#Tonks forever

[whinlatter]

something tells me you don't really like tonks, just a hunch xD

For the relationship ask if you're still doing it: harry and remus, molly and remus, teddy and adromeda. I would love to see what do you think <3

noooo i love tonks! i had a ball writing her and think that @evesaintyves’ rendering of her is one of fandom’s greatest gifts 😭 i just find it very funny that harry thinks she should low key get a grip. and as a clumsy young woman who should myself get a grip, i say: get off her case, hjp.

ok the remus + tonks/black extended family universe... hyped for this one. delicious choices, thank you anon. (i have a few more in the inbox i'm going to take a stab at but am trying to avoid spoilery ones or ones where i risk boring you all again by repeating old talking points, so if i don't get to one pls forgive me...)

right — to business. we begin with everybody looking at remus lupin waiting for him to put his crippling self loathing aside to write (1) singular letter to his dead friend's son:

i jest (to an extent). but i do think the entirety of harry and remus' dynamic is best encapsulated in one singular scene in PoA:

“When they get near me — ” Harry stared at Lupin’s desk, his throat tight. “I can hear Voldemort murdering my mum.” Lupin made a sudden motion with his arm as though to grip Harry’s shoulder, but thought better of it.

i know there's a very understandable move in AUs to imagine what would have happened if remus had raised harry - or, more often, if remus had been 'allowed' to raise harry by dumbledore. but looking past the whole plot-requiring-harry-to-be-at-the-dursleys thing, the truth is, canon remus lupin would never have put himself forward to raise harry, because of his own (not unfounded!) concerns about the precarity of his existence and the dangerousness of his condition. remus' sense of self - more specifically his fear of himself, and his very low self worth - consistently lead him to hold harry at arm's length from the moment he's introduced in the series until its bitter end. i don't think remus at all approves of the way harry is treated at the dursleys. but i can very much imagine that remus thinks it would still be better than the life he could have given harry if he ever had been called upon to serve as his primary caregiver. one of the most interesting implicit dynamics in the series is that harry notices this and does, to some extent, resent it (obviously the fact that he only ever calls him 'lupin' in his narration, though uses remus to his face, and also: 'Harry had received no mail since the start of term; his only regular correspondent was now dead and although he had hoped that Lupin might write occasionally, he had so far been disappointed.') while the harry & remus fight in DH is about harry's view of what remus ought to do re tonks and the baby, it’s also harry coming as close as saying to remus: you're letting your own child down like you let me down. ('I’m pretty sure my father would have wanted to know why you aren’t sticking with your own kid, actually... He had it coming to him,” said Harry. Broken images were racing each other through his mind: Sirius falling through the veil; Dumbledore suspended, broken, in midair; a flash of green light and his mother’s voice, begging for mercy… ‘Parents,’ said Harry, 'shouldn’t leave their kids unless—unless they’ve got to.')

molly and remus: i think this is a very, very underrated relationship! i know there’s a lot of molly-bashing around these days, especially if you’re a marauders and/or sirius and/or wolfstar stan. but i think it is very very overlooked that the person who looks after adult remus the most from 1995 onwards, and who shows him some of the deepest trust and roots for his happiness, is molly. for a man who has plainly known a huge amount of financial/food/housing insecurity, and who is so villainised in wider wizarding society, it is no small gesture for molly to not only provide for remus materially but also to trust him in a house with all of her children and encourage him in a romantic relationship he struggles to feel entitled to and worthy of. (i love sirius, but he is in no fit state to ‘look after’ remus in the last year of his life, and fandom’s continued unwillingness to recognise the importance of domestic/caregiving labour as a vital contribution to the resistance will never not be problematic af). remus clearly values and admires molly in return - the only time he actually ever entertains a parent/guardianship role is when molly is weeping over her boggart, crying onto remus’ shoulder (‘what must you think of me?’) and he assures her that if anything were to happen to her and arthur, he would be a part of the team making sure her children are taken date of (‘what do you think we’d do, let them starve?’) remus’ relationship with molly is often the more mild-mannered translator of her viewpoint to others (especially others with hot tempers), and mediator trying to find middle ground between molly’s protective instincts and the battle/ready instincts of others. (more grist to my sirius & ginny parallels mill — in DH, when a fuming ginny is desperately trying to sneak off to fight in the battle, it’s remus who appeals to molly and ginny to find the compromise of ginny staying in the room of requirement to know what’s going on but not actively fight, a mirror image of his role mediating the dispute between sirius and molly over harry’s right to know what’s going on at grimmauld in ootp…) molly accepts this compromise, a sign that she trusts remus implicitly (she never frets that a werewolf is living among her children in ootp onwards, and invites him to christmas readily even after months undercover with the pack) and also feels able to call him out (‘i’ve always said you’re taking a ridiculous line on this, remus’.) this is too long but basically — justice for molly and remus, unlikely buds!

teddy and andromeda: i weirdly think a lot about teddy lupin these days. i tend to imagine teddy as a very mild-mannered, affable, calm child, like who remus might have been had he not been bitten, with tonks' heart and sociability but also with something of remus' more philosophical disposition. i think he'd slip very naturally into a big brother role because, in part, he does see himself as having a responsibility to take care of people, and i think this would shine through in his relationship with andromeda. we know teddy was raised by his gran, and i imagine she feels enormously protective of him, perhaps bordering on strict in her desire to keep him safe from the harm that came to all the rest of her family. but i like to imagine teddy didn't act out against this too much, in part because he understands where it comes from and in turn feels very protective of andromeda. growing up in the aftermath of the war would make teddy as a child particularly aware of the grief and pain and the silences among the adults around him, and i think teddy would take any compensatory protective strictness on andromeda's part with good grace, and humour her for it. i like to think teenage/young adult teddy serves as the translator for any of his gran's more prickly edges, and that they have a very close relationship that both of them really treasure.

[rewritingcanon]

hello everybody i am back with another epic fanfic drop for @marauderswithpalestineproject. this one is andromeda-centric, with heavy focus on her relationship with her sisters, ted as a contrast, and her mother who is also doomed by the narrative (spoiler! everyone in the fic kinda is!). it’s mostly canon compliant (i think i accidentally messed up the birthdays for some of the characters… whoopsie..) and will eventually feature baby nymphadora as a treat for 25k words of angst. mwah mwah check it out if you want to maybe!!

[silverameco]

Remadora makes no sense

Because Remus belongs with Sirius and Tonks belongs with me

[elskanellis]

HP Trans Fest 2023 fic claim

I am absolutely thrilled to share that I participated in @hptransfest this year. My prompt was about non-binary Tonks dealing with dysphoria and discovering found family. "This will be fun!" I thought. "Found family, what a joyous trope! Queer genderfuckery is such a wonderful lens through which to explore Tonks as a character! What a nice break from angst this will be!"

Anyway it turned out to be very therapeutic to write this story. In, like, the most harrowing sense of that word. It hit really close to home, and the plot goes through some rough moments, but I hope I was able to bring across some of the joy that Tonks (and I) have found.

you will seem more like being on AO3

T | tonks | found family | queer themes | metamorphmagus | being forcibly outed | being forcibly closeted | no one loves a closet more than Albus Dumbledore | a convoluted lesson invoking Yggdrasil | the found family is a bunch of goth kids

Endless thanks to @letitstand and @thehoneybeet for alpha reading and to @goblinmatriarch for the beta. @melociraptor, @myrtlefics, @boxboxlewis, and mazza provided emotional support and indulged me as i shared multiple playlists of first- and second-wave goth classics. 🖤🖤 Thanks also to the fest mods and to the Magical Trans server for all your support!

[carewyncromwell]

“Stolen moments, gone forever! Well, tables can turn, as my enemies will soon enough learn...”

x~x~x~x

HPHM Cardverse developed by @ariparri​ // brief reference to Maya and Jacob Avery @akikocho​

x~x~x~x

The Jokers’ Domain was always a very lively place. New faces and new acts arrived everyday, and no one day was ever just like the last. But one day that certainly left an impact on a lot of its longtime residents was the day the man who would become known as the Escape Artist first stumbled in.

For one, he was a complete wreck, visually. His pale, bruised face was hemmed in by a mane of long, matted black-brown curls, dripping wet onto his shoulders. He wore only one black boot, and his left pant leg had been almost completely ripped off, the loose blue fabric dangling by the thread off his leg like a cape. And that didn’t even touch the dirty, bloodstained straitjacket he was inexplicably wearing. He’d managed to cut the sleeves open with something sharp -- whatever it was, it’d left his hands bleeding through the fabric. Despite the injuries to his hands, though, he kept his left fist clenched around something round, silver, and covered in green algae -- a pocketwatch emblazoned with the crest of the Country of Spades.

The other thing that made the man memorable, though, was how he so thoroughly trashed several Carnival acts as soon as he arrived, without even meaning to.

The poor man seemed very precarious on his feet, and to make matters worse, he seemed both unable to form words and close to blind -- almost as if he was a newborn baby animal still struggling to master his senses and muscular coordination. Blinking rapidly but seeing almost nothing, he stumbled right into Ismelda Murk’s tent and ended up right in the center of her knife-throwing act. Despite being both overwhelmed by the sounds of the crowd and unable to see clearly, the strange man somehow managed to avoid the throng of knives Ismelda had flung out toward her targets by ducking the first three, dodging the fourth, and even catching the last one in his teeth. Then, dropping the knife at once, he ran out, grunting something indiscernible as he shoved Ismelda’s assistant Beatrice roughly out of his way.

“Ddddeafff -- geottru -- phind -- ”

As soon as the strange extricated himself from Ismelda’s act, though, he ended up barreling right into a fortune teller’s stall and shattering her crystal ball (where he managed to dodge the punch from the owner’s husband); took the reins of a cart and rode it a short way until crashing it into another tent (further damage from which he avoided by somersaulting out at the last minute); and then finally landed right in the midst of Beast Tamer Charlie’s act (which resulted in a dragon getting loose and the man narrowly escaping getting his head taken off by its spiked tail when it took off into the air).

It was one of the Domains’ most respected Jokers, Tulip, who finally put an end to this lively romp by putting her foot out and tripping the new arrival so that he stumbled half-blind into a tub of bobbing apples pushed forward by Tonks. The water splashing in his face seemed to startle the man back to life. He sputtered, shaking his head and wet hair, as he shakily tried to climb back out of the tub.

“Lem -- Lemme aught -- aught -- out -- ”

“Easy, mate,” said Tonks. “We’ll help you out.”

With Tulip’s help, Tonks helped the man up and out of the tub. He was suddenly shaking from head to toe as he blinked rapidly, trying to take in where he was clearly. Some light was slowly coming to life in his eyes as his vision started to clear.

“Morning, sunshine,” Tulip said playfully. “Can you see us now?”

The man blinked at her, then Tonks, then his surroundings. He seemed both incredibly overwhelmed and confused -- the water dripping down his face seemed to startle him again when he registered it and he shook himself fiercely, yanking himself out of Tulip and Tonks’s grip with a loud grunt.

“Nu -- find -- gawtu find -- ”

But Tonks cartwheeled over and cut him off before he could go bolting off again.

"Wotcher, stranger,” she said, holding her hands up to try to both halt and pacify him. “We’re not here to hurt you. At least Tulip and I aren’t -- can’t say the same for the people whose acts you disrupted...”

She jabbed a thumb at Charlie trying to rein in the dragon that was flying free overhead and prompting other Carnival workers to run for cover.

The man seemed to wince slightly, seeing the destruction he’d wrought. Tulip, however, was grinning broadly.

“I thought it was pretty funny,” she said brightly. “I mean, the way you ducked that one bloke’s punch by sliding right between his legs? That was brilliant! And the way you caught Ismelda’s knife in your teeth? You really are quite an escape artist, Mr....?”

Rather than answer, though, the man could only throw his gaze around, his bleary, lost eyes blinking rapidly as he sought out every face he could -- combed through them with desperation. He even at one point pushed Tulip right out of his way, his pale, bruised face resembling a starving man’s as he took in the Carnival tents, grunting anxious gibberish under his breath.

“ -- Dunshe -- dddeaff -- kairla find...”

Tulip frowned as she shared a side-long glance with Tonks. The pink-haired Joker then approached Jacob a bit more gently.

“It looks like you’re bleeding, mate,” she said. “Here...”

She materialized a handkerchief seemingly out of nothing, dipped it in the remaining water from the apple bobbing bucket, and then tried to wipe some of the blood off of his temple. In doing so, Tonks ended up brushing some of the hair out of the stranger’s face, making his skull-like, almond-shaped blue eyes easier to see.

“He’s a Cromwell!”

Tonks and Tulip looked up, startled, as Beatrice pushed through the crowd, Ismelda not far behind.

“I know those eyes,” she said, pointing right at the stranger with narrowed eyes. “Only the Cromwell Clan jewelers have eyes like those. He must be from the Diamond Empire!”

“Weird to be from Diamonds, if he’s carrying one of these,” said Tulip.

She held up the pocketwatch the stranger had been carrying up until then, letting it dangle off its chain. The man got very agitated seeing that Tulip had snatched the watch from him and immediately made a furious move as if to retrieve it, but Tonks circumvented him by stomping down hard on his foot.

“Sorry, mate, but I can’t let you hurt my best bud,” Tonks said in a bracing voice. “Now you want to tell us who you are? Maybe even just a name we can call you, if that’s too much?”

The man, however, didn’t answer. Instead, without getting up off the ground, he rolled right across the ground, right past Tulip and Tonks. When Beatrice and Ismelda tried to stop him, he weaved around them, snatching one of Ismelda’s spare knives out of her belt as he went. Then he cut several ropes on the nearest tents, making them come flopping down around the surrounding Jokers -- the mayhem that ensued allowed the man to snatch the pocketwatch back from Tulip, before he ran off into the woods and out of sight.

And that was the day the strange man who’d stumbled his way into the Jokers’ Domain with no name or awareness of who or where he was gained the title of the Escape Artist.

x~x~x~x

Somewhat surprisingly, the Escape Artist did return to the Jokers’ Domain after that whole fiasco. He actually came back with his face and straitjacket looking cleaner than before, dressed in new boots and pants, and bearing some reimbursement for the damage he’d done in the form of several small bags full of rubies, diamonds, and sapphires. He even gave knife thrower Beatrice the additional gift of an onyx ring, which -- although too big to wear on her ring finger -- still fit her thumb.

