks it up. He tries again, getting the broom to float before he steps back and you have another go. Once again, the broom deflates and crashes to the floor between you.

“Well, that’s bloody annoying,” you grumble. “Walked all the way through Hogsmeade and this is what I get for it?”

Draco picks up the broom again. “Don’t be so dramatic. If you want to have a go, I’ll just get on with you.”

You falter. “What?”

He swings his leg over the broom and motions for you to get on behind him; there’s plenty of room, but the mere idea of soaring through the air upon the same broom as Draco Malfoy is a bit intimidating.

“Listen, mate.” You take a cautious step back. “I know my family can be a bit of a pain when it comes to you, but I never had any issue with you. If you want me dead, you could have just-”

“Oh, for the love of-” Draco surges forward, grabs a handful of your robes and rugs you onto the broom behind him. You yelp, having only seconds to grab onto his waist before he’s kicking off the floor and suddenly you’re in the air.

You bury your head in his spine, groaning against his robes; you were so prepared for this, and yet the abruptness with which he took off has your stomach reeling. The wind pelts your face. The world gets smaller and smaller and smaller below you…

You peek an eye out from Malfoy’s robes, the breath leaving you in an instant. Hogwarts really is a wonderful sight to behold when you’re looking at it from above; the lanterns flicking subtly in the hallways, the shadows of passing students drifting by the window, the smoke billowing from the many chimneys dotting the castles exterior.

“Bloody hell,” is the only way you can articulate your feelings.

Draco laughs, the noise reverberating against your cheek. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“It’s. . . more than nice,” you choke out, finally pulling away from him completely, though you keep your arms wound around his waist. “Is this what you see during every Quidditch match? ‘Cause you clearly don’t see the Snitch all that often.”

Draco jerks the front of the broom. You simply laugh, even as you’re forced to tighten your grip on his waist to stay in the air.

“It’s a little different,” he replies, shooting you a playful glare. “There’s always so much going on in a Quidditch match, it’s difficult to stop and focus on the scenery.”

“That makes sense.”

Draco hums, jerking his broom to go in the opposite direction. “I hope that’s not another dig at my Seeker skills, Weasley.”

“If the shoe fits, Malfoy.”

The broom is directed into an abrupt nosedive.

You screech, pressing your head - yet again - into Malfoy’s spine, as if being unable to see the floor will mean you are not heading directly towards it. The wind whistles loudly in your ears, though not loud enough to cover Malfoy’s cackling laugh as he tugs and suddenly the broom is soaring back into the air.

You pant, lifting your head, darting your eyes left and right. “What the hell, Malfoy?”

“Did that scare you?”

“Of course it did! Why would you do that?”

He glances at you, grinning from ear to ear. He doesn’t even have to say anything - you get the message. He’s always had fun teasing you, and that isn’t going to stop tonight.

You roll your eyes, slapping him on the back. “You’re the absolute worst.”

“So you’ve told me.”

It’s silent after that. The two of you fly circles round the Quidditch pitch until it gets too cold for Malfoy to grip the handle properly. He heads back to the ground, feet skidding against the floor, one hand winding around and gripping your waist to stop the impact from hurting too much.

You stumble off the broom, grin evident on your face. “That was incredible!”

Malfoy lazily picks at the handle, not looking up when he hums in agreement.

Your excitement is palpable, screaming through your system at a million miles per hour. You clap your hands, doing a tiny twirl in the middle of the Quidditch pitch purely because you can, because you’ve just flew, because Charlie is going to be so damn proud of you-

You open your eyes to see Malfoy staring at you.

He’s wearing an expression you have never seen him wear before; dazed, almost, like he doesn’t quite know how to process what he’s feeling or seeing. His lips are slightly parted, hands limp so his broom falls halfway to the floor. His blue eyes stare into your own, and slowly he starts to tilt his head.

Your cheeks heat up, and you quickly look away. “Don’t look at me like that, Malfoy.”

He doesn’t say anything for a number of minutes, and you’re suddenly much too nervous to look up to see why. You can still feel the burn of his gaze on the side of your head, even as you keep your eyes trained on the grass beneath you.

And then suddenly Malfoy takes a step forward. Just a single step, but it’s enough to put you nearly chest to chest with the Slytherin. You can smell the wind clinging to his clothes, the fresh scent of grass and a slight undertone of sweat. You can hear his breathing, suddenly much more shallow than it was before.

You risk a glance upwards, not entirely sure why you’re not moving away from him, making some remark about how weird he is or how badly he annoys you. All words have died on your tongue, and it’s understandable when you look up to see him staring right down at you, not a single flash of humour upon his face.

His hand is on your cheek in seconds; your breath leaves you in one clean swoop, the feel of his palm making your heart jump.

“Your smile is. . . very pretty,” he says, so quietly his words could easily be mistaken for the wind.

“Draco…”

“Come back to the castle with me,” he continues. “I can convince McGonagall to let you stay in the Slytherin common room.”

Your eyes widen. “Wait, really?”

His grin flashes in the dark, sharp and perfect. “If you want to accompany me. If you-”

His words are cut short by Molly Weasley bellowing your name from across the Quidditch field.

You leap away from Malfoy, very nearly falling over your own robes in the process. Malfoy himself looks suddenly flustered, running his ringed hands through his hair and looking away from the blinding lights in an attempt to hide the pink hue of his cheeks.

“Y/N Weasley, do not ignore me!” Molly screeches, and then she is Apparating in front of you and seizing you by the shoulders, shaking you. “ARE. YOU. INSANE?”

“Mum!” you exclaim. “Bloody hell, Mum, calm down!”

“CALM DOWN?” she cries, voice cracking. “Don’t you dare tell me to calm down! Can you even begin to comprehend the fright your father and I got when we sent an owl up to the school to check how you and Ron were getting on, only to be told that you weren’t even in the Hogwarts castle?”

Guilt falls heavily on your shoulders. “Sorry.”

“Oh, you will be.” Molly grabs your wrist and starts stampeding across the field, muttering things like “early grave… grey hairs….can’t believe” beneath her breath. You, however, don’t even fully register what she is trying to say as you turn and glance at Malfoy, who is standing stock still in the centre of the Quidditch pitch, watching you go with his broom hanging limp at his side.

