#and technically i started over from what little i read in october when i picked it back up in february

[feminexisting]

At First Bite by Ruth Ames

I bought this book within the last few years (last three, maybe?), when the local thrift store put it out as part of their Halloween items. Ever since I was young, I had wanted to read and own the Poison Apple books, so this was quite gratifying for me when I bought it. The price tag on the cover shows that I bought it for $.49.

The premise is that twelve-year-old Ashlee Lambert is moving from New York City to Los Angeles so that her mother can star in a reality TV show. If that big move weren't enough, Ashlee also has something else to worry about: being a vampire. And if *that* weren't enough, she also has to deal with The Dark Ones, vampires who feast on human blood, rather than small animal blood or blood substitute, who have recently appeared in Los Angeles. Ashlee's main worry for the majority of the book, however, is adjusting to her life in the warm climate (much harder on her vampiric nerves), and, more importantly, becoming just as popular at her new school as she was back in New York. But, when her first day goes poorly following a series of mishaps (a horrific sunburn, turning into a bat on accident, the janitor at school getting attacked by a bat and having his blood sucked), she finds herself growing closer to an outcast, Sasha, and her twin brother, Marc. Ashlee joins the theater committee as their wardrobe manager, just in time for their play, At First Bite (a story about a vampire falling in love with a human and turning her into a vampire as well), to start. However, things keep going wrong. A surfer at the beach is attacked, and then Paige, the resident popular girl at school and the lead in the play, is attacked as well. Ashlee decides to take matters into her own hands and find out who The Dark One attacking the people near her are so that she can save the play, save her school, and, most importantly, become popular. (And then, in a twist nobody saw coming, Ashlee realizes that being popular actually isn't that important and also that she has new friends that she likes more than the popular kids.)

This book... has been holding me back for several months now. I had started reading it back in October 2023, but then I became so busy, first with Halloween decorating and then with stomach issues, that I never finished it. I didn't want to start a new book before finishing this one, and I didn't have the time to, either, because of how busy I was because of the holiday season. That brought me into the new year. Still, though, I didn't read it, because I had a not-great impression of the book from what little I had, and began dreading reading it. Still, though, in February I picked it back up, determined to finish it, so that I could read books again and catch up on my book reading for this year. And then I kept forgetting about it. Until today, April 23, 2024, when I decided to read it because my internet went out and I didn't know how to reset the router (new router different from the old one I knew how to reset). And now, here I am, three or four hours later, having finished reading the book all in one sitting. And, good lord, I am *so* glad it's over. Not that the book was bad; it was a very middling book, cliched and largely uninspired, though I don't mind it too much; but because I finally finished my book and it's not longer hanging over my head, preventing me from moving forward and reading other books, especially ones that I've actually eagerly been wanting to read.

Anyway, what to say about the story... well, as I said, it was largely uninspired, not that that's a surprise. From both the Poison Apple and Candy Apple books, written for tweens in the early 2010s, it's exactly what I would expect. I didn't go into this book expecting anything groundbreaking, and I was not surprised when I received barely anything new or interesting. Although this is a criticism of the book, it's not a meanspirited one; truly, it is of little consequence or matter. I expected little, I received little, I was not let down.

Ashlee, the main character, was largely insufferable throughout most of the book. She was a popular girl who seemed to care very little about her "friends" and who was very egotistical, focusing mostly on what she cared about and what affected her and caring very little for anything else. Her obsession with becoming popular and her disregard for the people around her, especially her friends back in New York, and for Paige, the popular girl whom Ashlee explicitly mentions she wants to replace in the popularity hierarchy, was grating. Her desire to replace Paige was especially so, considering how blatantly she talked about it. I don't think Ashlee is a bad person, but I think she certainly was not raised correctly considering that was her attitude.

Sasha was charming, although she was quite one-note. Again, I didn't expect much from this book, so I was hardly surprised with as much, but it was still kind of sad. Still, though, she was a voice of reason on occasion, and her self confidence, while unrealistic for a tween in the early 2010s, was a nice change from Ashlee's egotism.

Eve and Mallory were Ashlee's friends in New York. I feel... a certain way about them. I don't know how to explain it. See, Ashlee spoke of them as if she looked down on them and possibly didn't even care about them, yet she was still hurt that they hardly ever messaged her back after she left. Which, yes, that's sad. Friendships ending is always sad. But... I didn't really feel bad for her, either. It seemed to me, though the book tried to deny it, that Ashlee really only saw them as pawns. I was honestly happy for Eve and Mal when they didn't reply to Ashlee and seemed to not really care. Although I have to assume that they'll probably one day just find a new queen bee to follow after, I was happy for them that they were free of Ashlee in the meantime.

Paige... I honestly feel quite neutral about Paige. But not as neutral as I feel for Ashlee. See, Paige honestly had the possibility to be quite interesting. She's domineering and headstrong, rude and obnoxious. She's like the evolution of Ashlee, something that our main character will eventually become if she continued on the path she had set herself on. But then... she was attacked by a vampire. She was found by Ashlee, and in that moment it seemed, to me, at least, that she trusted Ashlee. That she felt *safe* with Ashlee. A girl who, up to that moment, she had ridiculed and derided. And then the vampire who attacked her swooped in and tended to her, and she passed out. I don't know, I just felt... bad for her. She was tragic in that moment. She felt like she could've been the final girl of a horror movie. And then, later, after her hospitalization ended, she went to the play, the one which she had to miss because of the attack, and she watched it. And, shockingly, she complimented the girl who replaced her in her assigned role AND she complimented Ashlee's wardrobe choices. It honestly felt like she would be able to improve, to turn around after this. She invited Ashlee and Sasha (who took her part in the play) to hang out afterwards, and I think this would've been the perfect moment for the five (these three girls, plus Carmen and Wendy, Paige's versions of Eve and Mallory) to become friends and to mutually help each other. But... Ashlee turns her down. And this in itself would be alright, really. Paige had been rude to Ashlee and her friends almost the entire book, so it's completely understandable why one might not like to hang out with her. But then Ashlee goes on to think to herself how Paige (and Carmen and Wendy) will *never* change or get better. And then, immediately afterwards, Eve and Mallory text Ashlee, and Ashlee's tune changes immediately, from thinking only a few moments before about how her New York friends meant almost nothing to her because they had seemingly stopped caring for her, to saying how they would always be important to her and close to her. And I just... hate that. I hate how the author decided to end the book by saying that this young girl will never improve, despite the fact that she had made great strides by complimenting Ashlee and Sasha, and despite the fact that she very well could have become a better person following some introspection after her attack. I hate that Wendy, who showed she had true grit and drive when she immediately volunteered to take over Sasha's old role as stage manager, was said that she would never get better. I hate that Carmen, who complimented Ashlee's costume choices, was said that she would never get better. I hate that these three girls were a clear parallel to Ashlee and her friends, but because they're the antagonists they're never allowed to be more than they are. I don't know. I know I'm thinking too hard about it, but that just feels like a weird lesson to be taught.

Anyway, there was a fun Easter egg in the book. The Dark One who was attacking the students, the theater director, was named Mr. Harker. Harker is, of course, a direct reference to the character Johnathan Harker, Dracula's estate agent and one of the protagonists of the book Dracula. There was then another much smaller Easter egg later in the book, when a doctor was interviewed by a newspaper about the recent attacks happening around town, and his name was revealed to be Dr. Cullen Meyer, a clear reference to the Cullens, the vampire family from the Twilight novels, and Stephanie Meyer, the writer of said novels.

Speaking of Mr. Harker, I find him somewhat interesting, almost solely based on something he said. See, I had guessed he was the bad guy probably about a quarter or a third of a way into the book, both because it added up and because mostly he was such an Easter egg because of his name that frankly I couldn't believe he wouldn't be important in some way (though I briefly felt the same way about Dr. Cullen Meyer and that belief was not rewarded). But even at that point I really wasn't interested. No, it wasn't until the end of the book, after Harker had been captured, that I was interested in him. He explained that he had been led astray by the other Dark Ones when they recruited him and mentioned that he had never wanted to attack so often, and that he certainly never planned to attack children, but that he couldn't help himself, because the hunger was too great. And to top all of it off, it seemed as though he was truly remorseful and sorry. He also mentioned prior to all of this hoping to be a second mentor to Ashlee, and though the implication was that he was hoping to turn her into a Dark One, too, it struck me how sincere he was throughout the entire affair. When he mentioned the line about the hunger being too great, I felt bad for him. I didn't blame him, then, not when he had been corrupted and could no longer control himself. Though the book said that only bad people could become corrupted (a lesson which is problematic in and of itself), I didn't believe that was the case. I think anybody could become corrupted, both because that makes more sense and also because it makes it more tragic and interesting. A beloved teacher was led astray and taught the dark ways and can no longer control himself even around the students who he cared so greatly about, but a shadow of that care still remains when he hopes to become a mentor to his vampiric student. I know of the connection between sex and vampirism, and I know that his wanting to mentor her was basically a declaration of pedophilia and the intent to corrupt her, and frankly that in itself is an interesting angle to view it from (and an angle in which it is especially important to say that *anyone* can be a Dark One and that there is no specific type of person who is intrinsically evil, but I digress), but I prefer the one I was envisioning, with him being unable to stop himself. Though, of course, the two can coexist together. His exit from the story, for all of this, was rather anticlimactic, though. They say the Vampire Council will deal with him properly for all of his attacks, but the only punishment that we truly hear of is that he is being made to "admit" to the school that he brought a pet bat to school which got loose and attacked people, and that, in turn, would result in his being fired. Which... is stupid? I mean, beyond the humiliation aspect of it (which I'm not entirely sure is justified, frankly), I also just don't understand why they couldn't have had him resign/quit effective immediately. The result would've been the same in the end, minus the humiliation aspect. But that still begs the question of what exactly the Council will do to punish him for attacking humans. The Vampire Chronicles makes me think that being left out in the sun to die is the only proper punishment for breaking the rules, but beyond the fact that the sun doesn't kill vampires in this book, there's also the fact that the book shies away from death quite obviously, even mentioning that even The Dark Ones don't kill their victims. So, what will his punishment be? Being locked up forever? Being starved? The Dark Ones get sick without human blood, so can they ever be freed from their human-blood-desire, or will they always be desiring it? Is it an addiction metaphor? And if so, is there some sort of blood rehab they can go to, or are they always cursed to never get better and always be the same? And if that's the case, what's even the point? Is that even a better fate than death at that point? I don't know. Mr. Harker was a character that really wasn't that interesting, but whose

(I hit text limit block on the previous paragraph so I had to start a new one) lines and actions make me think more about the world within the story and which make me pity him. He's not interesting, but he's still interesting. The story as told from his point of view would be interesting, I think.

Although the book is, again, overall inspired, I think there were some interesting parts overall. The worldbuilding is the most consistently interesting one, I think. Sanga!, the blood-replacement drink, Vampire Councils, vampirism being both an affliction that can be given to humans *and* a genetic affliction which can skip multiple generations before reappearing in the bloodline, vampires receiving their powers at the age of 12, there being a vampire side of the internet which vampires can do vampire-specific things, like order Sanga! from, the fact that human blood is seemingly addictive but that animal blood isn't, and how some vampires seem to prefer animal blood to Sanga!... these are all interesting details. I think there were characters other than the main character that were also quite interesting, like Mr. Harker and Paige. But, for these notedly good things, I think the book itself was a miss. I think the author had a lot of good things they could've done with it, and had a lot of things they could've chosen from, and ignored all of it. I think a book (or, more honestly, a chapter) from Paige's point of view, focusing on how her outlook on life has changed following being attacked, could have been good. I think a book (yes, book), following Mr. Harker after being corrupted and going from there, through the events of this book, to whatever happens after this, would have been interesting. But, I also think that, in the case of the former, the author probably wouldn't have done a good job of writing it, and in the case of the latter, the book genre itself would've been too limiting. I think the book was good for a read, but I think just by virtue of my not being a twelve year old it was destined to always fail by me.

It was an okay book. I probably wouldn't read it again, but I *will* keep it because my younger self would want to. 2, maybe 2.5.

My bookmark for this book was a to-do list with knitting projects that I had planned to make for Christmas.

[fictionadventurer]

Victober Wrap-Up

The Romance of a Shop by Amy Levy: I read this one on October 1st. Very easy, very fun, if very underwritten, read about four sisters who open a photography shop. Gives a fascinating perspective on a different side of Victorian daily life.

The Europeans by Henry James: I forgot this one almost immediately after reading it, but I did enjoy it. The best way I can describe what I like about Henry James is that he writes like a woman. There's a concern for the inner lives of characters and the little moments of daily life that you usually don't see from male authors, and it works really well for the types of stories he tells.

Miss Meredith by Amy Levy: Short novella about a young woman who takes a job as a governess in Italy, and who gets a much nicer romance out of it than most of those types of characters. It's nothing ground-breaking, but it's fun to see her perspective on the setting, and the romance reminded me so much of some scenes from an old, beloved, abandoned WIP that I couldn't help liking it more than it probably deserved.

The Law and the Lady by Wilkie Collins: I loved the heroine of this book. I was so invested in her story. She was going to solve the mystery of her husband's past, no matter who stood in her way. Her (hilariously) pathetic wet napkin of a husband doesn't deserve her, but he needs her, and she loves him a lot, so I can root for them. It's astounding to me that a Victorian man can write such good female characters. They get to be people--strong-willed, intelligent, flawed, the center of their own stories rather than just a prop in someone else's. My love for Valeria papered over a lot of other flaws in this story (some not-great use of disabled characters, for one), and I'm seriously considering picking up another of his books next month. (They have perfect November vibes).

The Leavenworth Case by Anna Katharine Green: Not technically Victorian (it's American), but still the right time period. Apparently, this is where a lot of the detective genre started. I love the detective--he's got a quirk of not making eye contact with people, and I love that he's explicitly so working-class than he can't pass himself off as a gentleman for investigating this high-society crime--but I don't care about any of the characters, and the writing's not great. (Though it's kind of hilarious how often the narrator gets information because people come up to him and go, "You're a lawyer, right? Let me ask for advice about an intricate situation that just happens to tie into the case you're investigating.") I'm about 2/3 done with the audiobook, but it's going to be a bit of a slog to finish.

A Child's Garden of Verses by Robert Louis Stevenson: I'd probably find this a bit too cutesy most of the time, but I read this on a Sunday when I was feeling under-the-weather, and it was exactly what I needed. Very sweet, easy read.

Wuthering Heights by Emile Brontë: I made it a chapter and a half. It's a Hard No.

Diary of a Nobody by George and Weedon Grossmith: I heard it was short and funny, so I tried a couple of pages. Maybe there's a cultural divide, but I just wasn't feeling it.

The Odd Women by George Gissing: I tried a couple of chapter of the audiobook, because a story about women working as typists in late-Victorian England sounds right up my alley. I'm only two chapters in, but I'm debating whether to go further, because he already writes about women like a man--way too detailed descriptions of their physical appearance that suggest they're already decrepit in their early 30s, a suggestion that "we leave it to the men to decide if she'd be attractive"--and that doesn't bode well for a book with a female cast. It is just about to introduce the "progressive" woman who's about to drag the main characters into this newfangled job, so maybe it'd get better, but I'm not sure I'm invested enough to try.

[firstsprinces]

Thank you @anincompletelist for all your wonderful works you shared this past year. I can't wait to finally indulge myself with all of your fics! I hope you feel so proud of all the writing you've been able to do this year and here's to all the exciting things to come in your next writing year! (bridesmaidsbridesmaidsbridesmaids)

I've joined the fandom/fanfic writing during the end of October this year, so I don't have an impressive catalog. I even saved this tag until the very last minute to I could have more than one work credited for this year. One is to be posted January 1st but I technically completed it in 2023. Both of these are for exchanges, but 2024 will be a year where I'll finally be posting more works!

Thank you to everyone's who's cheered me on or has any interest in reading what comes out of my brain!

🤍 Kia

Take This House and Make it a Home (T, 4.9K)

When the discussion of the Christmas tree had started, Henry had already come to the comfortable conclusion they’d continue to use the fake pre-lit tree they’ve used their last couple of years in the Brownstone. For their farmhouse in Texas, Alex wants to go all out and get a real Christmas tree that will reach the high ceiling of the living room, right in front of the large front window, and off to the side of the fireplace. He also wants a second or third tree to put in their conservatory and the study. Part of the reason is because going out to a tree farm and picking their own tree reminds Alex of childhood Christmases before his mother’s presidency and his parents’ divorce. It brings him back to when Christmas had been nothing but innocent and magical for him and his family, and now that Henry’s part of his family, he wants to create the magic all over again and in a new way, one that’s completely and organically theirs. - or, Alex and Henry pick out a Christmas tree for their first Christmas at the Texas farmhouse. Written for the RWRB New Traditions Advent Calendar Event

Here We Stand Worlds Apart (E for later chapters, 5K)

Lips part from the other man and Henry’s eyes glance down to his throat, watching as the column of his neck constricts and expands to the intake of oxygen. Then when the man speaks, what comes out isn’t something Henry’s expecting. The voice, if Henry can even call it that, sounds like the cinematic mix of the raptors from Jurassic World with a little extra hissing undertone to it. He pushes his glasses up his nose, his eyes squinting as if that’s going to help him focus on his ability to hear. He’s unsure if he’s experiencing vocal damage from the crashing or not, or if this could possibly be his real voice. The man’s – if Henry can even call this Jurassic sounding thing a human at all – nostrils start to flare, his head turning to one side as if he’s studying Henry closely. His tongue pushes through his closed lips, and Henry notices that it’s ever so slightly split at the front, as it wriggles and tastes the air. - an Alien! Alex AU Written for the RWRB New Year's Gift Exchange

I'm leaving this tag open for all! I hope everyone can look back at their year of writing, no matter how big or small, and are proud of what you've accomplished! Here's to you!

[verfound]

MINIFIC: Oct. 23: Day 24: You as a Ghost (MLB, Lukanette, DLM AU)

So.  The past week has been…not so great, and not a lot of writing was getting done.  We lost my dog, and I’ve been handling it about as well as can be expected.  I was also struggling with how to make this prompt work, so that didn’t help.  This was a cracky idea that isn’t technically part of the AU?  Canon Lukanette meeting DLM AU Lukanette.

For @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers October Minific Challenge 2023.

Read on Ao3

To Feel Alive Again: Ch24: You as a Ghost

“Ladybug, watch out!”

She barely heard him over the akuma’s screech, but that hardly seemed to matter.  She had just started to turn when Viperion was crashing into her, wrapping his arms around her protectively as he tried to shield her from the akuma’s attack.  She’d have to have words with him about that later.  She had thought he’d gotten over that ridiculous habit years ago, but what with their current…situation…well.  She couldn’t entirely blame him for getting a little more overprotective than usual.

Still.

She’d been doing this long enough – longer than him!  He didn’t have to baby her.

He grunted as the akuma hit them, and she barely had a chance to open her mouth to ask if he was all right when light exploded around them.  There was a great force – a great suction – and then she was being ripped from his arms.

“Lu-!” she started to scream, even as he shouted “Marine-!”

The roaring wind carried the names away as if they’d never been spoken.

She felt his arms slip down hers until just their fingertips were locked tight.

And then he let go.

Ladybug’s vision went black as the wind roared past her ears, but that could have been because she had closed her eyes.  Her stomach churned with the long-familiar feeling of a freefall, until moments later gravity reasserted itself and she was plummeting down, down, until she landed with a thud and a groan in something…smelly.

Soft, or…soft-ish, but…smelly.

She pushed herself up with another groan and looked around, wincing as she rubbed at her back.  She had landed in a pile of bin bags scattered next to a dumpster.  She frowned, glancing a bit more around the alley she was now in.  It seemed fairly standard, as alleys went, but…something felt wrong.  She pushed herself up from the garbage and reached behind her to dust herself off, but she paused when her hands touched her butt.

They were bare.

The gloves that normally covered her hands while transformed were missing.  And her butt was much softer than the magical, protective fabric of her suit.  She looked down, dread pooling in her stomach, and sucked in a breath.  She wasn’t wearing her suit: she was wearing the fuzzy pink swing coat she had picked up a few weeks ago, when it had first started getting colder and she had realized she would soon be showing too much for her old coat to fit.  A shaking hand reached up to touch her ears, and she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or not to feel the familiar studs still there.

She could still feel their magic – still feel Tikki – pulsing within, but she felt…distant.  Out of reach.

“T…Tikki?” she called, her voice cracking on the name.  There was no answer.  She looked around, a second name dying on her lips as she realized something else.

Luka was missing.

She was alone.

Her hand dropped to her stomach as panic started to creep up her spine.  It…it was fine.  This was fine.  He was…he was fine.  He had to be nearby, right?  They had been in the same blast.  He had to have landed nearby, right?  It was fine.  It was…

“Fuuuuck,” she heard him groan a short distance away, and she looked up with a start to see him hopping away from the wall a short distance from the entrance of the alley, shaking his foot.  He wasn’t transformed, either, and…what was he wearing???  She had never seen that coat before, and she knew all of his coats.  She had made them, after all.

And as much as she tried to honor his own personal style, she had always made sure he looked presentable.  Not…like he’d just crawled out of the discard pile of a second-hand shop.

“Luka!” she called, and he looked up at her voice.  She was already running towards him, and before he could answer she had crashed into him.  She tucked her face against his chest and wrapped her arms around his middle, squeezing him tight.  She took a deep breath to calm herself and paused, her nose wrinkling as a strange smell hit her.  Why did he smell…weird?  Almost sour?  Not…not like Luka.

It was also strong enough to trigger her already-sensitive stomach.

“…move!” she barely managed to get out before she shoved him away and spun, bracing a hand on the wall as she threw up the meager breakfast she’d picked at that morning.  The sour smell lingered even after her stomach was empty, and she stood there for a moment retching.  She felt a nervous hand on her shoulder, and she reached back to swat at him.  “St…stay back.  God, you stink.”

“…it’s an alley, Marinette,” he said, sounding a little offended.  “We’re surrounded by trash.  I’m pretty sure I just stepped in piss.  What did you expect when you…why are you down here, anyway?”

“Very funny,” she groaned as she pushed away from the wall.  She wiped at her mouth and tipped her head back, swallowing against the bitter taste in her mouth and wishing for a water bottle.  She put her hands on her stomach and tried to take a few steady, calming breaths.  Tikki was missing, they were God-knew-where, and their little one was currently trying to shove her stomach through her throat.  Now was not the time to panic.  “I know what the doctor said, and I know how much we both hate lying, but right now I need you to lie to me and say this is going to pass soon.  Can you do that for me, Luka?”

“That what is going to…what the fuck is that?” his voice had jumped an entire octave on the end of that question, and Marinette tipped her head down to look at him with a furrowed brow,.  He was staring with wide, panicked eyes at her stomach – more specifically, at the slight bump the sleep shirt she was still wearing under her coat did nothing to hide.  Which, honestly.  Rude.  She had been self-conscious about the bump, sure, but he’d been ecstatic when her slight frame had started showing early.

“You’ve never been more beautiful, darning,” he’d said as he’d dropped to his knees before her, peppering little kisses along her stomach.  “Hello, little one.  You just can’t wait to meet us, can you?”

…Luka had been ecstatic about this baby from day one – even before she had been, back when she was still panicking about missing Miraculous and akuma fights and how can we have a baby now, Lu?  Where the hell did he get off freaking out about her bump now?

“What the fuck is what, Luka?” she asked, frowning.  She groaned as her stomach twisted again, and she rubbed a soothing hand over her belly as she made soothing, shushing sounds.  “It’s ok, sweetie.  Maman’s queasy, too.  Luka, why are you looking at me like that?  It’s not like this is anything new.”

“The hell it isn’t!  You weren’t pregnant an hour ago, Marinette!  You were…how the fuck did this even happen?” he asked, and her eyes popped open as he gestured at her middle.  “You shouldn’t be able to…you can’t…”

“…that’s not funny, Luka,” she said, stepping closer.  She reached out and brushed his bangs back, her thumb rubbing between his eyebrows in a soothing gesture.  He swallowed thickly, and the eyes that flicked up to her were definitely mid-panic spiral.  She reached out for his hand and placed it on her stomach, smiling encouragingly at him.  “You know who this is.  You helped make them.”

“No, I don’t think he did,” another voice came from behind them.  She turned, her brow furrowing, and her eyes widened as she saw Luka walking towards them.  Dressed as she had seen him when he’d left their flat that morning, in his black jacket and with the pink scarf he’d stolen from her a few winters ago sticking out.  The one he liked wearing because it smelled like her.  She glanced back at the…other Luka?  The one beside her, who, now that she got a better look at him…definitely didn’t…well.  He looked like Luka.  He was Luka.  But he looked…

Well.