“They didnert know me,” the Escape Artist told her. “De Cromwell Clan Joolers. Bu’ thanks anyway.”

His words were shockingly articulate compared to when he appeared in the Jokers’ Domain several months prior, but he still seemed to have some trouble articulating certain consonants. He also seemed unable to answer simple questions like what his name was or what he was looking for, even though it was obvious that he was searching for something. These things clearly weren’t indicative of his intelligence, though -- at one point on his second trip, he sought out Tulip, showing off the pocketwatch she’d tried to take from him.

“Th’shell is Di-mound Em-pyre silver,” he said, his eyes narrowed with determination despite the sloppiness of his words. “Bu’the balance and gears air steel -- de likes o’ which aren’t Di-mound -- andchu sed t’was weird, fer me chu have one o’ these. Hoo’as a watch lie dis, dat chu’ve seen?”

Tulip’s lips knit together a bit more tightly. “Don’t know if I should say...are you planning to go running off to find that person next, if I tell you?”

The Escape Artist nodded.

“She’s right dangerous,” Tulip warned him. “Probably wouldn’t take kindly to you barging into her country and causing havoc. Not that I mind havoc,” she added with a wry grin, “That’s always good fun. And honestly, I’d say Patricia Rakepick is long overdue for some real chaos..."

“Patricia Rakepick?” repeated the Escape Artist. He said the name perfectly clearly and in an oddly sharp tone of voice.

“Yup. Once the Ace of Spades, now having styled herself Queen of the lot. She’s made herself quite a Tyrant, so I’ve heard.”

The Escape Artist’s eyes seemed to have gone very dark and murky as he took a step back and turned away. Tulip cocked her eyebrows at him, interested.

“Do you know her?” she asked.

“No,” said the Escape Artist. He glanced over his shoulder at Tulip, his skull-like eye shining with determination. “Bu’ hi intend to.”

As he started to walk back toward the flap of the tent, Tulip stopped him.

“Hold on,” she said. “If you’re planning on starting anything, you should at least take a few calling cards.”

She gave him a small handful of playing cards. When he unfurled them the way a dealer would a hand, the dark-haired man saw they were all various designs of Joker cards.

“Patricia Rakepick’s been looking for enemies to target lately,” said Tulip. “Best make sure she knows that it’s us who’s giving her a headache, rather than any more innocent bystanders. If nothing else, we Jokers don’t need any Hearts or Diamonds stealing the credit!” she said a bit more mischievously.

The Escape Artist considered the cards for a moment before pocketing them with a shrug and turning to go again.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Escape Artist?” Tulip called after him, her face becoming a bit more serious. “Escaping the Country of Spades is hard enough on its own -- trying to escape its Tyrant, once she has you in her sights? That’s quite a dragon to poke in the eye.”

If the dark-haired Joker heard her, he didn’t respond.

Tulip’s lips curled up in a weak, faintly cynical smile as she turned her back on the tent flap through which the Escape Artist had left.

“Let the game begin...”

x~x~x~x

When the Escape Artist arrived in Spades, he was taken aback by how much colder it was, compared to the Jokers’ Domain. But hey, that’s what happens when you stroll on into the Country of Spades in the middle of winter.

Sadly the Escape Artist was a bit ill-equipped to buy anything -- Spades’ trade had abruptly become highly regulated with Rakepick’s rise to power, and the Escape Artist lacked the identification needed to purchase any warmer clothing from the local shops. Fortunately he finally found a man shivering in an alley who was willing to trade his old red waistcoat for one of the large diamonds the Escape Artist had "acquired” while escaping the Cromwell Clan Jewelers. The coat was decorated with little black buttons shaped like spades -- the Escape Artist found himself fiddling with them off-and-on for the next hour, oddly charmed by their shape.

He felt like he’d had buttons like these once...maybe on a waistcoat like this one. He liked this shade of red.

As the Escape Artist strolled along, he earned quite a few side-long glances for his strange attire. The waistcoat wasn’t strange exactly -- a bit bright, perhaps, but otherwise normal -- but the straitjacket-turned-shirt was definitely odd, as was the length and shagginess of the man’s hair. There was also something oddly ghostly about his features -- his complexion was so pale and his eyes were so sunken-in that his face resembled a skull. Not to mention he kept rambling only half-decipherable nonsense to himself under his breath --

“Kwite a drear locale...de road’s blocked off, dat’s new...where’s de shop? Dere we go...s’all closed up. I know it, dun I? ...Dun I...know it...?”

The Escape Artist wandered quite a while. It was honestly like his feet were on autopilot, not even consulting his brain for a destination. Before he knew it, he’d ended up outside the castle of Spades. It was as he ended up in the shadow of the old clock tower that he found himself finally slowly coming to a stop, his eyes drawn up to it.

It was beautiful, wasn’t it? With its ornate iron spire and baronial architecture...must be just under 200 feet high...190, perhaps? Why, the turret clock’s face alone would have to be at least ten feet in diameter, and all made out of the most beautiful opal stained glass...

Its beauty was...foreboding, somehow. It chilled the Escape Artist to his core, just looking at it. The light behind that glass just seemed so lukewarm...warding him off, rather than beckoning him closer...

“He -- he was assassinated -- ”

The Escape Artist suddenly felt like his throat had sealed up. He clutched his head, choking painfully -- he felt a pair of black eyes on him, boring into him gravely --

“Then you’ll go after?” “ -- you’ll go after?” “ -- you’ll go after?”

It was too much. Overwhelmed with pain, the dark-haired man quickly withdrew, unable to stay in the shadow of the clocktower any longer.

He withdrew so quickly, though, that he took no notice of the soldiers that had entered the courtyard to confront him until he ran right into them.

“Hey!” one of them said indignantly. “Watch where you’re going, you!”

The Escape Artist stumbled back at the collision, but didn’t bother responding to the officers -- instead he impatiently tried to move past them. His head was pounding too badly for him to think straight...

“Hold it right there!” snapped the officer.

He grabbed the back of the Escape Artist’s coat and roughly pulled him back.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” he demanded.

“Dis spot ‘urts me,” mumbled the Escape Artist absently.

The other officer fixed him with a scornful, incredulous look. “It hurts you? Well, you’re gonna be feeling a lot more hurt, if you don’t apologize to my buddy right now for running into him -- ”

“Sorry,” the Escape Artist cut him off dully. “Now woncha kind-y bugger off...”

He made as if to leave again, but the officer holding him pulled him back so roughly he almost ripped his coat.

“What’d you say?” he snarled. “You have any idea who we are, you little pipsqueak?”

The Escape Artist’s eyes narrowed slightly at the dig to his modest height. “A pair o’ peabrains, fro’what I can see.”

The second officer grabbed hold of Jacob’s collar, looking ready to choke him.

“Troublemaker, huh?” he sneered, his teeth bared like a dog’s. “How about we just throw you in the slammer -- let you cool your ankles in some chains for a night?”

Chains. The Escape Artist remembered those -- there were manacles on both his ankles and his wrists -- binding him to a wall, locking him to cold stone --

Until he broke those chains. He broke them open. He then picked open the lock on the door and fled, overpowering the rifle-toting guard by the door with his bare hands and snatching the keys from a room two floors up --

The Escape Artist raised his head, his skull-like blue eyes flashing like gems as his lips unfurled in a crazed, manic smirk that made the officers shrink back.

“Y’think y’could ‘old me?” he whispered. “Go on then -- giv’it yer best go!”

Out of nowhere, he abruptly slammed the helmet on the second officer’s head down hard enough to stun him. Then, within seconds, he‘d slipped right out of the red coat, kneed the first officer in the groin, and snatched back his coat, slipping it back on as he ran across the courtyard.

“Augh -- ow -- don’t let him get away!” shouted the second officer.

The two men immediately pursued, chasing the Escape Artist throughout the palace grounds for what felt like hours. In that time, more and more officers arrived to try to fence him in, but to no avail. The Spades soldiers had no idea how this man could have such extensive knowledge of the palace’s grounds that he could navigate its winding halls with seemingly so little effort -- was it just luck on his part, or perhaps intuition? Was he really just that smart that he could figure out where there were likely to be emergency exits and how best to scale staircases and walls to avoid them? And worse still -- with every move this man made, he was making his way closer and closer to the throne room -- closer to the Queen of Spades --

Sure enough, that was the path the Escape Artist ended up taking, whether consciously or not. And when he arrived in the throne room and first lay eyes on the woman named Patricia Rakepick, he found himself once again frozen, stock still, just as he had been in the courtyard south of the clocktower.

“You!” “YOU KILLED HIM! YOU KILLED HIM!” “ -- a danger as long as he’s alive -- ” “This is for the Queen -- !”

The Escape Artist’s head was throbbing with pain just looking at the woman sitting in that strangely familiar throne, dressed in gold-trimmed, military-worthy white and black. He felt himself shaking from head to toe as his eyes bore into her, struggling to focus through the blinding rage in his blood --

He didn’t know her. He knew he’d never seen her before in his life. And yet --

It was only because of the pain and confusion throbbing through the Joker’s head distracting him that the Army of Spades was able to catch up with him and -- with their superior numbers -- finally restrain him. They locked him in irons, with several officers pinning him to the floor on his stomach so he couldn’t get up.

“Mr. -- uh -- Whoever-You-Are -- you’re under arrest!”

“Does he have identification?”

“Don’t think so -- all he’s got in his pocket are some gems and a small deck of Joker cards -- ”

“So he’s a Joker?”

“What’s your name, Joker?”

“Dunno, dun care,” spat the Escape Artist, “an’ eve’if I did, I would nah tell th’ likes o’ chu, you shag-bag scrubs -- !”

The highest-ranked officer stepped on the back of the Joker’s curly head so as to roughly slam his face into the polished floor.

Rakepick’s face was arrogant when she finally rose from her throne and strode over to get a better look at who her subordinates had captured. She even used the toe of her boot to prompt the man to tilt his head from his position on the floor enough that she could better see his face.

When she did, however, the Tyrant of Spades’s face went as white as a sheet.

“It can’t be,” she breathed.

The Escape Artist stared up at Rakepick, his skull-like almond-shaped blue eyes boring into her in a mix of confusion and distrust. The lack of recognition in his eyes made Rakepick’s eyes widen further as she took a step back, throwing her gaze to the far window, through which one could see the clocktower in the distance. Yet it was like she didn’t see it or the window -- instead her gaze was cloudy, as if her mind was racing with thoughts.

“Your Majesty?”

An older woman with an orange streak in her gray bangs had come up behind the lesser officers, her arms folded behind her back in military posture. She was even dressed similarly to Rakepick, though colored black and violet, with a “J” emblazoned on her lapel.

“Madam Jack...” murmured one of the higher-ranked officers. The title made the Escape Artist twitch.

“Madam Jack?” There was no “Madam Jack” -- there was no -- !

But the woman called the Jack ignored both the Escape Artist twitching on the floor and her subordinate.

“What shall we do with the prisoner?” she prompted Rakepick.

Rakepick’s eyes darted down to the supposed Jack of Spades and then to the Escape Artist still fidgeting restlessly on the floor. Somewhere in her eyes, he could almost see something oddly tense, which then seemed to slowly chill and harden like ice before his eyes.

“Lock him in our strongest irons inside our base’s highest security cell under heavy guard,” the Tyrant of Spades said coldly. “I do not want him escaping us again.”

The soldiers holding the Escape Artist seized him, forcibly lugging him back up onto his feet. The Escape Artist tried to bolt out of their grip, but the chains binding him combined with the five men all holding him gave him no adequate leverage to pull free. As they dragged him out of the throne room with all of their strength, some of the soldiers could just barely catch some of the Tyrant and her Jack’s whispered exchange.

“ -- was dead?”

“He is dead -- ”

“Then how do you explain him? Or is that man a ghost sent back to haunt me?”

The tenseness in their leaders’ voices filled up the lesser officers with considerable dread as they led this mysterious prisoner out of the palace of Spades and through the courtyard toward the base just northward. As they went, they had to pass by the clock tower, where a very cold, supernatural wind swiped through them, on its way back toward the bell tower.

Another poor soul imprisoned by the likes of Rakepick, the ghost of Duncan Ashe thought grimly, as he faded away through the stone walls. How many more would there be, until Veruca was able to wrench control back out of Rakepick’s control...?

x~x~x~x

What happened next just about no one can fully agree on. The most credible account after the fact ended up being that of Maya Avery, a prisoner at the time who was associated with the resistance against Patricia Rakepick. Following her and her brother Jacob Avery’s escape from the base of Spades’ prison, she explained the serendipity of the circumstances thusly --

“The Tyrant’s men had brought this strange messy-haired man into custody. I remember because there were about five soldiers all holding onto his chains, just to keep him from escaping, as they dragged him past my cell. As he passed, he looked me over with this really focused look. Later that night, I heard a lot of ruckus, and when I got up, I saw him barreling past the cells, dragging four whole chains on his wrists and ankles behind him. When he saw me, he dashed up to my cell and told me to give him one of my hairpins. I tried to ask him what for, but he didn’t even answer -- he just snatched it right out of my hair and then bent it all out of shape! I was a bit cross at first, of course -- but then he set about picking the lock to my cell with it and then left the door open.

“‘There,’ he said. ‘Normally I’d offer to pay you, but I think this is probably more useful. The keys are two floors up, three doors down on your right, if you want them -- they’ll probably be too busy chasing me to notice you.’ His words were really slurred, so he said it a bit more messily than that, but you get the idea.

“Anyway, by then, he’d picked the locks on his manacles and he just ran off down the hall to the left. So I took his distraction and went to go get the keys so I could get Jacob and some of the others out. When we got up top, we found the whole base in disarray. The bloke from before must’ve stolen one of those new Mecha suits Rakepick’s been developing, and he used it to torch the warehouse holding the rest of them in it. Then he used the one he was in to bust his way right through the stone wall and hightail it right out of Spades. It was brilliant -- it was terrifying, of course, trying to escape that big of a fire...but still, it was brilliant.”

However the Escape Artist managed to trash every single one of the Mecha suits Rakepick had commisioned, though, two things were certain -- one, Patricia Rakepick was very, VERY angry that the Escape Artist had gotten away; and two, those who cursed the so-called “Tyrant of Spades” proposed a toast at the destruction of her newest “toys.” Even the ghost of Duncan Ashe, upon learning what happened from Veruca, seemed notably satisfied by the news.