Molly Apparates back to the Hogs Head, and that’s the last you see of him.

----

“Please tell me it’s a joke.”

You don’t even look up.

“Y/N, please tell me Mum was just pulling my leg.”

“I don’t-”

“Oh, god, you can’t even look at me.” Ron falls into his chair and grabs a hash brown, stuffing it in his mouth. “You were out with Malfoy?”

You wince; the volume with which Ron always insists on speaking has never made sense to you. “Not for very long,” you lie. “And what’s it to you who I hang out with?”

“Good point,” Hermione chirps. “But Malfoy, Y/N? Really? You could do so much better.”

Something burns in your chest, an overwhelming urge to tell the two of them to get their judgemental noses out of your business; however, you know doing such a thing will do nothing to persuade them that nothing is going on between you and Malfoy, so you instead choose to scoop some cereal into your mouth and pretend you hadn’t heard.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Ron continues. “Malfoy’s a Prefect, for crying out loud. What’s he doing sneaking out of the castle in the dark?”

“Clearly he wanted to see Y/N,” Hermione says.

“Well, yeah, but why? Y/N’s a Squib!”

“Thanks, Ron,” you grumble.

Ron groans, nudging your elbow. “You know that’s not what I meant; most people don’t have a problem with you. But Malfoy - he’s a different cup of tea altogether, isn’t he?”

“How so?”

Ron shrugs. “He’s just a close-minded little weasel. Can’t see anyone being anything other than pure blood.”

Hermione rolls her eyes. “How many times do I have to remind you, Ron? Y/N is a pure blood - they just haven’t got the magical abilities.”

Ron waves a dismissive hand. “Either way, I’m surprised Draco hasn’t tried humiliating you a thousand times already.”

“Have you ever actually had a real conversation with Draco?” The words are out before you can stop them. Hermione and Ron cautiously glance at you, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, don’t tell me he’s buttered you up,” Ron says. “Not you. I have to bloody live with you!”

“He hasn’t buttered me up,” you shoot back. “I just don’t see why I should completely boycott him just because you lot don’t like him. He’s nice to me.”

Ron scoffs. “He’s nice to me. You know what that sounds like, Y/N? Sounds like you’re fraternising with the enemy; getting cuddly; abandoning the side that put clothes on your back-”

“Oh Ron, honestly!” Hermione hisses, slapping his arm. “Give it a rest; Y/N can like whoever they want.” She nods at you, giving you a small smile. “I’m happy for you.”

You smile back, even though her words do nothing but fluster you; she speaks of you liking Malfoy as if you outright said you liked him, but you never did. To be honest, you don’t even know what your feelings are for Malfoy; after last night, you will admit to feeling something, something that was always lurking beneath the surface but refused to make an appearance because every time it started to rise, Malfoy would say something to Ron, or you, or he would just be ignorant and you couldn’t bring yourself to admit what you were feeling for him.

But last night, things took such a sharp turn. So sharp, in fact, that you haven’t even fully processed what any of it means, or what you’re meant to do now, or how you’re meant to approach the topic with Malfoy the next time you see him.

Breakfast finishes, and it’s nearly time to leave. On any normal day, leaving Hogwarts is the highlight; you can escape the stares and the uncertain questions. Now, however, as you, Ron and Hermione stand up from the table and get ready to go downstairs where you are due to meet your parents, you can’t help but feel a little. . . incomplete, as if you didn’t finish something you set out to do on this brief trip.

Harry catches up to you all as you’re wondering down the staircase. “You lot couldn’t have waited?”

“We’re on a schedule, Potter,” you reply. “Molly and Arthur Weasley cannot be left waiting.”

Harry rolls his eyes, pulling you into a brotherly side hug as you arrive in the main hall; sure enough, Molly and Arthur Weasley are nowhere to be found, and not a single person is surprised.

“Always late,” Ron grumbles. “I just want to get rid of you.”

“Shut up.” You pull Ron into a hug. “Try not to get poisoned again before Christmas, alright? I won’t be able to handle Mum on my own if Percy doesn’t show up again.”

“It’s not me we need to keep an eye on,” Ron says, pulling away. “If I put you on a leash, do you think that will keep you away from the Slytherin boys?”

Harry splutters, head snapping up.

You groan. “Nothing happened with Malfoy and I!”

“Oh.”

Your heart drops.

And it shouldn’t. The sound of Draco’s voice - that quiet, innocent little oh - should have done nothing to faze you, but it does. You whirl around and there he is, standing on the bottom step with his hands swinging by his side and his face strained with his attempts to keep that strong expression upon it.

“Sorry. Looks like I’ve walked in at the wrong time,” he sneers.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Ron spits. “Can’t you see we’re a bit occupied at the-”

“Draco…”

Malfoy’s blue eyes flick to you. A muscle tenses in his jaw before he shrugs, turns on his heel and starts walking back the way he came.

Your heart is beating so fast. It feels heavy. Your eyes are burning, unshed tears rising to the surface even though none of it makes sense; you weren’t lying. Nothing did happen between you and Malfoy last night - nothing serious, nothing physical.

But you would be a liar, a downright fool, to claim nothing changed. Soaring through the sky on the back of his broom, watching the stars glide past, laughing louder than you have laughed in many, many months - something did happen, whether it was physical or not.

You turn, eyes finding Ron’s immediately. He’s scowling until he meets your gaze and notices the desperation there; his twin, the strongest of his siblings because you’ve been the most misunderstood your entire life, yet here you are, on the verge of tears because you don’t know what to do.

Ron’s expression softens. He looks over at Harry and Hermione, neither of whom seem to have read the room and have since continued their chat about Harry’s Defence Against the Dark Arts homework.

Ron sighs, steps forward and says, “Go. I’ll tell Mum and Dad you went to the loo or something.”

You’re off in a heartbeat.

If last nights endeavours don’t give away your feelings for Malfoy, then the speed at which you dart back up the stairs certainly does. The hallways are empty besides the odd stray ghost, all of whom you ignore as you search desperately for any sign of Malfoy roaming amongst them. It seems like all is lost until you eventually round the corner leading to the library and very nearly crash right into his back.

He’s leaning against the wall, though he spins around as soon as you make an appearance. His eyes widen, mouth opening but you’re speaking before he can say anything.