Like Jagged, she supposed, without the money for Botox or cosmetic surgery.

“Who…what…” he was stammering, his eyes wide and locked on her Luka.  She stepped back, quickly going to Luka’s arms when he held a hand out for her.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly, bringing a hand up to rub his thumb along the apple of her cheek.  He glanced down at her stomach, the nerves clear on his face.  “Are you both all right?”

“We’re fine,” she said, reaching up to hold his hand to her cheek.  He leaned in for a kiss, and she scrunched her face as she leaned back.  “Mm, no.  The smell here was enough to get me sick again.  No kisses until I can wash my mouth out.”

“I’ll risk it,” he said, pecking his lips against hers.  She kept her lips pursed, and he hummed as he rubbed her cheek again.  “This is why I didn’t want you in the field anymore.  You took ten years off my life when you let go, darning.”

“Excuse me?  You let go,” she pouted, and he chuckled as he leaned his forehead against hers.

“Never,” he murmured.  “I don’t break my vows, Marinette.  I never let go of you.”

“…fine,” she huffed, flicking his chest.  “We both lost our grip.”

“Fair,” he sighed.  “I don’t like this.  I think we’re in Paris, but it all feels…wrong.  I can’t find Sass.  I can feel him – I still have my bangle – but –”

“Same with Tikki,” she said.  “Parallel world?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he sighed, glancing around her to eye the other him.  “At least I’m not a preppy ass in this one.”

“Hey,” she giggled, “he wasn’t that bad.”

“Sweater vests, Mari,” he said, shivering at the memory.  “And loafers.”

“…can one of you please tell me what the fuck is going on here?” the other him called, an uneasy edge to his voice.  “Like why the fuck are there two of me, and how did a reaper get knocked up?”

“A what?” she asked, the same time Luka said, “The usual way, with many failed attempts and many celebratory tries at repeating the process.”  She slapped his chest, and he chuckled as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.  “Luka!”

“What?” he asked.  “You know you enjoyed it.”

She could feel the heat crawling up her neck.  He wasn’t wrong, but Other Him was essentially a stranger and didn’t…wait.

He had known her.

Which meant he had a Marinette.

…why was any of this a surprise to him?  Weren’t they busy working on their own...failed attempts?

“Luka…” she started, and when her Luka hummed she batted his arm.  “Not you.  The other you.  Him.”

She gestured to the man standing a few paces away, who had shifted from...dumbfounded curiosity to a more defensive stance.  He had taken a step back, holding himself away from her.  Like he was about to run if she didn’t say something he liked.  She frowned and took a step closer, holding her hands up in a placating manner.  Like she was trying to calm a caged animal.

“Easy,” she said softly, her eyes staying focused on his.  They looked so…old.  Her Luka got that look sometimes, the one of too many Second Chances and timelines best left forgotten, but never to that extent.  What had this Luka seen?  What had he done?  “Luka, you…do you have a Miraculous?”

“…a what?” he asked, his brow furrowing.  She reached up to touch her earrings, and he frowned.  He reached up and flicked his earlobe, gesturing to the black stud that looked so similar to her own Luka’s.  “Not much of a surprise.  You’ve seen them before.”

“No, Luka, not…your bangle,” she said.  His frown deepened.

“I haven’t worn bracelets in a long time,” he said.  “Not since I died.  You…wouldn’t know that.  You’ve never seen me in bracelets.  Why are you asking about bracelets?”

“Mari,” her Luka said, reaching out to touch her shoulder.  “I don’t…I don’t think they have kwamis here.  I think that’s why Sass and Tikki are…I think they’re confined to our Miraculous until we figure out a way home.”

“That would make sense,” she murmured, half-listening to him.  Something about what the other him had said…  “What…what do you mean, since you died?”

His shoulders slumped a little, his expression softening.

“…Marinette,” he said, taking a hesitant step towards her.  “Come on.  Isn’t it a bit late in the game for this denial shit?”

“She’s not your Marinette,” her Luka said, his grip tightening on her shoulder.  “We’re not…from here, Luka.  We were attacked by…something that could create rifts between worlds.”

“…you’re not dead?” the other Luka asked, his eyes widening.  His eyes dropped to her belly.  She had only just started showing a few weeks ago, and she hadn’t gotten anything bigger yet.  Her shirt was tighter than she normally wore, but when the akuma alert had sounded…she had rushed out, barely thinking to toss her new coat over the comfy pajamas she’d been lounging in most of the day.  The other Luka’s eyes were burning, something akin to fear – to hope – shining in them.  “You…you’re together?  And having a baby?  You’re not dead?”

“…n-no.  I mean…yes, we’re married.  We’re expecting.  But…no, we’re not…dead,” she said, the word feeling heavy – wrong – on her tongue after so many years and too many akumas.  She swallowed, reaching up to hold onto Luka’s hand on her shoulder.  She held on tightly, just as she always had.  “Are…are you?”

[totally-not-an-awkward-okapi]

Fanwork creators self rec! When you get this, reply with your five favorite fics/art/podfics/etc. that you've made, then pass on to others. Let’s spread the self-love 🌼

No particular order to these because this is about self love not freaking myself out.

Under the cut because I am still very self conscious about how long my posts can be.

This one was a tribute to my favorite episode of Lights Out: Execution. It was a long car ride home with my grandparents and since it was October, Radio Classics was all spooky for the month.

The episode starts strong: a high ranking nazi officer is reading a letter on the situation in occupied France. In a small town, an unknown woman attacked a guard than ran off. In retribution, the commander of the local military has rounded up every woman fitting her description and is hanging them all until her kills the right one. The first woman comes out. She smiles. The floor falls out beneath her. The first woman comes out. She’s laughing now. Over and over the woman hangs. Her bodies pile below the stage. A storm picks up, driving all but her and commander away. Over and over he hangs her himself. She monologues to him, each time she says a county that will have it’s revenge against the axis powers the floor snaps out from under her.

And then she grows giant and reveals herself to be the Statue of Liberty!

It totally ruins the whole thing, but if you jump out right before then it’s such an effective little piece of horror, I would kill to see a short film adaptation.

I wanted to capture that in the piece, using a rougher pen (which ended up working perfectly for the lightning) and focusing entirely on the lighting. I’m still proud of the little touches too- from how strands of hair stick to her face to the title of the card not matching the number.

Next up: Jack of Hearts! This one’s very different but also relies on a very similar focus on ideas that are presented early on in a story then scraped.

When Jack made his grand reappearance in She-Hulk I was instantly smitten with this sad little guy and went back to read all his previous appearances. I was more than surprised to find that though in his modern stories his suit is a high tech alien device that keeps his powers in check and he’s an alien who’s half n’ half genes where just activated by the fluid he dumped on himself, that’s kinda the opposite of his original vibes.

I wanted to draw something to honor the original Jack, a man with a strange chemical burn wearing an antique suit of armor because it was the first thing he put on after the accident and now relies on as a mental crutch to keep his devastating powers in.

And I’m very proud of how it turned out! (especially because I was very ill when I drew it…)

I really liked how his energy signature turned out. I originally did this piece for Valentines Day, so I wanted the solar flares of his power to look sort of like roses.

I’m also very proud of his armor, which is based on this 1250 statue of Saint Maurice since it was the best match for his original look.

Next piece is actually two pieces I posted separately because I’ve just never worked myself up to finishing the full piece: Lurue!

She’s the patron of one of my stand-by dnd characters, so I’ve always been playing around with what she would look like. But at some point I had the thought “what if Lurue was based on Eohippus” and it was off to the races.

I genuinely have no clue how I motivated myself through hand drawing all the little crescent shapes of her design but it payed off. Plus it was super fun to balance the Indian/Ottoman influence of my typical Elven designs with her particular knight-in-shining-armor aesthetic.

Another two-for because these two are very similar. When I was younger my warm up for drawing was to do a simple portrait of a character then surround them with symbolically relevant plants and flowers. So of course when an X-Man gives me too many emotions I let them out with bouquets.

Not only am I technically proud of these two, I’ve always wanted to break into their symbolism because seemingly no one’s ever caught on.

Firstly, Chamber: Celandine (Joys to come), Fungus (Resilience, loneliness, solitude, disgust), Daffodils (Uncertainty, chivalry, respect or unrequited love, return my affection; new beginnings), Fireworks Protea (Courage, transformation, daring, resourcefulness, diversity), Thistle (Nobility, endurance, warning), Plum Blossoms (Beauty and longevity), and Amaranth (Immortality).

Then, Wither: Betony (Roman for protection from ghosts and spirits), Crocus (rebirth and a neverending cycle of life), Thistle (Again), Purple Hyacinth (Sorrow; Please forgive me), Purple Heather (Solitude, beauty, admiration), White Lily (Purity, commitment, rebirth; a rejuvenation of the soul), Foxglove (Insecurity), and Anemone (Forsaken, sickness, anticipation, undying love, eternal peace).

(I’m so proud of this one that it’s the cover to my Wither playlist, which is still under construction but I’m already so proud of, my playlists are one of my favorite non-art or writing pieces of art)

And finally because I feel weird not mentioning any of my writing, my two fav fics I’ve ever written are:

Shrine Bright Circus Man - Me worrying about Jester calling Molly a god given her history of believing so hard in that sort of thing that she actually made one. It’s short, it’s simple, it’s sweet.

In Pursuit of Ghosts - Probably my favorite thing from my ol’ Overwatch days. It’s a combination of my favorite crack theory about the two red heads being related and Moira’s best skin: Banshee.

[sugarfeemaster]