“Jacob sketched out those suit designs with the thought of making mining safer and easier,” he admitted after some prompting, his gaze drawn away through the opal glass of the clock face. “They were supposed to help people, not be weapons of war.”

If Veruca hadn’t been so close to him at the time, she would’ve never caught the Counselor’s ghost’s melancholy whisper as he closed his eyes, fading away into supernaturally cold air.

 “...Jacob only ever wanted to do good for people. When he was alive...that’s all he ever wanted to do...”

[r0seart]

It’s the last day of pride month

A common thing I’ve heard (at least in my country) when June becomes July is to put away the pride flags because “it isn’t pride month anymore”. Well I say that’s bullshit. Every month is pride month when you’re LGBTQ+.

So I made some of the wizarding fam celebrating pride to remind my followers and anyone who stumbles across my art that we shouldn’t limit our pride to just one month.

Note this is meant to be an uplifting post. Especially with the things that have happened and bills that passed this year. Being LGBTQ+ in America has gotten pretty tough so I want to indulge in some queer joy for a bit.

[impishtubist]

Okay I posted a R/S thing so now I need to cleanse my blog: Remus is short and scrawny and weak and not at all hot, he abandoned Harry and Sirius for 12 years because he was too busy being sad to think about another person, Sirius can do way better for a romantic partner and also deserves way better than Remus, and honestly the only person who is worthy of Sirius’s love is James Potter.

[snekdood]

lmao???

this quiz sorts through characters from like dozens of fandoms and finds the one you’re most like. I’m not even a little bit surprised by my result

[astral-scout]

bellatrix..... with a pet tarantula........ consider it.

[xcursebroken]

"Save a dance for me?"

@potentialbreakupscng

"No promises on the drinks," he laughed, already well on the way to tipsy himself. It felt like ages since they'd been able to really let go with all the fear and tension of the second war hanging over them. Bill knew Voldemort's fall didn't mean it was over. His supporters would still be out there, but it was a hell of a win, and seeing his family come through it safely was nothing short of a miracle. It was more than a week since the Battle of Hogwarts. They'd had time to bury their dead and show their respect. They deserved a chance to celebrate now, drinks and music flowing freely at The Burrow after dinner.

[nixiegenesis]

I forgot how much I enjoy playing as my dunmer son.

[lqveharrington]

Family Tree | D.M.

summary: Eleven years after the second wizarding war, you find yourself making lifelong decisions on platform 9¾ once more.

pairing: ex!draco malfoy x fem!reader

includes: a LONG fic, daughter’s name is melody, talks about the war, abandonment, pregnancy, implied sex, cursing, hufflepuff slander (i’m a hufflepuff, i’m sorry), Pansy being a fun aunt & friend, teddy lupin mention being the coolest second cousin, melody is a mischievous child, teddy doesn’t like his god father, cursing, mainly angst with some fluff

a/n: i love him, your honor (he was truly my first love) this took way longer than i thought it would, so sorry 🙏

Years after you fought alongside Harry Potter to defend Hogwarts and the rest of the Wizarding World from Voldemort’s wrath, you found yourself packing trunks for Hogwarts once more. However, the trunks you packed were no longer yours. They contained unhoused robes and new textbooks that weren’t marked with your doodles and annotations. The pet carrier didn’t hold your own owl, but instead your daughter’s snowy owl.

Eleven years old. It was finally time for your daughter to attend Hogwarts.

The entire morning — the entire week — she would go on about finally being able to learn the spells and charms that protected the witches and wizards from evil. Just like you.

When you held her hand tightly to enter platform 9¾, she would continue to talk about seeing all the ghosts and paintings that were mentioned in all your stories. Of course, you never told her all the adventures you endured. She didn’t need to know where the Room of Requirements was.

“—And Moaning Myrtle! Is she as annoying as you said she was? I hope she isn’t. I want to ask her so many questions about you—“

“Melody, my love, you can’t bother the ghosts all the time. Hogwarts is a school.” You run your fingers through her platinum blonde hair and smile playfully when she scrunched her nose at you. You dusted off her shoulders and tilted your head, “What?”

“But it’s a magical school, mum. Shouldn’t I be able to ask questions if I have any?” She challenged you with a raised brow, pushing your hand away and adjusting her perfect hair — much like her father. She always wanted to be absolutely flawless, even when presented in front of you.

Your heart clenched at how similar Melody was to her father. Her smile and her mannerisms were all the same. It felt like you were eleven again and meeting him for the first time. The only difference between him and Melody was her eyes. She was born with your eyes — the ones filled with so much emotion with every single look.

Glancing down at your watch, you sighed and cocked your head to the side, fixating your gaze on the train that once took you to a place where you found everything and everyone you loved. Where you found him.

“Don’t miss me too much. I’ll be back every chance I get.” Melody took your hand in hers and squeezed, noticing your far off look. Her thumb traced the silver ring you wore on your left hand. She never knew what the M stood for on your ring — she always assumed it was for her name.

“I promise I’ll send an owl every week.”

“I know you will.” You pressed a kiss to the top of her head before your eyes caught a book being dropped by a young boy — who looked an awful lot like Tonks and Remus. Shaking your head, you bent to pick the book up and handed it to your daughter. “Can you quickly run and hand this to that young man? But come straight back. I want to properly say goodbye before you leave me forever.”

Melody rolled her eyes at your antics, but nothing could hide the smile that came with it. She made swift steps over to the boy before he boarded the train, eyes widening curiously when he faced her. The boy’s hair turned a bright pink as he thanked her, a sheepish smile gracing his lips.

“Are you a Metamorphmagus?” Melody whispered in excitement and watched his hair turned an electric blue. Her grin widened, recalling what you told her a while ago. “My mum says my aunt was one!”

The boy finally took a good look at Melody, a light bulb going off in his head when he realized who he was talking to. He recognized her the Black Family tree back at 12 Grimmauld Place. He opened his mouth to ask her who she was when his friends pulled him into the train without a single glance to whoever he was talking to.

Melody furrowed her brows in confusion before huffing, perfectly styled hair whipping behind her as she left to find you before boarding the express herself. She thought all Hufflepuffs were supposed to be sweet, but these Hufflepuffs seemed to ignore her like she was nothing but an itty bitty fairy.

She hoped she wasn’t put into Hufflepuff.

“My mum was one of the hero’s at Hogwarts.” She muttered to herself and — once again — flicked a piece of her blonde hair behind her shoulder, narrowly avoiding a collision of trolleys to her left. “I’ll tell her all about this.”

Melody made a quick turn to where she last left you before slamming into someone, nearly toppling over from the sheer force. She caught the person’s arm and yanked herself back before she could fall on her arse, mentally cursing herself for not looking at her surroundings.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” She muttered and dusted herself off from invisible dust, looking up at the person only to find a man staring at her with a shocked expression. Was he really that offended by it? He was an adult and she was merely eleven.

The man blinked before shaking his head, schooling his shocked expression to one of nonchalance instead. He looked around and tilted his head at the girl standing in front of him, examining her face like she was someone he recognized before. This girl reminded him of someone he used to know. Someone he used to love dearly.

Melody pursed her lips and rocked on the heel of her Mary Jane’s, avoiding his gaze. She wasn’t exactly uncomfortable with his staring, but she wasn’t comfortable either. Just as Melody was about to excuse herself from the man, she heard your familiar voice ring out, making her visibly relax despite your tone.

“Where were you? I told you to come straight back.” You rushed over to her and ran your fingers through her hair once more, unaware of your surroundings. You were so worried she had left before saying goodbye and it absolutely haunted you.

She looked back at the blonde man behind you for a split second before tilting her head down to the floor. Melody knew that you were waiting for an answer — she just had to suck up the embarrassment.

“I was coming to find you when I knocked into that man.” She gestured behind you and held back a whine when you tilted her head to check her for any cuts and bruises.

Melody made eye contact with the same person she knocked into again and hid her face in your jumper, hating that all the attention kept going back to her. She felt scrutinized under his gaze.

“Mum.”

You sigh softly and turn your attention to the man, still carding your fingers through Melody’s hair. You kept your eyes trained on her until she relaxed, finally looking up to meet the said person when years of memories hit you like a freight train.

“I’m so sorry about Melody. She usually isn’t this distracted — Draco?”

Your throat closed up at the sight of him — Draco Malfoy.

It was your Draco. The one who promised to love you his entire life; the one who promised to never leave your side; the one who left you alone with nothing but a broken heart and an unborn daughter.

Draco swallowed thickly and looked away. He felt horrible leaving you alone all these years, but he couldn’t figure out how to explain to you why he left so abruptly. Especially when you were about to drop your daughter — his daughter — off to Hogwarts.

Everything felt so overwhelming for the small family.

The whistling of the Hogwarts' Express immediately caught Melody's ears, her eyes widening at how little time she had left with you before departing for the next few months until holiday.

“Mum, the express is going to leave soon.” Melody’s voice snapped you out of your stupor, her small hand squeezing your ringed hand — which didn’t escape Draco’s gaze.

You cupped her face with both hands, kissing her forehead. This would be the first time you would be away from her for so long and you didn’t know if you could handle the separation.

“When you have time, send me an owl right away. Include your house in the parchment, alright? Be safe and make smart decisions.“ You instructed.

“I will.” She locked a pinky around yours before wrapping her arms around your neck, breathing in your familiar scent one last time. “I love you, mum.”

“I love you too, my sweet girl.” You held her tightly and made the horrible mistake of meeting Draco’s eyes. You looked away faster than he could mark the emotion in your eyes. “Now get on that train before it leaves without you.”

Melody ran on the train and found a compartment occupied by a couple of other first years, smiling when you waved to her as the Hogwarts’ Express left platform 9¾.

“You didn’t tell me you were pregnant.” Draco spoke and pushed his hair back — the initial shock finally settling in his chest.

You sigh and turn to face him, arms crossed over your chest. Although it had been years, the warmth from his gaze still filled you and you hated it. You hated that all the love you had for him was still stored away.

“Why are you here, Draco?”

He narrowed his eyes at your deflection but answered truthfully. He might as well begin with the truth before anything else.

“I’m the auror assigned to protect the wizards and witches at this platform.” Draco responded before glancing at his watch, frowning at the time it read back. “I’ll be back—“

You put your hand up and stopped his excuses, shaking your head and frowning. Pulling out your own wand, you pointed it at his chest and glared. You would never let yourself be fooled twice.

“That’s what you’re good at doing, Draco.” You tapped your wand on his chest, your heart screaming to stop but your mind blocked out every emotion you felt for him besides pure rage. “You’re good at leaving. That’s all I know about you, and that’s all Melody will ever know about her father.”

Draco’s hands clenched by his sides but made no effort to stop you. He could tell — your eyes betraying your every emotion — that you needed to reprimand him. He could see the way you wanted to scream and shout everything you kept bottled in your mind. Every single memory you had with him building up, ready to explode with any wrong move.

“Love—“

“You have no right.” You whisper at the nickname and shake your head at him, apparating away.

Melody watched in trepidation as first years were sorted into a house after Professor McGonagall read off their names from a long roll of parchment. Each and every one of them grinning brightly at the rest of the student body when the Sorting Hat screamed their respective houses out. Fortunately, she didn’t have to wait long to be sorted.

After all, her mother blessed her with a last name that wouldn’t take ages to be called up.

“Bellemont, Melody!”

She beamed at the professors as she made her up onto the wooden stool, flicking a stray lock of blonde hair behind her shoulder as the Sorting Hat was placed upon her head. Melody wasn’t sure what to expect when the hat fell, but she knew she would rather move to America than be sorted in Hufflepuff like that group of boys she met at the station. They were all rude except for the Metamorphmagus she held an actual conversation with.

“A Malfoy who isn’t a Malfoy.” The Sorting Hat murmured to itself — and knowingly — Melody. “Clearly, you haven’t been raised with the pureblooded status quo. Perhaps your mother’s doing… But you have your father’s confidence and pride…”

Melody’s face twisted in confusion at the hat’s words. Who was Malfoy? Was that her father? Maybe her grandmother’s previous last name? She didn’t understand the hat, and as if it read her mind — which it could — clarified for the young witch.

“Your father was a broken soul.” The hat tutted and swished around her head like it was revisiting old memories of her parents. “Your mother wormed her way into his heart until she mended him.”

She blinked and looked over at McGonagall, who merely smiled at her. Melody pursed her lips and looked out into the crowd, hoping to find any kind of familiar face. Unfortunately, all her aunts and uncles decided to have children only a few years ago.

Melody frowned as the hat continued to make random comments about her parents, ultimately boring her from the ceremony. She wasn’t sure what the hat was going on about you and her father, but she was sure to send an owl to you soon.

“Nevertheless, your father and mother were in the same house.” The Sorting Hat commented before shouting its decision for everyone in the Great Hall to hear. “SLYTHERIN!”

Melody gave the applauding hall a tight-lipped smile as she walked over to the Slytherin table, finding an empty seat beside an enthusiastic prefect. She was ecstatic to be in the same house as her mother, of course, but now only one thing circled her mind. She didn’t feel the need to ever know about this before. You were all she ever needed. Yet the Sorting Hat planted something in her head, and she wanted to get to the bottom of it.

Who was her father? And who is Malfoy?

“I’ve been getting the same question back from Melody in every single letter. This is starting to get ridiculous.” You throw the recent letter you received from Melody on the kitchen counter, rubbing your face in frustration. “What the hell happened at Hogwarts for her to suddenly be interested in who her father is?”

On a normal day, Melody would never pester you about who her father was. Now, it felt like you got a letter everyday about who her father was. You weren’t sure what the best move was. Either way you went, everything would change drastically.

Pansy shrugged and read the letter, raising her brows at the perfect cursive that could rival Draco’s. “Maybe it’s time you should tell her. It’s been eleven years, and she’s old enough to know about him.“

You spun the stupid Malfoy ring on your finger and huffed. “It’s not about how old she is. I just don’t want her to know that Draco essentially abandoned her. Granted, he left before I could even tell him.” You glared at the silver ring. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t pull the piece of jewelry off. “Besides, she already met Draco. It’ll complicate the entire situation if I try to explain it now.”

“Wait — when did Melody meet Draco?” She furrowed her brows and sat up at the new information. Pansy squinted at your expression before gasping, nearly jumping out of her chair at the realization. “At the platform?”