“For gods sake, Malfoy! Why do you have to be so dramatic all the time?” you pant, slapping his arm. “Do you know how difficult it is to run up those stairs when they’re moving like that? No, of course you don’t, because you can just Apparate or whatever it is you lot do to get from one place to another.” You groan, clutching the stitch in your side. “Please don’t let me leave here without an explanation.”

Draco stares at you open mouthed, seeming too stunned for words.

You close your eyes and say, “I didn’t mean what I said.”

“What are you-”

“I don’t think nothing happened between us last night.”

Draco pauses. You lean forward, pressing your forehead to the wall in exasperation; your side is still aching, and time is running out, and you’re no longer all that confident in the fact that Draco feels the same way.

“I think. . . I think we were very caught up in the moment,” you hurry on. “It was dark, and the lights were a little romantic-”

“Romantic?”

“And obviously we’re both very confused, because we hate each other, you know? That’s kind of like our thing! You take the mick out of me, and I take the mick out of you, and then we don’t see each other for a good few months and then it restarts, and-”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Yes you do. You always have.”

Draco places a hand on your arm, gently easing you away from the wall. Your eyes open, hands trembling with anxiety but that doesn’t stop Draco from slipping his fingers between your own.

“I don’t hate you,” he repeats, quieter this time. “Do you wanna know a bit of a secret, Weasley?”

Your heart jumps. “Uh. . . Go on then.”

“Last night when the broom fell every time you touched it? That was me. I was making it fall so I had an excuse for you to fly with me.”

You blink. In any other situation, with any other person, that news would absolutely infuriate you. But now, you look up into Draco’s eyes and you see that soft, cheeky smile and you can’t even bring yourself to feel anything besides absolute fondness.

Nonetheless, you scowl. “You really are a little rat, aren’t you Malfoy?”

He throws his head back and laughs, and that does it for you. You grab his chin, pull his head down and kiss him.

His hands find your jaw immediately, winding through your hair as the world disappears and trouble doesn’t exist. It’s a weird feeling to be so at peace with someone who is the definition of destruction, someone who was born and raised to cause havoc. You silently wonder who taught him to be so gentle.

Draco pulls away first, eyes still half-closed, tongue swiping so casually across his bottom lip, as if savouring the feel of you. You are less graceful, stumbling away from him enough to exclaim, “So that broom would have stayed up if you weren’t messing with it? I knew it!”

Draco rolls his eyes, grabbing your hand to pull you back towards him. “Don’t pretend you didn’t prefer flying with me.”

You scowl. “I would have preferred having the option.”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“You better; let’s see who can catch the Snitch quicker.”

Draco pecks your lips. “Sounds like a plan.”

----

“Draco, fly straight! Fly straight!”

“Why would I do that? The Snitch isn’t-”

“Just fly straight!”

Draco groans, tugging the broom in the direction you’ve ordered. Up ahead, Ron and Charlie twist around each other, eyes scanning the garden for any sign of the little golden ball you’re all desperately searching for. Charlie is good - you know this, have seen him play Quidditch too many times to deny such a fact. Now, however, you’re determined to give your boyfriend a point.

“Has Weasley spotted it?” Draco calls over the wind.

“There’s three Weasleys in our vicinity, Draco, you’re gonna have to be a bit more specific.”

“Ron. Has Ron spotted the Snitch?”

You glance over your shoulder. “No, he still looks like he doesn’t know where he is.”

“Oh, good.” Draco speeds up then; you cling onto his waist, keeping your eyes firm on Charlie up ahead. “What have you got planned, Weasley?”

“Give me a minute.” You push yourself up using Draco’s shoulders; your boyfriend cries out, averting his eyes from the path ahead to look up at you as you balance on the back of his broom, a trick Fred and George taught you when you were only little.

“What are you doing?” Draco yells, reaching round with one hand to grab your knees. “You’re gonna fall!”

“Just keep flying straight!”

“Oh my-”

Charlie tries to whizz past, knowing full well what you’re planning to do - he’s seen this trick a million times before, has always claimed it to be cheating. In your eyes, you can’t really cheat if you’re nothing more than a bystander.

And that’s what drives you to leap forward and crash onto the back of Charlie’s broom.

In the background, you can hear Draco cursing, his own broom swerving left and right before he manages to get it together and spin back around. Ron is laughing. Charlie is fuming.

“Get off!” your older brother exclaims. “You said you wouldn’t do that!”

“Give Draco a chance,” you say through giggles, before you slam your hands into the front of Charlie’s broom, directing it to the floor. Charlie yells out your name, thrashing against your hands, but this is something you’ve been doing from the age of eleven, when Fred and George figured out they could use their younger sibling to their advantage, despite the fact you can’t actually fly a broom yourself.

Charlie’s broom crashes to the floor and the two of you roll off it. You scramble up and sprint to the far side of the yard before Charlie can grab your foot and pull you back down for a scolding.

It’s with the professional on the ground that Draco is able to snatch the Snitch right out from under Ron’s nose. You cheer when Draco holds the golden ball in the air, jumping and clapping in your excitement.

“That was cheating!” Ron yells.

“I said that, mate,” Charlie calls back, but neither you nor Draco are listening. Draco comes back to the ground, stumbles off his broom and rushes towards you, the Snitch still in his hand. You jump into his arms, giving him a hug as he laughs heartily in your ear.

“That’s one way to win a Quidditch match,” he says. “Don’t do that again, though. Nearly gave me a bloody heart attack when you stood up.”

You pull away, keeping your arms around his neck. “Aw, were you worried about me?”

Draco scowls. “I’ll push you off the broom next time.”

You chuckle and press your lips to his. He melts in that way he only seems to when it’s you he’s melting into, his arm tightening on your waist, the other pressing the Snitch against your neck.

“Oh, bloody hell, Y/N-”

You pull away from Draco just as your mother appears in front of you, red-faced and furious.

“AND HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU TO STOP DIVING BETWEEN BROOMS? DO YOU WANT TO GET YOURSELF KILLED? HONESTLY, CHARLIE COULD HAVE DIED! Oh, hello Draco, dear - would you like some toast?”