Ramona Flowers- Bruce Yamada

Scott Pilgrim- Vance Hopper

~~~~ Monday, October 16th

Its 6:40 in the morning.. school starts at 8 and the bus I take comes at 7:40 but here I am. Dressed, freshened up, and waiting. I mean what's the possibility he taking morning shift- I nodded a bit off to sleep but.. [there he was again. He zoomed pass me in the mall? Who cares about scenery. He boardslide down the escalator rail and rolled into a store. I darted down the escalator trying to keep up with him. When I did, he was standing infront of a door.. My front door??] *Ring* I sprung up from the kitchen table, wiping the sleep from my eyes and darted towards the door.

There he is.. in all of his glory. His hair was more proper and had on less formal clothing.. brown baggy pants, untucked button up, red sweater vest, dark brown bomber jacket, and a mail delivery satchel. "This is so surreal" I muttered. "Uh hey Lord of the rings guy. Are you.. Griffins Stagg?" Bruce read off the package. "No it's, uh, Vance Hopper. Griffin is my nerdy little brother" "Oh, well good running into you, enjoy your novel." He handed Vance the package and dropped his skateboard.

"W-Wait!" Bruce pause and look back at me. "Aren't you the dude in my dreams?" "Thought we went over this already?" Bruce replied. "So you know! Isn't that strange?" Bruce shook his head no. "There's just a really convenient subspace highway in your head. It's like three miles in 15 seconds." I gave him a blank stare. "It this something they dont teach you in American schools?" "Im from France actually.. I gotta fairly obvious accent? Just elaborate I just woke up" I tried to play it cool. "Okay so it's like.. rapid transit? Subspace highways?" I thought of how to relate to it for more conversation

".. like when you hit the walls in pac-man to go on the other side of the maze?" "Ummm no, it's really nothing like pac-man" I let out a small 'oh'. Its too late to slam the door in his face and order another book. "Crap, thanks for stoppin me. You gotta sign this and I gotta go." Bruce took out a clip board and pen from his mail bag. I leaned against the door frame and crossed my arms "But if I sign you'll leave~" I flirted "Im still on the clock handsome, a good face aint that worth losing my job" he chuckled. Driving me crazy "It's not my fault technically. You skateboard through my head, literally. So that's why im fuckin obsessed with you, the least ya could do is let me go out with you"

He blankly stares at me biting the pen.. way to fuck shit up Vance. Now he thinks you're some low-life stalker "I didn't say obsessed, your obsessed.. with my headspace subway" How am I this much of a fuckin loser. I got the looks all I had to do was flirt, now I gotta skip school to blow my brains out. "I totally race around in your mind all day huh doll? Whatever helps you sleep at night and sign this clipboard" I took the clipboard and he gave me the pen. What if he's into losers "So.. four o'clock?" I signed my name.

"Make that six, I got baseball practice. Meet me at the field." "Heh.. how could I forget. Im alright with that" I handed him the clipboard and pen. I watched him skateboard down the street till he turned down a block. "And when you get back home from your daye with whore boy, I'm expecting you to bring me back some twizzlers. Red not black" "You sneaky little rat!" I turned to face Griff. "(Boys settled down.. im still tired)" we looked towards the couch. "(Sorry mama)"

I was working on this AU during the summer on wattpad 👀

[libraryofloveletters]

Love Delivered To Your Doorstep

Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of cheating, break ups and killing/serial killers. (<in a joking context) 

Category: fluff for the most part. 

Word Count: 3.9k

Author’s Note: Doesn’t follow canon, it has a little of buck begins in there but it doesn't follow a strict timeline. It also is written like Buck moves to LA and has his apartment from the moment he moves there while trying to figure out what he wants to do. 

-----

Texting and calling was never your choice method of communication. 

Letters had always been more of your thing. 

Truthfully, they hadn't been your thing until your boyfriend moved halfway across the country for university. The two of you met in high school, freshman year and became inseparable since. Growing together and promising to always love each other no matter what -you always knew that couldn't be true but it never stopped you from telling him. 

When he told you that he was going to be applying to UCLA during your senior year of high school, it came as a bit of a shock to you. The plan was always going to college together, get engaged when you were done school and then married with a house by 30. 

You held out the hope of that being possible until the day he showed you his acceptance letter. 

You were incredibly proud of him but it was real now, he was leaving. 

You watched him pack up his entire life and uproot himself from New York and moved across the country. You sent the first letter to him at what was supposed to be his apartment. 

September 30th.

‘Hi baby! 

Just writing to see how you're settling in. How’s UCLA ? Have you gotten a chance to go around and get to see the place ? I know you’re there for school but you've got to live a little too. Hope your neighbours are sweet, your mom told me it’s a pretty nice place and it’s got a good view, sounds like your type of place. Hopefully I can come visit you soon. 

I started my classes last week. My chem professor is a pain in my ass already, he expects us to read an entire textbook in a week - well not exactly an entire textbook but you get the point. My biology professor is a sweetheart, she showed us pictures of her kids and talked about them for an hour, I didn't realize being a mother was so interesting but she was cool. Also showed us a video of an appendectomy that one of her colleagues performed last week. How are your classes and professors ? 

Did I mention I bumped into Sam at the grocery store ? Yeah, he’s back and he’s not fine to tell you the truth. He seemed like he was ready to snap but that might just be my judgment. He said to tell you hello if I spoke to you so- hello :) 

I’m going to sign off here, I know this one is short but I don’t have much to update you on. Life’s been pretty dull without you. Hope you’re having fun out there, soaking up the sun for me.

Write me back soon, I love you. 

Yours always, y/n’

You mailed the letter the next day, a few weeks had passed before you received a letter back. Except this letter had a different sender name but the same address.

October 22nd. 

‘Hi y/n,

This isn't your boyfriend. (I'm assuming that’s who you're writing too based on the context of the letter) I’m Evan, I live in the apartment you thought belonged to your boyfriend or maybe you got the address wrong, I’m not sure.  I know you were waiting for an update on all these exciting things that are happening at UCLA. I do not go to UCLA nor can I update you in anything exciting that’s happening there, sorry.

Anyways, the reason I'm writing you back is because I figured you’d want to know that this isn't the correct address and the person you were looking for isn't here before you send another letter and get no response. I was debating if I should have even written you back, but here I am, writing you back. 

Your professor for chem seems like an ass to be honest (hope that’s not rude) and your biology professor sounds great, is she hot by the way ? because bonus points for that. Anyways, are you studying medicine ? I'm guessing yes because of the classes you're taking. I'm thinking of signing up to become a first responder but I haven’t decided yet on what yet or if I'm actually going to do it. Anyways, good luck on your classes and the shitty chem professor. 

Hope you find your boyfriend (again, assuming) 

Peace out, 

Evan.’

To say you were shocked would be an understatement. How could the letter you sent to your boyfriend’s apartment belong to someone else ? Why was there someone else living in his apartment ? You dug through your apartment, searching for the paper he left you with the address, you finally found it buried in a drawer.

The address on the paper was identical to the one that Evan sent to you and to the one you sent prior to that. Either your boyfriend was lying or you were losing your mind. 

November 4th. 

‘Dear Evan, 

I'm sorry that I sent the first letter to you and as you guessed, I was looking for my boyfriend who seems to be a bit MIA right now. His mother says that’s the right address and the place that she helped him move into. So I'm not really sure what’s happening there. Anyways, sorry for unloading all of that on you. 

To answer your question, yes, I am studying medicine and no, she isn't hot. My bio professor is a 65 year old woman who loves her college aged kids very much. If that’s your definition of hot, then yes - she's got milf status

Have you decided yet if you’re going to sign up to be a first responder ? That’d be pretty cool. Imagine all the girls swoon over you and how many girls you’d pick up just for being a paramedic or a firefighter. 

Wait, are you into girls ? Or guys ? You know, whoever you're into, just imagine how many of them you’d pick up. 

Also, you’re not a murderer or anything right ? because I rather not answer questions when the police come asking about why I've been sending letters to a serial killer. 

Anyways, signing off for now. 

Yours always, y/n. 

ps. if you do end up bumping into or meeting a guy that looks like my boyfriend, (tall, brown hair, brown eyes. he’s got a pierced ear and a little butterfly tattoo by his collarbone- though not sure why or how you'd see his collarbone) let me know or tell him that his girlfriend is looking for him.

Double ps, what size shirt do you wear ?’

Buck laughed at your absurd question. A person he didn’t even know was asking what size shirt he wore. The letter was set on the coffee table with the rest of the mail, getting buried under all of the stuff he had on there. It was almost the end of December when he realized that he hadn't written you back yet. 

December 21st. 

‘Hey y/n, 

Sorry I've taken so long to get back to you. Things have been hectic over here. I’ve been doing some ‘soul-searching’ - I guess you could call it that and honestly, I don’t think if this whole first responders thing is for me. 

I tried out bartending or well, the technical term is mixologist and I’m liking it so far, I think i’m going to stick with it for now. 

How have you been ? How’s school ? Surely, you’re on break for the holidays right about now or at least when you get this letter. I hope that you're spending the break doing something fun. 

I’m not going to make this very long, I’m sure you’ve been busy with whatever you’re doing right now. 

Also, I’ve been meaning to ask. Have you located the mysteriously disappearing boyfriend yet ? I haven't seen anyone that fit your description. 

well, that’s not true- I did and just to be sure I asked to see his collarbone, he looked at me like I was a mad man so I guess it wasn't him ? 

Anyways, I hope you have a good holiday and you're probably gonna get this sometime between holidays, so merry belated (?) Christmas and happy New Years y/n. 

Peace out, 

Evan. 

ps. medium or large, depending on what it is. Hopefully that answers your question weirdo.’

January 13th. 

The morning of the 13th, he went down to check his mail. A box was there with his name on it, the return address was one he had only seen on an envelope. The box returned upstairs with him, setting it on the counter before opening it. 

Upon opening it, there was a letter and some colourful tissue paper with what seemed like a sweater under it. He opened the letter first.

‘Dear Evan, 

Happy New Years! How was your holiday going ? Did you do anything fun ? 

I’ve been good and school is good too, I'm almost done my first year, isn't that crazy ? Just a few more months to go. 

How’s your job as mr. mixologist going ? I'm sure you’ve met some wild people and heard some interesting stories. 

As for the boyfriend situation, that's over. I’m not surprised to tell you the truth but it still kinda sucks. Anyways, so what happened was that his older brother had come home from college last year and brought a friend with him. She went to the same school as his brother but transferred to UCLA- anyways long story short, they hooked up while he and I were still together and he moved in with her after his mom helped him move into the apartment I thought he had. 

But! I’m single and chilling now so it’s all good. (bonus, she cheated on him and left him so yeah) 

I got you a little something for Christmas and as a “sorry for unloading all my boyfriend drama on you” present. I was in the gift shop and it made me think of you. Do you celebrate Christmas? I forgot to check oops. If you don't, count it as a just a “sorry for unloading all my boyfriend drama on you” present? 

I got a large because I wasn't sure if it would fit. I hope you like it. That’s all for now.

Yours always, y/n.’

He unwrapped the tissue paper to see a blue sweater with the letters NYU on it. He smiled, he assumed that’s where you went. It was sweet that you took the time to get him something, even if it was a by the way thing. Not a lot of people would send something to a person they had been talking to via letters and halfway across the country. 

February 12th. 

2 days before Valentine's Day, your least favourite holiday of the year. You weren't looking forward to watching all your friends going on with their boyfriends and girlfriends. The mail had arrived while you were out, you picked it up and headed in. There were two envelopes with your name on it,  a plain white one and a red one. The red envelope was more squared than rectangular, you assumed it was a card- both had the same sender name. 

‘Hey y/n!

Thank you for the sweater, it was nice of you to think of me and get me something. I didn’t know we were doing gifts or I would have sent you something as well and yes, I do celebrate Christmas. 

My job as ‘mr. mixologist’ was going well until I quit. It just didn’t feel like the right fit for me you know ? I'm going to see what else is out there for me. 

Sorry to hear about your boyfriend, he seems like a douche. Who would cheat on you ? You seem great I mean at least you are on paper (did you get my joke, it’s hard to tell) 

Also, remember how I was thinking I might actually give that first responder thing a try? Imagine me as a firefighter, that’s pretty cool right ? 

So I kinda did a thing and signed up and then I got in. I started two weeks ago and it was kicking my ass at first but I've gotten a hang of it and things are going pretty well. There's three other Evans in my class so everyone calls me Buck-I kind of like it. 

The other envelope, hopefully you opened this one first, is a little something for you for valentines. Hope you like it. 

Peace out, 

Buck’ 

The red envelope was on your lap, you pulled the edges carefully not wanting to rip it. Inside was a plain white card with bright red letters that made you laugh. The cover read ‘I’m not sick of you yet!” Opening the card, a $20 fell onto your lap. There was a little message inside that went along with the cash. 

‘Since we aren't together and can’t spend valentines together, there’s some cash to get yourself a box of chocolates and a teddy bear. Happy Valentines Day y/n

Love, Buck.’ 

You smile, this was the first time that Buck had signed with ‘love, buck’ it had always been ‘peace out, buck.’ You tucked the card into the drawer, one you didn’t use very often so you knew it’d be safe there. 

*4 years later*

A few weeks had passed since Buck had last heard from y/n. His last letter to her was at the end of June, telling her all about the day he had spent at Hen and Karen’s. He always described every little detail so vividly that it made her feel like she was there with him- but it was now July, end of actually and moving into August. 

4 years had blown like nothing.

It felt like just yesterday he got the first letter in the mail. 4 years and they still had no idea what each other looked like but they knew every intricate and intimate detail about each other, their lives and the people in it. 

Y/n and Buck had grown rather close over the last few months- more than they already were. Y/n just went through a pretty shitty break up and Buck wasn't exactly big on relationships as of right now. 

He had just gotten home from work, his keys set on the counter when he realized that he forgot to check his mail. Stepping back out, there was a woman in the hallway and boxes scattered across her, leading into the apartment down the hall. 

She must be his new neighbour.

He wanted to go over and introduce himself but she was busy telling the movers where to set her couch so he decided that he would check the mail and then introduce himself when he returned so he did just that. 

Except, she was still busy. 

She leaned against the wall, watching the movers move what looked like a coffee table. She glanced up to see Buck walking by, she smiled and he returned the smile. 

Buck reaches his apartment, the mail in hand and steps in. He sorts through the pile, bills, ads, coupons and no letter from y/n. 

---

Your new apartment was a mess. You decided it was time for a change. You applied to a few hospitals after your break up and the one in LA hired you. So you dropped everything and moved- no family, no ties. 

A fresh start. 

It was a nice neighbourhood and the building was quiet. The neighbours you met were pleasant and welcoming. When you were having the furniture moved in, there was a blonde man who smiled at you and you assumed he lived in the unit down the hall because that’s where he stepped into. 

It was almost 11pm when you finally sat down. You had been on your feet all day and just wanted to eat something. The box with the dishes was beside the couch, you pulled the tape off and opened it. There was an envelope sitting on top of the stack of plates. 

Buck’s last letter to you. 

You must have tossed it into the boxes while packing and you forgot to write him back. Tumbling through the boxes, you find a sheet of paper and a pen from your bag. Sitting on the floor, the paper resting on an unopened box, you begin writing. 

‘Dear Buck, 

I’m sorry I've taken so long to get back to you. I quit my job, and uprooted my entire life. The break up sucked major ass as you know, so I decided it was time for a change. 

Guess where I decided to go ? 

Did you guess yet? 

No, not Canada, why would you guess Canada ? 

LA! 

Yeah, isn't that crazy that I ended up here of all places? Maybe we could get together one day (if you haven’t turned into a crazy serial killer that is.) 

Anyways, that’s why I've taken so long to write. I was packing when I got your letter and I tossed it in a box and just found it again. Anyways, I hope you’ve been good, how have things been at the station ? 

I promise I'll write again with more details soon, I just have to get settled in first. 

Yours always, y/n.’ 

Folding the paper, you slipped into an envelope. The address being scribbled into the back of the envelope. You were about to seal it when the building number caught your eye. 

It was the same number as the place you moved into. The same address, the building number, the same floor. 

The unit number was the only difference. 

There was no way you moved into the building that Buck lived in. 

You knew the address felt familiar when you saw the listing but you didn’t think anything of it nor did it occur to you that you knew the address. 

Stepping out of your apartment, looking at the number on the room and back down at the envelope in your hand. Buck’s apartment was down the hall. 

Part of you just wanted to mail it and keep things as it was but another part of you wanted to meet him, to see what he was really like in person. So there you were walking down the hallway at a quarter past 11 in the dead of the night to meet a man you had been sending letters to for the last 4 years. 

The end of the hallway, you stared at the black wooden door in front of you. Your brain weighing the options right now: he’s a sweetheart and welcoming and makes you feel comfortable or he’s a weird guy who’s been lying to you this whole time and you told him everything about you and now he’s going to kill you. 

Before you could register what you were doing, you knocked on the door. 

Glancing down at yourself, you were wearing a pair of old shorts and a t-shirt from high school that you found in a drawer while packing. Not an ideal outfit, maybe he’s sleeping and you can go home and change- the door opened, a man wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt stood there. He looked like he had just woken up. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” 

“It's alright,” he yawned, his hand covering his mouth as he blinked away a few tears. “What can I do for you ?” he leaned against the door. 

“Um, this is an odd question-” you shifted, glancing down at the envelope in your hand. “Are you Buck ?” 

“I am, who are you ?” 

“Y/n.” 

You had never seen a man wake up that fast, he seemed surprised, confused and concerned all in one. “How- uh, are you- What ?” he mumbled. 

“I found your letter in the box after I moved, I moved into the apartment down the hall” you point to your left, Buck sticks his head out of the doorway and looks at the door you were pointing to. You were the woman in the hallway that he saw earlier, he knew you looked familiar. 

“I just wrote your letter and I noticed that the addresses were the same, just a different unit number so I decided to come check. Sorry if I bothered you, we can talk another day- it’s late and you probably have work” “Would you like to come in?” he opens the door a bit more, looking to you for an answer. 

“Um, okay sure.” stepping in, you can’t help but glance around. The apartment was similar to yours, the layout was a bit different though. “Can I get you something to drink ? Coffee, water ? A beer ?” he rounded the kitchen counter, you took a seat on one of the chairs by the counter. 

“Water’s fine, thanks” 

He reached for a bottle from the fridge, sliding it over to you. You gave him a smile, he leaned against the counter and was now looking- studying you. 

“I know we’ve talked to each other for 4 years but this is kinda strange” you chuckled awkwardly, Buck can't help but smile. 

“Yeah, it is, isn't it? but can I ask why you moved to LA?” 

“Well all of that was in the letter” you slide the envelope across the counter and he picks it up, opening it. Giving him a few moments to read, you watch his expression like you were hoping for some insight as to how he was feeling or what he was thinking. He let out a laugh, “how’d you know I'd guess Canada ?” you smiled at him, a small wave of relief washing over you for some reason. “Lucky guess I suppose” 

“Do you-” “What are-” the sentences cutting each other off, the two of you awkwardly smiling at each other. “You first” looking at him, he hums. 

“Do you have work tomorrow or are you busy ?” His eyes meet yours, you found yourself leaning forwards towards the counter- towards him. He made you feel comfortable, you’d go as far as to say safe, in a way you’ve never felt before. 

“No, I don't start until the 21st. Why ?” 

“I was thinking - if you're not busy and if you want to, of course. Maybe I could take you out for breakfast and I could show you around ? Or lunch or dinner ? Whatever works for you actually” he rambles, fiddling with his fingers to avoid eye contact. 

A small laugh slips past your lips causing him to look up, his brows furrowed as he studies your face, looking for an answer. 

“Breakfast sounds good, what time should I be ready for ?” 

“Uh, is 10 okay ?” he asks, you nod. “I’ll be ready for 10 then.” 

“Okay, I'll pick you up” he smiles. 

“Buck, we live in the same building.” 

“Oh right,” he chuckles, “well I'll be by yours at 10 then” the two of you smiling at each other. 

“Okay.” 

----

taglist: @advicefromnixxxx @dralexreid @keenmarvellover @beth-winchester21 @fernandaweasley2 @yikesyikesyikes95 @hotchsdarling @duhbar1975 @hailsstormthings @averyhotchner  @captainxholmes @venusrosepetal @luke-alvez​ @looney-literature @caitsymichelle13​ @artemishunter18​ @anxiousblanketqueen​

[drawlfoy]

detention, retention, and draco malfoy being a little shit

masterlist request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no not really

summary: golden trio friend y/n y/l/n tries to extract information out of draco malfoy after being placed in detention together.

warnings: swearing, panic attack kinda stuff, just the dark war things that would come w having the task that draco does

a/n: ayo so i started this as a fic i was originally planning on writing in a week. i discontinued it bc i didn’t think anyone was that interested, but i’ve written for it on and off. it’s about 16k words right now standing, but i’m reposting this as a 2 part series. here are the first ~12k words....enjoy :) IMPORTANT: if you’re like “hey i started reading this in october why tf are you reposting the first two parts” just keep reading ok lmao i promise there’s more there’s about through part 6 in here hehe. i just wanted new readers to be able to pick up on it without being turned off by the fact that it was part 3. this will b e 2 parts and at least 20k words

word count: 11.6k

taglist: @gruffle1 @missmultifandommess @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell

happy reading y’all

For legal purposes, the york pudding she lobbed at Pansy Parkinson’s head on Monday evening was simply meant to be a joke. She didn’t know that her aim was bad enough that it was going to get in Snape’s hair instead--honestly, it wasn’t even supposed to get past the Ravenclaw table, much less veer to the left to make a beeline for the professors--but no matter how much she tried to explain this to McGonagall, her sentence remained the same: detention every Friday. For two months.

Her life was ending for sure.

“I honestly don’t know what you were expecting,” Hermione told her as she gently wiped off the nib of her quill later that night in the common room. “Even if you had hit your mark, that’s still technically assault.”

“Did you even hear what she said to me? She told me that I looked like the type of kid that bit people in primary school,” complained Y/N. “I didn’t even think she knew what primary school was!”

Hermione snorted. “How long ago?”

“Two days. I’ve been waiting until there was something throwable on the dinner table.”

“How very analytic of you.”

“I’m going to hit you.”

“And you wonder why you’ve got detention.” Hermione tsk-ed at her, her face stone serious but her tone light hearted. “Maybe take this as an opportunity to, I don’t know, do your homework for once? So you won’t have to have a breakdown over the next Potion’s essay and beg me to write it for you?”

“I’m going to go to sleep and think terribly mean thoughts about you.”

“Have fun.”

~ 

Detention.

Something that Y/N wasn’t completely unfamiliar with--she’d done her time organizing Snape’s cabinets, just like every other Gryffindor--but it was different when it came to McGonagall. An impressive old lady, she thought that McGonagall saw something in her. She was always the first to chuckle at Y/N’s jokes and hesitated to reprimand her stupid behavior. And she never gave Y/N detention.

Until now, she supposed. 6th year was changing a lot of things--even their Potions professor--so McGonagall turning a new stone shouldn’t have been anything shocking.

At least, not as shocking as the first thing Y/N saw as she walked into her house head’s office.

“Malfoy?” she spat.

The platinum blonde didn’t even bother to look up from his desk.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall chided. “I think we would all prefer if you restrained yourself from getting into any more physical altercations with Slytherins.”

She huffed, plopping down in the chair furthest away from that foul git and reaching for her satchel.

“I’ll be back in two hours,” said the elderly professor. “If I hear anything, and I mean anything, other than the sound of studying, consider your sentence doubled.”

With a swish of her robes, McGonagall was gone, leaving her with Malfoy. 

“So what’d you do to get in here, huh? Did the administration finally get a hold of that video of you licking Voldemort’s toes?”

“What the fuck does that mean?!” he snapped, whipping around to glare at her.

“‘s just a joke,” said Y/N. “Like--how everyone says your family houses him and everything--but whatever. I can tell it’s a sore spot.”

His gaze, never withering in intensity, remained trained on her face. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Apparently so. What’re you here for?”

He exhaled sharply. “If I tell you, will you shut up and let me think?”

“No promises, but maybe.”

“Late work. I forgot to turn in the Transfiguration exam last week.”

She made a tutting sound as she lazily shuffled through the crumpled parchment in her satchel. “I expected more from you. Aren’t you gonna ask me how I wound up here?”

“No. I am going to ask you to stop talking now, though.”

~

“That’s terribly unfortunate,” Hermione said over breakfast the next morning. Ron and Harry were nervously chit chatting at the other side of the table over the Saturday Quidditch game against Hufflepuff--supposedly it was supposed to be quite a high stakes match. Not like Y/N cared much, though.

“Yeah! And the worst part was that he won’t even tease anymore. Like, he just sits there all broody and woe is me. We’re all witnessing our nation’s descent into war--he’s not special!”

“Who are you talking about?” asked Harry.

“Oh, just Malfoy,” said Y/N. “We have detention together with McGonagall. He’s such a nasty little greaseball, don’t you think? I mean, look at him right now, glowering over his cereal.”

“Wait! That’s it!”

“What’s it, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“It’s genius, really,” he said. “Y/N has to spend time with him alone every week, and we know that something is up with him. Malfoy is absolutely a Death Eater and has connections to You-Know-Who, but I just need to find a way to prove it.”

“I vaguely forecast where this is going, and I hate it already.”

“Listen, Y/N. It’s not for that long, and it’s for the health of the wizarding world. If you just get to know him--”

“Ick!”

“If you just get to know him, maybe get him to trust you and find out his secrets...we’d finally have enough to turn him in and throw him out of Hogwarts for good.”

“Is that really necessary, Harry?” Ginny butted in from her seat further down next to Dean. “Malfoy’s probably just exhausted like the rest of you. 6th year is difficult, and we have no solid evidence that he’s a Death Eater. I’m sure being stuck in a room with him for 2 hours is hard enough without pretending to be nice to him.”

“But what if Harry’s right?” said Y/N. “What if he is actually a Death Eater? What if he’s an active danger to the student body?”

“Exactly!” The joy written across Harry’s face at the prospect of someone else finally agreeing was infectious. “So will you?”

“Er…” She dragged her spoon across the top layer of her porridge. “In theory, sure. In actuality, I’m not sure how I could do it. Malfoy doesn’t want anything to do with me, either.”

“Love potion?” offered Ron.

“I don’t care how much of a prat he is, I’m not roofying him.”

“I rarely agree with you, Y/N, but I think you’re right. If you want to do this, you need to get him to trust you for real.”

“Your back-handed compliment skills never disappoint, Hermione. Do you think you could help me out with a plan?”

A slow smile spread across the girl’s face as she nodded. “That’s my strong suit.”

The plan they laid out over the remainder of the day was ambitious but at least do-able. Each week was split into different subtasks, the end goal being a somewhat tentative friendship between the two. 

“If you can flirt with him and get him to have a crush on you without scaring him off, you’d be in the best possible position,” Hermione told her as they walked back from the Quidditch pitch among the screaming Gryffindor fans. They’d won--yet again. “Obviously I don’t foresee that being likely, but if you pull it off somehow he’d probably be willing to tell you anything. The fact that you’re a pureblood is going to carry you through this whole ordeal. He’ll at least be accepting of your existence in the wizarding community.”