“Yes.” You groan and bury your head in your hands. Even if you did want Melody to know about her father at some point, you didn’t want it to be like that. She doesn’t deserve such an abrupt change right before she hopped on the express for Hogwarts. “Melody bumped into him trying to find me.”

Pansy sighed and took your hands in hers, watching your reaction very closely. “It’s better that you tell her about Draco rather than someone else tell her. I don’t doubt you’ll make the right call about all of this, but please tell her sooner rather than later.” Pansy squeezed your hands and sent you a small smile.

You bit your bottom lip and glanced toward the moving photograph you hung on the wall. It was a picture of you, Pansy, and Blaise right before Draco’s final quidditch game. You were laughing at something Blaise said, but the photo only played that far into the memory before resetting.

Pansy caught your gaze and waved her wand over to the frame, changing the length of the moving photograph. Instead of you laughing at something Blaise said, you were pulling an unamused Draco to sit beside you for the photo.

Your heart clenched at the sight, finally giving into your daughter’s pleads.

“I’ll tell Melody when she comes home for the holidays. I don’t want her to find out via owl.” You sigh and wave your hand toward the photograph, setting it back to the way it was originally.

The photo was taunting you to look back over, but your fragile heart couldn’t take it anymore.

You could always tell yourself you wanted nothing to do with Draco, but everyone knew that you would run back if you found the perfect reason to. Maybe Melody was your perfect reason.

“Melody, wait!”

The girl turned to the sound of her name — blonde locks flawlessly following through — and her arms tightened around the textbooks she held. Out of all the people at Hogwarts, she least expected to see the boy from the train station jogging toward her. She looked behind him for his friends — if you could even call them friends — but it was just the boy. The Metamorphmagus boy.

“Yes?” She tilted her head and creased her eyebrows when his hair turned a horrid shade of green. The color made her feel uneasy, forcing her to wait until it faded back to its original state to speak. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know your — er — name.”

The boy blinked before sticking his hand out, shaking her hand profusely. “I’m Teddy Lupin. I’m so sorry about my friends back on the express months ago. They found an unoccupied compartment and wanted to claim it before someone else took it.”

Melody slowly nodded and glanced at her leather watch, frowning when she realized she was already seconds late to a study session with a couple of first years she befriended. She pursed her lips and gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Was that all you needed me for? I need to study for a charms exam.”

“Well — uhm — I don’t want you to not study, but I wanted to ask you if this was you. If it’s not, it looks scarily like you and has the exact same name. Except the last name matches my uncle’s — “

Melody barely processed the rest of his rambling as Teddy pulled out a photograph of a wall she couldn’t recognize. There were bits and pieces of the wall that were burnt and faces that were skeletons rather than perfectly painted — perfectly detailed — faces. It seemed like the wall went on forever until she glanced at the very bottom right.

Melody’s breath lodged in her throat as she read the last name painted beside her legal first name. Her eyes followed the family tree branch up to find — not her mother — but her father’s face painted on the wall. Although your face wasn’t painted, your name was still written underneath one—

“Draco Malfoy.” She whispered and looked up at Teddy with a shocked expression, hands gripping the photograph in confusion.

There was the last name the Sorting Hat kept muttering.

It was the same man she met at the platform months ago. The color of his hair — and the way you acted around him — should’ve been a dead giveaway that he was indeed her father. Melody shook her head and gave Teddy back the photo, determined to understand why you chose to hide this from her for so long.

“You wouldn’t mind helping me figure the rest of this out, would you?”

The wind breezing through platform 9¾ from the Hogwarts’ Express sent your hair flying through the air and your arms tightening around yourself. You were picking Melody up for the holidays and made the awful decision to not bring a stupid coat — thinking you could get out within minutes.

Silently cursing from how cold it was, you watch the students stream out of the train until you saw the platinum blonde hair you knew belonged to your daughter. Instantly, her eyes met yours and she ran. She ran until she knocked herself into your arms, nearly toppling the both of you over.

“Hi, mum.” She murmured into your neck and pulled herself impossibly closer. She tucked her chin in your shoulder, letting herself melt in your arms. “I missed you.”

You blinked away suppressed tears and kissed the side of her head. You didn’t realize how much you missed your sweet girl until she was in your arms again. “I missed you too, my love.”

You adjusted her Slytherin scarf — proudly, you might add — around her neck before pressing a kiss in her hair. You would make the most out of the two weeks you had with her if it was the last thing you did.

The commotion of the platform left the both of you unfazed as you went to grab her trunk from the express. You shrunk the trunk before tucking it away in your pocket, sending Melody a grin when she rolled her eyes at you. But as you went to leave the platform, Melody tugged you back in place with wide eyes.

You furrowed your brows and stared at her with a confused expression, hands ready to grab your wand in case she saw something that was potentially threatening. “What—?”

“Melody!” A boy ran over to your daughter and put a hand up as he took deep breaths, hair flashing many different colors before settling on purple. “I couldn’t find you after you left the compartment.”

You tilted your head at the sudden arrival of a boy before recognizing the face. You could recognize that face anywhere. After all, he was a spitting image of Remus and Tonks.

“Mum, this is Teddy Lupin.” Melody gestured to the tall boy and pushed up on her tippy toes to look past him, a small frown tugging at her lips.

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Teddy.” You shake his hand and gently pull Melody back, eyeing her suspiciously before speaking to the young boy once more. “I haven’t seen you since you were an itty bitty baby.”

Teddy felt his heart kick up at the thought of you knowing him before now. You must’ve known him from when he was a mere baby. You probably knew his parents and who his parents were.

“You knew my parents?” He breathed with eyes shimmering with interest.

“Of course, I did. Your father taught me in my third year, and I absolutely adored your mother.” You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and sighed, shaking away the thought of him being orphaned at such a young age. You would forever curse Voldemort for destroying so many families. “How are your studies going, Teddy? I heard—”

“Must we explain everything, mum?” Melody whined and interrupted your friendly demeanor. She didn’t want to stay at the platform any longer than you, but she needed to be here until he showed up, and she didn’t want to spend all that time listening to you being extra polite. It felt weird.

“Did you bring—?”

“He’s making his way over.” Teddy waved his hand in the air and rolled his eyes, slight annoyance filling them. Not because of her but because of his uncle.

He seemed to be taking his sweet time trying to find Teddy after he all but ran toward Melody the second he saw her blonde hair over crowds of reunited families. Although, he had to admit that his uncle was far better on time management than his god father. Harry Potter could save the entire wizarding world yet he still was late to all of Teddy’s milestones.

“He’s making his way through the crowds, although he was quite skeptic on why I suddenly asked him about dinner.”

You looked between the two and knitted your brows together. You knew Melody invited someone over for dinner, but you didn’t expect another person. So who was the other?

Before either of the two could speak, you interrupted with a stern tone. “Him who?”

“Ted, you can’t wander off and not tell me who we’re going to have dinner with — Oh, fuck me.” Draco caught up to his nephew, who he found standing beside the woman he loved all these years. He didn’t think running into you twice at the platform in one year would even be possible.

“Shit.” You mutter and quickly avert your eyes from staring at his disheveled figure, forcing your heart to steady itself.

Looking down at the two children, you crossed your arms and raised a brow. You couldn’t help but think the both of them planned it — and by the looks of their guilty faces — you knew you were right.

“What did you two do?”

Teddy folded before Melody could even utter a single syllable. He jabbed a finger in her direction as his hair turned a bright pink. “Melody did it.”

“Gee, thanks.” The said girl pushed his hand away from her face and met your questioning gaze. She knew she shouldn’t have surprised either of you, but she wanted the truth without you stepping on eggshells every single time. “Uhm…”

You tilted your head and waited for her to continue, feeling Draco’s looming presence right beside you. He was equally as confused by the ambush but was willing to listen to his daughter.

Melody nervously played with the ends of her hair before spilling everything, shutting her eyes tightly when she heard how selfish her plan truly was. If something horrible came out of this, it would’ve been her fault that you were upset and her father would never want to see her again.

“I just really want to know the truth! Teddy showed me the Black Family Tree a while ago and — well — I saw me on there connected to who I suppose my father is. And when I realized it was the same person we saw here, I knew I had to find a way to see him again. I want to know who my dad is, I want to really know him.”

Draco’s face twisted into surprise and looked over at Teddy for confirmation only to whip his head back to Melody.

“And your name was written underneath his, mum.”

Instinctively, you hid your left hand under your arm and bit the inside of your cheek. Though you weren’t officially married to Draco, his family signet indicated that you were promised to one another. Whether you decided to continue with the marriage or not wasn’t a controlling factor.

“You know he’s your father, what else is there to say?”

Melody peeled her eyes open and frowned. You were getting so defensive and she still didn’t know why you never told her about her father. Even Draco looked hurt by your words.

“Why did you never tell me?” She spoke softly — afraid that the only thing she’s ever known could fall apart in an instant. She loved you, but what you kept from her seemed so unfair.

“I promise I was going to tell you this week.” You matched her tone and pursed your lips when you saw her eyes swimming with sadness.

Melody shifted her attention to her father and crossed her arms, tilting her chin up with the same confidence he had at her age. “Did you come to the station on purpose?”

He swallowed thickly and shook his head, tucking his hands into his front pockets, fidgeting from habit. He hated confrontation. “No, I’m an auror stationed here when students head back to Hogwarts and come back.”

Melody looked to Teddy for confirmation — much like her father — and received a curt nod back, making her bite her lip in frustration. Neither of them was giving her the information she wanted needed. All she saw was the tension and the underlying love of two different people.

She wasn’t sure what to do. On one hand, she could press on and continue bothering them. But on the other —

“I didn’t even know your mother was pregnant.”

You perked up at the mention and glared at the blonde, eyes filled with the same anger and disappointment he saw months ago. “And whose fault is that?”

“I’m sorry that I wanted to protect you.” Draco narrowed his eyes at you, his tone challenging yours.

Melody took a small step back. This wasn’t how she planned this to go, but this was more information she received than from the last eleven years.

“You made that decision yourself.” You whispered, voice cracking with hurt. The walls you carefully built around old memories chipped away as you recalled them all — each moment flashing in your mind. “I could’ve helped, Dray. Instead, you pushed me away like I was nothing.”

Draco furrowed his brows together and shook his head — you were always so stubborn and so correct. “You could’ve gotten killed—“

“I would have died to stay with you.” You instinctively grabbed his hand. “Do you know how long I waited? How long I used to stay up — wondering if you would ever come back?” The tears began to well up as you continued to speak, voice trembling and hands shaking.

Draco quietly listened and stared down at your ringed finger, his family signet shining for all the wizarding world to see. He promised to marry you — to take you away from the mess of the past.

Yet he still left.

“I was praying to whoever was out there for you to come find me.” You quietly spoke and finally dropped his hand. “You left me with nothing.”

The both of you stared at one another with unspoken apologies. No matter how long it’s been, you could still read him and he could still read you. To one another, it was like reading a childhood book that could be recited front to back.

After seconds of stiff silence, you turned back to Melody and Teddy — handing your daughter the miniature trunk and keys to your car. “Melody, take Teddy and wait in the car.”

“Mum—“

“Now.” You cut her off and watch her and Teddy leave the platform. Steadying your breathing once more, you looked back at Draco and twisted your ring. “Do you even have anything to say?”

He looked between your eyes and ran his fingers through his hair, voice small like the seventeen year old Death Eater he once was.

“I’m sorry.” He spoke with so much emotion you swore you could see the colors surrounding him. “I’m so sorry I left without saying anything.”

A noise threatened to leave your lips, but you made no effort to leave your position nor say anything.

“But I was vowed to follow my father’s footsteps by becoming a Death Eater.” He took your hand in his and traced the familiar lines across your palm, effectively calming him and you. “Waking up beside you brought me comfort in all the torture they made me endure. I knew you didn’t deserve to suffer with me, so I left.”

Draco watched your hand delicately hover his arm where the mark was, biting his tongue when you thumbed the space below — something you used to do back in sixth year when he got so overwhelmed with his mission.

“I can’t ever take back the day I decided to leave and never show up again, but I don’t regret it.”

You silently absorbed his words and sniffled — signs that were so clear to Draco about what was to come. He tilted his head down to meet your eyes again, giving you a weak smile.

“You raised an excellent daughter without me.” He tired to cheer you up but frowned when he saw the shimmer of a singular tear streak down your face.

“I needed you.” You frustratedly wipe your tear and look away, knowing that the vulnerability of your heart was completely at stake. “Dray, I was seventeen too.”

He squeezed his eyes shut at the thought of the both of you — so young and restrained by everything.

“I was pregnant and terrified. I didn’t know if I could even raise a child on my own.” You breathed and looked up at the glass roofing, pushing the rest of the tears away. “Imagine how different our life would be if you just stayed.”

Another tear escaped and — suddenly — your barriers crumbled. The mere thought of raising Melody on your own without Draco consumed your every being. And somehow — even with just you — she ended up exactly like her father.

“Yes, Melody is amazing, but I really needed you.”

Draco caught your eyes and instantly pulled you in his arms, tucking your head under his chin — refusing to let go of you ever again. His heart continued to break at your silent sobs, each sniffle and hiccup chiseling the crack that formed years ago.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered and repeated it like a mantra, voice raw with so much sincerity. “I’m so sorry, my love. I’m sorry.”

“I needed you, Draco.” You sobbed and breathed in his familiar scent as you buried your face in his chest. You gripped the lapels of his suit, eyes squeezed shut as if you were afraid he would disappear again. “For more than eleven years, I needed you.”

“I needed you too.” Draco whispered and tilted your head up, thumbing your streaked face. His heart ached from all the time he missed out on. “I’m sorry.”

It felt like ages before you pulled away from him. The only sounds that could be heard was your occasional sniffling and the hisses of the express. You took in a shaky breath and wiped your nose with the sleeve of your jumper, mouth moving before your heart and mind could catch up.

“Would you still have dinner with us? I’m sure you’ve been here all day waiting for the arrival of the express.”

Finally listening to your own words, your freeze before slowly meeting his eyes. You were more shocked at yourself than his answer.

“I would love to have dinner with you and Melody.” He answered truthfully before waving his free hand around with the smallest smile on his face. “And Teddy.”

You match his expression and tilt your head to the right, wringing your hands together. “Maybe you could finally get to know Melody.”