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bellascarousel · 3 years

Text

Pillow Talk

For Kate And Anthony Week 2021. Day 2 prompt - lovey dovey

Anthony woke up before Kate, as he usually did. She was snuggled against him, her head on his chest, and her leg draped over his hips. Actually, her leg was in a very dangerous place. He carefully shifted her, moving her leg down to his thighs, before his body could react to that accidental touch. Or at least before her noticing that was what woke her up. Not that he was averse to some morning lovemaking if she was willing, of course. But, he didn’t want her feeling obligated. He was still kicking himself for the way he had reacted to her wanting time when they first got married. If he could do that day over again, he would tell her that was fine. As much as he had enjoyed their wedding night, and fully believed she had too, he didn’t particularly like himself for forcing her into it.

“What are you thinking about?”

He smiled and kissed the top of her head. “Just about how good it feels just to hold you.”

He felt her head shake against his chest and then she was lifting herself off of him. His arms tightened, reflexively, before he sighed and loosened them again, letting her go. Not that she went far. She just propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at him. Then she ran her finger between his eyebrows. “This tells me that it’s nothing that pleasant. You only get that crease between your brows when something is wrong.”

She knew him too well. “I was thinking about our wedding night.”

She frowned at him. “And it has you upset? I… I don’t understand.” She had that look, again. That insecure look she got far too often. Whenever she was mentally comparing herself to some other woman that she thought was prettier than her, or more ladylike, more graceful, whatever metric she was measuring womanhood by at that moment.

Anthony sighed and reached up, brushing her hair off of her face. “Don’t look like that, Kate. I don’t mean it the way you seem to think I do. The only thing I would change about that night is when it happened. I should have given you the time you asked for. I shouldn’t have forced you to consummate our marriage that night.”

“You didn’t. Not really. Nothing happened that I didn’t want. I… in the carriage, when I asked for time, it wasn’t about not wanting to be with you like that. I was just nervous. And, I think I was terrified of… of your past.”

Had she said that then, he wouldn’t have understood. He would have thought that his experience would have been a good thing, because he knew how to make it good for her, too. But, now he remembered the way she had stiffened when he had called her beautiful. How she had thought he was closing his eyes and pretending she was someone else. He smiled at her. “The difference is that none of them actually meant anything to me. Even then, when I wasn’t ready to admit to myself that I love you, it was still different with you. Because you’re my wife. Kate, I need you to know, something. No other woman has ever been in this bed. And, I was actually glad of that, that this room, this bed, were just ours. I’m probably not making much sense.”

She shook her head. “No, you are. And, I’m glad you told me that. It actually is nice to know that I may not have been your first, but at least I’m the first you had here. I wonder if knowing that would have made me less insecure that night. Granted, for some reason, all of your mistresses didn’t occur to me when I was having my freak out. All I could think about was the fact that you hadn’t wanted to marry me. That you had been courting my sister. My beautiful, graceful, perfect picture of womanhood sister. And you had to be so disappointed to be stuck married to me, instead.”

“Disappointed? Oh Kate. Honestly, your fears were something she would have had to worry about, not that I wouldn’t have done my best to keep her from ever realizing. There is a very good chance that had I married her, I would have ended up closing my eyes and pretending she was you.” He smiled at the stunned look on her face. “It was you, Kate. It was always you. You were the one I fantasized about making love to. It drove me mad, because I hated you. But, I wanted you. I have always wanted you. That night in my study, when I kissed you. I wanted to lower you to the floor and have you, right then and there. I am honestly quite proud of my restraint.”

“Anthony Bridgerton!”

“What? I’m just being honest. I didn’t act on it, did I? I stopped before things got too far. But, trust me, Kate. Stopping took a great deal of willpower. More than I ever would have given myself credit for before then.” He cupped her face, running his thumb over her lips. “I hate how inadequate you feel. The way you always compare yourself to every woman around you and feel like you’re coming up short. Part of me wants to smack everyone who ever made you feel that way. Though, most of me is just grateful that you were surrounded by fools who were completely blind to your charms. Because their blindness meant that you were still there when I finally came to my senses.”

She giggled, a sound that shot straight to his groin. “You mean when you completely lost your mind? I’m not sure that that day in the garden really counts as you coming to your senses.”

“Fine. When I completely lost my mind. I’m honestly grateful to that damn bee. And almost feel sorry for it. Poor thing gave its life to bring us together.”

“If I had known how things would turn out, I would have given it a proper funeral.”

It was his turn to laugh, then. “Here’s hoping there’s a bee heaven, where it’s always late spring and all the flowers are in bloom.”

Kate just shook her head and leaned down to kiss him gently. “Good morning, Lord Bridgerton. I’m glad that your mood seems to be improving.”

“I am laying naked in my bed, with the woman I love in my arms. Hard to stay in a melancholy mood under these circumstances. Did you sleep well, Lady Bridgerton?”

“I did. My husband rather tired me out, last night.”

He laughed. “Well, you see, I realized that I am madly in love with my wife just moments before she was severely injured in an accident. Said injury barred me from certain… pleasurable activities for several weeks. Last night was the first chance I’ve had to properly demonstrate my affection.” He pulled her down until her head was on his chest, again, then just held her, running his hand gently up and down her back. “I wasn’t too rough with you last night, was I? I fear that several weeks’ worth of pent-up desire may have made me a bit too… enthusiastic in my attentions.”

“If you honestly have to ask that, then perhaps I wasn’t enthusiastic enough in my response.”

Anthony thought of the night before. Of Kate’s moans of pleasure. The way she clung to him. The way her body moved in perfect rhythm with his. How she begged him to never stop. And the fact that he was pretty sure every servant in the house heard her screaming his name when she climaxed. He groaned. “Had you been any more enthusiastic, I think you may have killed me.”

She giggled again. “Well, perhaps you shouldn’t be questioning my enjoyment, then.”

He just shook his head and ran his fingers through her hair. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

“You may have mentioned it a few… hundred times in the past few weeks, yes.”

“I have been making up for lost time. I fell in love with you the moment you sent my pall mall ball into the lake. I think I fell in love with your competitive spirit. And the fact that you could hold your own against my siblings, and against me. You fit in. I mean, there was always more to it than that. And I’m not explaining myself very well. But, I definitely fell in love with you that day. It just took me far too long to be able to admit it to myself. Kate, I’m sorry. I am so sorry.”