The bitter edge in Hermione’s tone made Y/N’s blood boil. There was no reason for Malfoy to be as prejudiced as he was--he’d spent his adolescence in Hermione’s academic dust. She was obviously smarter than him. 

“You got it, ‘Mione,” she said. Her voice barely carried over the cheers of her peers as they ascended the steps to the common room. “We’ll take this little ferret down. I can’t wait.”

“Don’t get too cocky, now.”

The Gryffindor after-party was crazy...per usual. The charmed self-filling goblets, the blasted playlist of Wizpop pumping through the air, and the buzzing energy of the room was giving Y/N a giant headache. She stood with Hermione and Harry by the edge of the crowd, watching Ron get hoisted up on the shoulders of the chasers. 

“No wonder the Slytherins think we’re Neanderthals,” Y/N mused. For once, Hermione didn’t respond. “Hermione? Is everything okay?”

The second she turned away to look at her best friend, gasps and whistles filled the room. She whipped back just in time to see Lavender Brown, a sweet but slightly ditzy girl in their year, pull away from a kiss with Ron.

“Oh shi--Hermione!”

Harry and Y/N shared a glance before darting after the witch--who had impressively already made it to the door. 

“Hermione, wait!” Y/N called as they jogged after her, throwing open the common room entrance and finding her sat by the tapestry on the other side of the hall, knees to her chest.

“‘Mione, what’s wrong?” asked Harry.

“Don’t be daft, Harry,” said Y/N. “You saw exactly what the rest of us did.”

“I don’t understa--”

“Harry.” Her voice was taut. “I know you’re just trying to help, but I think that it might be best if you let us be. Go back and enjoy the party.”

He gave her a tight, grateful smile before darting back through the door. Y/N wasted no more time in walking over to Hermione and throwing her arms around her shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, hugging her tight. Hermione made no move to detach them, so she continued. “Ron is an idiot. You deserve so much better--your first kiss was Viktor fucking Krum, after all. You’re hot stuff and this place is just unfortunately running dry of men who are impressive enough for you. Once you’re out of here and working in the Ministry, you’re gonna have the time of your life with men actually in your league.”

Hermione managed a sniffly laugh as she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s just so fucking embarrassing, you know. Like, I have a crush on him because I think he understands me and I smelled him in my Amortentia and I thought he’d like me back, but…” She hiccuped. “Then he goes off and kisses Lavender Brown, of all people. There’s nothing particularly wrong with her or anything, but she’s so different...I’m so bookish, and she’s so girly and everything I’m not…”

Y/N took the opportunity to tuck a lock of Hermione’s hair behind her ear as she listened.

“And it can’t help but make me think--was I ever anything to him but a friend? If the girl he ends up choosing is the opposite of me?”

“Girly, don’t think like that,” murmured Y/N. “He’s a teenage boy. They don’t think of love the way that we do--to them it’s a game of availability, not of choice. At least for Ronald. You intimidate him, and by extension, you’re not available.”

“That shouldn’t matter!”

“You’re right. It shouldn’t.” Y/N drew a long breath. “So you should find someone who always has you as their first choice--someone who isn’t intimidated by your intellect. They’re out there. I promise.”

Hermione managed a shaky smile. “Thanks, Y/N. I mean it. Do you mind if I have some alone time? I don’t think I’m ready to go back to the party but I just want some quiet.”

“Of course. Let me know if you need me,” she said, brushing herself off and making to walk down the hall.

“You’re not going back to the party?”

“Nah. It hurts my head and I want fresh air. If I’m not back here in a half hour, assume that I’ve been kidnapped.”

With that, she started her walk. She wasn’t planning on going on a long stroll--there was a small balcony that she often went to when she needed to clear her head. It was beautiful, especially on a snowy night like this.

But the walk was creepy.

There was only one way in and out--a narrow, damp hallway that had absolutely no light fixtures. If Y/N really wanted to, she could cast a quick lumos, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to see what lived on the walls. The stairs were steep, too, but she managed to bound up all 40 of them in record time. 

“Who’s there?”

The sudden voice ripped a scream out of Y/N’s throat as she reached the top, catching a glimpse of the shadowy figure at the edge of the balcony that spoke. She clasped her hand over her mouth and she crept forward to the opening, getting a better look at the person that was in her secret spot.

The clouds shifted in the sky to allow more moonlight to cast a soft glow on Malfoy’s face, hardened with irritation.

“Malfoy?” Y/N asked, rather dumbly.

“What stellar observational skills,” he drawled. 

She felt her cheeks grow hot. “What are you doing here? This is part of the Gryffindor tower. Shouldn’t you be...I don’t know...playing hide and seek with the sewer rats in the dungeons?”

“Very funny.” His flat tone exposed the fact that he did not, in fact, find it very funny. “There’s no rule barring me from coming up here.”

“But why? This is my spot!”

“Because I wanted to get out. Now, I was here first, so unless you want your detention extended, I suggest you leave.”

Y/N bit the fiery comebacks on the tip of her tongue as the memories of her plan with Hermione began floating back to her. 

Week 1 -- Hold one neutral, civil conversation with Malfoy.

“I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know I’m here,” Y/N decided upon. leaning up against the balcony. The rogue snowflakes that made it past the overhanging roof melted on her cheeks. 

“That isn’t a suggestion,” said Malfoy. “I’m demanding you leave.”

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” Y/N asked, pointedly ignoring his words. “I’ve always loved the snow. It’s so quiet.”

“And it would be even quieter if you left.”

“Aren’t you the conversationalist?” said Y/N.

“If you don’t leave, I will hex you,” Malfoy told her through gritted teeth. 

“I just love how the moonlight reflects off of the snow,” continued Y/N. “It’s so...pure.”

“Please leave.”

On her walk back down the dank stairwell, she allowed herself a little smile. 

Task 1? Technically done.

~ 

The first week went largely as planned. Malfoy was cold and certainly suspicious of her, but he wasn’t completely venomous when Y/N asked where he got his quill from in Potions. It was silver, charmed to shimmer with flecks of forest green. He told her Barnaby’s in France, and that was that. She walked away from his table with all of her limbs attached. Perhaps that was all the progress she was going to make in the next few weeks, but the task at hand certainly made the prospect of her lost Friday afternoons more bearable. 

Harry was going completely batty, rambling on about how Malfoy was behind the mysterious cursed objects that had been floating about the castle without explanation. 

“And why would Malfoy bring cursed objects to Hogwarts if he has aspirations other than being expelled?” Hermione would ask over their books.

“You don’t understand, Hermione! You girls need to be careful walking around at night--especially you, Y/N. I don’t want you going missing after detention because of that slimeball.”

Y/N always gave him a laugh, berating him for his slight misogynistic commentary and turning back to whatever her task was, but the truth was that she was worried for him. The mental weight of the impending war and the fact that he couldn’t do anything about it was certainly getting too difficult for him to bear. It was heartbreaking to see the vivacious boy she’d grown up with crumble under the responsibilities of something he should never have to worry about in the first place.

Friday came much sooner than expected, and Y/N reluctantly left her friends in the common room to trek to McGonagall’s office. The walk was frigid and the wind bit at her cheeks as she rounded the last outdoor hall.

Why was this castle so dark?

A thump behind her made her jump, and Harry’s words came floating back to her. 

Remember all those cursed objects? What if there’s someone just...stalking the school grounds, waiting for someone like me to snatch?

She shivered, throwing herself at the office door and slamming it behind her.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall greeted, her eyebrows raised in amusement. “Something giving you trouble?”

“No, Professor,” she answered, setting her bag down on the desk next to Malfoy. He sent her a curious look as well. “It’s just cold outside.”

She chuckled. “I need to go speak to Headmaster Dumbledore. I expect that, upon my return, you both are in one piece and alive.”

“I’m not sure if I’m the one who needs to be given that speech,” said Y/N, bored and testing the waters.

“She’s right, Professor,” added Malfoy. “There’s no projectiles here.”

McGonagall exhaled a long, shaky breath before brushing herself off. “Please. Behave yourselves.”

“You got it, boss,” she said as she watched her Professor walk out the door. “So, Malfoy. How was your week?”

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’d way prefer if you didn’t speak to me,” he said, refusing to make eye contact.

“I’m not up to anything! We’re in detention together and, I dunno, since I see you sometimes at balls, I thought it’d be nice to be on good terms.”

“Good terms?” He scoffed. “You’re a Gryffindor. I’d rather you be a bloody Hufflepuff.”

“How about neutral terms?”

Even though he wasn’t looking at her, she could catch a glimpse of him rolling his eyes. “If neutral terms mean you being quiet, then, yes. Please.”

“I’ll be plenty quiet. After I hear about your opinion on what happened in Potions today with Brown and Weasley. When Snape yelled at them for holding hands.”

He let out a sharp sigh. “Believe it or not, I actually have better things to do than keep up with whatever stuff your house does.”

“But…?” Y/N pressed. She may not’ve spent her time at Hogwarts as Malfoy’s best friend, but she had grown up with the boy, and she could tell when he was holding back.

He stared blankly at her.

“Come on. I’m literally the only person in my house who’ll openly admit that they’re disgusted by that dynamic. I’m begging you.”

She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she thought she saw a flicker of amusement dance across his face for a moment. “Your house sounds more like a cult than a student group.”

“Oh, says the one from Slytherin,” said Y/N. 

“We only act like that because our families are close. What’s your excuse? Hormones and Quidditch culture?”

“Touché.” As much as she wanted to fight back, she bit her tongue. Whatever she was doing was making progress, and quicker progress than she was expecting. Her next task was to make him laugh, and she was emboldened by the fact that she could potentially be able to kill two birds with one stone. 

They sat in silence for a little bit, but this time, it was a comfortable silence. Malfoy wasn’t staring at the clock on the wall or rolling his eyes at her every move, so she had time to plot.

On one hand, she could make a fool of herself--drop her inkwell, say something stupid in class, fall down the stairs--but she had a sneaking suspicion that her sorry attempts at slapstick humor wouldn’t land well with Draco anymore. He’d become so serious lately, so solemn. This was the most light hearted she’d seen him, even compared with how he acted with the rest of his Slytherin lackeys. 

On the other, she could try to sell out her friends. She could confide in him how “big” Hermione’s teeth were (they weren’t even big) or tell him that Ron smelled of eggs (true, but that was a low blow). Something told her that this would be much more successful, but she wasn’t willing to turn to that so quickly--she was already a week ahead as it was. 

“What is it?” 

Malfoy’s bored drawl cut through her flurried thoughts. Her cheeks turned pink as she blinked, noticing that she’d been staring at him for far too long. “Nothing. Sorry. I just spaced out.”

“Sure,” he mumbled, giving her another suspicious look before turning back to his work. “Can you maybe space out somewhere other than my face?”

“Where’s your vanity, Malfoy?” she pressed as she leaned back in her chair, hair swinging over the back. 

“Shut up,” he snapped. She could tell that whatever connection they’d had in the fleeting moments beforehand was being burnt by the second, but her embarrassment and pride drove her forward.

“Merlin, what’s got you so wound up?” she prompted, noting how deliciously unraveled he looked at this. “Where’s my cool, collected Slytherin?”

He slammed hands on his desk at this, whipping around to glare at her. “What’s your angle, Y/L/N?”

“What?”

“Why are you bothering me?”

“Because I want to.” She beamed.

Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair, mussing up the usual neat manner in which it normally laid on his head. “Compelling. What do you want from me?”

“What do I want…?” She tilted her head at him, narrowing her eyes. “What?”

“You never talk to me,” he explained. “Obviously, I prefer it like that. I can’t help but wonder why suddenly you want to be making small talk. So, what is it you want from me?”

“Malfoy,” she said. “I think you’re a spoiled prick who thinks far too highly of himself and drives me insane. But I also think that you’re funnier than what my friends give you credit for. Granted, you’ve always been annoying, but I don’t want anything from you. I just want to, I dunno, make these next few months less insufferable.” Somehow the lie slipped through her teeth easier than any of her previous bluffs. 

He frowned, his mouth opening once before firmly screwing shut into a scowl. “Oh.”

“No offense, Malfoy, but what else can you offer me other than your dazzling personality?” she teased. “You know my family. I don’t need to blackmail you to pay for jewelry I’ve had my eye on or anything.”

He scoffed. “As if I’d say yes.”

“Exactly my point. It’d be fucking weird. Merlin, I’m not trying to butter you up to buy out Borgin & Burkes for me. Do I give off gold-digger vibes? Is that what this is about?”

“Fucking hell.” Malfoy turned to her in disbelief. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Answer my question. Or better yet, pull out your wallet. Wait, did I say that out loud?” She mimed surprise and covered her mouth. “Oh no! What will my mother say now that I’ve squandered my last chance of hitching you? There’s no way I can go home for Christmas break now.”

He rolled his eyes so hard she found herself worried for a moment that they were going to just permanently get stuck in the back of his head. “Hate to break it to you, but you didn’t really have a shot to begin with.”

Ouch.

She huffed and dramatically flopped over the back of her chair, hoping he couldn’t see that she’d flinched. “So you don’t think I’m pretty??” 

“Y/L/N,” he snapped, his voice a low warning. “Can I please just work? What is with you today?”

Y/N sent him a sour look before giving her Charms work another look. Malfoy was awfully quiet, and when she snuck any glances at him later on, he was angled to face away from her. 

Why did she feel like such shit all of a sudden? She cataloged the past events, trying to pinpoint the exact moment that her stomach dropped. It all made sense when the words “You didn’t really have a shot to begin with” echoed around her head once again. She’d failed Harry. She’d failed Hermione. There was no way that she was going to be able to get him to reveal his secrets now--it’s not like he was confiding in even his closest friends as Harry made apparent when he explained how vague his statements were to his fellow Slytherins on the train. Her only chance would’ve been to somehow get him to fall for her, and that wasn’t going...great. And it had been a pipedream to begin with.

When McGonagall swished back into the classroom to dismiss them, Y/N shot out of there without even looking at Malfoy again. It felt like something was lodged in her throat and she was not going to cry in front of him. No, no. She had to make it to Hermione to tell her what was going on. 

“Y/L/N?” 

Malfoy’s voice made her pause in her flee as she nearly rounded the corner in front of her, but she refused to look back. It was far enough away that it was possible she didn’t hear him.

“Wait!”

She was up the stairs and speed walking as fast as her legs could carry her to the Gryffindor tower before he even saw which way she went.

~

“I don’t think you understand,” Y/N wailed by the fire as Hermione rubbed her shoulders and Harry sat awkwardly perched on the couch. “I can’t do this. The only way this was going to work was if he had a crush on me, and I don’t think he ever will. I fucked it up! The one time you guys need me, I fuck it up! I let you down!”

Hermione’s left hand stopped its rubbing to rest firmly on her shoulder. “Please don’t be upset. You didn’t let us down. Plus, you’re only, what...two weeks in? You don’t need him to like you to make it work. Just getting him to trust you will be enough, and you’re good at that.”

“I don’t think so,” continued Y/N. “Harry said that he wasn’t even that open on the train when he overheard him talking to all of his friends. And those are purebloods that he likes! That he’s trusted and known for years and years! I’m a friend of you guys, and he knows it. I think he’d figure it out quick.”

“We should take every chance we can get,” said Harry from his spot a few feet away, his eyes lazy and unfocused on the fire crackling in front of them. “You won’t let us down if you can’t get anything, Y/N, you know that! But if you got anything from him, it’d be incredible. It’s a win-win. I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

“I’m not upset,” she said, her tone becoming defensive. “I just...don’t want to mess this up. I know how much it’d mean if I succeeded.”

“So just try!” Hermione said. “There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m sorry he was kind of mean to you today, but I don’t think that should bother you too much. He should be more afraid of what you’d say if you didn’t care about being a good person.”

“Fucking right on there,” she said, wiping away the frustrated tears. “If I was honest with him, he’d leave crying. He should be grateful that I’m taking this bet so I actually have to be nice to him.”

“That’s the spirit.” Harry leaned over to smack her back like he did his Quidditch teammates after a winning match. 

After they’d parted their ways with Harry, Hermione and Y/N made their way slowly up the stairwell to the girls’ dorms. 

“Y/N?” Hermione asked, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you think, er…” She paused. “Do you think you were really upset about failing us today? Or was it something else?”

“What do you mean?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t see what else it would be.”

“I’m sorry,” responded the bright witch. “Forget I ever asked. It was a stupid thing to wonder about.”

“Weirdo,” she teased as she waved her a goodnight and made her way to her dorm.

The next morning, Y/N busied herself with revising her Charms essay over her breakfast--a cup of tea and a half-buttered piece of toast--while Hermione leaned over her shoulder, nodding or grimacing at the corrections she made. 

“Did you work during detention? Like, at all?”

“‘Mione,” moaned Y/N. “It’s too early for this. I don’t want a lecture. I just couldn’t focus.”

Her warm brown eyes narrowed as they bore into Y/N’s face. “Why were you distracted?”

“Oh, I, uh…” She stumbled over her words as Hermione drew closer. “Merlin, Hermione. I told you last night. I just felt like I was letting you all down.”

“Mhm,” was all she got in response before her best friend tilted her head back down to the parchment in front of her. 

Y/N sat, completely puzzled. What was Hermione on about? She’d been straightforward with what was hurting her--she didn’t want to mess up the only task the Golden Trio had ever given her--and, even if she hadn’t been, Hermione was smart enough to deduce things for herself. So what was she thinking about?

Her eyes drifted over to the Slytherin table where the usual 6th year pureblood gang loitered about, drinking black coffee and sulking--but Malfoy was not to be seen. She jumped when her eyes met Parkinson, her dark eyes burning into her soul as a deep scowl was written across her face.

“Malfoy, what the fuck do you want?” Ron’s voice pulled her back to reality to see him glaring somewhere behind her.

“I wasn’t here to talk to you,” a familiar voice drawled. 

She turned to see Malfoy standing behind her, a sneer written all across his stupidly pretty face.

“Miss me already?” asked Y/N as she raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. 

“For fuck’s sake, stop doing that,” he mumbled, reaching into his pocket and throwing a box at her. “You forgot your quill. I took the liberty of properly storing it, because it seems like you lot like to just throw them in your bag. Makes me physically ill to watch.”

“Oh.” Y/N studied the intricate box in her hands before tucking it away in her knapsack. “Thanks? I guess?”

He nodded curtly, contorting his face into one last scowl to send to Ron before turning and leaving,

“So,” Hermione began, cutting her omelet at a much brisker pace, “I think we need to have a little chat. About...all of this.” 

“Why?” 

“Not right now,” she said, her voice low and her eyes flicking at Ron and Harry sitting across from them. “I don’t think it’d benefit us for them to hear.” 

“Ok?” She cautiously took a bite out of her toast and continued staring Hermione down. “You’re scaring me.”

“It’s...I don’t know. I thought I was crazy for thinking this, but it seems like we need to talk about it anyways. For this little mission of yours to work, we need to be totally open and honest with each other.”

“Sure.” Y/N took another bite. “I honestly have no clue what’s got you so on edge, though.”

“Who’s on edge?” Harry asked, leaning over the table and stealing the croissant on Y/N’s plate. 

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “Do you not see the entire plate of them over there?”

He laughed, sending her an easy grin and dunking a piece into the hot chocolate in his mug. “Finders keepers. Say, Y/N, are you busy next weekend? Ron and Lavender are going to Madame Puddingfoot’s together, and I know Hermione isn’t going to want to take a weekend off studying to go to Hogsmeade, so I thought that maybe we could go cause some trouble at the Cauldron.”

“If you stop stealing my food we can talk about it,” replied Y/N, the corners of her lips tugging up into a grin. 

“Deal.”

Hermione tugged at her arm. “I just realized I need to get something out of my room before we watch the Quidditch game. Will you come with me, Y/N?”

“Sure!” said Y/N. “Gee, I’m rolling in invitations today.”

Once they exited the dining hall, though, it immediately became evident that they were not actually heading up to the dorms. Hermione dragged her into the nearest bathroom before casting a quick silencing charm.

“Myrtle! Are you in here?” Only when she was sure silence was the only response to her question, she seemed satisfied to turn to Y/N and begin talking. “When were you going to tell me that you have a thing for Malfoy?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Y/N felt the heat that had risen to her cheeks from the last quill-encounter re-emerge.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” said Hermione. “Are you seriously going to expect me to believe that you nearly sobbed over some random pureblood git telling you you never had a chance with him because it might slow down your progress with helping us? Actually? I’ve seen you look more ecstatic about hearing that your dear granny passed away.”

“To be fair, she had really good life insurance,” Y/N cut in. “And she was an old hag. Never had a nice thing to say to me.”

“Life insurance or no life insurance...you can’t seriously expect me to believe that you were just upset about not being able to help us as much. That was ridiculous. I don’t buy it. And the way you blushed like crazy when he came over to talk to you--the way you try and pretend like you can flirt...please. Y/N, it’s clear as day. I know you, and I know you have a crush on him.”

“Hermione!” hissed Y/N. “You have no clue what you’re talking about!”

“Yes, I think I do,” she pushed. “And you need to be honest with me if you want to be of any help right now.”

Her bossiness lit a fire of rage in Y/N’s chest, but she sucked in a deep breath, shutting her eyes before releasing it. “Believe me when I say I haven’t ever acknowledged any feelings I may or may not have towards him.”

“Ok.” Her face softened. “I know it might take time, but I honestly do think I’m right. Please just...be careful. This is a really odd situation to get caught up in if you actually have feelings for the other person. You’re trying to manipulate him, for Merlin’s sake.”

“And if I have these feelings for him, I’ve done a pretty damn good job of suppressing them for however long they’ve been here.” 

Hermione sighed. “That’s true. I’m just saying that spending this much time with him is probably only going to make things worse. Will you please tell me if anything changes between the two of you?”

“Anything changes?” Y/N’s voice was dripping in disbelief. “You’re joking. Even if I was obsessed with him I don’t think there’s ever a chance of hell in anything ‘changing’ between us. He said it himself.”

“You know what I mean, Y/N,” responded Hermione. “Just promise me, ok?”

“Ok,” said Y/N. “I promise.”

That seemed to satiate Hermione as she nodded approvingly at her friend. “I think it goes without saying that Ron and Harry shouldn’t hear about this.”

“There’s nothing to hear about, but yes.” She shuffled her feet before meeting Hermione’s eyes again. “Er, I’m sorry for this being a weird question, but would you mind coming along with me and Harry to Hogsmeade? I don’t really see him like...that...and I don’t want to read into it too much and reject him if he is doing it just platonically, but just in case. Y’know.”

“Sure,” said Hermione, even though her face took on that curious expression yet again. “Anyways, you actually did forget something--you’re not wearing a single piece of Gryffindor colors for our game today. You should probably run back to your dorm before Harry and Ron notice.”

After they said their goodbyes, Y/N found herself turning over the things Hermione had said to her in her head. Did she like Malfoy? No, no fucking way. But a part of her really did think he was funny. And of course it was natural to feel rejected when anyone insinuates that they’d never consider you as a romantic interest without jest. 

Once she’d made it up to her room and grabbed a few scarves, Y/N made to put her red cloak into her satchel. Her fingers ghosted over the box that Malfoy had given her and scoffed once she saw the Malfoy crest engraved into the rich wood. 

Narcissistic snot.

Her curiosity got the better of her as she reached over to open up the elaborately decorated box. What met her was not just one quill but two--one of which was most certainly not her own. 

She took them both out, tossing the old one in a pile with her other trusty familiar white feather quills and picked up the other one. It looked familiar--identical to the quill that she’d complimented Malfoy on in Potions about a week ago. Butterflies began to flutter like crazy in her stomach as she turned it over in her hand, watching the gray and green glitter together and the magic sparkles cast a gentle light over her bed. She generally avoided dipping into her family’s pockets to get school supplies any more than she had to--it’s not like it made her friends feel good about themselves when they were reminded how rich her family was--but this might be what she could consider to be an exception. She hadn’t even liked his quill all that much when she first saw it in Potions--but it was one of those things that was so noticeable that it made sense to compliment him. 

She gave it one last look before tucking it back away into the elaborately decorated box. Perhaps she had spoken too soon when she’d told Hermione all hope was lost. 

~ 

When Monday morning Potions class with the Slytherins rolled around, Y/N wasted no time. Malfoy was alone--even his Slytherin lackeys seemed to know not to bother him. Just what she needed.

“Malfoy,” she greeted, setting her bag down on his table and looking him dead on. He raised to meet her eyes, his eyebrow raised.

“Can I help you?”

“I just wanted you to know that I also really like your immense fortune,” she said. “And your manor.”

“Well, a lot of people do,” he mumbled as he looked away to dig through something in his bag. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought he was blushing.

“I’m just letting you know,” she continued. “In case you were wanting to give them away. It worked for the quill, so I thought, well, why not?”

He exhaled, a deep and annoyed sound escaping his lips as he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “I knew I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You really didn’t have to.”

“I was getting sick of it,” he told her. “I never can stick with one quill for too long, and I thought it’d be a shame to toss it. I thought it’d be better to be charitable--it’s not like your family could get an appointment at Barnaby’s if they tried.”

“Hey!” Y/N said indignantly. “You don’t know that!”

“I’ve heard your parents try to speak French,” he said. “If you’re anything like them, you'll be barred from ever entering the country.”

“Malfoy!” 

His lips turned up into a smile, a soft laugh escaping his lips. Y/N suppressed the urge to grin in return. Task 3? Done. “What?”

“I can’t even argue with you,” she said. “It’s tragic.”

She stared at the empty stool next to him, wondering if she should just take the leap and sit with him. Malfoy seemed unbothered by her presence as he opened up his Potions book and set it next to his cauldron. “Do you want a partner?” The words left her lips before she could stop them.

He cast her a curious look before glancing at the empty stool. “It depends. Are you going to be annoying?”

She gasped in faux-offense. “What makes you think I could ever be annoying?”

“On that note, I think you better get back to Potter.” He motioned with his head towards the side of the room where most of her Gryffindor friends were chatting. Harry was staring at her, his fists clenched by his side.

Y/N smirked and sent him a wink. 

“On that note,” she said, careful to imitate Malfoy’s drawl and sending him a smug grin, “Maybe I better sit here.”

“Hm.” He awarded her one more uninterested look before rolling up his sleeves and setting out the ingredients for the potion they were brewing--Amortentia. 

She tried not to make it too obvious that she was staring at his left arm, but there was nothing on it like Harry had told her. It was just pure, unblemished pale skin that shimmered under the light. Before he could catch her looking, she quickly sat down and started pulling out her own things. After a short pause, she decided to take out the silver quill. She’d left his box back in her room--she wouldn’t be caught dead with something that had the Malfoy crest on it--but she’d wrapped it in a pouch with her own family’s emblem on the front, shimmering in gold and red.

“Why don’t you just buy your own charmed quills?” asked Malfoy after they had chopped all of the gillweed. 

“You already know. We’re an abomination to the French. We aren’t allowed entry.”

“That’s not what I mean.” His tone was meant to read as exasperated, but his words still seemed good-natured.

“I...well.” She frowned. She’d never confessed this to anyone, but she supposed that Malfoy wasn’t going to find a way to use it against her. “I don’t like to flaunt my family wealth. I think it makes people, at least in Gryffindor, like me less. I learned that pretty early on.”