Draco’s lips curled into a fully blown smile, his gray-blue eyes sparkling with delight at the idea of finally knowing his one and only daughter. “I would like that.”

“Me too.” You say softly and — for the first time in a long time — hide the rising warmth forming on your cheek.

Draco Malfoy. The biggest love and loss of your life.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[carby]

I just think that Tink Tonk vanishing from the ether forever* and then reappearing and thanking Trump profusely for its palpatinian return is so fucking funny

[poeticallyspiteful]

Heyy! I’m absolutely obsessed with anything Charlie Weasley atm and when I saw that you were taking requests I knew had to ask for him! I’ll give you creative freedom but pls Charlie! Thank you so so so so much!❤️

reflecting light

charlie weasley x reader

angst / fluff?

cw: mentions of war and death, charlie threatens someone, minimally proof-read

summary: the war has destroyed everything—you could use some light.

notes: i love gilmore girls and wanted to write something more poetic sounding so here it is, thank you so much for the request and i hope you enjoy this piece <33

now that I've worn out

i’ve worn out the world

i’m on my knees in fascination

bill and fleurs wedding was beautiful. it was a bit solemn—melancholy, some might say— given the less than optimal circumstances surrounding it. but for one night, all those in attendance got to play pretend. act as though their lives were not in danger and like a war was not raging all around them.

but as much as you loved your friends, you were having a hard time pretending. the night itself was beautiful. the moon shown down, gorgeous and waning, and made the whole tent look as if it were glowing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to glow with it.

you sat at your table, sipping your champagne, looking around at the guests. having known the weasley’s since you were eleven years old, it was hardly the first time you’d met most of these people, but you couldn’t help but worry that this would be the last.

looking through the night

and the moon's never seen me before

but i’m reflecting light

“hey,” tonks said, snapping you out of that dark place with a gentle hand on your knee. you returned her warm smile as best as you could. “don’t get in your head now. everything’s alright.”

you took a shakey breath and nodded, and took a larger gulp of your champagne to wash those horrid thoughts down. “yeah, yeah of course.”

tonks smiled sadly, standing up and making her way back over to her parents. you looked down to your dress and swore it looked right back, dauntingly pretty. you wanted to tell it to stop, to be dull and sad just like everything else.

i rode the pain down

got off and looked up

looked into your eyes

you felt someone approaching you, and kept your head down, hoping the stranger would go away. however, the presence paused just behind you, looming over you like an umbrella from the rain.

“you haven’t danced.”

you turned around, chest suddenly feeling a tad bit lighter than it had before; charlie stood over you, clever smile on his lips. his already crooked tie had gone loosened but he still look as stunning as ever.

“everything seems far too pretty for the world right now,” you stated, tossing back the last of your champagne. “i just wanna sink into the ground and stay there forever.”

charlie’s jaw ticked and he stuck out his hand expectantly, eyes never leaving your face. “alright then, darling, but only if you dance with me first.”

the lost open windows

all around

my dark heart lit up the skies

suddenly the world around you felt gentle, like everything had melted away except for you and him. it felt as if the people around you had shifted into simple silhouettes and quiet murmurs when you took his hand.

he led you across the yard, and through your slippers, you felt bump and imperfection in the grass that you’d passed over every summer at the burrow. the very same spots you’d laid with him, staring at the stars.

the spot where you’d held him as he cried after his parents had reacted poorly to the job offer in romania— the spot where he asked you to go with him, and the spot where you’d agreed.

now that I've worn out

i've worn out the world

i'm on my knees in fascination

charlie brought you to a halt, carefully turning you to face him and once again, you only saw him. only smelled him, the strong scent of cedar and cinnamon on his skin. you only felt him as he pulled you closer by the waist.

slowly, you started swaying, soft and slow. awkwardly, at first, as you found your footing, but soon enough, it felt like you were floating. the sight, smell, and the feel of him consumed you— wrapped you up in massive, feathered wings and lifted you off the ground.

you rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, slow and steady. everything felt slow, like each step took a century, or more like you were not even stepping at all. thoughts of blood and bruises were washed away with a rushing wave of nothing and everything all at once.

looking through the night

and the moon's never seen me before

but i'm reflecting light

the dark, weightless fabric of your dress seemed to glow under the moon the way the sky does when illuminated by stars. you felt charlie rest his chin a top your head, softly humming to the tune of the music.

you remembered the day you first met him, during your first year at hogwarts. you’d stumbled onto the train late, and the first compartment you found held a small, red headed boy and his older brother.

give up the ground

under your feet

hold on to nothing for good

your shoe laces were untied, your jeans were too big in some places and too tight in others, and your suitcase was bursting at the seams; you were the image of an awkward eleven year old.

as you struggled onto the train, face hot with embarrassment from being undoubtedly the last one to climb on, your eyes searched for an empty seat. the first ten or so compartments were full, and you were starting to get nervous— what if you couldn’t find a seat? you could feel the eyes on you and swore you heard some snickers leaking through the sliding doors. oh god, everyone was judging you, weren’t they? what a great start to your year.

finally, about five more compartments down, two carrot top heads caught your eye. ‘thank the gods’, you thought, ‘my saviors’. before you knew it, you were yanking the door open and two sets of emerald green eyes were staring back at you.

“is this seat taken?”

the younger boy smiled back at you. “nope.”

turn and run at the mean dogs

chasing you

stand-alone and misunderstood

“hey!”

you kept your head down, holding your books close to your chest— you’d left the greenhouse a little later than intended, and were praying you wouldn’t run into anyone.

you weren’t that lucky though.

“hey!” the ravenclaw boy—peter, you thought his name was—shouted again.

against your better judgment, you turned around, coming eye to mouth with crooked yellow teeth and rancid breath. fuck, you really should not have helped charlie pull that prank on him last year.

“listen, mudblood,” peter seethed. “you better—”

you barely peeked the top of a red mess of hair before peter was yanked back by his collar and all but shoved to the ground.

“fuck off.”

peter scoffed. “you think you scare me?”

charlie’s jaw clenched. “did you not here me? leave her alone, or i swear, i will hang you by the ankles in the middle of the great hall as a charms exercise for the first years. got that?”

“alright, alright!” peter squeaked, stumbling to his feet and limping away and cursing under his breath.

as charlie turned back to you, you couldn’t help but laugh, smacking his chest. he smiled down at you, his cheeks rosy— from the cold or your proximity, neither of you were sure.

“great timing,” you giggled as he hooked his arm through yours, starting back to the castle. “how’d you know i was in trouble?”

charlie shrugged. “i always know when you need me.”

now that i’ve worn out

i’ve worn out the world

i’m on my knees in fascination

but you weren't kids anymore. dumbledore was dead, a war was raging, and as much as you wanted to deny it, nobody was safe.

"i'm scared," you whispered, head still resting on charlie's chest.

charlie kept his chin atop your head. "i know."

looking through the night

and the moon's never seen me before

but i’m reflecting light

[moonysdora]

Came for a little annual refresh and I come back to the most gorgeous, incredible, adorable and much needed fanart. OP you are incredible

[hookhausenschips]

Giddy Up Cowgirl {jh86}

Navigation

WC: 11k

Warnings: 18+ | semi public sex | fingering | light choking | light!dom Jack | finger sucking | oral (m receiving) | dirty talk | cream pie (wrap it up people!) | sexual tension |

Taglist

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

It was a crisp late evening in Nashville, the city still buzzing from the excitement of the game earlier that night. The Devils had just wrapped up a dominant victory, their first win on this road trip, and the team was in high spirits. The locker room hummed with laughter and chatter, the sound of lockers slamming shut and equipment bags being zipped up filling the air. Players clapped each other on the back, their smiles wide as they basked in the thrill of victory.

As the players trickled out of the locker room, some headed straight for the team bus, eager to return to the hotel for some much-needed rest. Others, like Jack Hughes, were a bit more eager to prolong the high of the win. He stretched his arms above his head and turned to his teammates with a mischievous grin.

"Who’s up for a little fun?" Jack asked, his voice loud enough to catch the attention of a few of the guys who were lingering near the exit.

"Fun?" Dougie Hamilton raised an eyebrow, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. "We just won a game, Jack. What’s left to do except get some sleep?"

Jack’s grin only widened, his eyes glinting with excitement. "Nah, I’m thinking something a little more... Nashville."

The word hung in the air like a challenge, and a few of the players exchanged curious looks. Everyone knew Nashville had a reputation for its lively nightlife, its honky-tonk bars, and its wild, free-spirited vibe. But there was one place in particular that had captured the attention of the team during their short time in the city: the PBR Bar, known for its country music, cold beers, and—most famously—its mechanical bull.

A couple of players—Jesper Bratt and Miles Wood—snapped their heads toward Jack, both grinning. 

“I’m in,” Miles said quickly, tossing his bag into the corner and pulling his hoodie over his head.

Jesper nodded enthusiastically, his blonde hair still a bit tousled from the game. “It’s been forever since I’ve ridden a bull. Let’s go make some memories.”

With the decision made, the team’s energy shifted from the adrenaline of the game to the anticipation of a night out. As the players made their way to the hotel’s parking lot, the night was alive with the sounds of city traffic and the distant hum of music drifting out from the many bars that lined the streets. The air was cold, but the excitement in the players’ hearts kept them warm.

They piled into a few cars, with Jack at the wheel of one, his eyes glancing back toward his teammates with a grin. "Trust me, this place is legendary," he said, the headlights illuminating his face as he made a sharp turn.

“What’s so legendary about it, huh?” Dougie called from the backseat, clearly skeptical. “Is it the bull or the beer?”

“Both,” Luke answered, a confident laugh escaping his lips. “The place is known for its... competitive bull-riding scene. You get on, you try to stay on as long as you can. You don’t want to be the guy who gets thrown off in front of the whole bar. It’s practically a rite of passage.”

Miles chuckled. “Perfect. I love a good challenge.”

As the car cruised through downtown, the team’s mood shifted to something more playful and carefree. For these young men, the game was in the past, and the present was all about having fun. They were a close-knit group, a family on and off the ice, and nights like these—full of laughter and lighthearted competition—were what they lived for.

When they finally arrived at the PBR Bar, the lights outside blinked brightly, and the sound of live music mixed with the cheers of people inside. The smell of smoky barbeque and fried food wafted through the air as the team piled out of the cars and headed for the entrance.

"Welcome to Nashville," Jack said, throwing open the door and leading the way inside.

The atmosphere was electric. Music blared from speakers, and the scent of food and drinks filled the air. At the center of the room was the mechanical bull, its bright red body gleaming under the lights, waiting for the brave souls who dared to ride. The sight of it sparked an immediate sense of excitement in the group.

"Alright, let’s see who’s the real cowboy here," Jesper said, eyeing the bull as he slapped Jack on the back.

"You sure about that?" Luke grinned. "I’ve got some moves on that bull. Might take you down."

A round of laughter erupted as the team gathered around, ready to enjoy the night. For a moment, it felt as though everything outside of the rink had faded away. No pressures, no expectations—just a group of guys unwinding, excited to let loose after a big win.

It was the perfect way to celebrate.

The moment the Devils walked through the doors of the PBR Bar, the shift from the cool Nashville evening air to the electric energy inside was palpable. The lights hit them first—neon blues and reds casting vibrant hues across the room, reflecting off the polished wood and the metallic fixtures. The air was thick with excitement, the unmistakable sounds of laughter, chatter, and music filling every corner of the expansive bar.

The team moved through the crowd, their eyes scanning the space. In the center of it all, under a massive sign that read "PBR" in glowing red letters, was the mechanical bull. It was perched on a raised platform, its sleek, red-painted frame illuminated by spotlights. The crowd gathered around it, watching as some brave souls tried—and failed—to stay atop its bucking surface. Cheers erupted each time someone was thrown off, adding to the electric atmosphere.

The space itself was an interesting mix of the rustic and the contemporary. Wood-paneled walls, cowhide accents, and vintage Western décor created the atmosphere of an old-time saloon, but the music gave it a modern twist. Top 40 hits bounced off the walls, punctuated by classic rock and a bit of country here and there, creating an unexpected but exhilarating blend. The energy was high, the music a perfect backdrop for the revelers’ animated conversations and shouts of encouragement.

Their eyes immediately landed on the action. A group of girls were dancing on the bar, their movements fluid and synchronized with the rhythm of the music. They wore red cross-tied crop tops paired with matching red bottom shorts and stirrups that gave off a playful, daring vibe. The girls moved with confidence, their smiles wide, creating a captivating spectacle as they effortlessly slid across the polished surface of the bar.

It was hard not to notice them—especially for Jack. He couldn’t help but be drawn to the energy in the room, but one dancer in particular caught his attention. She was a Black woman, her beautiful sepia-toned skin glowing under the neon lights. There was something magnetic about the way she moved—an effortless blend of confidence, grace, and fun that drew Jack in almost immediately. Her every move seemed to flow with the beat, her body moving in perfect sync to the rhythm, like she had been born to dance. The way she held herself, so completely at ease in the spotlight, made her stand out from the others, and Jack found himself momentarily entranced by her.

Her smile was wide and infectious as she laughed with the other dancers, her energy lighting up the room. Jack noticed the way she moved with a playful intensity, her body expressing the music like it was a language she had mastered. Her confidence was undeniable, but it wasn’t cocky—it was something else, something that made her stand out in a way that was captivating, yet not overbearing.

He could feel the pull of her presence, something about the way she carried herself drawing him in, though he quickly tried to shake off the thought. He had just walked into the bar, and this was supposed to be a night for the team to let loose. But there was no denying the intrigue he felt as he watched her—a curiosity that he couldn’t quite push away.

Jack’s teammates had started to disperse, heading for the bar and scanning the crowd for a place to settle in. But Jack remained rooted to the spot, his gaze lingering on the dancer for just a moment longer than he had intended. He wasn’t sure why she had caught his eye, but there was no denying that something about her was magnetic.

Miles Wood, ever the instigator, caught Jack's distracted look. "Dude, what are you looking at?" he teased, nudging Jack in the side.

Jack blinked and quickly shook his head, trying to snap out of it. "Nothing, just… checking out the scene," he replied, giving his friend a half-hearted shrug. He was grateful for the distraction, but a part of him couldn’t help but steal another glance at the girl, her laughter filling the space around him, as if calling him in.