She put a finger to his lips. “Shh… It’s okay, Anthony. You were scared. I understand. I really do. Yes, it hurt when you told me that you would never love me. Especially since I was already pretty sure it was going to be way too easy for me to fall in love with you. I think I could have handled the thought of being in a loveless marriage. It was the thought of love being only one way that hurt. Actually, though, I was also a fool.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was willing to admit to myself that I could probably fall in love with you. But, the part I wasn’t able to admit to myself is that I already had.” She laughed. “Actually, at about the same time. It probably started at that dinner party, when you swooped in, snubbed Cressida Cowper, and escorted Penelope to dinner. You were a hero that day. That was when my opinion of you started to change. But, what really did it was that night in the library. I fell in love with the man who crawled under a table to try to comfort me while I had a full-on panic attack. Who didn’t judge me. Who was sweet, and supportive, and tried to distract me, but never tried to tell me that there was nothing to be afraid of. Who did his best to try to understand what I was going through and help me through it. So, don’t apologize for not realizing you loved me, Anthony. It took me almost as long to admit it to myself that I loved you.”

“Well, aren’t we a pair? At least we figured it out.”

“Yes, we certainly did.” She lifted herself off of him, again. But, before he had time to complain about the loss of that contact, she scooted up a bit, then leaned down and kissed him. And this time, there was nothing gentle about it. Her lips were hungry on his, and when he gasped in surprise, she was the one to press the advantage and slip her tongue into his mouth.

He groaned and wrapped his arms around her, one hand fisting in her hair, holding her to him as their tongues tangled together. His other hand slid down her back, over her derriere, to grip the back of the leg she currently had draped over his thighs. And then he slid her leg up, until it was once again draped over his hips. He hissed at the contact.

His wife was not through surprising him, though. She shifted until she was straddling him, and then rocked her hips, moaning against his lips as the movement apparently gave her as much pleasure as it gave him. Okay, he was definitely liking this side of her. While she had always been an enthusiastic participant in lovemaking, she had never taken charge like this, before. The thought of making love to her like this was intoxicating. Until he ran his hands over her legs and noticed how much they were trembling — and remembered that she had only very recently regained full use of one of them. He reluctantly broke their kiss. “Kate. Your leg.”

“Has been pronounced healed. A fact that we spent a good portion of last night celebrating.”

He rolled her over. “And I want to keep it that way. I don’t want you putting more strain on it than necessary for a while. I promise you, Kate. In a few weeks, when I trust that it will give you nothing but pleasure, I will be more than happy to lay back and allow you to have your way with me. But, for right now, for my peace of mind, please let me do most of the work. Okay? I don’t want to hurt you.”

She gave him a saucy look. “I intend to hold you to that promise.”

"Please do. I'm looking forward to it, actually."

Kate's eyes darkened, making Anthony swallow hard at the desire apparent in them. She lifted her hips, pressing herself against him, and they both moaned. “Please, Anthony. I can’t wait any longer. I need you.”

Dear God. This woman was seriously going to be the death of him. Not that he was complaining. “I love you, so much”, he whispered before leaning down to kiss her softly. He watched her face as he made love to her. He had always enjoyed watching passion, desire, and pleasure flitting across her face as he moved inside her. But, last night, he finally let himself see something else — love. It was the love shining in her eyes that was his undoing. He hadn’t lied to her on their wedding night when he told her it had never been that good. But, it was even better, now. Because now he knew that she was giving him all of herself. Not just her body, but her heart and her soul, too. As he had given her his.

It was still scary. Falling in love was possibly the most terrifying thing he had ever done in his life. He wouldn’t change it, but he wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve it.

Kate’s moans of pleasure started getting louder, and he felt her tightening around him. He leaned down and kissed her deeply, muffling the sounds they both made as they climaxed. He shuddered as he emptied himself into her.

Eventually, he got up the energy to roll off her and pull her over so that she was laying on his chest again. “You know, if it keeps getting better every time, you really are going to end up being the death of me.”

She giggled. “We can’t have that, now.” She snuggled closer to him. “I have definitely missed waking up to that.”

“So have I. Please don’t ever injure yourself like that again. Between worrying about you and missing this, I don’t know how I survived it. The next time I get barred from your bed for weeks at a time I want it to be because…” He skimmed his hand down her side to her waist and then moved it around to rest on her belly.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “We should probably eat something. We’re going to need our strength if we’re going to be getting to work getting you an heir.”

“Kate, you know I don’t really care about that, right? I mean, I know that that’s why I was looking to get married this season, but… Our marriage isn’t about that. Especially not now. I just want to be with you. I have three brothers. If we don’t have a son, I’m sure that at least one of them will. My family’s title isn’t going anywhere. I don’t want you to feel like you’re under any pressure.”

“Honestly, Anthony. It was a joke. You may not care about having an heir, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have a whole lot of fun trying, right?”

He laughed, then sat up. “Put at least a nightdress on, Lady Bridgerton. That beautiful body of yours is a sight for my eyes, only. I’ll ring to have a breakfast tray brought up.”

Kate just raised an eyebrow at him, and he laughed as he got out of bed. He picked up her nightdress from where he had tossed it the night before and handed it to her before pulling a pair of trousers on. Once they were both at least somewhat covered, he rang down to the kitchen to have a tray brought up for them.

Several hours later, he also rang to have a dinner tray brought up. It wasn’t until the next day that they actually got out of bed. They had a lot of lost time to make up for.

#bridgerton #kathony #kanthony #katexanthonyweek21 #kateandanthonyweek21

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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Ducktales Shadow Into Light (Lena Retrospective): Friendship Hates Magic! (Commission by WeirdKev27)

Hello all you happy people! And welcome, and to some of you welcome back to Shadow Into Light, my fully paid for but gladly done Lena retrospective, covering everyone’s faviorite lesbian emo shadow’s personal jounrey through all three seasons and some brucey bonuses.

So this time we pick up in mid-season 2.. yes MID season 2. Though for once taking so long to adress things had valid reasons. It dosen’t make the 8 month wait for Lena to return and for Violet to show up, her concept art having been shown off shortly before Shadow War aired during San Diego Comic Con, any less aggravating, especially since the episode did air overseas before that but never leaked anywhere properly. So I knew she’d be okay but not HOW.