He hummed something in response before sliding all the gillweed into the cauldron, turning the clear liquid into a bubbling forest green. 

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” she asked. 

He took his time finishing the note he was jotting down before he answered. “I’m not being nice. It’s just called being civil. You said it yourself, we see each other at balls sometimes.”

“We probably won’t anymore, though,” she mused. 

Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up, but his voice remained low and steady. “No. I suppose that we probably won’t. Is your family part of the Order?”

“Hm. Are you a Death Eater?” she asked brazenly. He had no business asking her something like that, and he knew it. Especially not with his family connections.

“What do you think?” he drawled, waving his bared left arm in front of her face.

“Bullshit. That doesn’t mean anything after we learned Glamour spells last year.”

“Guess you’ll just have to trust me, then,” he responded, focusing intently on the bubbling liquid in front of him instead of her face. 

“I guess so,” she replied. The weight of her Glamour comment began to sink in--she was right, after all. How had she not thought of it before? 

But he was right when he told her she just had to trust him. Could she? Y/N rested her chin in the palm of her propped hand as she watched him work. A piece of disobedient moonbeam blonde hair dangled over his forehead as he diced up the unicorn tail, his eyebrows furrowed in focus.

“Is this why you want to be my partner?” he finally asked after a few moments of silence. “So you can just stare at me while I do all the work?”

“There’s the vain Draco I know,” she said, grinning as she leaned over to punch his shoulder. 

He rolled his eyes again, scooting out of arm's reach before flipping back to Amortentia in his book. “You’re insufferable. And it’s Malfoy to you.”

“Fine, fine, Malfoy,” said Y/N. “What do you want me to do, then?”

He shoved his cutting board towards her, the half-diced unicorn tail staring up at her. “Finish dicing this and then stir it in. 9 times clockwise. I did almost all of the work, but it should be finished after that.”

Y/N sent him another glare before doing as he said. The glittering quill kept catching her attention from the corner of her eye, and she couldn’t help but notice that Malfoy was writing with just a plain white quill for the time being. HE really did just give it to me. 

After the final ingredients were diced, she began to stir, each rotation around the cauldron turning the potion to a different color. It began as the bubbling green, then a deep sea blue, then a royal purple, a crimson blood red, a glimmering gold--before settling into a pale silver.

“Wow. It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “It’s like...liquid starlight.”

“All thanks to me,” said Malfoy. “You didn’t even have to crush the Mandrake root.”

“You’re such a gentleman, Malfoy.” Her voice dripped in fake sincerity. “So, what do you smell?”

Y/N was expecting him to scowl at her and tell her that it wasn’t any of her business, but he actually leaned over the cauldron and shut his eyes. 

“I’ve never been good at explaining what things smell like.” 

“Fair.”

Once he leaned back, she took his place, shutting her eyes and breathing in a tendril of the beautiful potion. “Whoa.”

“What’s it for you?”

“I don’t...know,” she admitted. “It’s not something I can describe note by note. It kind of reminds me of something, though.”

“Something with Potter, I presume?” he said, casually twirling his generic white quill around his fingers.

“No,” she answered, surprised at how honest she was being. “It’s…I’m trying to think. Er, it’s very lavish. It reminds me of when I was younger and my parents would drag me to galas and balls and whatnot.” 

He stared at her in silence.

“What about you? Does it remind you of anything?”

“Yeah.” Malfoy reached forward to put a lid on the cauldron, effectively shutting out the steam from reaching either of them.

“Ooh, have you figured it out yet?” she teased, crossing her legs and turning to face him head on. “Let me guess. Is it someone like…”

She paused, a wicked smile stretching across her face. “Oh my god, is it Hermione? Or Luna? Or...help me out here!”

“No.” His voice was sour. 

“Ah, it’s Parkinson then, isn’t it? Tell her I’m sorry for throwing food at her if you ever have the chance. Make sure to add the part where I’m more sorry that I missed.” 

“Y/L/N!”

“It’s okay. I’d be a little let down, too.”

“Can you please just…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Please just stop. I haven’t figured it out. Okay? Happy now?”

“I’ll leave you alone,” said Y/N. “Under one condition. You give me a hint. I’ve given you everything I know! This isn’t fair.”

“This doesn’t have to be fair,” he hissed.

Y/N kept the easy smile plastered on her face while she waited, her eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“You’re not going to let up until I tell you, are you?”

“You’d be right on that,” she said, sugary sweet.

“Fine. It’s something kind of floral.” 

“How descriptive,” she snorted as she slumped back in her stool, thinking hard. Where had she smelled it before? Y/N shut her eyes, leaning her head back and trying to immerse herself into the memory that had surfaced. It smelled like grandeur, like an open ballroom full of guests wearing expensive perfumes. She could feel spinning, spinning like she was with a dance partner. Who was it? She couldn’t quite remember--the last ball she’d been to had been years ago--but after she leaned forward and smelled the Amortentia once more time, she came to a conclusion.

“I had to have danced with him at a gala before,” she announced to Malfoy, who was looking quite unimpressed. “So I know it’s no one from Gryffindor.”

“Interesting,” was all he said before turning to his parchment and jotting something down.

Late that night, while Y/N was settling into bed, a strange idea struck her. Sure that the thought that was nagging her was completely fruitless, she had no trouble with reaching into her desk and pulling out the Malfoy box. She just had to check if she wanted to sleep well.

Here goes.

She closed her eyes, imagining the expensive scent of her Amortentia. Then she opened it, stuck her nose into the fabric, and breathed in.

Well, fuck. 

~

The internal debate going through Y/N the next day at the breakfast table was intense. On one hand, she really, really wanted to just tell Hermione that Malfoy had been in her Amortentia and she was completely fucked, but on the other…

She glanced at the witch next to her as she methodically sliced her toast into perfect, equivalent squares before dunking them in jam. Y/N liking Malfoy was not going to fit into her toast cubes. If she said anything, she would lose her excuse to talk to her about him. And her excuse to try and get close with him. 

Perhaps I can figure it out tomorrow. 

When tomorrow came, she still hadn’t made progress. Y/N was beginning to think that her so called “revelation” after they brewed Amortentia was truly just complete and utter bullshit. So what that his quill box smelled like it--all rich people kind of smelled the same at some points, and so did their houses. There was a reason why she couldn’t immediately pin the scent to anything--it wasn’t like she even knew what Malfoy smelled like.

But the truth remained that she was still attracted to someone who happened to be a rich Slytherin--so naturally, her mind began to wander. There’s no way it was Zabini--his mother owned a fragrance line, and she would’ve instantly recognized the cologne that she knew Mrs. Zabini made him wear--and there was absolutely no way that it was Crabbe or Goyle, so the only other Slytherin it left was...Nott? But that didn’t make sense either--she’d never spoken to him before in her life, even less than Malfoy. So perhaps it would be better if she didn’t think on it.

The next day of potion brewing came on a stormy Wednesday. Malfoy and Y/N worked silently together to brew a Draught of Dreamless Sleep. She was surprised to see how practiced his movements were--he didn’t even have to reference the book to recite the exact measurements and directions.

“Do you have bad dreams or something?” she asked, mostly as a joke. He didn’t seem to pick up on the light-heartedness and stiffened up.

“No?”

“Gee, you’re talkative today,” Y/N said, trying to ignore how her hand brushed his by accident when she added the scoop of anjelica. 

“Excuse me for not entertaining you,” he drawled. “I wasn’t expecting to have such a needy potions partner today.”

“I am not needy!” she gasped, smacking his arm. “I’ve sat in silence for a full hour!”

He rolled his eyes (he was always rolling his eyes) and gave the potion one more final stir before setting the lid on the cauldron. “Think you can do that again? It needs to simmer for that long.”

“Just because you’re so sweet to me,” crooned Y/N before pulling out a heavy book from her satchel. Her Charms exam was tomorrow, and, naturally, she had decided to save all of her revising work until the night before. The textbook stared back at her as she jotted a few notes onto a previously blank sheet of parchment. The quill in her hands was light and glided across the paper like the tears of Merlin, something that she had forgotten quills could do. All of her familiar basic quills were okay, but they were prone to skidding and breaking. This nib hadn’t worn down in the slightest, still at a smooth and defined peak.

Y/N couldn’t believe that, out of all people, the person to give her such a thoughtful gift was Draco Malfoy. She tried to sneak a glance at him then, moving her curtain of hair away from her face. It took all she had in her to not be startled at the fact that he was already looking back, a slightly concerned expression etched into his face.

“Is something wrong?” 

He snapped out of it the moment the words left her lips, his face hardening. “No.”

“Forget I ever asked,” she responded, turning away from him for good and focusing on her textbook. No, there was no way he could be what she smelled in her Amortentia. She liked to think that her subconscious wasn’t secretly a masochist.

~

Friday evening swung around again, much to Y/N’s dismay. She’d had a talk with Hermione later on in the week, confirming that no, she did not smell Malfoy in her Amortentia, and that yes, she was still abiding by the plan that Hermione had so carefully laid out for her. It did bother her a bit that she could be lying to her on both fronts--but at the end of the day, she was going to get the answers that Harry wanted, no matter what. 

She just had to get through the scary ass castle first. She’d forgotten how spooky Hogwarts was after her previous sprint to the door, and this time she was positively trembling by the time she turned another dark corner on her way to McGonagall’s office. Yet another cursed item had been found in the girl’s lavatory on the 3rd floor, right by some of the classes that she had taken earlier in the week. The fact that whoever was out there was capable of dark magic and actively wanted to hurt people terrified her, all that Gryffindor bravery be damned. 

So when she heard footsteps suddenly right beside her, it was no wonder that she jumped feet in the air.

“Fuck!” she sputtered, turning to see a very familiar blonde in Slytherin robes. He was frozen in place, curiously looking her up and down.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Malfoy,” Y/N said, resisting the urge to melt into a puddle of relief at the sight. This wasn’t right--wasn’t he a suspected Death Eater? “You scared me.”

He scoffed, digging his hands into his pockets. “You’re supposed to be the brave ones, right?”

“Huh?”

Malfoy motioned to her Gryffindor jumper. 

“Oh.” Heat rushed to her cheeks as she realized what he meant. “I dunno. I just get jumpy around the castle at night.”

“No shit.” They’d begun to walk now, side by side. Y/N couldn’t remember ever walking with him before--she’d always been late. “Do you think I forgot the way you screamed when you saw me at the tower?”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, reaching over and giving him a healthy shove. 

They walked in silence together. Malfoy moved noticeably slower than he normally did so he wouldn’t leave Y/N’s shorter legs in tow. McGonagall seemed pleasantly surprised to see Malfoy hold the door open for her.

“I’m glad to see you two getting along,” she said, giving Y/N a hesitant nod before grabbing the stack of papers on her desk. “I’ll be back momentarily.”

After she exited the room with a swish of her deep maroon robes, Malfoy turned to her. “Are you scared of the dark or something?”

She turned, ready to send a biting retort his way, before she noticed how gray his pallor looked...and how big the circles under his eyes were. “You look like shit, Malfoy. Is everything okay?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Oh. Um…” Y/N pause before deciding that the little tidbit of information she was about to reveal wasn’t that important anyways. “I’m just on edge at night at Hogwarts is all. Especially with all that weird shit going on with all the cursed objects. So I kind of hate walking to and from detention.”

Malfoy let out something that sounded like a strained laugh.

“You didn’t answer my question. Is everything okay?”

“None of your business,” he snipped. “I just had a bad night.”

“Do you have trouble sleeping?” she asked, unable to keep herself from prying.

“Something like that.”

“Have you tried lavender?”

“I’m sorry?” He frowned.

“Lavender. Like the essential oil. It’s nothing magical,” she explained. “I just like to spray it in my bed sometimes before I sleep. Or I’ll use a few drops in a diffuser. I have trouble sleeping too, all the time, actually.” She shut her mouth before she had any chance to ramble further.

“It sounds a bit too floral for my taste.”

“Here.” Y/N dug around in her satchel, searching for the tiny spray bottle she kept with her at all times. “Borrow this and spritz your pillow with it before you sleep, and then tell me it’s too floral. I promise it helps.”

He glared at her. She extended her hand with the white bottle that was covered in purple decor, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “I won’t tell anyone that you have it if that’s what you’re worried about or whatever.”

“Fine,” he snapped, snatching it from her hand and dragging his fingers over her palm for just a second. “Don’t expect me to actually try it, though.”

“Just give it a sniff.” 

He huffed, but to her surprise, he actually uncapped the top and held the spray hole up to his nose, inhaling in once.

The effect was immediate. Malfoy’s face completely drained of color, becoming even grayer than he’d been when she first saw him under the light. The briefest expression of surprise fleeted over his face before he wiped it off, replacing it with something unreadable and tossing it back at her. “I’m not using this.”

“Why not?”

“Not quite my taste,” he spat.

Y/N was shocked by the sudden outburst, watching as he continued to glower at his desk. “I don’t understand. It really does help you sleep. I know it seems stupid, but I...really think you should try it. Just once, if anything.”

“Why does it matter so much to you?”

“Because I--” Y/N stopped herself before she let her mouth run without check. “I know what it’s like is all. I feel like shit if I don’t sleep. Plus, I have to spend time with you every Friday. I imagine that you’ll be slightly more tolerable if you sleep more.”

“Hm.” He sent her a particularly venomous glare. “Thanks for your concern. Consider me uninterested, though.”

“You break my heart,” she teased, pulling back her hand and placing the bottle on the corner of her desk. An idea struck her.

“And just what are you smiling about?” Draco said. His lips were turned into a sour frown. 

“Nothing, nothing,” she responded, her voice adopting a sing-song quality. All she had to do now was wait. 

He exhaled, a deep and exasperated sound. Then he turned back to whatever was in front of him.

McGonagall entered the room a few minutes later, nodding cordially at the comfortable silence the two students were in. What she didn’t know was that Y/N was waiting, just waiting for Malfoy to dig through his satchel and stop paying attention to his quill.

She got her opportunity a few minutes later, when McGonagall called him up to look over his latest Transfiguration homework.

“Mr. Malfoy, I’m happy to see that you’re taking more initiative in getting your assignments done...I have to say that you had me a bit concerned…”

While her professor kept Malfoy occupied, Y/N darted over and grabbed his quill. 

Ha.

Malfoy frowned down at his desk when he returned, giving Y/N a suspicious look.

“What is it, Malfoy?” she said, hoping her voice conveyed nothing that might hint that she took something of his.

“Nothing.”

“Hm.”

The rest of detention passed without any more discussion. Y/N was eager to run up to her dorm and set up her plan to be carried out the next morning, but she calmed her bouncing leg and forced herself to keep a straight face when McGonagall dismissed them.

“Got somewhere to be, Y/L/N?” Malfoy’s voice called after her as she sped down the hall towards the Gryffindor tower. 

“What’s it to you?” she fired back.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he picked up his pace until he was walking next to her.

“Aren’t the Slytherin dorms the other direction?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Are they?” 

She allowed herself to be amused by the way words flowed out of his mouth when he was slightly out of breath. “Why are you walking with me?”

“You said it yourself.” He kept his eyes cast on the cobblestones below them. “You don’t like walking alone at night.”

“Uh...oh.” Against her will, her feet froze and she was glued to the ground. “You’re joking, right?”

If the lighting wasn’t so dim, Y/N would have good reason to believe he was blushing with how intently he was studying his fingernails. “By all means, I can be.”

“No! No, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “Er...I’d like you to. If you want to, that is.”

He shrugged, an elfish expression spreading across his face as he took in how nervous she was. “Well, come to think of it, you didn’t ask me to. I suppose I better get back to the Slytherin dorms anyways. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near the Gryffindor Tower right now.”

“Why?” she squeaked.

“Oh, you know, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that most of the cursed things showed up on your side of the castle, yeah?”

She gulped.

“I gotta get going. Don’t want to stand around here too long. This place gives me the creeps.” With that, he turned and began walking away.

“Malfoy?” She hated how timid her voice sounded. “Consider this me asking you to walk with me.”

He slowly faced her, a sly grin plastered all over his face. “Oh? Did I hear that correctly? Do you want me to?”

“I’m only going to say this once,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and trying her best to look intimidating. “Walk with me. Please.”

“I guess I’ll take it.” Malfoy glided down the hallway to her in just a couple steps, sending her yet another smug look.

“You made up that whole ordeal about Gryffindor Tower being targeted, didn’t you?” asked Y/N as they rounded the corner to reach the staircase leading up to the common room.

“You bought it, didn’t you?” 

“Who says I didn’t just want you to walk with me?” pushed Y/N. This was as close to flirting as it would ever get for her--but it looked like, somehow, things were falling into place. The heat in her cheeks must’ve been from the excitement of making progress. 

Malfoy’s toe caught on the first stair and, if it weren’t for Y/N’s steady grip on his arm, would’ve made him go sprawling across the stone steps. 

“Merlin, Malfoy,” she said, immediately dropping her grip from his shoulder. “What’s gotten into you?”

He responded with an unceremonial snort and a withering glare. The rest of the walk was done in silence, and Y/N noted how careful his footwork became around the Gryffindor steps.

“This is me,” she finally said once they reached the tapestry for the Gryffindor dorms. He seemed surprised, and only then did it strike her that he’d probably never seen the entrance himself before. “Thanks for being such a gentleman.”

“I live to serve,” he drawled.

And just like that, he was gone.

~

Her plan was simple. She had located an extra monogrammed pouch in her cabinet, a rich mahogany color with her family crest in a vivid gold, and placed both his quill and the lavender bottle. She would corner him after breakfast or follow him out of the Great Hall and show him then.

However, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Malfoy was not coming to Saturday morning breakfast. Many people didn’t, but Y/N had never known him to miss it. His normal spot was vacant, and it certainly wasn’t a house-made decision as all of his Slytherin friends were present and accounted for. Y/N couldn’t say for sure, but she could see Parkinson turning her head to the entrance every time the doors thudded open before glancing back to Malfoy’s empty seat when it turned out to be someone else.

Where was that loser?

“Excuse me,” she said to the trio as she stood up and brushed off her skirt. “I think I’m going to go get some fresh air. I have a bitch of a headache.”

Hermione and Harry expressed their sympathies while Ron gave her a characteristic mumble through his mouthful of bread, and she was off with the pouch secured in her cloak pocket.

It was a clear November morning, clearly Mother Nature’s attempt to slowly move the world from the crisp autumn to a cold winter. The sky was clear and the sun’s rays warmed her skin at a slanted angle, casting weak shadows across the courtyard.

If I were Malfoy, where would I go to sulk?

The obvious answer was either the Slytherin common room or his own dorm, but that was without a doubt out of question for her. She wasn’t even sure if she possessed the knowledge to guess which corridor the entrance was in, much less work out the password herself. Beyond that, just getting into the common room and waiting would be...She shivered. It would be a terrible idea while she was clearly wearing a cloak in Gryffindor red and gold trim. 

As she continued her aimless wander around the castle, she heard the slightest sound from the girl’s bathroom on the second floor. It wasn’t ever really in use--no one came in there to actually use the loo unless they wanted Myrtle to materialize and tell them her supernatural troubles while they were in the middle of their personal business--but it was often the source of strange happenings. 

Like the cursed objects she thought to herself, her nails digging into her palms. But did she care about that right now? Surely cursed objects seemed somewhat...suspicious. Dark magic was difficult to hide, and to a pureblood eye that grew up around magical objects, cursed things shouldn’t be impossible to spot. 

And, plus, it was Malfoy she was looking for. None of the students had died from the curses so far, and if she was able to break through and learn something, or at the very least gain his trust, the reward to the Order would be more than worth it.

She stepped in, expecting to see an entirely empty bathroom with perhaps a ghost rattling around at the sink. Instead, a different sight awaited her.

Draco Malfoy was clutching the edge of the cracked sink basin in front of him, rocking himself back and forth and shaking. From her vantage point, she could see that he was dressed in his normal garb--a black ensemble--but his hair was unruly and messy, sticking up in the back like he’d hurriedly tugged something over his head.

A strangled gasp grounded her and halted her curious observations. Malfoy began to make these awful sobbing sounds, like he could barely manage to breathe. 

Y/N was frozen in place as she surveyed her options. If she stayed and tried to talk to him, he might react in anger or hurt her. But if she just left him, like this, all alone...She swallowed once before stepping forward.

“Malfoy? Are you okay?” Obviously he’s not, you bint said a voice deep in her brain. She pushed it aside as he swung around, his wand raised and his eyes blazing. “Whoa! I’m not going to...Put your wand down!”

He stared at her, his eyes wide with horror as he continued to shake, so much so that his wand slipped out of his hand and clattered to the floor. Without thinking, Y/N reached into her pocket and flung her wand away, holding her hands up.

“I’m not going to try anything. I promise.”

As she drew closer, she could see the remnants of tears on his wet cheeks and the way that his silver eyes were rimmed with a bloodshot red. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he hissed, his voice weak and cracking. 

“Neither should you. This is the girl’s bathroom.”

final a/n: ok so lmk if you guys wants me to continue. i really did not edit the last half fjkdsal;f also kinda made this an au where malfoy tried to assassinate dumbledore. with more than one cursed object but dw it’ll all make sense ill clear that up 😭

[in-tua-deep]

idk if you still do au ideas but what if delores was a real person in the apocalypse? how it woul dbe done i have no idea but i love all your aus and thought it would be cool

okay okay I don't tend to go for real!Dolores aus admittedly because I find her much more compelling as what she is: a reflection of five himself and a symptom of his crushing loneliness

but i started thinking about it and you know what?? i think five deserves a little socialization, as a treat

so say like, 0.5% of the population is resistant to abilities. Allison would really struggle to rumor them, Five wouldn't be able to jump with them, and, most importantly, whatever the fuck Vanya's ability does has like, reduced damage or something

and the og apocalypse isn't the moon apocalypse, so let's say that it was pure waves of Vanya's powers that fucked over the earth

so 0.5% of the population survives the apocalypse. though, let's be honestly, the real number is a lot smaller than that. People who might have survived Vanya's initial power wave (miraculously) did not survive buildings crushing them or survive the car/plane/bus/train/other transportation crashes or survive being left alone when they are too young to reliably look after themselves, or the variety of other problems that come with 99.5% of the population dying at once

So, Five arrives in the apocalypse and is met with ruin and fire and a whole lot of dead people. He finds his siblings, but it doesn't matter. They're dead. He doesn't even recognize them at first, these strange grown-ups who he identifies not by their faces but by the umbrellas on their wrists that match his own

As he realizes the full impact of his situation, he hears a voice that says, very succinctly, "holy shit!"

It's a girl a few years older than Five himself, maybe 15 or 16, and she is very excited to see another survivor.

And here's where I u-turn this au around bc i'm not all that interested in real!Dolores, but I would be down to talk about Five meeting survivors in the apocalypse, because if Dolores is real I don't buy no one else survived.

So Dolores shows up and see a Literal Child crying over the corpses of his family and assumes that Five is a fellow survivor, and she immediately grabs him up. Five is incoherent with grief at this point anyway, so he doesn't even protest when she basically hauls him away from the bodies. She's babbling at him, but he doesn't really hear anything she's saying

And then she takes him to her dad

(Why not, let's have the 1% potentially be a heritable thing)

and her dad, let's call him just some dad name. like Rick. it has been a fucking WEEK for him, okay. he had his daughter with him, his ex-wife is on the other coast for her work, and by some miracle he survived the apocalypse and so did his child, and he's been wracking his brains trying to figure out what the fuck to do next

and then his daughter shows up with a traumatized thirteen-year-old in tow

now rick is a good dude. he's a dad. they get out of five that his name is five ("what the fuck" dolores mouths to him over five's shoulder and rick can't help but agree) and the bodies he found were his siblings ("Dad and Ben and Vanya weren't there though," this child cries desperately and rick feels his own heart clench in response, "They might still be alive!")

"We can look for them." Rick assures his new adopted child, because he is an adult in a fresh apocalypse and this kid has presumably lost everything he's ever known (more than rick even knows at the time)

and they do. They each get wagons and they go out and find supplies and look for other survivors. Five is... surprisingly helpful and also surprisingly docile as he is able to rely on Someone Else to give orders while he attempts to (dissociate) process what the fuck has happened

and here's the thing: Five prides himself on being independent, sort of. He's independent for a child soldier, but he's used to taking orders from a male authority figure and Rick happens to be just that

The first time that Five does something dangerous and Rick yells is a revelation

(Rick isn't sure if he hopes that Five's dad is alive or not, because if they find that man alive then Rick might just kill the jackass himself. Also like, Five is bizarrely knowledgeable out survival skills, like way too knowledgeable about it, which is helpful for them but also very concerning)

they find a newspaper and Five finds the article that mentions his father's recent death ("Huh. Heart attack." Five says, and there is no emotion in his voice)

(Years later, years later, Five and Rick talk. "I don't think I wanted to find him, either." Five admits, softly because Dolores is asleep, "I think I was more scared of finding him alive than I was of finding his body. He would've been so mad at me, I think.")

this newspaper is how Rick and Dolores find out about Five being Number Five, Umbrella Academy Missing Person

"Dude, what the fuck." Dolores says, wide eyes, "You're like, thirty?"

"I'm thirteen." Five says, and then checks the date on the newspaper again, "Also I think I would technically be 29 if I lived through all of it, 'cause it's April and my birthday is in October."

"You... time travelled?" Rick asks, which is honestly the more relevant question, "Can you go back?"

And Five just,,, crumples on himself. Because he tried, he tried really hard. It didn't work. "I'm gonna figure it out. I'm gonna go back, I'm going to save them."

That, Rick thinks, is a lot of weight to put on one person's shoulders, but especially the shoulders of a child.

"Alright." Rick says, because what else can he say after finding out his new child has superpowers and is from like, 2004? "What do you need?"

("Oh my god I have so many memes to teach you." Dolores says later, reverently. Five blinks in confusion and Rick mentally prepares himself for the recitation of so many vines)

And it's easier, somehow. Five sometimes feels like it's a betrayal, but he settles into apocalypse life with an ease that surprises him.

He lets Rick fuss over him and help tie his scarf securely around his head every morning before he sets off on supply runs with Dolores. And they're kids! Five has never had a friend before, and Dolores is funny and smart and she's struggling just as much as he is.

"I don't know if my mom's alive." She says to him, in solidarity when he checks the face of every corpse to see if they're Vanya.

Five is practical in the way only a child soldier can be. He's economical with the room in their wagons, carefully examining what might and what might not be useful.

Dolores, on the other hand, constantly takes up space with what Five sees as useless shit.

"Excuse you," Dolores says, shoving a game of monopoly, the entire discworld series, and a pack of glitter gel pens into her wagon, "These are absolutely vital apocalypse supplies."

She challenges him, plays with him in a way no one ever has. "I bet you I can find more batteries today than you can," She grins at him, "Winner gets to pick dinner first?"

"You're on." Five says, directly before Dolores pulls two packs of 24 AA batteries from behind her back, like a cheat.