"Yeah, the scene’s got a lot going on," Dougie said, smirking as he grabbed Jack’s arm and pulled him toward the bar. "But I’m pretty sure you’ve seen enough. Time for some drinks."

Jack allowed himself to be pulled along by his teammate, but his attention wavered once more as the girl on the bar flashed a smile in his direction. It was playful, but there was something behind it that made Jack’s heart beat a little faster. 

He couldn’t quite place it, but for some reason, he was fascinated. It was like she had a secret, a sense of mystery that pulled him in, though he couldn't even begin to figure out why. 

As the team found their spot at the bar, Jack’s mind was still a little distracted, the sound of the girl’s laugh and the sway of her movements lingering in his thoughts. There was something about her that felt like a challenge—like a puzzle that needed to be solved. And Jack Hughes was never one to back down from a challenge.

The music pulsed through the room like the heartbeat of the night, each beat sending ripples of energy across the crowd. The PBR Bar was alive, a whirlwind of laughter, clinking glasses, and people lost in the rhythm of the music. Among the crowd, the dancers on the bar had become the center of attention, their synchronized movements adding to the chaos of color and sound. But one dancer stood out from the rest, her presence undeniable.

She was the one who caught Jack’s eye the moment he walked in. She was the girl who made the chaotic energy of the bar seem like a carefully orchestrated show, her body moving with effortless grace, each movement filled with confidence and rhythm. Jack couldn’t look away, captivated by the way she owned the space around her, as if the world was hers to command.

Her skin, a radiant sepia-toned glow under the neon lights, seemed to draw all the light in the room toward her. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back, moving with her body as she spun, twirled, and leaned into the music. There was a boldness in her movements, a confidence that made her seem untouchable yet completely approachable all at once. She didn’t just dance—she became the music, weaving in and out of the crowd with the kind of effortless charm that made her seem like she belonged to the very air she breathed.

Jack’s gaze lingered a little longer than he’d intended, but he couldn’t help it. There was something magnetic about her, something that made it impossible for him to look away. His heart skipped a beat as she moved—fluidly, playfully, with a grace that felt almost too natural for the setting. She smiled, flashing her teeth as she playfully interacted with the crowd, and Jack found himself frozen for just a moment, caught in the orbit of her energy.

That’s when their eyes met.

Her gaze was sharp and knowing, and in the instant their eyes locked, Jack felt a small jolt, like an electric charge passing through him. The corners of her lips lifted into a smile—playful, confident, like she knew exactly what she was doing. She wasn’t shy, wasn’t pretending to be anything she wasn’t. She was completely comfortable in her own skin, and there was a certain confidence in that which drew Jack even further into her orbit.

As she continued her routine, Jack couldn’t help but be aware of the others around him, but she remained the focal point of his attention. She danced effortlessly, working the bar like it was a second home, smiling at people, laughing, engaging them without ever missing a beat. She moved like she was born to do this, her energy contagious and impossible to ignore. Every time she spun or tossed her hair back, Jack’s gaze followed her, unable to look away.

When she finally finished her routine, she gracefully stepped down from the bar, the crowd giving her a round of applause as she smoothly walked off the platform. Her confidence didn’t falter for a second as she navigated through the crowd, heading straight toward the bar where the Devils were now settled, drinks in hand, talking amongst themselves. Jack watched as she made her way toward them, a smile still playing on her lips.

She approached the group, her eyes scanning the crowd before landing on Luke Hughes, Jack’s younger brother, who had his own mischievous smile plastered across his face. He had been watching her just as intently as Jack had, and now that she was near, he didn’t waste any time.

"Hey," Luke said with a grin, leaning across the bar toward her. "You were amazing up there. Think you could teach me some of those moves?"

The girl—Y/N, Jack finally caught her name from the bartender—laughed, the sound like music itself. There was no hesitation in her response, just a playful, teasing look.

"If you’re really that interested," she said, her voice light and flirtatious, "I’d say you should join me on the dance floor. But fair warning—you’re gonna have to work for it."

Luke’s grin widened. “I’m up for the challenge.”

Jack, overhearing the exchange, felt a small laugh bubble up in his throat, though he quickly tried to suppress it. He was still processing the whirlwind of his thoughts, his attention split between his brother’s banter and the undeniable pull of Y/N’s energy. There was something about her—something both confident and inviting—that made Jack want to know more. It was hard to ignore the playful chemistry that radiated between them.

Y/N flashed another smile, one that was a little less playful and a bit more knowing. "Alright, then," she said with a wink, before turning toward the dance floor. "Let’s see what you’ve got."

As she walked away, Jack couldn’t help but watch her go. There was a swagger in her step, a confidence in the way she moved that made it clear she was used to being the center of attention. But unlike most people who might be arrogant or self-centered with that kind of energy, there was something about her that felt genuine. She wasn’t playing a part—she was just herself. 

And that was what made her so captivating.

Luke, meanwhile, was already getting up, eagerly following her toward the dance floor. "You coming, Jack?" he called over his shoulder, clearly ready to show off some of his own moves.

Jack hesitated for just a moment before he shook his head, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll catch up later.”

His eyes followed Y/N as she weaved her way through the crowd, and he found himself wondering if this night—this random, chaotic, and spontaneous night in Nashville—was about to lead to something far more interesting than he had ever expected.

The Devils were finally settled in at the bar, each player nursing a cold drink in hand as the evening unfolded around them. The high-energy atmosphere of the PBR Bar continued to buzz with excitement, but now, it was more laid-back—a mix of good conversation and an easy camaraderie that came from having a few wins under their belts and a night off to unwind. The table was full of laughter, some playful teasing, and the sound of ice clinking in glasses.

Y/N, ever the professional, was moving around the bar with the same confidence that had drawn Jack’s attention earlier. She was back with a fresh round of drinks, balancing them effortlessly as she approached their table. Her presence was magnetic, and Jack couldn’t help but watch her as she set the drinks down in front of them. She flashed a smile at the group, her eyes glinting with that same playful spark that had caught Jack off guard earlier.

"Here you go," she said with a smile. "One round for the Devils." Her eyes met Jack’s for a brief moment, and he felt that familiar jolt of attraction. But it was Nico Hischier who broke his reverie, leaning forward with curiosity.

"So, I gotta ask," Nico said, lifting his drink. "What's the deal with the mechanical bull? You guys get a lot of brave souls trying it out?"

Y/N grinned, a mischievous glint lighting up her eyes. "Oh, you know," she said, her voice dripping with playful challenge. "There's always someone trying to show off. But if you're asking about me…" She winked, leaning in just a little. "I’m always happy to give the bull a spin. Might just show you all a thing or two."

Nico chuckled, shaking his head. "I’ll pass. I prefer not to embarrass myself." He raised his drink as if in salute.

Y/N’s lips curled into a playful pout as she straightened up. "Shame," she teased, her tone light but playful. "Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me." With that, she turned to look at the rest of the Devils players. "Anyone else want to try it? Or are we all too shy tonight?"

But before anyone could answer, the DJ’s voice boomed over the mic, interrupting the group’s conversation.

"Alright, alright, folks, we’ve got a real treat tonight!" The DJ’s voice was energetic, grabbing the attention of everyone in the bar. "This girl here is the best bullrider this side of the Mississippi! She’s our very own homegrown girl, and if you’ve never seen her work, well, you’re in for a show. Give it up for Y/N!"

The crowd cheered, and the energy in the room shifted, becoming even more charged as Y/N grinned and gave the crowd a little wave. Without missing a beat, she winked at the Devils as she stepped away from the bar as "Gotta Get Me Some' by Nickelback began playing.

"Excuse me, boys," she said with a playful glance at Jack. "Duty calls." And just like that, she was off, moving toward the mechanical bull at the center of the room.

Jack watched her go, his eyes following every step as she made her way to the bull. The inflatable pit surrounding it was filled with eager patrons, but Y/N was the one everyone had come to see. She made her way to the mechanical bull with a confidence that sent a ripple of anticipation through the crowd. The DJ introduced her one last time, and a cheer went up from the people around her as she climbed onto the bull like she’d done it a thousand times before.

In that moment, everything seemed to slow down for Jack. He could feel the electric energy in the room focus entirely on Y/N, as if the crowd was holding its collective breath, waiting to see what she’d do next.

With a fluid motion, Y/N slipped into position on the bull, her posture perfect, her legs wrapping around the inflatable beast. She flashed a smile to the crowd, her eyes gleaming with excitement. And then, without a second thought, she kicked the bull into motion.

The machine lurched beneath her, but Y/N didn’t falter. Instead, she leaned into the rhythm, moving with the bucking bull as though she had an intimate understanding of its every move. She adjusted her body, anticipating each jolt, her feet planted firmly as she worked the mechanical bull with a fluidity that stunned the room.

Jack couldn’t take his eyes off her. The way she controlled the bull with such grace, the way she shifted her weight effortlessly—it was as if she were born to do this. Her body moved with confidence and precision, her hips swaying with the movement of the bull, and there was an undeniable chemistry between her and the mechanical animal. She looked like she could take on anything, and she was doing it all with that playful grin that had first captivated Jack when he saw her on the bar.

The crowd cheered as she pulled off a series of daring moves—one moment leaning back as the bull twisted beneath her, the next bouncing with the motion in perfect sync. Jack’s jaw was practically on the floor, unable to look away from her.

She spun around once, her body moving in tandem with the machine, then threw a teasing wink toward the crowd. As the bull jerked again, she adjusted her stance, gliding effortlessly with its motions, her hands gripping the ropes, but never losing that carefree energy. She had the whole bar watching her, and she knew it—her confidence was contagious.

Jack was completely star-struck, unable to believe what he was witnessing. She wasn’t just a good rider; she was extraordinary. Every twist and turn, every movement felt intentional, like she was showing off the kind of skill only a true professional could possess. And Jack… well, he was mesmerized. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her as she continued to wow the crowd with her daring moves.

His teammates had noticed too, but Jack didn’t care. The only thing he could focus on was Y/N, her laughter and the infectious energy she brought with every movement. She wasn’t just playing to the crowd—she was the heart of it.

When she finally dismounted, landing lightly on her feet in the inflatable pit below, the crowd erupted in applause, and Y/N took a graceful bow, her smile wide and full of satisfaction. She glanced over at the Devils table and gave them a knowing, playful smile before heading back to the bar, where Jack’s gaze remained fixed on her.

As Y/N disappeared back into the crowd, the noise of the PBR Bar returned to full volume, but the Devils were far from distracted. Jack’s attention remained locked on her, his eyes following her every move as she returned to the bar. It didn’t take long before his teammates caught on—after all, Jack wasn’t exactly being subtle.

"Well, well, well," Nico’s voice rang out, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over their table. "Looks like someone’s a little smitten." Nico gave Jack a knowing grin, his eyes flicking between Jack and the bar, where Y/N had just settled behind the counter, exchanging banter with the bartender.

Jack blinked, finally pulling his gaze away from her and trying his best to look casual, though the flush creeping up his neck betrayed him. "What? No, I—" he stammered, then tried to recover, "I’m not—what are you even talking about?"

Dougie Hamilton leaned in with a sly smile, his voice low but teasing. "Uh-huh. Right, Jack," he drawled. "You were staring at her like you’d never seen a woman before. Don't even try to play it cool now." He nudged Jack's shoulder with a mischievous grin.

Jack rolled his eyes, trying to mask his embarrassment. “I wasn’t staring. I was just—watching her ride the bull. That was impressive, alright?”

“Oh, we saw it. We all saw it,” Miles Wood chimed in, his grin wide and his voice full of teasing amusement. “You were practically drooling, man. I thought you were gonna jump on that bull yourself.”

Jack groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Shut up, guys. She’s just... she’s really good at it. That’s all. You know, like any pro athlete is good at their thing.”

Luke, who had been listening in quietly, suddenly piped up with a devilish grin. “Sure, sure. You weren’t staring at her... just the bull, right? Because you definitely didn’t look like you were about to ask her for a private lesson.”

The rest of the guys burst out laughing, and Jack’s face turned a deeper shade of red. He took a long sip of his drink, hoping the conversation would just die down. But Nico, ever the instigator, wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easily.

“C’mon, Jack,” Nico said, leaning in with a grin. “You can’t fool us. You’re looking at her like she just stepped out of your favorite dream. You should go talk to her. She definitely noticed you watching.”

Jack shot Nico a glare, but deep down, he knew they were right. He had been caught. He was staring at Y/N—no denying that. And something about her confidence, her effortless charm—it was hard to ignore. The way she owned the room when she was on that bull had just fascinated him. But talking to her? That felt like a whole other level of nerve he wasn’t sure he was ready to tackle.

“Yeah, you should,” Dougie added, nudging him again. “Go up to the bar, strike up a conversation. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Jack shook his head, half-amused and half-exasperated. "I’m not some rookie, guys," he said with a half-smile, trying to play it cool. "I’m just... enjoying the night."

Luke raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh, just ‘enjoying the night.’ Sure. So why’s your face all red? I don’t think it’s from the drinks.”

“Yeah, tell us about that,” Miles teased, leaning back in his chair, clearly getting comfortable with the teasing. “You’re usually way better at hiding it when you’ve got a thing for someone. But this time? Buddy, it’s written all over your face.”

Jack groaned, and the guys continued to chuckle at his expense. His teammates didn’t miss a beat, continuing their teasing while Jack pretended to ignore them. But deep down, his mind was racing. They were right. He had noticed Y/N. He had been watching her, and for some reason, the whole thing—her confidence, her energy, her way of moving—had left him utterly captivated.

But of course, the team wasn’t going to let him forget it. They kept it up for a while longer, throwing in playful comments and nudges, until Jack was so red in the face he considered ducking out of the bar entirely. But he didn’t.

After a few minutes, Miles gave him a playful wink. "Alright, Jack," he said. "Go on and get it over with. Take the bull by the horns—or, uh, Y/N by the reins."

Jack looked at Miles, then around the table at all his teammates, each one grinning like they knew exactly what he was thinking. He sighed, half-laughing, half-exasperated.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Fine. You guys win. But if I do this, it’s on my terms. No more teasing, got it?”

The guys cheered, the teasing dying down as they gave Jack an encouraging look, but there was a mischievous glint in their eyes. They weren’t going to let him off the hook that easily.

“Good luck, Jack,” Nico said with a wink. “We’ll be right here to watch it unfold. Don't forget to get a selfie with her!”