As I said though.. they had their reasons. The episode was set for episode 8 in production order, right behind whatever Happened to Della Duck? which answered the other big cliffhanger from season 1, Della’s exile on the moon. So while this episode was back in the queue, along with Della’s, which had to wait till after the christmas episode to air because said episode takes place before it. So waiting on this episode was fair on the crew’s part even knowing it was a hiatus.

It ended up getting pushed back by a week once the episodes started airing.. but as outlined last time, THIS TIME Disney actually moved it for good reason instead of just doing so because shut up. See the problem with moving episodes around in season 2.. is Della’s return. Several episodes that in theory could’ve easily been pushed back instead of this one, Depths of Cousin Fethry, Treasure of the Found Lamp... couldn’t because they take place BEFORE Della came back and it’d be weird to air them after. One features Donald, the other dosen’t but still lacks Della and it’d be weird if it did> While this episode takes place before Della comes back or was at least meant to, no one appears in person, and Beakly mentoning “the boys and scrooge” at the bin could simply be her forgetting Della’s a part of things for a second. It’s not entirely in character, but it’s much easier than explaning why Della’s not there and Donald is.

They also moved one episode ahead of this.. but it’s one I approve of. See from episode 7 onward the episodes were aired in week long duckbombs, woo-ooo. I I don’t fault disney for it or the reason I suspect they had for doing this: while it wasn’t the intended way of airing, they likely did this airing style to get shows on Disney Plus quicker for it’s debut and given they’ve sunk a LOT of money into the streaming service and it’s a key part of their future, I can’t blame them for wanting the entire series thus far on the platform at launch. It’s one of if not their most popular show at the moment. They wanted it front and center.

So this one took an extra week to air, and an extra day as they aired raiders of the doomsday vault right after Della’s return in “Nothing Can Stop Della Duck!”.. which is also not a bad move. Fans wanted more of Della and her bonding with the kids, I wanted more of that so while the wait was grumble inducing, it was worth the tradeoff to get more of this character and her bonding with Dewey.. and let’s face it Glomgold. You know what i’m about at this point.

So there were delays but not the mind boggling ones that reshuffled the season last time and by next season there’d be zero reshuffling with both holiday episodes designed to go anywhere. So with the history and the agonizing wait out of the way join me under the cut as a snark knight returns, a new fan faviorite debuts and Beakly gets sucked into Launchpad’s awful fandom.

We open our story at the Duckburg Library. Man I fucking miss the library. I mean you can go by apointment and what not but I also have library card debt and stuff, and it’s just not the same.

Anyways naturally Webby is going there to research the Shadow Realm in hopes of finding something to bring Lena back. Last week was “Children’s Card Games, Dark Magic and You! by Professor Yugi Moto which while enlightening got her nowhere. Next up is “Shadow Games on Motorcycles!: How a Crimson Dragon defeated a giant Shadow Monster and brought the dead back and I helped by Doctor Yusei Fudo”.

But that one’s not in yet so she instead goes to the Librarian to get another book.. and it’s Quackfaster! Horay! As for why she’s working two jobs, she’s saving up for a retirement condo in BIRDDDBAAADDOOOSSSSS. I had to type it that way it’s ape law.

But her next book “I Went there and it Sucked, My Time in the Shadow Realm by Mayor of New Jersey Joey Wheeler” is taken by “another strange little girl”. Quackfaster, you chase people around with a scimitar. Just accept your the weird one and live with it like me. You’ll be happier that way.

And so we finally meet Violet whose introduced pitch perfectly. Webby gives out her usual “Hi I”m Webby”.. and Violet simply holds a finger up, finishes her page and gives a simple “Yes?” It demonstrates her quite nature, her love of reading and her lack of social skills all in one fell swoop. The ensuing dead language off is also pretty damn adorable reminding me of that scene from “Lisa’s Wedding” where she and Hugh fight over a book and reading it before making out.. minus the making out because these are children, no one wants that, and Webby is taken. .and even then again children. Most we get is an innocent peck and some blushing.

So Violet, finding out Webby needs it and is researching the arcane too offers to research together tonight, bringing a sleeping bag just in case it goes on long... to Lena’s unheard objections as she’s rattled by the break in her normal routine with Webby, and the possibility of Webby falling for someone else. I mean this i framed as a friendship thing... but you can only say “friend” so many times in a work before you sound like a retired grandma in denial about their granddaughter.

Later at the Mansion, Beakley is enjoying a nice quiet afternoon to herself. Turns out once a month Scrooge has “Binventory Day” where he and the boys catalogue the bin for hours giving her a night to herself and Webby. Webby loudly interuppts the peace as is Cartoon Law, but Beakley is pleased Webby is getting back on the friendship horse.

Bentina ends up ruining it a bit though by bringing up her previous slumber party disasters... which even Lena at her most jealous admits were her fault and only agrees to in the hopes Webby’s going to cancel. Instead Webby decides to make this the most normal sleepover ever! The one where her new friend is coming to specifically help her with magic.

Bentina tries to back her grandaughter/daughter down from this insane logic, but Webby does, if innocently clap back well to her being the one to give her “Be yourself” advice. “I’m not like you Granny, I need to have friends”

And while Webby quickly flees after Beakley tries to deny it.. she’s not wrong. She has exactly one friend who she works for and no social life to speak of.. and as far as I can tell she’s fine this way. Beakley is happy with her work and raising Webby and has someone to talk to in Scrooge. She has everything she needs, while Webby is a social butterfly.. a socially inept social butterfly. She needs people and loves meeting new people and needs friends and not just her family. One’s an introvert the other’s an extrovert. I’m both at times, and before you ask why yes it is a living nightmare thank you so much for asking. I get where both are coming from. And Beakley clearly had friends at one point it’s just a long war with FOWL and a sudden granddaughter probably whittled it down to just Scrooge. It’s okay to be yourself.

So this is where the plotlines split off, so as usual, i’m splitting the up.

Launchpad and Beakley in Getting To Know You And Getting Sucked INto Your Strange and Lovely Fandom

So Beakley naturally cries out “name one person I don’t get along with.. and in walks Launchpad , Nature’s Perfect Himbo, having destroyed the gate and at least being honest he probably will again. Why he’s here when the boys and Scrooge are all gone?