Dolores makes him take a ten minute break when they find a playground that has been mostly not-destroyed. They rummage around kids backpacks and mother's handbags for some good loot, too numb to corpses to even be bothered all that badly about the corpses they belong to.

"I'm getting on the swings." Dolores says when Five starts making noises about moving on, "I haven't been on a swingset in ages."

"What's the point?" Five grumps.

"Don't be sour because you can't swing as high as I can!" Dolores laughs, getting higher and higher as the swings creak ominously.

Five grumpily gets into the other swing and grudgingly kicks himself back and forth until Dolores takes pity on him and teaches him how to properly move his legs and body to get higher and higher.

Dolores jumps from the swing seat and lands with a flourish and smile. Five jumps out of his seat and then jumps, warping right in front of Dolores and making her yell and hit at him in outrage. Five smiles the widest he has all week.

This is how Five grows up in the apocalypse, with Dolores teasing him into taking breaks and leaning over his shoulder to look at his math and scandalizing him by stating that she'd only just started on matrices in her own high school math class.

Every night they huddle around Rick while he picks up whatever book Dolores picked out that day because it is a travesty that Five has never read hunger games or whatever, and then they read together because it would be a genuine blood bath if they all took turns. The first time Five accidentally mentioned a spoiler and Dolores genuinely considered murder was the birthday of this tradition

Some days the air is too smoky or there are dust storms or it's just plain too dangerous to go out, and they all stay in. Dolores regales Five with stories about public school, and Five tells them about his siblings.

Then they all cry

"I shouldn't be crying." Five sobs.

"Shut the fuck up," Dolores sobs back, "You literally watched me lose my shit over remembering my shitty eighth grade dance and listened to me sob-sing toxic for like four hours."

"In fairness I also wished you would shut up then."

"Let me hug you or I will start singing songs that I only remember the chorus for again you absolute fucker."

"I could always sing some -"

"No, Rick/Dad."

And Five grows up. Rick shows him how to shave very carefully in front of cracked mirrors. Dolores teases him every time his voice cracks. Rick tells Five in no uncertain terms that he loves and cares for him, and that Reginald was a little bitch. There are a lot of heartfelt conversations around that, honestly. Rick telling Five that he and the siblings deserved better, that they were children and deserved to have a childhood.

And that he has faith in Five. Rick and Dolores both do, they bring him back paper and pens and pencils and chalk and anything Five can use to write equations. They poke around any libraries for books on theoretical mathematics and quantum physics. Rick and Dolores go out scouting for food while Five stays home and can work longer.

They also make him take breaks, make sure that he's looking after himself.

They're a little better off than OG!Five when it comes to food, because some animals survive. Enough that Rick figures out how to hunt. Five is the first one to each bugs, and even though Dolores makes faces they all start eating bugs as well.

"Pretty sure there's loads of cultures that eat bugs." Rick says grudgingly, wondering if he should try stirfry the cockroaches and if that would improve the taste. "There's even, uh, cricket flour or whatever, right?"

"Plus you eat like, five spiders a year when you're asleep." Dolores says cheerfully, just to watch her dad's face scrunch up in displeasure.

"That doesn't sound true, but I don't know enough about spiders to dispute it." Five mutters, and Dolores gives him such a proud look that it makes him roll his eyes.

They're in their thirties when Rick dies. He's out foraging and hunting, and the rubble he's standing on gives way and he ends up with a gash in his leg. He manages to stop the bleeding, but the world is filthy and they don't have any antibiotics.

He gets an infection.

"It's okay." He tells both of his kids, "It's okay. I'm just so glad that you guys have each other, y'hear? I'm so glad."

"It's not okay." Five says, voice thick and choked, "It's not."

"Yeah, well, you're going to figure out how to go back, right? Go back in time and save everyone. Then I'll have never died, right?" Rick smiles, "And even if you don't, I'll be waiting for you on the other side and we'll see each other again anyway."

"I'm going to fix it."

"I know. I have faith in you, Five." Ricks says honestly, and that's more than Reginald ever said.

They sit quietly together while Dolores is out scavenging. They've been taking turns sitting with Rick.

"I won't remember you, in the past, will I?" Rick says rhetorically, but Five answers anyway.

"I don't think so."

Rick hums, "Well, doesn't matter. If you need help in the past, you come to me, y'hear?"

"You won't remember me."

"Doesn't matter. You come find me, and you tell me your crazy story until I believe you, and then I'll help you." Rick says firmly, "You're family. You're my son. Timelines? Don't matter. If you need help, with anything, even if it's just with - with filling out a bowling team or something -"

"I have never been bowling in my life and you know it." Five interrupts, but it makes him laugh just a little bit which was clearly Rick's intention.

"Well who knows what you'll get up to in the past! You'll be able to go bowling, you know. Get to wear those uncomfortable shoes. Hey, you go far enough back maybe you can go to Dolores's tenth birthday party and put me out of my misery."

"Was she bad at bowling?"

"Oh, she was wiping the floor with me. No contest."

"Honestly, that sounds absolutely accurate."

"Shut up, bowling just wasn't my sport. Regardless, the point was that I'm giving you a free pass to come and get me. Because I know you, I know how you think." Rick brings up his hand to tap his finger against Five's forehead, "You get it into your head that you need to go it alone, take it all on your shoulders. I'm telling you that if you do that I'll somehow manifest my memories and come smack you over the head for being stupid, you hear?"

"I'm not dragging you into anything." Five says firmly, "I'll have my siblings."

"Who were also children." Rick points out. "And dragging? Dragging is such a strong word for a volunteer."

"A volunteer who won't remember volunteering." Five shoots back.

Rick just shrugs, and then winces when the movement jolts his bad leg. "Five, I'm going to be honest with you here. And sappy. Can you handle a bit of sappiness for a minute?"

"No."

"Well too bad. Can't leave a dying man, you'd feel too bad. So you're stuck with me. But you listen good, okay? Because you aren't dragging me into anything. Whatever life you have, I want to have a part of that. Because you're my son. Wherever you are, whatever you do, I want to help because you're family. What you'd be doing by leaving me out of it is depriving me of someone I love, depriving me of knowing one of the best kids I've ever known."

"Shut up." Five says, choked.

"Nope, it's sappy time." Rick states, "Maybe asking you to come find me is selfish, but I don't care. No matter what version of me exists, I want to be in your life."

"My life is a walking joke, why would you want any part of that?"

"It has been my privilege to watch you grow up. To help you. To be here for you. Of course I'd want to be there to watch you grow up the rest of the way."

"But -"

"Shut up, just let me tell you that I am so proud of you. You never give up, and your heart is so big. You love so much and so loudly, and it's been the highest honor of my life to be included in your family."

Five pauses for a moment to collect himself before simply saying - "You're the best dad I've ever had."

Rick snorts, "Considering my competition, I'd sure hope so. That bar was so low old Reggie was practically limbo dancing with the devil. Now get over here and give an old man a hug."

They don't bury Rick, when he dies. They don't have time and the ground is too hard and they don't have the heart to move him. Instead the pack everything up and seal him in the shelter they'd lived in.

Dolores pulls out a bottle of ancient nail polish and painstakingly writes Rick's name on the wall with his birth year and an approximate current year. They aren't 100% sure though, since time blends together out in the apocalypse, but it's something.

They continue by themselves. They get older.

Dolores jokingly calls him her husband because the way his face scrunches up makes her cackle. They see other people very occasionally, usually passing through. Usually groups. Dolores and Five get to flex their hosting skills, though more than one group declines their cockroach stirfry.

("It's a family recipe." Five says with amusement in his eyes that usually manages to drown out old grief.)

"Jeeze, that kid couldn't have been older'n twenty-three." Dolores complains, "Makes me feels positively ancient."

"They wouldn't have known any world 'cept for the apocalypse." Five muses, pouring some boiled water into wine glasses because they might be living in the apocalypse but they can be fancy.

"Do you ever think about that?" Dolores asks, turning to him with no judgement, just curiosity. "When you go back, you'll be like, erasing them from existence."

Five shrugs, "Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe this place will just split off into an alternate timeline."

"Maybe none of this is real." Dolores says, amusement coloring her voice. "Maybe you aren't talking to a real person at all. Maybe this is just a symbol of your insanity and cracked mind."

"Dolores, I literally have a scar where you stabbed me. Did I somehow manage to stab myself in the back?"

"Scraped you, I scraped you. By accident."

"So you maintain." Five says haughtily, swirling his water in his wine glass like a pretentious prick.

"I could totally be fake. You don't know my life."

"I know way too much about you, Dolores. Like, way way too much." Five scoffs, because Dolores and him have literally no secrets from one another at this point. Five even knows the truth behind what happened at Janet Scranton's thirteenth birthday party. Like, he said, way too much.

"Maybe you made it up. Maybe that's why you know so much."

"Dolores, I'm going to be honest with you right now." Five presses the tips of his fingers to his chin, "If you were a figment of my imagination, you would be so much better at math."

"Hey!" Dolores squawks indignantly, "I didn't even get to finish high school you pretentious prick!"

"Neither did I!"

"You didn't even go to high school, you brat."

"I'm fifty-two I think I've outgrown 'brat.'"

"Tell that to your attitude." Dolores says haughtily, "You're still younger than me."

"Won't be when I go back in time." Five says cheerfully, completely ignoring Dolores's venomous look.

"That's cheating."

"Sucks to suck." Five says loftily, taking another sip of his water.

Sometimes they talk about The Plan, with capital letters. What Five is going to do when he goes back in time, depending on when he pops out. Is he going to adopt his siblings? What about Reginald?

"You don't think I could kill Reginald?" Five says, holding a hand to his chest in mock offense.

"I think you should let me do it. I'll even give you control of tonight's music if you do."

"What are you doing to do? Bite his ankles? What if you're like, seven or something?"

"All the better to get away with it since I'll be too young to convict or whatever."

"Pretty sure that's not how the law works."

"How would you know? Just for that I'm playing Istanbul on repeat again."

"I don't know why you think that's a threat. That song slaps."

It takes a few more years before Five is close enough that the Commission comes to interfere. Because that's what I think happened - Five was getting too close and they stepped in because they might as well distract the man as much as they can with missions, right?

So the Handler shows up. And she offers Five a job, telling him that they have the ability to travel through time. And Five - hesitates.

"Give me some time?" Five asks, and the Handler graciously gives him 24 hours.

And he and Dolores talk it over, because now that his goal is more in sight than it has ever been and Five is scared.

"What are you waiting for? You have the chance to see your siblings again." Dolores says patiently.

"Yeah," Five says, and what he doesn't say is clear. But I won't see you.

"Five." Dolores says, and she cradles his face between her palms like he is something precious, "I have had so much time with you already. More than I would have ever. We have been so lucky, to have this time. How can I demand more than what we have already been given?"

"When have you ever not demanded the world, Dolores?" Five asks, his own hand coming up to cover Dolores's own.

"We've had decades together, Five. We're getting old. I was always going to lose you, one way or another. Nothing lasts forever."

"I don't want to lose you."

"I know. But if I had to choose a way, if I could decide where our story ends, this would be it. Letting you go, because this way you get to live. You get to see your family again. You get to save the world. I could ask for nothing more than for you to get your happy ending."

Five removes Dolores's hand from his cheek so that he can cradle it between them, "I'm happy here with you. I've never been happier. Isn't that silly? That I was happier in the apocalypse?"

"I bet killing Reggie would make you happy." Dolores laughs rustily.

"One day you're going to see the mysterious disappearance of a famous billionaire in the paper and feel a twinge of satisfaction and now have a clue why." Five laughs as well, shaking his head.

Dolores pats Five's hands, "Five, look at me. We've had our time. And you're going to give me even more of it. More time with my father. More time with my mother. I'll never know it, but you'll have saved me."

"What if this is - what if this is an alternate reality? What if I leave you here alone?"

"Then you'll be saving a 15-year-old girl from the same fate as me. Because as much as I love you, as much as I have loved this time we have had together, this is still an apocalypse. This should never have happened, and if you have a chance to go back and prevent it, then I want you to take that chance with both hands."

"Even if it means leaving you alone?"

Dolores smiles at him, "I'm not going to be alone. Far too many creepy crawlies in the apocalypse for that."

"Shut up, I'm being serious."

"Hmm." Dolores hums consideringly, "Maybe I'll head North, to that new settlement that last group said they'd heard word of. Sure they'd find some use for an old woman who's survived this long in the wilderness."

"You can have my half of the record collection." Five says, pulling her against him into a hug that she easily returns.

"As if I wouldn't have stolen them as soon as you left." She scoffs, but it's a little wet, and Five pretends his own eyes aren't leaking tears.

When The Handler comes back, Dolores gives him another hug. She also slips something into his pocket - some photos. They'd taken it a year into the apocalypse, when Dolores had found an ancient looking polaroid camera and towed it home despite Five's protests about practicality. The photos are worn and faded at the edges, but the smiles on Five's little apocalypse family's faces are undeniable.

"You'll have to see if they magically fade when you change the timeline." Dolores whispers to him with a grin, "Like in the movies."

"Okay." Five whispers back.

"You have the list of movies to watch, right?" Dolores says. Five rolls his eyes and nods because he wrote the list last night into his Vanya-book while Dolores hovered over his shoulder and critiqued his handwriting.

"And you promise to try a proper non-expired twinkie at some point?"

"That I do not promise. I think even looking at one would make me lose my lunch. I have twinkie-trauma."

"Shut up and get going." Dolores says, because the Handler is starting to tap her foot impatiently.

And off Five goes to become an assassin. Though - he's much more gentle this time. He's careful, he doesn't kill children and he usually takes jobs that don't require killing at all. He distracts and manipulates events as much as he can without killing.

He's actually much more well socialized, thanks to Rick and Dolores. Less feral child and more determined man on a mission.

Which is why he's so frustrated when he finally, finally manages to get the equations to work and falls through and falls - directly back into his stupid thirteen-year-old body.

"Shit." Five says, loudly, and revels in the surprised look on his siblings faces.

He strides into the kitchen, and they all follow him like ducklings. They look exactly the way they did when they died.

"Wow this is actually way harder than I thought it would be." Five muses, looking at their dead faces. But as Dolores would say, life is hard but you have to keep on trucking sometimes. "Whatever, what's the date?"

"Five, where have you been?" Diego demands, looking irritated. It makes Five snort in amusement.

"The future. The past. If you want like, an exact list of dates you'll have to hold your horses. I spent like, two weeks in Peru once. No souvenirs though, unfortunately."

They look taken aback, like they didn't expect Five to have quite this much sass. Oops. That is definitely Dolores's influence. Or maybe he was always a little asshole. In fairness, what teenagers aren't tiny assholes? He has an excuse.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Diego's eyebrows are furrowed in anger. It kind of takes Five aback for a second, because he remembers a Diego who stutters when he argued.

"When did you learn the fuck-word?" Five asks, raising an eyebrow before her can help it, "Grace ought to wash your mouth out with soap."

Diego immediately goes red, "Shut up!"

"Wow you're so easy to rile up. Aren't you like, twenty-something? Actually, I could figure out for myself how old you are if you gave me the date."

"I'm twenty-nine." Diego growls, like that was the point.

"Haunting!" Five says cheerfully, because that means there is way less time than he would like, narrowing his time down to a six month window.

It's extremely funny how his cheer makes all of them make faces.

It's Klaus who leans forward, "Why do you need to know?"

Klaus's face is open and curious and - (looks exactly like he did when Five found him all those years ago) - and Five can't help but answer him. "The world end on April 1st, 2019. No it isn't an April Fools joke, yes I have heard that joke like a million different times. I just want to know how close I landed so I can, you know, start working on how to fix that."

"Woah woah woah, roll it back." Allison says, holding a hand up, "What?"

"The apocalypse occurs on April 1st, 2019." Five says, slowly. "I have traveled from afar to prevent this from happening, because like, everyone dies."

"Everyone?" Vanya says weakly from the side.

She's clearly expecting to be ignored, so Five turns his head to address her directly by wiggling his hand back and forth a little. "Sort of. Like, not too many people survive at all. A handful of the human population, you know."

"But you survived?" Diego recovers admirably, if bitingly.

"Well, no." Five says rolling his eyes, "Wouldn't you just know it, Klaus here has managed to figure out a new ability!"

Everyone turns to look at Klaus, who immediately holds up his hands like he's being arrested or something, "I did not!"

"Wonderful! Now that we've established that I'm alive -"

"Why should we trust a word you say?" Luther says for the first time, looking pensive.

Five blinks, genuinely taken aback. "Because... I'm your brother? Because I can clearly and obviously time travel? Like, yeah, it would have been more convenient if I'd arrived in like, my old-body for proof-purposes, but like. I mean. Thirteen is still a pretty convincing age to be to prove time travel considering if I hadn't, I would be like, almost thirty."

"Roll it back again." Allison says firmly, "What do you mean by 'old body'?"

"Great question!" Five says pointing at Allison and smiling. Everyone looks at him weird again, and Five takes a moment to wonder if they've ever experienced positive reinforcement. Knowing Reginald, probably not. "Wait! Is Reggie alive? Wait, no, answer that in a second. Uh. When I time traveled I fucked up my body I guess, I was like, old. White hair and wrinkles-type old from spending decades in the apocalypse. But I fucked up the calculations and got booted back to my thirteen-year-old body, I guess. How, I have no idea."

"What?" Vanya says, still equally weakly.

"You have no idea how fucked up time travel is." Five whispers conspiratorially to Vanya, loud enough for the whole table to hear, "There are so many ways to die. Or permanently tear a hold in space time. But like, with life as we know if ending soon-ish, I figured I couldn't possibly fuck it up worse than it already was, y'know? Speaking of, anyone have the date again?"

"Wait, what was that about dad?" Luther asks, very focused.

"Oh, you still call him dad? Big oof." Five says automatically, because apparently his verbal filter is shot to hell after living with Dolores. It does make Klaus bark out a too-loud laugh.

"What does that mean?" Luther asks aggressively.

"It means Reginald sucks and doesn't deserve the title of 'dad,' what did you think I meant?" Five asks, and now both Diego and Vanya and both cracking smiles, though Vanya is covering hers with a hand.

"Have some respect for the dead." Luther growls, standing up and looking very large and threatening.

Five sways back, craning his head up, "Woah there big buy, sit down before I injure my poor growing spine looking up at you. Jeeze, did Reggie force feed you steroids or something? I wouldn't put it past him but like, I just want to know he at least went over the side effects of the drug with you. Also like, thanks for narrowing it down. Also terrifying! Seriously though, exact date please because if I have less than 24 hours I am going to break down crying and that is a threat."

"I love this Five." Klaus says reverently.

"March 21st." Vanya offers, finally.

"Wow! Terrifying!" Five says, clapping his hands together, "Hate that. Ten days, huh? Well, who wants to get on board the save-the-world express?"

Klaus immediately flings his hand in the air, Five points at his brother appreciatively. "Yes, excellent! I'll take the volunteer in the lovely skirt as my first team member. Any other volunteers?"

"Danke!" Klaus simpers, grinning widely like this is the vest entertainment he's had in weeks.

"I'm not just going to stand here and listen to you badmouth dad and boss us around." Luther slams his hands on the table.

"Well not with that attitude." Five snarks.

Diego raises his hand, "I would like to join team fuck dad as well."

"We can certainly debate team names later." Five says, nodding wisely as Luther gives some sort of scandalized gasp.

"Honestly, I just want to see where this is going." Klaus confesses.

Five shrugs, because he doesn't really care about the reason. "Don't you want to prove me wrong them? Prove what a well-adjusted young man Reginald Hargreeves raised?"

"Shut up." Luther grinds out, looking a moment away from throwing a punch.

"If this is all true, I have to get home." Allison cuts in, looking concerned, "I have - I have a daughter."

"I mean, if you want to give Claire a world to live in then I'd stick around, but that's just me." Five shrugs.

"You know her name?" Allison asks, obviously taken aback.

Five is almost offended, "Uh, yeah. I have her photo as well. Y'all get on like, a bizarre number of gossip magazine covers did you know that?"

Allison manages to outdo herself in terms of being taken aback once more.

There's a beat of silence, and then Five turns, "Vanya? You in?"

"Me?" Vanya blinks, looking shocked. "What can I do?"

"Yeah, what can she do?" Diego asks, crossing his arms and suddenly looking grumpy.

It baffles Five, who scrunches his nose, "Uh, like, a lot? I assume? I mean. I'm going to be honest here, just looking at y'all right now is a lot. In more ways than one! Hashtag trauma and all that, but like, name a single one of you that wouldn't be the most obvious person in the room as soon as you walked into it. Except Vanya, who somehow manages to look like a well adjusted adult, by some miracle."

"Did you just verbally say the word hashtag?" Allison asks, looking so deeply confused.

"More concerned about the trauma he tacked onto there, but y'know, to each their own." Klaus immediately cuts in.

"You think I'm well-adjusted?" Vanya asks, looking oddly touched.

"I would like to direct your attention to Diego's leather pants-scowl combo and Luther's general aura of daddy-issues." Five says pointedly, "I can practically smell the tragic comic book backstory in this room. If I'd jumped back a decade earlier this would have been Batman's wet dream of orphan selection."

"Alright! Game plan!" Five says, waving Diego's knife in his hand.

Diego's hands immediately go to his weird harness looking thing, "Hey!"

"Give me just one moment to get the tracker out." Five rolls his eyes, "Then I'll give it back, I promise. Also if someone could ask Grace for like, some antibiotics that would be good."

"What?" Allison asks, directly before Five stabs himself and there is suddenly panic at the table.

"Relax!" Five says, allowing Diego to remove the knife from his hands. He doesn't need it anyway and his hand immediately drops down to root in the wound.

"Five what the fuck!" Diego yells, but Five just pulls up bloody fingers and waves the tracker into Diego's stupefied face.

"What the fuck is that, Five?" Allison demands, looking very shaken.

"I literally just said it was a tracker." Five points out, "Now, I think our first team activity should be voting on whether we destroy it or take it out to bumfuck nowhere and ditch it to confuse the Commission."

"What the fuck is the Commission?" Diego barks.

"Man. Maybe I should just hit up Rick." Five muses, "This is going to take so much explaining."

"Who is Rick."

"So much explaining."

[lazyliars]

/rp

DreamXD actually slots very nicely into a working theory I've had for about two or so months now, mainly centering around one question:

What happened to Dream?

Namely, why did Dream change, when exactly did it happen, and was it solely an internal change, or was there an external force at play, specifically a preternatural one?

I think with DreamXD, we might finally have an answer.

Or at least some clues to follow. DreamXD presents a shift in every single paradigm the Dream SMP has had. Like, I think most of it is just being so utterly blind-sided by George Lore Real, but part of it is the massive ramifications of an Actual God* being present in the storyline.

((*On the other resident god of the server, Foolish:

DreamXD is different than Foolish, in that his characterization is so dramatically inhuman - Foolish talks and acts like a (somewhat eccentric) person, and his powers are, as far as we know, limited in comparison to the creative-mode godhood that DreamXD occupies. And whether that is because Foolish is not a "full" god (having been referred to as a demigod) or simply because he's spent so much time around humans, we don't know, but we do know that either way, DreamXD is NOT that.

DreamXD's voice is marked by glitches and dramatic shifts in tone, he seems to lack control over the different aspects of his personality, like the more "Dream" part vs. the darker one that threatens to eat peoples souls. The "normal" part even displays confusion when George references things that the "darker" part said, implying that it may not be fully aware of itself.

TLDR: Foolish acts more human than DreamXD, who has a very eldritch personality.))

To get right to the point:

The Dream we knew before November 16th, and the Dream we know now are not the same. Something changed, and it changed for the worse.

Consider: Dream was always antagonistic to the L'manbergians - he was always imperious to them, and he was responsible for starting a number of fights between his faction and theirs, just as many if not more than they were.

But, he was also not... evil. He'd pick fights with Tommy, the disc wars were still a thing, but the gravity of the spats they had weren't dire. They were fun. They were... actually a game. He wasn't like the way he is now. While in hindsight we can look at these events and detect a serious undertone knowing what's to come, at the time they were far from it.

There is an argument to be made that he had the same tendencies as now, just not expressed as loudly, and while I believe it's a valid argument, I disagree that it's proof of Dream always being the way he is now.

Sapnap, Badboyhalo, Sam. They all remember Dream as their friend - they remember someone who was, maybe a little aggressive and a lot competitive, but not cruel. Not needlessly murderous. Not someone who steals sentimental items and lines the walls of a disgusting museum to use against them.

Dream cut them out. Sapnap was totally blindsided. Bad doesn't seem to fully believe it. Sam blamed himself for not realizing and tried to take the weight of that crime on his own shoulders by becoming the Warden.

There's also the competing theory that what happened to Dream was purely psychological - either the circumstances slowly isolating him from his friends driving him to the do things he's done, or a desire for control that started early and continued to fester until it overshadowed everything else, or any combination of both.

And those theories are still valid, they could still be the case, but I haven't been able to shake the idea that there is something deeper at play. I can't overstate how the exile arc and everything after it have been so inhumane, so cruel, and... not exactly out of character in the sense that I could never see Dream doing them, but in the sense that I could never see him doing them for no reason.

And there really doesn't seem to be one. Dream says himself, it's like a game. He sees people as toys, puppets. And there just doesn't seem to be an inciting incident that could explain how he made the leap from semi-authoritarian leader who, despite being a warmonger, does love his friends, to heartless murderer who wants to reduce everyone he knows to dolls.

There's... ways, he could get there, but nothing that we've seen makes sense. There is a missing piece, something that must have happened from his POV that we didn't get to see because he doesn't stream.

And DreamXD could be it. This godly entity that claims that it is "a part of [Dream]" but that it isn't him entirely. That seems to share the lack of understanding of humanity that Dream has been displaying like when he asks if resurrecting Tommy was “cool.” But that still loves George. He still, despite apparently not having the same history as Dream, desperately wants to be George's friend.

If I had to pinpoint the moment Dream changed, it would be the day that he revealed that he switched sides, and was going to be fighting against Pogtopia. He was paid for this betrayal in the Revive Book.

I mark this as the turning point in my theory because it is the first time Dream mentions his affinity for chaos in the context of hurting others. However, we also know that this likely wasn't the day he actually made the decision to betray - as he revealed that there was a traitor among the Pogtopians, a fact that he likely would have learned before this.

Now, I mark George's lore stream as the introduction of DreamXD proper, and I want that on the record because it isn't technically his first appearance on the server.

Most people will remember him from Techno's stream, where he logged on to break the End Portal in a panic. I doubt the character was properly written into the lore at that time, but it fits neatly with the rest of what we know about him - a guardian of the server, and the keeper of it's rules. No contradictions.

What less people might know, is that DreamXD has made an even earlier appearance, and it's this one where things begin to get... interesting.