Jack rolled his eyes again, but with a smirk, he finally stood up, ready to face whatever conversation might come his way. As he made his way toward the bar, he could feel the eyes of his teammates on him, still teasing but oddly supportive in their own way. But none of that mattered as much as the fact that, for some strange reason, he had the feeling that this night was about to get a lot more interesting than he’d expected.

As Jack made his way toward the bar, his heart beat a little faster than he expected. He could hear the muffled chatter and music of the bar growing louder with each step, but in the back of his mind, all he could focus on was the reason he was heading in that direction in the first place.

Y/N.

When he reached the bar, he was momentarily distracted by the sea of people, all milling around, but there she was, standing behind the counter with a drink in hand, casually chatting with a customer. Her smile lit up the space, and for a second, Jack just stood there, watching her effortlessly move between the crowd, her energy magnetic.

Then, as if she sensed his presence, Y/N glanced over, her eyes locking onto Jack’s with a mischievous glint. She flashed a smile, and in a few steps, she was right there in front of him, leaning against the bar casually as if she’d been waiting for him.

“Well, well,” she said, her voice teasing but soft. “Look who finally decided to show up. You ready to ride the bull, or are you just another tourist passing through?” Her eyes sparkled with playfulness as she gave him a knowing look, her lips curving into a smile that made Jack’s stomach flip.

Jack felt his cheeks heat up at the mention of the bull, and suddenly, the confident, laid-back persona he’d had just moments ago felt miles away. His mind went blank for a second, and he found himself stammering, trying to find the right words.

“Uh, w-what?” He cleared his throat. “I mean… I—I wasn’t planning on riding it, but—uh… I guess it’d be… fun to watch.” He couldn’t help but notice how her gaze held his, her eyes locking onto his as if she was daring him to say something else, something more daring.

Y/N tilted her head slightly, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. “Oh really?” she teased. “I thought you were the kind of guy who liked a challenge. I mean, you’ve seen me show you all how it’s done, right?” She leaned a little closer, her voice lowering just enough to make him feel like the room was suddenly smaller. “You sure you’re just here for the drinks?”

Jack blinked a few times, his throat dry. The way she spoke—so confident, so direct—was enough to send him spinning. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how to talk to women, but something about her presence made his usual easygoing confidence evaporate in an instant.

“Uh… I, uh…” Jack stammered again, completely flustered by the attention she was giving him. “I mean, I’ve seen you ride the bull, and, uh, it’s... pretty impressive. But, uh, not sure if I’m quite ready to, uh, try it out just yet.”

Y/N’s smirk deepened, her eyes dancing with amusement. She was clearly enjoying the effect she was having on him, and Jack was too far gone to even try to hide it. He could feel his palms start to sweat slightly, the alcohol in his system doing nothing to help his nerves.

“Not ready for the bull, huh?” she teased, her voice almost a whisper now, like she was sharing a secret. “Tell me, Jack—are you always this cautious, or is it just when it comes to me?”

The words hit him like a wave, and Jack could barely keep himself from stumbling over his response. “I—uh—no, I mean—I'm not cautious!” he said quickly, his words tripping over each other. “I just... I mean, I just... didn’t want to make a fool of myself, that's all.”

Y/N’s laughter rang out, light and full of teasing, but there was no malice in it—just fun. "Oh, Jack, you're far from making a fool of yourself," she said, her voice playful. "But, hey, if you're too shy, I totally get it. Not everyone’s cut out for the bull. But hey, you might just surprise yourself." 

Jack felt his pulse quicken at the way she looked at him—her gaze softened just a little, and he realized she wasn’t just teasing him. She was flirting, and maybe, just maybe, she wanted him to take the challenge. To prove something. To her.

He didn’t know what came over him, but suddenly, the idea of being cautious felt ridiculous. He’d come this far—he wasn’t going to back down now.

“Alright, alright,” Jack said, his voice now a little steadier than before, though the lingering nerves were still there. “I’ll give it a shot. But only because you made it sound like fun.”

Y/N’s grin widened, clearly pleased with his decision. “That’s what I like to hear,” she said, her voice still low and teasing. “Let’s see if you can keep up with me on that bull, Jack.”

Before he could respond, she gave him a playful wink, and then, without another word, she turned back to the rest of the bar, ready to prep another round of drinks for some eager patrons. Jack, still trying to collect himself, stood there for a moment, his mind racing. Was he really about to ride the mechanical bull? With her watching?

His teammates, watching from their table nearby, couldn’t help but notice the slight color in his cheeks and the distracted look on his face as Y/N walked away. 

“Oh man,” Nico chuckled, nudging Dougie with his elbow. “Looks like Jack’s about to face his biggest challenge of the night.”

Dougie grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Told you, Jack. No backing out now.”

Jack shot them both an exasperated look but couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. He was in it now. There was no turning back.

With a deep breath, he straightened up and made his way toward the inflatable pit, ready to take on the bull—and whatever else the night might bring.

Jack climbed onto the mechanical bull with as much confidence as he could muster, but the truth was, his legs were already starting to feel like jelly beneath him. He tugged at the straps on the bull, positioning himself as best as he could. His hands gripped the handles in front of him with white knuckles, his palms clammy against the synthetic leather. He could feel the vibrations from the bull beneath him, the mechanical beast waiting to spring into action.

He glanced around, trying to act cool, but there was no denying the fact that he was a little nervous. The cheers from the crowd were loud, almost deafening, as they eagerly awaited the ride. The rest of his team was gathered near the sidelines, teasing and shouting playful encouragements, but Jack’s focus was entirely on the bull and, more specifically, on the girl who had just told him he should give it a shot.

As the bull began to move, swaying beneath him in slow, deliberate motions, Jack’s heart rate increased. He hadn’t expected to be quite this nervous. He tried to settle into a rhythm, trying not to grip the handles too tightly, but the bull jerked suddenly, and he almost lost his balance. 

"Whoa—whoa!" Jack muttered under his breath, holding on even tighter, feeling like he was on the verge of being thrown off at any second. He couldn’t help but laugh nervously at his own awkwardness.

Just as he was beginning to doubt his decision, the crowd cheered again, but this time it wasn’t just for him. To his surprise, a familiar face appeared beside him—Y/N. Without missing a beat, she hopped onto the bull behind him, moving with a fluidity that made Jack feel like he was a complete amateur in comparison. 

The crowd erupted into even more applause, but Jack’s focus was completely stolen by the way she effortlessly adjusted herself behind him, settling into position with the kind of confidence Jack could only dream of having. 

Y/N’s body pressed against his back, her presence warm and undeniable, and she flashed him a grin. “Hold on tight,” she teased, her voice warm and playful, almost as if she was giving him a secret, inside tip. “I don’t bite… unless you want me to.”

Jack’s heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to laugh or just lose himself in the absurdity of the situation. He was already nervous about riding the bull, and now Y/N was practically pressed against him, her steady, fluid movements making him feel clumsy by comparison.

“Okay,” Jack muttered, trying to gather himself. “I got this.”

Y/N’s laughter vibrated through him, light and infectious. “You’re holding on like your life depends on it,” she teased, her voice close to his ear. “Relax, Jack. You’re not gonna fall. Trust me, I’ve got you.”

The way she said it—so confidently, with such easy familiarity—brought a wave of relief, though Jack still couldn’t shake his nervousness. He shifted slightly, trying to focus on staying balanced, but the more he tried to focus on the bull, the more aware he became of her proximity. She wasn’t just sitting behind him; she was with him, like they were a team, moving together in sync with the motions of the bull.

As the ride started to pick up speed, the mechanical bull bucked, throwing Jack off rhythm. His grip tightened again, but this time, Y/N leaned in a little closer, her body moving with the flow of the ride in perfect harmony. Her hands rested lightly on his waist, not pressing him into the seat but instead offering an unspoken support.

“Relax,” she whispered again, her breath hot against his ear. “You’re doing fine, but you might want to loosen up a little. I’ll keep you steady.”

Jack tried to focus on her words. He forced himself to relax his grip on the bull’s handle, feeling more at ease with each passing second. His nervous energy slowly started to drain away, replaced by a growing sense of exhilaration. The more he adjusted to the rhythm of the bull, the more he could feel his awkwardness melting away, replaced by a genuine confidence he hadn’t expected. 

The bull swerved to the left, then to the right, and Jack found himself following the motion without thinking. His body was no longer stiff and rigid—it was almost as if he was moving with the bull and with Y/N behind him, sharing the ride in perfect sync. He could feel her fingers brushing against the side of his waist as she shifted her position, her breath matching the movement of the bull. It was a strange kind of chemistry, born not just from the thrill of the ride but from their proximity to one another.

Suddenly, the bull made a sharp turn, and for a moment, Jack thought he was going to lose it. But before he could react, Y/N’s hands slid from his waist to his shoulders, steadying him, keeping him from falling.

“You’ve got this, Jack!” she called over the music, her voice full of encouragement. “Just a little more.”

He felt his heart race—not from fear of falling, but from the intensity of the moment, the fact that they were working together as a team, even if it was just on a mechanical bull. Her presence behind him was more than just physical—it was reassuring, playful, and a little daring all at once. It made him feel like he could actually do this.

With a final hard buck, the bull tossed them both to the side, and Jack, unable to hold on any longer, was thrown off and landed in the inflatable pit with a soft bounce. He lay there for a moment, catching his breath, before finally sitting up, grinning despite himself.

From where he lay, Jack watched Y/N, who had managed to stay on much longer. She didn’t even look winded. In fact, she was moving with such ease, Jack couldn’t help but admire her control. She shifted, adjusting her position on the bull, and the crowd erupted into cheers as she performed a smooth roll off the bull, flipping backward in a move that was so graceful, it almost looked like she was part of a dance.

As she landed in the inflatable pit with a playful flourish, Jack couldn’t help but laugh, clapping along with the rest of the crowd. Y/N grinned widely, breathless from the ride but still full of that infectious energy.

The crowd roared with applause, and Jack couldn’t help but laugh, his nerves now completely gone, replaced by a rush of adrenaline.

He turned slightly to face Y/N, who was grinning from ear to ear. “See?” she said, her voice light and teasing. “Told you you could do it.”

Jack laughed again, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yeah, I guess you were right,” he admitted, still trying to catch his breath. “You really do know how to ride this thing.”

Y/N’s grin softened into something a little more sincere as she slid off the bull and helped Jack down. “I’ve had a little practice,” she said with a wink, her eyes twinkling. “But you did pretty damn good for a first-timer.”

Jack couldn’t stop smiling, his heart still racing from the ride. As he slid off the bull, he realized that for once, he didn’t feel out of place—he was right where he needed to be. And for some strange reason, he had Y/N to thank for that. 

As the applause died down, the energy of the room shifted, but Jack didn’t mind. He was too busy trying to steady his pulse from the ride—and the effect she’d had on him.

Jack laughed, still catching his breath. “Yeah, well, I guess I had a pretty good instructor.” He looked over at her, the smile never leaving his face. "You were amazing. I don’t know how you make it look so easy.”

Y/N shrugged nonchalantly, her eyes glinting with the same playful mischief. “It’s all about confidence,” she said, her voice low and teasing. “You’ve got to trust the bull and trust yourself. And, well,” she added with a wink, “trust your partner.”

The night was in full swing now. The PBR Bar had transformed into an electric dance party, with the lights flashing in time to the music and the floor packed with people moving to the beat. The Devils’ players were a part of it all, but none more so than Jack, who had managed to find his rhythm after a few drinks and a mechanical bull ride. His teammates—Luke and Nico especially—had captured his entire bull-riding ordeal on their phones, giggling and mocking him as they relived the moment. Jack wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or amused, but one thing was clear: tonight, the team was in the mood to let loose.

As the beat pulsed through the air, the guys found themselves drawn to the dance floor. Some of the PBR girls were already moving, their energy infectious as they led the crowd through a series of fun, teasing moves. The bar was buzzing with excitement, and the atmosphere had an almost magnetic quality to it.

Jack, feeling more relaxed than he had in a long time, was talking with his brother Luke and Nico, his usual nerves replaced by a certain boldness. He even found himself tapping along to the rhythm of the song, though he wasn’t quite ready to go all-in like some of the others. His attention was split between the conversation and the lively scene around him, but every so often, his gaze flickered toward the bar, where he noticed a familiar face.

Y/N was back at her post, filling out orders, chatting with patrons, but Jack noticed something—she was scanning the crowd. His heart skipped when he realized she was looking for him. 

Just as he turned back to talk to Nico, the music shifted, and an early 2000s hit blared from the speakers—“Up Down (Do This All Day)” by T-Pain. Jack barely had time to adjust to the change before he felt a tap on his shoulder.

He turned, surprised to see Y/N standing in front of him, her smile playful and bright, as though she’d been waiting for this moment. 

“Need a dancing partner?” she asked, her eyes twinkling with mischievous energy, her tone inviting but full of that daring confidence Jack had come to admire.

Jack blinked, momentarily speechless, before he recovered, a grin spreading across his face. “Uh, sure. Why not?” He looked around at his brother and Nico, who were both giving him knowing looks. Nico smirked, while Luke whooped in the background, cheering for his older brother like he was rooting for a game-winning goal.

Before Jack could even second-guess himself, Y/N had already extended her hand, her fingers outstretched toward him in the middle of the crowded dance floor.

Without hesitating, Jack reached for her hand, the touch sending a rush of excitement through him. He allowed her to pull him into the sea of bodies, the beats of the song vibrating through the floor as the crowd around them moved with rhythm and energy. The space was packed, and the bodies were close, but in that moment, Jack didn’t mind. 

Y/N led him into the crowd with ease, her confidence setting the pace as she began moving fluidly to the beat, teasing the crowd with her effortless sway. Jack stumbled at first, trying to find his footing, but Y/N’s gaze never wavered from him. She was watching him intently, with a glint in her eyes that made him feel like they were the only two people on the floor.

Relax, Jack," she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. "Follow my lead."

Jack took a deep breath as he allowed her to move against him. There was no space between them, not anymore. His eyes fell to her lips, watching them move in time with the music. The music pulsed through him, the rhythm heavy and primal. She rocked back and forth, her hips moving seductively against his.

“Mmm,” he said, his voice low and husky. His hands settled on the small of her back as she ground against him, moving her hips in time with the beat. She felt warm under his touch, soft and inviting.