But I don’t care as this subplot is just.. a nonstop delight. Starting with Beakly inviting Launchpad to sup with her.. which just confuses him. Look Bentina you have to use small words.. it’s a miracle he gets up in the morning, dreses himself and hasn’t died in a tragic gasoline fight accident. You have to know your audience. Still funny.

And “not knowing your audience” continues as Beakly serves them pea soup but Launchpad is intimidated by the spoons and while she does offer to help instead tries to use all of them then a straw and then falls facedown in his soup. And this is the SECOND TIME Beakly’s left someone living at the mansion to die. I mean that’s not a lot but it’s still weird it happened twice.

Finally they sit quitely, Beakly reading the Scarlet Pimpernell, and Launchpad doing a coloring book. And besides the odd couple energy what I really like about this subplot.. is that it fleshes Beakly out> This is one of her ONLY plots in the entire goddamn series, yes really. 70 episodes and she only got five spotlight episodes/plots. But it does at least show her off: her upperclass pedigree we really don’t see often, showing that while she applied to the job as maid out of necisity she knows her stuff, her love of classic literature and her being out of touch with the common person. It’s not a ton but it’s more than ninja butler or “stop having fun with your kids della and be a parent”. I mean she wasn’t wrong but she could’ve been nicer about it given the circumstances.

So Launchpad, given Beakley’s never shown any interest in him as a person before, assumes she’s going to fire him and was just softening him up. I mean Scrooge himself outright said he never would and if he did he’d do it to your face, hard as it’d be. But that aside, he’s fine with getting to know her once he knows that no he’s not being fired she just wanted to hang out, he’s everyone’s friend. But naturally an upperclash british former super spy and a dumb as a bucket with a heart of gold pilot have nothing in common, not even aircraft as “plane go up, plane crash going down’ is about the extent of his actual knowledge on aircraft that isn’t instinct or dumb luck.

He does manage to break the ice though, mistaking her book for a Darkwing Duck book and deciding to show her the show since it might be something they have in common. At first she’s as unintuhsed as you’d expect a british lady who never watches the telly watching a 90′s kids show would be.. but by the end she’s gotten all the way into it.

It’s really endearing, showning that two vastly diffrent people with nothing can common can be brought together by something as simple and glorious as liking the same show. I’ve had it happen with me. She naturally is all for filiming his fanscript after the finale provides no answers, being the one to suggest it and the two end the episode shooting it with her in full darkwing duck cosplay. I’ts a cute and entertaining subplot and a nice contrast to the main plot which while not super dark, does have a fog of tension over it. Speaking of which.

Webby, Lena and Violet: In Two’s Company, Three Accidently Creates Monsters That Nearly Take Your Girlfriend Off Into The Shadowy Abyss So the slumber party gets underway with Webby shooing away Duckworth after clearing out her room to greet Violet herself and violet having brought pie... a great callback to an earlier joke where Webby wondered if pie was normal at a sleepover. No but it should be. So Webby welcomes her in to her totally normal room devoid of anything. Nothing suspicious about that.

So Violet tries to get her into research, specifically Tulpas, an actual magical concept, a mental construct of some kind created out of desire, imagination or what have you. Gee I wonder if that will come into play this episode. Webby.. wants to play baggle or what have you or do makeovers and drags Violet along to do the second thing after Violet asks about Magica. Lena then finds something glowing in Violet’s bag...specifically, her old amulet, cracked but still working and flowing with Magica’s power.

Lena assumes Violet is Magica and goes to warn Webby only to find her HORRIBLY MUTATED! Naturally it’s a misdirect, as it turns out Violet is just REALLY good at special effects makeup. It’s something I honestly forgot about her... i’m betting one of her dad’s is an effects artist. Just saying that’d be neat. But Webby gives the “i’m normal really even though I live in a giant mansion with my dad I don’t know is my dad and my grandma whose actually my adopted mom” game away by pointing out the demon’s fang is crooked and Violet is curious and heads to Webby’s room finding a picture from said demon. He signed it and everything. Good man that Rakshaka.

Webby is worried Violet will be freaked out by all the weird but nope, she enjoys it. And it’s not a suprise: violet is actively researching the shadow dimension. Why WOULD she be scared off. The conflict was in Webby’s head all along.. and partly out of PTSD, but we’ll get to that. Webby still tries to get her to baggle but they settle on ancient rune dice baggle and summoning some spirits. Lena scoffs.. until it actually works. It does make sense though: As we’ll see in her last starring role, Lena is kinda like Wanda Maximoff: she has an extreme amount of power but she has no idea how to use it and is simply making up most of her magic as she goes along or took magica’s lead. But the spell means Lena can touch the dice so she spells out don’t trust her.. but forgets she’s dealing with two nerds who love unlocking puzzles and assume the message is on the dice themselves.

Webby and Violet decide they need more clarity and resume the seance.. which summons mysterious white shadow creatures Lena saw before.. .some now taking Magica’s shape. And Lena’s panicked “Oh not again” says it all. So Lena tries the tried and true bedsheet ghost cliche, grumbling about it but showing up as a ghost without any abillity to speak or talk to webby dosen’t do anything and Violet tackles the sheet before deciding to grab the amulet to dispiate the spirit.. only for Lena to show up for a breif second before she does show making the panicked child look incredibly supscious.

Webby naturally tackles and interrogates Violet wanting the full story. And it turns out the big secret is.. Violet is entirely normal. Nothing to do with Magica, no possesions or secretly being her or a minon of hers... she was just a logic obsessed 12 year old who thought magic was a myth.. until the Shadow War proved “Nope it’s real everything you know is wrong. Up is down black is white and short is long”. She just happened to be close to the bin and found the amulet when the remains of the staff fell near her and compacted back into it.

It’s a brilliant reveal. See first watch around your genuinely unsure if Violet is a real person or not.. unless you went in knowing she is, but semantics. Point is most first time viewers didn’t know she’d be a beloved member of the supporting cast and didn’t know what to expect. But looking back... it makes no sense. If Magica had the amulet.. why would she need to infiltrate the mansion. Revenge? Possibly but she’d want Scrooge there too. Even being evil on her own Violet had valid opportunity to pilfer Webby’s magical items, she has an entire box of magic rocks right there and then simply zap her with the amulet. But she didn’t.. because Violet is a person. When she DOES use it she’s utterly terrified, and we can see her breathing heavy, scared.. something Magica has NEVER been of Lena. To Violet it was just a ghost. Webby hadn’t told her about lena and any information she had about her was second hand from newspapers and the like.