Around roughly October of 2020, Tubbo and Fundy did some improv'd streams centering around Demon Hunting, or rather, "Dreamon" Hunting, and it's during the first of these two streams that DreamXD makes an appearance.

The bare bones of it was - Tubbo is an experienced "Dreamon Hunter" and teaches Fundy his ways. They find Dream, and realize that he has a Dreamon inside of him, which is basically an evil version of him. They attempt to exorcise the Dreamon from Dream via various shenanigans, and eventually, they do a ceremony to free Dream. However, they apparently botch it, and unleash the Dreamon within. After more shenanigans, one attempt to fix it utilizing Fundy and Dream's wedding appears to work, but then DreamXD logs on, flys around at Tubbo and Fundy threateningly, and they end stream on the idea that there are probably more Dreamons to hunt.

Now. There's a lot to unpack here. I'm not gonna go into the nitty gritty details in this post, but I do recommend watching the Dreamon streams, as they have A LOT of details that, if this is getting incorporated into the main story line, could be important - especially the focus on duality, having TWO versions of Dream, which end up being potentially separated from each other.

(Also, they're just really funny streams. Tubbo and Fundy are at PEAK chaos and Dream plays along with their inane bit perfectly, it's just good content.)

At the time of the Dreamon streams airing, they were explicitly non-canon. IIRC Tubbo and Fundy referred to them as taking place In an “alternate universe,” which makes sense considering they would have been on opposite sides at the time (Manburg and Pogtopia.)

However.

And this is where I show you my wall of red string and newspaper clippings.

My singular piece of evidence for this comes from one line DreamXD drops. He simply says: “At least you're not hunting me.”

The Dreamon streams take place around early October. Dream reveals his betrayal of Pogtopia around November 6th-7th. The timeline of the Dreamon streams would line up perfectly with the idea that there was a catalyzing event that put Dream on the proverbial path to hell.

I do not believe that they intended the Dreamon arc to be anything other than a side story at the time, but considering that DreamXD himself was barely canon until now, I don't think it's out of the question that they took a look back at a fan-favorite minor arc, saw an opportunity to co-opt it into the current story line, and potentially fill in some holes regarding Dream's characterization all in one move.

On the question of whether this would be a GOOD storytelling move?

The Dreamon theories were prevalent during the exile arc, and I've got to say, I was never a huge fan. The detachment of Dream's actions from his intentions, and by extension his morality, never sat right with me. It feels cheap to make him a victim and say “a Dreamon did it!” in regards to all of the horrible things that he's done. It strips his agency and makes everything that happened less impactful in my opinion, and I stand by that reading.

BUT. With DreamXD introduced, I feel like it's necessary to look at this from all angles. And with the way DreamXD was characterized in George's stream, I don't think it necessarily ruins Dream's character to say that an external force was involved with his descent into evil.

Namely, the idea that whatever happened to Dream was not really a “possession” so much as a gradual loss of humanity, could be an interesting way to look at this. It implies that Dream was always capable of his actions, but grants us understanding as to why he would actually perform them, and why he might have become isolated enough from his friends that they would let this happen.

The Dream we know now could be an expression of his “worst self” brought to the surface by a Dreamon/DreamXD/other. It also begs the question of what would happen if that force were to leave him, and how it might cause yet another shift in character, especially if it were to be portrayed as less of a switch being flipped, and more of a withdrawal, with a gradual process of realizing how far gone he was.

To close this out, I've been stewing on the idea that Dream hasn't entirely been himself since the climax of the Exile Arc.

I think this theory holds water, but it's also not waterproof... there are plenty of holes, and a lot of that comes from the fact that Dream doesn't stream. We're left in the dark when deciphering his character, and what might appear to be the key, could just as easily be revealed as a red herring, or even nothing at all.

Regardless of the validity of the Dreamon theory, I think that DreamXD is one of the most interesting developments we've had on the SMP in a long time, if simply because his arrival coincides with fucking George Lore Real. God. I still don't know how to deal with that.

I always appreciate people adding to the discussion by the way! Feel free to reblog with additions if you like or leave them in the replies.

And if a single one of you comes to my blog on THIS. THE DAY OF MY DAUGHTER'S WEDDING. And calls ME a c!Dream Apologist to MY FACE..... I will be v sad.

[sunnypogue]

rafe plays college hockey (headcanon)

for all y’all who requested college hockey rafe. i’m just tryna manifest something over here.

warning: cursing, drinking. the sunnypogue special.

y’all met because of hockey.

okay actually y’all technically met because of your 8 am american lit seminar, but the only reason y’all spoke to each other was because of hockey

it was 7:57 am on a Thursday, you had a hangover from your weekly wine wednesday event (which always devolved into walking two streets over to your favorite bar, ordering a round of shots, and getting absolutely shitcanned), and your big ass mouth got you in trouble when you sat down.

“we have a hockey team?” you whisper-yelled, nudging your equally hungover friend as you pointed towards the sweatshirt in front of you

your friend laughed as the guy in said sweatshirt turned around (and his friend next to him, also wearing a UAH HOCKEY hoodie). “your reading comprehension is off the charts.”

you gaped, half embarrassed, half enraged - “okay, well don’t blame me for being surprised - it’s alabama for christ sake.”

“we’re like the token school in the south with a hockey team - how did you not know that?”

you, refusing to back down, argued with him until your professor came in - he got the last word, “alright, well we have a game tomorrow night. might be time for you to branch out and try new things outside of whiskey row.”

(you waited until he turned around before flushing and quietly asking your friend if you still smelled like booze - her answer was an unequivocal yes.)

anyways, that’s how you found yourself at a hockey game, alone, in huntsville, alabama, on a warm october night.

you were NOT dressed for the occasion (fully planning on leaving at whenever it was they took a break to meet your friends at whiskey row) rocking a little flowy halter and high waisted flares - instantly freezing your ass off as you sat on a bleacher towards the back.

he caught your eye immediately, one of the taller ones on the ice, “cameron 19” sitting on his broad shoulders, bucket loosely clasped as he skated around the ice

the game started quickly, and despite your shivering, you rather enjoyed yourself, picking up the cues on when to cheer (this crowd LOVED it when the players checked each other) & when to boo (literally whenever the refs breathed) - it was fast, and fun, and that asshole from your lit class? he was GOOD.

you didn’t even realize you had stayed the whole game until the buzzer sounded, signaling a UAH win. the boys on the ice were hanging around, chatting with local fans - you pocketed your phone (which was blowing up with texts from your friends, wondering where you were) and mustered up the courage to go say hi to the guy from your class

he skated up towards the glass as he saw you descend down the bleachers - grinning and gesturing to shift over to the empty bench, where you wouldn’t be obstructed.

you hugged yourself. “good game, I guess.”

his tongue slid over his teeth before he smiled one hand holding his helmet, the other pushing his sweaty hair back. “you guess?”

you huffed. “I mean, I don’t know, it was my first hockey game and it was really fast and really cold and I didn’t know what the fuck was going on but...yeah. it was good.” you paused, before looking up at him through your lashes. “you were good.”

you rolled your eyes as you watched his chest puff up - men - before you continued, “well, I gotta go...I’m freezing my tits off in here. but thanks for the kinda-invite, I guess.”

you started to turn, when his voice called out “hey! you know, we have a game next week. same time - consider this a formal invitation.”

and that’s how you found yourself at your second-ever hockey game, dressed slightly more appropriate (although the girls were still perky - had to show a lil something), cheering rafe on (you finally got his name after he asked you for your number after class) as he sped down the ice like a wrecking ball, slamming opposing players into the boards, cross-checking when the refs weren’t looking his way.

you were dying - how had no one told you how hot this sport was? you actively had to stop yourself from biting your lip every time he hit someone.

and then he scored - and you were a goner.

after the game, you went to meet him (per his instructions) outside the locker room, friends in tow

“must have been your lucky day, ladies, this guy never goes bar down!” a guy you knew as “top” yelled, arm hooked around rafe, who was a little red in the face.

“gotta show off for your fan club, huh cameron?” a voice crowed from just inside the locker room.

“shut up, kelce.” he yelled, pushing the door shut, before turning your way. 

you gulped, looking up as he towered over you in his skates. “hey, uh, thanks for coming girls.”

your friends giggled, offering their congrats, before gracefully bowing out - “come meet us at whiskey, babes!”

you blushed. “you had a great game. and, uh, a great goal. y’all call them goals, right?”

he laughed, tugging on his gear. “yeah, we call them that. thanks again for coming. who knew you had two hockey games in you?”

you smacked him on the arm, before giving him a coy smile. “hey, after that performance, I think I have a couple more in me.”

he couldn’t ask you fast enough to come grab a bite to eat with him. - “I’ll be out in like, 10...like 8 minutes.” he said, already heading towards the door to the locker room. “just wait - wait here.”

(he was showered and changed in 7 minutes - you were impressed.)

he took you to a local mexican place, known for their beeritas and carne asada tacos - y’all sat there for three hours, getting to know each other.

(you learned he was from the outer banks, fell in love with hockey because of his mom’s dad - a huge rangers fan - and ended up at UAH because it was the only school that recruited in north carolina. he had two sisters - one he tolerated, one he adored - and had a pipe dream of making it to the show one day)

he offered you his sweatshirt (the same one that you had made fun of, that one morning) and drove you home (his huge hand spanning the width of your upper thigh, a light, possessive grip the whole ride)

you kissed him twice (once in the car, soft and sweet, and once on your front porch, where he pinned you to the wall and slipped his tongue into your mouth, long and slow, biting your lip when you finally went to pull away) and spent the rest of the night curled up in your bed, still wrapped up in his warm hoodie, thinking about him.

you kept thinking about him the whole weekend, exchanging texts (some naughty, some nice) & FaceTiming once (you were hammered in the whiskey bathrooms, whining about missing him - he laughed, before reminding you to be a good girl)

it wasn’t until your tuesday 8 am when you saw him again, chest going all warm at the sight of him (rocking a patagonia instead of his usual hockey hoodie, which was laying at the foot of your bed)

he offered you a wink as he walked in, making his way over to his seat, before turning and sliding something on your desk

it was a magnet, with the UAH hockey 2020-21 schedule on it, his face one of the centerpieces. you giggled.

“hey, didn’t know if you had heard, but UAH has a hockey team - wanna come to a game?”

[yamithediaperdork]

My Little Brothers revenge Part 1

My little brothers revenge

The Hickman's were for the most part a average middle class family. both the parents worked and they had two children.

A 12 year old named Justin who had natural blond hair in a brush cut though he currently had it dyed indigo blue to go with his icy blue eyes. He had a jock's build (well as much as one could have at that age) and wasn't scared to use his physical power to his advantage.

his little brother Alex was short for his age and was always being mistaken for a 6 year old or worse when he was 9 and a half. He had red hair that went down to his shoulders and he kept in a pony tail and his checks were sprinkled with freckles.His slim body meant he was last to be picked for any sports though unlike his brother he was a strait A student and actually sometimes had to help his older brother with his homework, a fact that neither of them enjoyed.

It was their mother Anne (who Alex took after in appearance) who insisted that he help his big brother and it always ended with Justin pissed off and Alex hanging from a bed post by his sponge bob underoo's.

Their father who Justin took after in appearance refused to believe his little all star could be such a bully and so it was usually left to Alex to figure out a way to hold his own or go and whine to their mother, getting him labeled a mama's boy.

Still all brothers fight, it was just a fact of life and it might of all just gone this way with them being a semi happy family till the day the bully of a big brother took things a step too far and Alex decided that Justin had to be put in his place once and for all.

Alex had been hanging out with his friends Saturday afternoon, playing video games in the living room and having semi pissed off Justin who had wanted to watch a movie with HIS friends.

But mom and dad made sure that the TV time was shared and that both boys got a block of time and with their parents just down the block, Justin knew better then to try and strong arm them out.

Said friends were Kyle and Lyle, twins from down the block who had a semi creepy habit of finishing each others sentences and had light caramel skin and black hair in matching mushroom cuts. it was easy enough to tell them apart as by a semi quick of fate Lyle had brown eyes while Kyle had green.

Missing in action because he'd gone fishing with his dad was Max, anther shrimp who had dirty blond hair in a short Mohawk (his attempt to look cool which had backfired) and was so white he looked pale most of the time.

being shrimps themselves they had hit it off well with Alex and had formed a semi losers club of sorts, though Alex wasn't found of the name the twins who loved anything Steven king had insisted and he was out voted 2 to 1 since Max had joined the group after.

the boys were doing a retro gaming session of sorts, playing downloaded old games on a new machine and the game of choice for the moment was Ninja turtles two.

"Man, this game is so bad.." Lyle spoke up, playing as Leonardo.

"That it's almost good!" Kyle finished and was playing as Ralph.

"heh, that the fun part of these old games..you know they were giving it their all but just were limited." Alex said.

all three of them were seated on the hard wood floor of the living room though they had spread out a blanket since despite the chill of the October air his parents had refused to turn on the heat yet.

the twins nodded and Alex went to say something else when he hear the booming footsteps of his brother then a familiar stink hit his nose.

'No way, he wouldn't!' Alex thought.

"Hey Little Alexandra, Didn't mom tell you to toss out your pissy wet diapie when you got changed this morning? It's bad enough your a bed wetter, do you have to leave your soggy huggies around?" Justin asked.

and indeed Justin was holding out a totally soaked Spider-man print diaper in front of him, holding it with just a finger and his thumb and holding his nose.

Behind him were his friend Adam (Nicknamed grizz or grizzly because of his girth and wildly unkempt brown hair) and Rayne, actually a year younger then the other two but a head taller and so very, very much stupider. Rayne kept his head shaved because he thought it made him look more like the pro wrestlers that he so so loved.

"is that-" Lyle asked, pausing the game and turning to look.

"-A diaper?" Kyle finished, raising a eyebrow.

"JUSTIN! Mom told you not show people those! and I DID toss it out!" Alex huffed and whined, his cheeks going crimson then adding. "And DON'T call me Alexandra!"

"Whatever you say pamper pisser. Look, I went to go into our room to get something and was assaulted by the stink of your bed wetter pants." Justin said and then tossed the soggy thing at Alex, hitting him in the face and knocking him over.

the truth was Alex KNEW he'd tossed the diaper out this morning, he wasn't allowed to toss his very much needed bed time diapers out in the house trash because Dad and Justin would raise a fuss about it stinking up the house and he'd had to wait five minutes because the paper boy had stopped to talk to Mr. Johnson next door.

"JUSTIN GROSS!" Alex whined and sat up, whining and now smelling like stale pee.

"Whatever dork, go and toss your diaper out then take a shower..me and the guys are gonna start our movie early. Wonder twins, I'm sure you don't wanna stick around and hang out with a pamper packer like my little brother right?" Justin said.

"Hey! Leave him alone!" Lyle huffed and went to put a supportive hand on Alex's shoulder, but then pulled it back.

he was with his friend but that didn't mean he wanted to get any of the ick on him.

"What he said! Everyone matures differently! Heck, Lyle only just stopped needing a night light this year!" Kyle said, then pout his hands over his mouth as his brother glared at him.

"...Pfffftt BWHAHAHAHAHA!" all three big bullies broke into gut busting laughter.

"I'm not the one who has to suck on a pacifier during thunder storms!" Lyle shot back and blew a raspberry at his twin who huffed and glared.

the bullies naturally were loving it as the twins only dug themselves in deeper and Alex just face palmed.

"Guys, you're NOT helping yourselves." He pointed out.

"Oh my god, it's a group of BABIES! No wonder they all get along!" Grizz laughed, slapping his leg.

"I bet their next sleep over is gonna have them in a crib." Rayne added.

"Alright pamper packers, out of the living room, this movie is PG 13 and I don't want you all blorting your pants when something scary happens. Wonder twins, get your asses home. Alexandra, go take a shower AFTER you toss out your pissy diaper." Justin said, unable to believe just how well all of this had worked out.

"Whatever jerk.." Alex huffed and got up.

he saw his friends off though the twins were still semi huffing and fighting, shoving each other as the walked away and Alex got his wet diaper tossed out without anyone seeing him.

as he went upstairs and got his shower ready one thing was on his mind.

'This means war. I'm gonna make him feel EXACTLY how embarrassing being seen in diapers around your fiends is.' Alex vowed to himself.

Ok, he had no idea HOW he was going to do so, but while Justin may of won the first battle, it was going to be Alex who won the war and prove his Brain's out did his brother brawn.

The movie was going about as well as could be expected since they had to keep pausing it to have anther laugh at just how dorky Alex and his friends were.

Of course Rayne and Grizz had known for awhile (even if Justin technically wasn't suppose to of told them) about Alex being a diaper filler. (and he might of exaggerated what all Alex used his diapers for)

Maybe a SMALL part of Justin had felt sorry for Alex being humiliated like that in front of his friends, but Grizz had actually come up with the idea and he didn't wanna look like a pussy in front of the guys.

Besides with it coming out that the twins were just as big of dorks as his little brother any real guilt had vanished and he toyed with the idea of dragging out Alex's old play pen out of the basement for the next time he had all his dorky friends over.

'heh, get some pacifiers to shut'em up..put them all in Alex's diapers and take lots of pictures. boom, homework and chore bitches till I graduate.' Justin thought with a smirk and chuckled.

"what's so funny? Oooo and I know that look. Someone's had a evil thought." Grizz asked.

"Heh.. How would you guys feel about making some diapered nerds do our homework for us?" Justin asked.

"well, could be funny, but where are we gonna find some?" Rayne asked.

"..." Grizz roiled his eyes

"...Rayne buddy just smile and listen." Justin said semi sweat dropping.

"I can do that!" Rayne said with a big toothy grin.

Shaking his head Justin started to explain his evil plan, and his friends laughed and chuckled, and were MORE then on board.

Getting out of the shower and drying off, Alex got dressed in a pair of black jogging pants and a t-shirt then sat on his bed with his laptop.

He tried different google searches trying to figure out just how to get his brother back in diapers but for the most part it ended up giving him story link's that he bookmarked to look over later and see if there was anything usable.

He did find a forum called little brothers revenge and it had some really wicked ideas for the most part, but only two threads popped up when he searched for diaper.

the first one was clearly bull with it talking about how this kid had pooped in a diaper and hide it in his big brothers room and gotten the big brother in trouble (and even if it wasn't, Alex would hold off crapping himself as a weapon of last resort.)

the other thread was old, and had been posted just before Christmas of last year and had a little brother talk about how he had set his brother up to look like he wanted diapers for Christmas and his dad had fallen for it, and so had the rest of the family.

Of course there was a lot of disbelief in the read over that and one guy commented 'pics or your full of shit!'

As Alex scrolled down, he pretty much thought the same but then his jaw dropped as there was a picture of a sleeping boy, in a t-shirt and thick diapers and sucking on a paci and a younger boy was in frame too, it was a semi selfie and was smirking and giving the peace sign. the caption under the picture read 'Believe me now bitches?'

"Hoooly shitttttt." Alex said, this guy was his hero!

he didn't seem to be activate on the forum anymore though, there were a bout a dozen replies and a few more comments from the guy but then he vanished.

his user profile did have a e-mail attached to it and so Alex snagged it and went to write the guy a e-mail.

From: Alexander_the_awesome@gmail.com

To: Ben_better@Hotmail.com

Subject: DUDE YOUR MY HERO!

Hey just wanted to say, I saw your post on Little brothers revenge and wanted to say how awesome that was and also I was wondering if you had any advice or tips on getting a big brother in padding. mine's being a total butt hole lately and just ugggghhh @_@

I had one idea about maybe like peeing on his bed after he gets up to frame him for bed wetting, what do you think? hope to hear from you soon!

E-mail written Alex clicked send and then went to kill some time play a few games online, never once suspecting that while he was trying to plot his big brother diaper doom, he was likewise plotting out Alex's downstairs.

It was a hour latter when Alex heard the ding that told him he'd gotten a reply and he switched tabs to go and take a look.

From: Ben_better@hotmail.com

To: Alexander_the_awesome@gmail.com

Subject: Re:DUDE YOUR MY HERO

Heh, thanks for the high praise though I gotta warn you, first of all this is something you've gotta be reallllly careful with. Diaper humiliation is a double edged sword, trust me. Had a friend named Ken who tried this and now he's in diapers.

Anyways just taking a leak on your big bro's bed is dumb, you'll get busted for sure! what I'd recommend is making use of laxatives and pee pills in increasing doses till he's wetting his pants all the time and blorting them too. It's a longer game but better results.

what made you wanna get his butt back in diapers anyways, and FYI i expect 'baby pictures' when your plan works.

Alex thought about that for a second and couldn't help but wonder if maybe this 'ken' was really Ben, but pushed that thought out of his head as he started to write his reply.

From: Alexander_the_awesome@gmail.com

To: Ben_better@Hotmail.com

Subject: Re:Re:DUDE YOUR MY HERO!

Oh well, I'm a bed wetter and the butt hole went and fished one of my soggy diapers out of the trash and threw it at me while I was hanging out with my friends, trying to say i never tossed it out. so trust me, he totes has this coming.

I really got nothing to lose if I get busted since I'm in huggies every night so I'll try out your plan. it works out because he likes to make me get him drinks and snacks.

as for the picture of him once he's back in huggies heh, sure. thanks for the advice and I'll let you know when the plan starts to work.

E-mail sent Alex closed his e-mail and his game tab then went searching online for the best med's to get to reduce his brother to a helpless pants wetting stinker, only to pause after a few minutes recalling that Max had gotten in trouble awhile back for causing a series of messy accidents around school.

'nggggh..no way he'll be back yet though. I'll go and talk to him tomorrow.' Alex thought and set his laptop aside and laid back on his bed, thinking about just how much fun he was gonna have and ended up conking out.

which was unfortunate as he hadn't put on one of his spider-man diapers and with in ten minutes a wet patch was starting to grow on the front of his jogging pants, which while the dark color would hide it, the tan covered blanket he was laying on wouldn't.

"So when do you think we can do this?" Grizz asked.

the movie was basically forgotten but had been kept on to cover up their voices on the off chance Alex came downstairs (Small chance of that) or if their parents came back early.

"Welll that's the tricky part. I have to have all four of the dweebs here AND have my parents gone. they're going on a weekend trip in about 2 weeks though so I'll try and convince the dweeb to get the loser's club all over here." Justin said.

Rayne, who had just shut his mouth like he'd been told to raised his hand like he was in class.

"heh, Yes Rayne?" Justin asked.

"Aren't they into that dice game, Dragons and prison or whatever?" he asked.

"..Dungeons and dragons, yeah." Justin chuckled.

"Same difference. anyways, say you've been reading up on it and wanna try your hand at hosting a game, but just want them over before you embarrasses yourself in front of us.Most nerds I know love to play and will jump at the chance." Rayne said and smiled.

"Sweet fucking cthulhu. Rayne had a good idea." Grizz chuckled and to patted the bigger boys head. "good boy!"

Rayne beamed and was clearly proud of himself and Justin chuckled.

"Ok, I'll just have to learn enough about this nerd stuff to fake it and get them over. you guys will have to be ready to help though, I don't wanna risk one of the losers getting away." Justin said nodding.

"Hey, as long as I don't have to change any shitty asses I'm in." Grizz said.

"Wait, your gonna make them USE the diapers?" Rayne said and then laughed lots. "Gross!"

"Heh, well the best blackmail is a sobbing little brat in a stinky diaper blackmail. no way the dweeb will risk him in all his smelly glory ending up ALL over town."

"Man, I am glad your not MY big brother." Rayne said, never mind the fact Justin was pretty sure if he tried anything on the semi giant he'd be the one in huggies.

"Eh, No worries. you'd be a awesome little bro. Now all we need to do is go and pick the perfect pampers for them."

"Oh, I got it! There's this discount store my mom drags me to because they have her cream of wheat and other junk she likes cheap, but they got in a shipment of over night diapers for big kids, boys and girls. the boys has rockets and stars on them and are blue." Grizz said, setting up the best part.

"Oh, this is gonna be good." Justin smirked.

"the girls has unicorns and rainbows and are pink!" Grizz finished and cackled.

Plans set for his brother's diapered humiliation, the boys finally turned they're attention back to the movie.

After the movie it was getting late and so Justin sent the guys home as technically speaking they weren't suppose to be over, only him or Alex could have friends over for the most part if mom and dad weren't home. (Weekend vacations were the exception, though their folks made it clear the house had been be clean when they got back)

Whoever had their friends over was also suppose to clean up after them and after a chip fight in the living room Justin smirked, knowing he could get Alex to clean the mess up, since it would be Alex and his friend getting blamed for the mess.

Of course Justin usually made Alex clean up after him and his friends anyways but that always took a little bit more effort in the form of using the dorks undies to bounce him like a yo yo if he didn't listen.

He toyed with leaving Alex sulking in their room where he been since the shower and just letting the dweeb get in trouble but since it was Justin's turn to start dinner so it'd be ready and he didn't feel like cooking, he had to get Alex downstairs anyways to be a good little chore bitch.

"This will be SO much easier once I have the blackmail on him." Justin sighed to himself as he made his way up the stairs to the boys shared bedroom.

Opening the door he went to go and say something but was hit by the stench of piss and a quick look confirmed the little bed soaker had gone night night without a pamper on.

"Hey dork face! wake up! you pissed the bed!" Justin said in a loud voice.

"Ngggh a gigi boo..Five more minutes mommy.." the still mostly asleep dweeb said, trying to shoo Justin away.

"heh, baby talk? really? Wow, just when I think you can't lower the bar any more Little bro.. ALEXANDRA! WAKE UP!" Justin said then cupped a hand to his mouth and yelled.

Alex jumped sort in bed then sat up, eyes wide and panting, looking around.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?" He growled once he locked eyes on Justin."ARE YOU TRYING TO GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK?!"

"No, but you had a wetting attack dork." Justin said and pointed.

Alex went to say something then looked down and went from pissed off to blushing and tried to cover himself up.

"Ah crap crap crap crap!" Alex whined and got up off the bed.

this was NOT good. not good at ALL! Dad was already riding him on the bed wetting and if he found out Alex had soaked the bed from a little nap he would NOT hear the end of it, or worse, dad would make him wear ALL day tomorrow!

"Ah..ah..Justin big brother who I love ever so much.." Alex started, swallowing and trying to put on his best 'I'm so cute help me' faces.

"Save it dweeb. I'll keep my mouth shut about your little..well BIG accident as long as you go and be a good little chore bitch and get the living room cleaned up and start supper." Justin said and leaned on the door frame, a evil smirk on his face.

Considering his options Alex just hung is head and then did a small nod.

"Butttt to show you I'm not totally heartless..I got some clothes that need to be washed so you can do them and wash your sheet at the same time as a cover up. I know, my kindness knows no bounds. just be thankful mom got you that rubber sheet or you'd be going to sleep in a soggy bed tonight." Justin said and laughed.

'gee he's all heart. letting me do his landry and clean up AND cook.. ' Alex thought but it WAS better then trying to explain the sheet alone.

"Yeah ok.." He said finally and went to strip stripping the bed.

"ah ah ah, what do you say to your kind and wonderful brother for helping you out?" Justin said, milking this for all it was worth.