"Let the music do the work," she said, her mouth finding his ear again, her tongue brushing against his skin and sending shivers down his spine.

Jack couldn’t help the low growl that escaped him at the feel of her tongue on him. His grip on her hips tightened and she laughed, her breath warm against him as she turned her head to meet his eyes. Jack held her gaze, mesmerized by the bright glint of mischief that lit up the dark depths.

Y/N pulled back slowly, her hands finding their way back to his shoulders. The song’s chorus hit, loud and pulsing through the packed dance floor. They turned, swaying in time, her body pressed against his. Jack could feel the swell of her breasts against his chest, could feel her hips moving against his. His eyes were locked on hers as she raised her arms above her head and turned, swaying back into him.

“Up down do this all day,” she breathed, turning again with the rhythm. Jack watched the way her hair moved, watched the way her hips rolled seductively, back and forth. His hands found her hips again, moving in time with her as she rolled against him.

She was the only one he saw. The only one he felt. Jack didn’t know what had come over him, but he couldn’t deny it. This girl had lit something in him.

The song shifted, the beat deepening and slowing. Y/N’s hands found their way to his shoulders again, and Jack pulled her closer, their bodies pressed together as they swayed in time. He felt her hand slide up his neck to tangle in his hair, her touch sending shivers down his skin. Her fingers slid along his nape, teasing the sensitive skin there, and he heard her low moan as she turned again and pressed herself against him.

Jack’s mouth found her neck, his lips ghosting over her skin. She tilted her head back and he took the opportunity to drag his lips up her throat and along the smooth line of her jaw. Her breath hitched as he nipped at the soft curve of her ear.

“You’ve got the rhythm now,” she whispered. “All day.” Jack smirked against her neck. He liked this girl. She made him feel good. She made him want.

“Want to find out?” Jack asked, his breath hot against her skin. He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “What else I can do?” Y/N blinked up at him, her eyes dark and full of promise.

Y/N smiles and wraps her arms around Jack's neck, pulling him closer, her hips grinding against his as they sway to the music. Jack moans softly, feeling her warm skin against his, his body responding to her movements.

"Baby, I'm your best bet," she whispers in his ear, her tongue flicking along the curve of his earlobe.

Jack groans tossing his head back knowing how much trouble he is in. Y/N pulls away once the song ends and winks at him before returning towards the bar where it was her turn to be the bar dancer. Her moves hit with each beat of the next song. 

Jack was screwed and he knew it. He adjusted himself in his pants before going to find his brother and teammates. Y/N was trouble. And he was ready to get in. The night was still young, and so was Jack. He was ready to have the night of his life.

The Devils’ boys were the life of the party now. With their confidence boosted after their game, their usual antics returned to full effect. Jack settled in with his brother, Nico, and a few others for a round of shots. The bar had shifted gears and gone into full dance mode, the girls dancing on the bars now, and Jack found himself more than once looking toward the bar for the girl in red.

Y/N came back to their table to serve them all once again, Jack's gaze burning into her. He had to have her one way or another. Nico asks Y/N to stay and join them which she playfully pouts and says that she can't but secretly slides a paper into Jack's hand. Jack looks down and back at her and she winks, he reads it and tells the boys he's going to the dancefloor which they all nod.

Jack ends up walking to the bathroom where he finds Y/N perched on one of the vanities. His blood began to heat seeing her. Her back was arched, her breasts pushed out, her hair spread out in front of her as if waiting for him. His dick grew hard at the sight and he knew this was where the trouble started. He closed the door behind them and locked it knowing they would be here for a minute or two. His gaze never left hers. 

"You're so fucking gorgeous." Jack whispered as he moved towards her, his hands settling on her hips. She smirked and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down into a kiss. Jack moaned at the taste of her, she tasted like heaven. She had her hand on the side of his face as she kissed him, their tongues tangling together as Jack ran his hands up her thighs to settle on her ass, giving it a squeeze before he slid his hands under her ass and pulled her up off the counter.

He walked to the wall and pinned her against it, her legs wrapping around his waist as they kissed. Jack pulled away for a second and looked into her eyes.

"You're incredible," he whispered as he pulled her close. 

Y/N laughs softly, her hands moving to cup his face. "You're not bad yourself." She leans in to kiss him again before pulling away with a smirk. "We shouldn't be doing this here."

"Yeah? What's stopping you?" Jack asks, his lips finding hers again. She moans softly before pulling away again.

Y/N gazes into his blue eyes. She wasn't the type of girl to hook up with a guy she just met at her job but something about Jack made her core burn with want.  She wanted him. He felt like fun, and tonight she was in the mood for fun. Jack's eyes never left hers, his blue burning into her, full of heat.

"Fuck it." She muttered before she grabbed Jack by the collar of his shirt and pulling him to her, their lips crashing together in a kiss. Jack moans, his hips thrusting against her as he kisses her back.

She gasps as his hips hit her core and she pulls away from him, both of them breathing heavy.

"Giddy up cowgirl," Jack said as he ran his hands under her thighs and turned them. He pushed her up against the wall, her back to the glass wall. She nodded with a gasp as his lips met hers. Jack pushed her legs up to wrap around him again.

His hips thrust against her and she whimpered softly. She wanted him already. Jack chuckled against her lips and his hand trailed it's way down her body to her red bottoms and stirrups. Y/N pulled away and began kissing down Jack's jaw to his neck. He struggled to undo the clasps holding the stirrups to her hips. 

"Why do these have to be complicated." He groaned as Y/N giggled at his desperation. She replaces her hands with his and undos the clasps. The stirrups falling to the ground as Jack grabs Y/N's hips and pulls her off the vanity, spins her so her back is to his chest. He grinds into her and his hand finds it's way to her neck wrapping his hands around it slightly squeezing, "You feel what you do to me baby?"  He asks, his mouth finding her ear again. Y/N nods, moaning softly, the wetness between her legs growing. 

"Tell me you want it." Jack growled as he nips her earlobe, his hand on her thigh sliding up under the hem of her short shorts. Y/N gasped softly at the feel of his fingers on her sensitive skin.

Y/N moans and nods vigorously watching herself fall apart on the hockey player’s fingers. "I want to hear you say it." Jack groaned as he pressed his fingers against her, feeling how wet she was for him. He pressed his fingers into her, feeling her tighten around him. Y/N moaned and writhed on his fingers.

"Please, I want it." She moaned softly, his hand tightening on her neck as she writhed and moved against his hand.

Jack pushed his fingers into her harder and faster, hearing her moans in his ear, and that’s when he realized the wall opposite them was mirrored. He could see them. He could see himself playing with her pussy. Jack grins in the reflection, it was hot. He saw her writhing on his fingers, her head tilting back to rest on his shoulder and her breasts heaving with the quick breaths she was taking. Jack felt himself hardening more.

"Look at you," He said, his voice huskier. "Look what we're doing baby." Jack's lips found her ear again, his breath tickling his breath tickling her skin and she shivered. Y/N looked back at the reflection and she gasped softly. Jack's arms wrapped around her stomach and his free hand moved up to cup her breasts. They were heavy in his hand, full and hot as she moaned.

Jack found her nipple with his thumb and forefinger and he pinched it, his fingers moving in and out of her. Y/N gasps as she moans again. Jack smirked to himself. She looked incredible like that, writhing on his hand and fingers as he played her body. 

"Tell me I can take you," Jack muttered into her ear. Y/N gasped as he pinched her nipple again, she nodded as he slid another finger into her pussy.

"Fuck, I'm close." Jack could feel her pussy tightening on his fingers and he smirked into the reflection. He liked the sight of his hand playing with her pussy, he loved the look of her tits in his hands. Y/N whimpered. "Yeah?" he smugly asks, grinning down at her. "That's a good girl." He muttered as he picked up the speed. She gasps and nods again. Jack could see her watching the reflection, her eyes were wide and her cheeks flushed.

"Come for me, Y/N." Jack demands and she moans as his fingers press into her g-spot, she comes apart on his hand, her orgasm hitting her hard and fast. Jack watched the reflection as her pussy clenched around his fingers before he pulled them out and brought them to her mouth. "Clean them like a good girl."  He muttered to her and she nods, her mouth falling open as his wet fingers slide into her mouth. She moaned as she tasted herself. She sucked them clean, licking them with precision, and Jack groaned at the sight. He pulled his fingers from her mouth and turned her to face him, he was about to kiss her when Y/N automatically dropped to her knees undoing the button to Jack's pants and pulling down his zipper. 

She couldn't contain herself. She needed to taste him and have him on her tongue. His pants fell to the floor with a soft thump as Y/N began mouthing at Jack's cock through his boxers. His soft groans fill the bathroom of the club. "Don't tease me babe." he mutters. Y/N hums as she pulls his boxers down and his cock slaps his stomach. Y/N moans, she knew he was big but goddamn. She felt herself grow even wetter just knowing he's going to stretch her out perfectly. He curved slightly to the right. His pink tip turning red and leaking precum. Jack moans and she begins placing open mouthed kisses along the base and licking the vein to the tip. She looked up at Jack to find him staring down at her, his eyes burning with lust. She proceeds to kitten lick his tip. She hums at the salty taste.  

Y/N felt Jack's hands find themselves in her hair. He was holding a fistful of her hair but not pulling yet. She took him into her mouth, sucking him in and swirling her tongue around him as she bobbed on his cock. Jack was breathing harder now. His breathing comes in sharp inhales and exhales. His hand tightens on her hair and she moans softly around his cock as he holds her head still and pumps into her mouth. The sounds of him fucking her mouth filled the bathroom. His hips thrusting in and out of her mouth, his breaths growing harsher. 

"Y/N," he muttered and she moans around him, loving how deep he was going into her mouth and down her throat. He was hitting her gag reflex, but she didn't care. She wanted this. She wanted him. Jack groaned, his hand cupping her chin and tilting her head up so she had to look at him as he fucked her mouth.

"I'm gonna come in your mouth if you don't stop." He muttered, his eyes meeting hers as she sucked him into her mouth. Y/N takes him down her throat once more and holds him there swallowing around him as he lets out a loud moan. He yanks her off and pulls her up before wrapping his hand around her throat and kissing her. The kiss was nasty.

"Only way I'm cumming is in this sweet pussy of yours." Jack muttered between kisses as he turned Y/N making her face the mirror. Her hands finding the granite surface.  

Jack's hand trailing down her back and settling on her ass, he gave it a squeeze and then slapped it hard enough to get her attention. Y/N moans at the slap as Jack trails kisses down her neck to her shoulder. Y/N's back arched slightly as Jack's tongue trails down her spine. "Oh god," She gasps, he kisses the base of her spine and moves down to kiss the top of her ass. She hears Jack spit and the squelch of him stroking himself fills the room before his hand slides up her inner thigh. She moans as she hears him rub the tip of his cock along her pussy lips. Jack growls softly and slowly pushes in making Y/N feel every thick inch. Y/N gasps softly, she was so full. He bottomed out in her with a groan as he settled there.

"You feel so fucking good," Jack muttered, he trails kisses up her spine. Y/N pushes back into him, silently asking to move. Jack obliged, his cock pulling out with a squelch before pushing back in. "Your cock feels so good," She muttered as Jack picked up the pace and he began thrusting into her harder. His hips slapping against her ass and thighs as his balls slapped her pussy with each thrust. 

They were both moaning and Jack's grip on her hips tightened. Y/N reached down and began rubbing her clit, the sensation building again and Jack watched her in the reflection. His blue eyes burning as he watched her. His eyes locked on hers in the reflection as he began thrusting harder into her. Their breathing became more labored.

"God, look how good you look taking my cock." Jack said as he grabbed a handful of Y/N's hair making her look at her reflection. She moaned at what she saw, she was pure filth and she loved it. Her face was flushed, her hair a mess as he fucked her, her legs shaking as she rubbed her clit. Her eyes were wide and blown, her cheeks burning. Jack let go of her hair as her moans picked up. 

Y/N felt like she could feel him her stomach, just rearranging her guts from how deep he was. Jack lifted her leg onto the vanity and Y/N damn near screamed. He was reaching spots in her she didn't know she had, but fuck did she love it. 

He wrapped an arm around her stomach as his other hand cupped her breast and he pinched her clit with his fingers and began rubbing it hard as he continued to fuck into her at a brutal pace. Jack leaned in close to her ear. "You like that baby?" He grunted into her ear before he bit it and Y/N came hard and loud on his cock, her pussy squeezing him in a vice as she came. Jack groaned softly as he kept fucking her until she was done, then he began fucking into her harder, chasing his own orgasm. Jack's hand tightened on her hip, his breaths growing more erratic. Y/N watched him in the mirror as he chased his orgasm.

"Fuck I'm gonna come, I need to come." He growled out. Y/N nodded. "Do it Jack. Fill me up so good." Jack let out a shaky breath, he moaned softly and pushed in one last time bottoming out in her as his cock pulsed and filled her with his cum. Jack gasped softly, leaning forward and pulling her against his chest, they watched the reflection of themselves as Jack fucked in and out of her slowly emptying his cum in her. Finally Jack pulled out and they both watched as his cum dripped down her thigh. Y/N felt full. Jack could swear he could get hard again at the sight. He shook himself out of his trance as he reached over for some paper towels and helped Y/N clean herself up before he did the same himself.  

They both redressed and Y/N tried to fix her appearance despite her curls being a bit frizy from Jack's grip. Her makeup was smudged. After fixing herself up she helped Jack fix his hair and Jack helped her put her stirrups back on.

His hands lingered on her hips as he looked at her. "What is my lipstick still smudged?" Y/N asks. He smiles and shakes his head. "I don't think this can be a one time thing." he said. She lifted an eyebrow, "Oh you get slutted out and now you're addicted?" Y/n teases . Jack growls as he pulls her close and kisses her. "Shut the fuck up before I decide to turn you around and fuck you again." She gasps at the kiss as Jack pulls away, his eyes dark and lustful. They stood there in silence for a moment.

"Well pull it out." Y/N spoke. Jack raised his eyebrows in shock, god she was insatiable. She smirked, "Your phone horndog. Give me your phone." she said. He reaches into his jeans and unlocks it before passing it to her. Y/N puts in her number and takes a selfie then hands it back. "Now whenever you're back in Nashville, call me and we can do this again." she said before pulling him down for another kiss and went to leave the bathroom. Jack stood there looking at her contact, he knew it was a great idea to come out tonight.