Webby is sympathetic, as Violet’s feeling of being sheltered from this greater world naturally resonates and while Lena is still supscious, having reincorperated, it’s clear Webby trusts violet and simply dosen’t want to loose another friend to magic. Here trying to hide it now takes another tone.. she knows Lena was behind it.. but is so afraid of it consuming violet the way it did Lena, she forgets almost ALL of the weird magic stuff in sleepovers was magica’s manipulation, and that Lena died because her creator was a monster, not because of magic. Magic is not inherently good or bad, it just is, and that will come back as a theme in a few episodes. It allowed Magica to ravage the town and kill Lena.. but it allowed Lena to exist in the first place and while the terrible events with Magica clearly shook her.. it also shook violet out of her complacency and got her to research a world she never would’ve considered. Good can come from bad.

And it’s with this in mind that Violet.. does not give up. She’s stayed in her box enough.. and now she knows the spirit is a friendly one.. she figures they can bring Lena BACK using the amulet. After all it was lena’s and the source of her powers.. it might be the key to reiviving her. And while Lena, if invisibly as always, remarks it’s dangerous.. Webby, with no hesitation agrees to get her girlfriend back. It’s risky sure.. but what Lena hasn’t gotten is she’s WORTH the list. She’s so full of self loathing from both her manupations of webby and Magica’s gaslighting and abuse that she can’t see herself being worth anything even as Webby spent MONTHS trying to save her, clearly still loves her, and only didn’t want violet getting hurt because she misses her. Webby still loves and needs her for who Lena is.. Lena just can’t it and it hurts to think about that.

So the girls once again try to summon Lena and it starts to work.. but also summons the Tulpa’s back... this time taking Magica’s form and causing a suspcious lena to panic.. and suck both of them into the shadow realm. We get the reunion we’ve been waiting for as Webby tackle hugs her happily.

But it’s soon cut short as Lena still thinks Violet is just manipulating Webby, lying to her and that “she’s mine!”

For the record Joss Whedon sucks, not taking that out on Anthony Stewart Head or the guys who actually wrote the episode. Moving on.

I feel Lena’s jealousy comes from the aformentioned self loathing, mixed with a life of having to live just to surivive at the beck and call of a throughly awful person who didn’t consider her a sentient being worthy of anything especially love. She can’t fathom anyone else loving Webby the way she does because she feels once webby has anyone else.. she won’t need her. It’s toxic and wrong.. but it’s easy to see why that’d happen when sh’es only had one healthy relationship. She barely knows the boys, Beakly only grew to tolerate her and she was only friends with Scrooge for like.. a minute. Webby is the only person she knows, loves and trusts and she just can’t risk loosing that and can’t convince herself to share.

In a realistic scenario Lena would have to simply learn to trust and let her girlfriend have other relationshps and that hogging her all to herself is inhernetly toxic and bad. And while she still does we’re talking about a living pile of shadows smooching a clone, so yeah instead the tulpas come out and drag her off..and take Lena’s form. While Lena tries to blame Violet, Violet has absolutley none of that and makes Lena see the hard truth: Lena is so worried about being forgotten, she created the tulpas by accidnet. As I said her power is raw and unfocused.. so she didn’t do it on purpose nor did she realize how toxic she was being. This finally snaps Lena back to reality, and see Violet geniunely cares about Webby and any ulterior motives were just in her head, so the two agree to work together, using a similar chant to the one from Jaws to destroy the Tulpas and save Webby.

So the shadow realm is disapated and our trio are returned to the human world.. but Lena, not being part of it and no longer having a tether.. starts to disolve, with a really heartbreaking scene of Webby holding her hand, as does violet. But.. then a miracle happens. Since the Bracelet was Lena’s link to Webby, and to her own magic, with it and the amulet close by.. both swirl around Lena, and the power of love.. for a new friend and a first love... revivies her. Mist parts.. and we get one heartwarming sign that after all this time “I’m back?!” Lena is confused.. but once again part of this plane of reality. She’s free and WEbby triumphanthly hugs her with Violet joining in. By letting go of her hate.. Lena returned to who she loved. They also run into the end of the other subplot and Launchpad’s casual hey lena is just great.

So our heroes are reunited and doing horror makeup and I really love Webby’s updo here and wish more works fan nd otherwise used it. WE get a final fakeout as Lena seemingly disovles and Violet reveals herself as magica.. only for it to be a prank and Webby to just be glad the love of her life and her new best friend get a long. We get one last hearwarming image and we close out.. with Lena finally having what she always wanted freedom. And while she may not know it yet in accepting violet.. she’s finally found family. More on that in a few weeks.

Final Thoughts: This episode is excellent. It’s not the best of the Lena arc, that comes next and it does drag once or twice.. but overall it’s a really great character piece, with a nice ballance betwen the tense main plot and the funny and goofy subplot. It adds more to Lena’s character, finally brings her back, while giving us a new and throughly fascenating new character to rave about in Violet, as well as giving Webby her own personal squad. It’s a great episode.. and only leads to a better one. But we’ll get to that in a week or so. First we have a bit of a detour and my plug.

If you liked this review, follow for more, spread it around, and join my patreon. It’s almost time for new patreons to pay up and if you hit my stretch goal i’ll review a darkwing duck episode next month and every month! We’re just five bucks away people! And if you’d like to just comission a review directly it’s just 5 bucks an episode and avaliable via my dms, ask or discord.

Next Time on Shadow Into Light: We take a break from the last two Lena episodes to go to one of her sources as we head back to Ducktales 87 with Magica’s Shadow War! I know almost nothing going in so... Shadow betrayals and stuff? Yay?

Tommorow: It’s Fenton’s birthday! And since i’ve done a LOT of ducktales recently and can’t do super ducktales till I hit my next stretch goal at 25 bucks, we’re going back to ST Canard at long last for Gizmoducks second apperance.. which can’t possibly be worse than the first so i’m excited. Let’s get dangerous tommorow!

#lena sabrewing #webby vanderquack #ducktales #weblena #violet sabrewing #shadow into light #friendship hates magic #great title by the way #bentina beakley #launchpad mcquack #darkwing duck

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