'He has to be..ok no, I know him better then that.. just keep digging your grave jerk.' Alex thought then took a deep calming breath.

"Thank you for letting me do your landry big brother." he said, clenching a fist.

"Anytime dork. not get to it, you don't have a whole lotta time. my clothes are in the hamper in the bathroom." Justin said and started to walk away, then poked his head back in. "Oh and dweeb? next time don't forget to put on your diapies when your going for your afternoon nap."

and with that he walked off laughing.

"...I'm SO going to enjoy getting him in diapers." Alex huffed.

Changing into a pair of clean spider-man shorts and a captain America t-shirt, Alex got the load of landry started and then went to work cleaning up the living room while keeping a eye on the time.

the chips were everywhere and every time he though he was done he'd spot some more and wondered how much the three bullies had actually managed to get in their stupid fat mouths.

Between the cleaning and getting landry switched over he didn't have time to make anything too special so he went with the old stand by of making macaroni and cheese with hot dogs as it was quick and simple and his parents never really expected Justin to go all out when he was cooking anyways.

Dinner was ready and the landry was finished by the time their parents got home, Alex just had to go and get it out of the dryer but he figured he'd have time to do it stealthy after eating.

"So, what did you boys do for fun today?" Dad asked as they were sitting at the dinner table, a small grimace on his face at the prospect of eating the old stand by.

"Oh well-" Alex started by Justin cut him off.

"It was pretty much same old same old for me, went out and played some football with the guys and had fun. Came back though and I think The twins brought over some super sugar loaded snacks or something because Alex and them where have a chip fight and trashed the living room. it was cute though." Justin said and smirked, winking at Alex who's jaw hung open.

"Alex, you didn't!" Mom signed and shook her head. "After supper you'll be cleaning up the living room!"

"Oh don't worry about it mom, I know little guys like him just need to get it out of their systems. after the twins went home he was super pooped though, think it was a sugar crash so let him go and take a nap and I cleaned up the living room." Justin lied.

"Well that was was nice of you Justin, but in the future leave the cleaning for Alex to do." Dad said and shook his head at Alex. "Alex, we've talked about this."

Alex for his part was stuttering now, trying to think of a way to prove his innocence without getting scolded but first shots had been fired by Justin and there was nothing he could do now.

"Alex did you say thank you to Justin for cleaning up after you?" Mom asked and her tone made it clear if he hadn't she expected him to now, but again Justin spoke up.

"Oh, he's already thanked me for something else. see somebody was just SO sleepy when he went for his nap that he forgot to get his bed wetter pants on and well, Let's just say it's a good thing I had to do a load of landry anyways." Justin said as Alex,'s jaw dropped.

"Y-You said..you.." Alex stammered.

"Alex! what have I told you about not going to sleep without one of your diapers on?" Dad asked in a sharp tone.

"N-Not to do it again or..or.." Alex whined, looking down and feeling ready to cry.

this wasn't fair! he'd done everything Justin had asked him too and he was still gonna get punished!

"Or you'll be spending the next day in your diapers all day. Now I was hoping NOT to have to use that punishment but clearly you've left me no choice. you can still use the potty of course, in fact I encourage it, but you WILL be in diapers all day tomorrow." Dad said.

His tone left no room for argument and feeling hot tears start to slid down his cheeks Alex looked down at his bowl of food and sniffled.

"Yes sir."

After supper Justin offered to do the dishes if Alex would go and get the landry out of the dryer, but mom said since Justin had already cleaned up after Alex, made supper and did the landry for the most part he could go and relax and watch TV with their dad while Alex got the landry out and folded it.

Justin smiled and kissed his mom's cheek and asked if she was sure, but she insisted and so he went and plopped down on the couch, ready to watch some hockey with his dad and giving Alex a shit eating grin as the huffy and tear stained cheek dork started to stomp his way up the steps till dad called for him to knock it off unless he wanted to go to bed early.

'Oh my god. this worked out even better then I could of hoped! Mom and Dad are just too easy!' Justin thought, having to bite his tongue every so often to keep from laughing.

the dweeb had done all the work and yet here he was sipping on pop and munching on chips with their dad while the dork was off folding his undies and was gonna be a crinkle butt the next day.

'It'll be a nice little preview of whats to come.' Justin thought and let out a little chuckle despite himself.

"what's so funny?" Dad asked.

"Oh, just thinking of how silly Alex and his friends looked this after noon. they were like sugar crazed toddlers." Justin lied.

"heh, Next time you should try and get a video of it, I bet it looked cute." Dad chuckled.

Upstairs Alex was mentally cursing up a storm, pissed off and fuming like crazy as he folded pair after pair of his brothers skid marked undies.

'Son of a bitch! son of a bisket eating bitch! I'm not just gonna get him in diapers, I'm gonna make him the biggest dumbest big baby loser of all time! I'm gonna have him in the halls of his school in nothing but huggies and a bib and bonnet!'

of course a small part of Alex knew that going that far likely wasn't gonna be possible, it was a warm thought that helped him keep from just having a melt down fit that would of gotten his bun's blistered and him put to bed before it was even 8 pm.

He should of know better then to think that Justin was gonna hold up his end of the deal, or he should of spoken up about getting the landry done but nope. He'd trusted his big brother and was paying the price for it now in spades.

'And now I have to wear a diaper all day tomorrow..Maybe I'll wait till Monday to go and talk with Max.' Alex thought.

it would mean putting his plans on hold for a bit but he really didn't wanna waddle the block and a half over to Max's with pampers on under his pants.

Finishing up the folding and putting the clothes away Alex checked to make sure that his rubber sheet was dry and tugged in his blanket he'd hung out the window to dry (as it would of taken up too much room in the machines to do Justin's landry too) and with it dry he started to make his bed.

'God, what did I ever do to deserve a asshole like him for a big brother.' Alex whined mentally and finished making his bed, looking it over and then jumping and letting out a girlish shriek as a hand came on his shoulder.

"heh, Relax sweetie, it's mommy." Came his mother voice, sounding a little amused.

"That's ok, I didn't need that heart." Alex huffed, blushing and turning around to face his smirking mother. "what's up mom?"

"Well I wanted to come up and check on how the folding was going and to help you get ready for bed." She said with a smile.

"...Mom it's not even 8 yet, and it's a Saturday night.." Alex said, not liking where this was going.

"Oh You can stay up and everything till 11 like normal, but I just wanna make sure you don't conk out with your 'special armor' on." she said, using finger quotes.

"Mom I think I'm quite capable of putting my own diaper on." Alex huffed, feeling a hot blush cover his face.

"And yet you soaked your bed earlier." She cheerfully pointed out.

"T-That was different, I was just all tired and didn't realize I'd be conking out!" Alex whined, sounding more like a fussy toddler the the big kid he was trying to be.

"I know sweetie, but it kinda goes with my point. what if you just conk out again tonight? do you really wanna have to go to school on Monday in a diaper?" She asked, and the ruffled his hair.

The mental image of it stopped Alex's whining in it's tracks, picturing himself in a bib and spider-man diaper and sucking on a paci in the halls.

"No way! I'd Dieeeee!" Alex whined and shook his head no A LOT.

"well then let mommy help you out. And also if your gonna keep being so tired maybe we'll lower your bedtime for awhile." She added, then smirked and winced at the glare Alex gave her. "Now now, no using your super pouty powers on family."

"Moooom!" Alex huffed but resigned himself to his fate, when she got like this there was no getting her to back down.

He reached under his bed and pulled out his pack of spider-man diapers and noted that he was running low, and started to tug down his shorts when mom spoke up.

"Oh Alex, before we get your in your bed time diaper, do you have to use the potty?"

"mom, I know I wet the bed but I THINK I would know if had to take a leak or a dump you kn-" Alex started and then there was a loud 10 second poot out of his bottom and his tummy was gurgling.

"You were saying?" Mom asked, holding her nose but smirking."

"I-I'll be back.." Alex said in a small voice, blushing SO bad as he went past her he was shocked his hair hadn't caught on fire.

As she watched him go and had to fight the urge laugh, the little guy's undies had a fresh skid mark appearing on the back.

'Maybe I should look into getting him some of those washable training pants.' She mused.

One trip to the potty later and with Alex realizing what's he'd almost done in his undies, and the fight was all out of the little guy at least for the moment.

Zero fight was put up as he let his mom take his shorts and briefs and then proceed to diaper him, numbly just going along with her requests of butt up and the like.

"Are you sure your feeling alright? Maybe I should of checked your temperature before getting the diaper on." Mom asked, putting a hand to Alex's forehead.

"N-No I'm fine..just I dunno, Tired." Alex said, wincing.

he had to be the only boy his age to still get his temperature checked via the back door and it's wasn't that fun of a experience.

"Hmmm I think somebody better lay off of the sweets for awhile if it leaves you JUST drained after." Mom said and then started to tug Alex's blanket up on him.

"M-Mom what are you doing?" Alex whined, looking at the clock, it was 7:51 PM!

"I think you've had a big day, and your just not feeling that good. it would explain all the huffing and whining too. if you be a good boy and go night night for me now I'll see what I can do to get your father to back off with the all day diaper punishment tomorrow. I have to take you shopping for more diapers anyways with you almost being out and you get embarrassed enough as is when your in your undies."

Alex whined and whimpered a little but after a few seconds just signed and nodded.

"Good boy." She said and leaned down, kissing his forehead and then went and got one of his stuffie style Avengers from their display shelf and handed him Thor.

Lacking the energy to fight back Alex just took the offered stuffie and snuggled into it as his mom turned off the lights in the room and paused at the doorway.

"Night night little guy. Mommy will leave the door open a crack for you so you don't get scared. Love you and see you in the morning." She coo'ed/

"..Love you too mommy." Alex said, blushing.

He hadn't been scared of the door in like ages but somehow mom had the impression he still was and the only reason he wouldn't accept a night light was Justin would complain.

She left the little guy to go to sleep and Alex listened to her footsteps.

'This is bull shit. I'm not some little baby! I bet I don't even fall asleep till 11 anyways.' He huffed, crinkling and squirming in his bed.

Five minutes later he was snoring softly around his thumb as he sucked it in his sleep.

"So did Alex give you much of a fight?" Justin asked as Mom came downstairs.

"Just a token one, he's already gone to bed. I don't think he's feeling well and I think that should excuse him for needing his punishment tomorrow." Anne said, though the last part was more directed at her husband.

"Look, rules are rules, and if we start g-" Jackson started but was cut off.

"Excuse me, but who's idea was the rule that a D or worse meant no TV or computer time, and yet Justin who got a D on his last English test is watching the game with you?" She asked sweetly.

Justin gulped now and turned to his dad.

"Uh..you know..I think mom's right, we can't punish Alex if he had his accident because he's sick!" Justin chimed in.

"Heh, Nice try buddy but your mother is right in a way. I can't really punish your brother and not punish you. "Jackson said

"Soooo Alex isn't wearing a diaper tomorrow?" Justin asked hopefully.

"try again buddy, but do it in anther room so I can finish watching the game." Jackson chuckled and ruffled his sons hair as the 12 year old pouted.

"Finnne, I'll just go to my room an-." he started to huff and went to get up.

"ahhh nope. First of all I know you well enough you'll just go on your laptop." Anne said. "and second of all your brother is sleeping. Don't worry though, we have LOTS of board games you can play with me."

"Geee, spending Saturday night playing board games with my mom. aren't I lucky." Justin groaned

One mind numbing night of games later and Justin went to bed, taking note of the fact that Alex had semi drenched his pillow in drool and was still sucking his thumb.

'Heh, He's kinda cute...Still gonna make him a big dumb diaper nerd chore boy..but he's cute.' Justin thought before going and climbing into his bed.

as he went to go to sleep he had the most wonderful evil idea that could at the same time be played off as just being a nice big brother and help get 'revenge' on Alex for making him miss the end of the game.

'Hehehehe damn I'm so smart!' Justin chuckled and dropped off to sleep.

[let-it-raines]

I Hope We Never See October (2/?)

When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.

Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.

Rating: Mature

a/n: Thank you guys for reading the first part of this! I cannot say enough how much I appreciate all of you and how glad I am little things like this bring you guys joy! Thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke for reading over these words. ❤️

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: One | Two 

-/-

“Emma, the couple at table two wants to talk to you, and the woman at table seven has a complaint about the quiche. Something about there being eggs in them.”

Emma groans and closes her laptop to look at Ashley, one of the new waitresses she hired this summer. She’s good, courteous, and she’s always here on time. Emma is going to hate to lose her for a few weeks when she has her baby, but come hell or high water, the girl is getting maternity leave even if Emma can’t manage more than three weeks without the owner getting involved and likely trying to fire all of them. She deserves months more than that, but Emma can’t change the system.

It’s a shit system, especially for moms.

“They don’t want eggs…in their quiche? Are you serious?”

“She’s vegan and claims she’s been misled.”

Emma rolls her eyes and stands from her chair. She pulls her jean shorts down, the frayed edges covering just a little more thigh, and unties the bottom of her button-down. She probably needs to start dressing up more for this job, but she can’t be bothered. She managed to wear her Blue Dog Tavern polo last week, so that seems like enough effort. “We have symbols on the menu to indicate dietary restrictions, but this isn’t really a restaurant for dietary restrictions beyond one or two items. I’ll deal with it. Thanks, Ashley.”

It’s Sunday morning, which is their second busiest time after Friday and Saturday nights, and the Blue Dog is packed. It’s all hands on deck this morning, but Emma was hoping to get some scheduling and produce ordering done in her office during it. But this is a restaurant, so of course there’s never any time for a breather when she needs it the most. She’ll finish all that later, she guesses, because she has a feeling neither of these conversations are going to be a short one.

And she’s right about that. The woman hating on the quiche pitches a fit and demands her money back before threatening to sue the place and, quite frankly, threatening to cut off Emma’s legs, and Emma has to resolve that without losing her cool when all she wants to do is punch jerks like that straight across the jaw. Then the couple at table two asks her to run through every item on the menu and whether or not everything is organically sourced.

They serve fried mac and cheese balls at ten in the morning and have kitschy, slightly tacky artwork nailed onto the darkly stained wood. If you eat outside on the patio, you get a nice view of people taking off a little more than they should while sunbathing on the surrounding beaches and docked boats. There’s also the occasional ferry that drives by and blows a loud horn that tourists seem to get a kick out of. Do they really think everything is organically sourced?

God, sometimes she really hates tourists.

This is a nice place, though. It’s not somewhere you go for fine dining, but their brunch is divine, it’s got a good atmosphere, and the new bartenders she’s hired this summer make better drinks than you can get at any reasonably priced bar in a ten-mile radius. She likes this little part of the island, and even though she hates tourists, they do fund her entire life. So maybe she hates them a little less than usual when the paychecks roll in.

Today is not a day where the paycheck is rolling in.

Emma notices some of the tables are a little slow, so she picks up the slack, getting drinks and refills and checking on meals. It keeps her on her feet for most of the morning and through the lunch rush, but when it’s over, she collapses on a stool at the end of the bar.

“Chip, can you get me a coffee?” she asks without looking up. “I don’t care what milk or creamer you put in it as long as you don’t bring it to me black. Though, I think I need the caffeine so badly that I’d drink it. I don’t know why I agreed to work the late dinner shift at The Oaks last night. I’m exhausted.”

When she doesn’t get a response, she looks up for Chip. He’s nowhere to be seen, and when she checks her phone schedule, she realizes it’s his break time. Of course it is.

“Lass, I don’t believe the barkeep is here anymore.”

“Yeah, it’s his break, but I can help you. What’s your poison?”

“The coffee you’re having.”

Emma nods and turns to look at the man talking to her, and if she wasn’t so tired, she would have recognized the voice a hell of a lot faster than she did. A lot of different accents pass through this place, but he’s the first British one in awhile. Also the first one to show up in her backyard. Or the Fishers’ backyard, technically, but she’s been renting it for long enough for it to feel like her own even if she’s changed very little of the furniture and decorations outside her bedroom.

Killian. She thinks that was his name. Honestly, she’s surprised she remembers anything because she was in such a rush to get to work that she didn’t have time to deal with all the people at her house. But he was unexpected and attractive – she’s not blind to attractive men no matter what Ruby and Mary Margaret think – and he threw her off for a minute. He looked familiar, but she has no idea why. There’s no way she would have met him before.

But she also doesn’t care. She’s got a gut feeling that she needs to watch out for him, that there’s something that’s not right, and him being at her job is proving that to her. What are the odds that he’d wander in a few days after meeting her when she’s pretty sure he’s never been here before?

Then again, maybe that’s why he’s familiar. It’s June. A lot of people come through here, and she’s not going to remember all their faces. Sometimes she does, though, in the back of her mind where vague, slightly blurry memories reside.

“Sure thing,” Emma sighs, standing from the stool. “Do you have a server?”

“Aye. Heather, I believe, but…”

“But she’s on her phone.” Emma shakes her head. “My boss’s niece. Not much I can do about it, but I’ll get you your coffee, a water, and take your order right away.”

He nods, going back to his own phone, and Emma takes that as her cue to get behind the bar and start making some coffee. She doesn’t usually work this machine, so it takes her a minute to get it right all while she feels Killian staring at her.

“Do you need any suggestions on the menu?” Emma asks as the coffee percolates.

“How are the salads?”

“I prefer things with more calories, but they’re good. Our vegetables are fresh, and I personally enjoy the strawberry poppyseed with chicken, but I know not everyone loves fruit in salads.” He hums behind her as his mug fills, and she grabs some milk from the fridge under the sink, turning to show him. “Milk okay?”

“It’s perfect, Swan.” She raises her brows, which he mirrors, until he cocks his head forward and his lips form an obnoxious little smirk. “On the nametag, love.”

“Now, what did I say about being your love?”

“That you’re not.”

“Exactly.” She finishes making his coffee and hands it over. He’s a customer, she reminds herself. She’s got to try to be a little bit nicer than she wants to be. “So, the salad? If you’re looking more toward the healthy options with protein, the grilled chicken breast on its own is fantastic. You get two sides, which you can find at the bottom of the menu.”

He nods and looks at the menu for half a second before looking up. “The salad would be great. Thank you.”

He picks up his mug, pointing it toward her, and Emma takes it as a dismissal so she can put his order in, and hopefully she can get Heather to do her damn job and serve him for the rest of the meal. She doesn’t like that he knows where she lives and works, and even though she doesn’t think Ariel and Eric spend time with shady people, something about him gives her weird vibes.

His face just looks so damn familiar, and usually she’s really good remembering faces. Huh.

And Emma is usually right about these things. He’s likely nothing more than a rich man looking for a break from life by renting out a large house on the island. He’ll spend a week or two, maybe a month depending on his work situation, here, sleep with as many women as he can, and then he’ll go, never thinking of Martha’s Vineyard again. And she’s pretty sure Ariel does something having to do with high-powered people over in London, so he fits the profile. God, she must have seen him before with Ariel or something. That has to be it.

But for now, he’s a customer, and since Heather seems to be completely checked out, Emma guesses she’s going to have to deal with him. After this morning, he won’t be the worst person she has to deal with all day, and since she’s working at The Oaks tonight, she imagines being treated like shit then will outshine all of this.

Why the hell did she decide to pick up so many shifts at The Oaks? It’s a stuffy country club where tips reflecting the price of the meal aren’t even guaranteed, but it’s extra money with a flexible schedule. She’s doing okay on the money front right now, though, and if she were sane, she’d take some time off and relax, maybe enjoy the beach or any of the hundreds of good restaurants around here.

She is obviously not sane.

-/-

“Oh my God,” Emma grumbles as she strips out of her jean shorts, kicking them to the ground before unbuttoning her shirt. “I’m so tired of people.”

“I’m people,” Ruby says. “Nice bra, by the way. The girls look great.”

Emma rolls her eyes, but she does glance down at her boobs and hike them up a bit. They do look great today. “Shut up.” Emma picks up the black dress she has to wear at the country club and slips it over her shoulders. “You know I’m not tired of you.”

“That’s because you’ve barely seen me.”

“Busy. I’m busy. I work way too much. Speaking of that, why the hell aren’t you at work?”

Ruby stands from her couch and grabs her name tag from the end table. “I’m in between shifts. Granny’s in charge downstairs. I have a five-second commute to work, unlike you. Why are you changing here again?”

“Don’t want to run into any of the people at my house.” Emma smooths her dress and turns to Ruby’s mirror to reapply lipstick and put on some mascara. She’s got to wash her hair tomorrow. It’s hanging by on a thread today, if that thread is a little greasy and has a hell of a lot of dry shampoo in it. “But don’t worry, tomorrow, I will be out of your hair as they will soon be out of mine.”

“You know I’m always fine with you being in my business. Mary Margaret and David are coming here for dinner tonight. Any chance you can slip away?”

Emma finishes another coat of mascara. “Can’t. Working until past closing and then heading straight home to sleep in my house of strangers.”

Ruby laughs, carefree as always, and for a moment, the jealousy stings. Ruby has plenty of her own shit going on, but she always handles it with such ease. She’s the most carefree person Emma has ever met, and Emma can’t imagine living like that without way too much alcohol in her system.

“I told you that you could stay with me this week. Have I ever said it’s batshit crazy that they come to visit and are okay with you still staying there? Because that is batshit crazy.”

Emma shrugs and pulls back to take in her appearance. This is as good as it’s going to get. She doesn’t think she’ll be using her looks to get her any tips tonight, which is a crying shame since that’s half the reason she took this job in the first place. She knows exactly how to charm some of the older men into giving her more money by flirting a little, and she’s not ashamed that she has to give away her dignity to do it. She had to hire a dinner-shift manager at the Blue Dog because she was doing the work of two people with the pay of one. Now she’s doing the work of five people with the pay and of one and half people, so obviously she’s winning at life.

“I’m never there, and they seem like good people. I think they’re just glad I actually maintain the place and am slowly but surely getting through some of the renovations.” Emma looks at her hair again and ties it up in a ponytail with the elastic from her wrist. “Any way you can make me a grilled cheese to go?”

“Only if you agree to go to a bar with all of us sometime in the next month.”

“Yeah, fine. Whatever you want.”

God, she hopes Ruby doesn’t remember this conversation. The last thing she wants to do right now is go out with her friends and then end up sitting alone as they all make out with their partners and leave without telling Emma goodbye.

Actually, the last thing she wants to do is go to work again today, but here she goes.

-/-

Emma quietly turns the key in her front door. She saw that the kitchen light was still on from the street, and while the Fishers likely just forgot to turn it off, she doesn’t want to run the risk of seeing them tonight. It’s their last night here, so she only has to make it through one or two more awkward conversations before she has the house to herself. It’ll be just her and the creaky floors. She can collapse on the couch in her dress instead of having to walk all the way up the stairs and make it to her bedroom like a responsible adult.

In another world, Emma would like to own a house like this. It’s charming. That’s the best way to describe it. It’s two floors, three bedrooms, has bay windows and built-in bookshelves, and the cabinets in the kitchen are a light green. She likes that it’s not cookie cutter white all the way around like some of the nicer houses around here. It has character, and though there are a few things she’d change beyond the needed repairs she does for the Fishers, it’s got good bones. Plus, the location is fantastic, and the backyard is spacious. It allows Emma to spend time in the sun without being stuck on a crowded beach or near a busy dock.

But this is not another world, and Emma could never afford a house this close to the coastline. She’s got no idea why she still lives here. Well, that’s not true, she knows exactly why she still lives here, and it’d be possible for her to pick up and move inland toward Boston. She just…she can’t. She’s been here for ten years after leaving her last foster home in Brockton, and it’s been a comfortable reprieve. She’s got her friends and her job(s), and even though she’s got years of hospitality experience, there’s no guarantee someone like her with a GED can get a job this well-paying and accommodating somewhere else. Plus, her housing is almost free, and she really can’t pass that up.

It all comes back to the house, which she’s dreading going into now no matter how much she wants to collapse onto her bed.

(Or the couch. She really misses the couch. It’s the best for napping.)

Emma steps inside, avoiding the places that make the floor groan, but it’s impossible to dodge them all. She tenses, then hurries across the living room toward the stairs, only turning to the opening to the kitchen at the last minute.

“Holy fuck,” Emma gasps, dropping her purse. It hits the ground in a gentle thud, her keys spilling out and clacking along the floor.

“Didn’t mean to scare you there, Swan.”

Emma’s breath hitches as she realizes who it is sitting at her kitchen table.

Killian…whatever his last name is. She’s got no clue and doesn’t care to ask. What she does want to know is why he’s sitting here alone at two in the morning like a fucking serial killer.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

He takes a sip of his drink, coffee she thinks from the smell, and leans back in the chair, the front legs tipping up with him. “Getting sober so I can drive home. Had two drinks with dinner, and it appears I’ve become a bit of a lightweight.”

“Don’t drink much then? I thought all you Brits liked going to the pub.”

He laughs, smile bright against the black of his stubble despite her poor attempt at his accent. “We do, but not so much me anymore. Trying to cut back.”

“Yeah, I get that.” She leans down to pick up her bag, grabbing her keys and tossing them back in. “I also get that we have Uber here. You might want to try that the next time you have a little too much to drink. You look like a murderer sitting in my kitchen like this.”

“It was two glasses of rum, nothing excessive. Wishing Ariel and Eric well before they leave in the morning.” He leans forward, the chair landing on all four legs, and downs the rest of his mug. “I don’t make a habit of drinking too much.”

“I don’t care what you do in your personal time. Just don’t make a mess in my house…or your friends’ house, I guess. And sleep on the couch if you want. There are blankets in the basket.”

She doesn’t know why she’s offering him the couch. She should be making him leave. Her heart is still leaping out of her chest from him scaring her, and even though this has been her home for years, she technically can’t ask him to leave. In reality, Ariel has probably offered him the couch already.

What a long day.

She wants it to be over.

“That’s surprisingly kind of you.”

Emma’s step falters, and while she was turning away from the man, she decides to turn back and narrow her eyes. What the hell is that supposed to mean? “I guess I’m full of surprises for men who don’t know me.”

“Just who are you then, Swan?” he asks, standing from the chair and putting his mug in the sink, turning the faucet on while never losing eye contact.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Perhaps I would.”

A shiver runs down Emma’s spine, but she ignores it and walks up the stairs. This is a weird week, one she doesn’t want to repeat, and the last thing she needs is to spend too much time with a man who thinks he can charm his way into anything with a few smooth words and a smile. She’s been around enough men like that in her lifetime, but it doesn’t matter with him. Tomorrow, he’ll be gone with Eric and Ariel, and she’ll be back to being able to walk around her house without pants whenever she wants.

Tomorrow, this weird as hell week will be over, and she’ll be back to normal…mostly.

-/-

-/-

Tag list: @qualitycoffeethings @marrtinski @klynn-stormz @scarletslippers @elizabeethan @jrob64 @snowbellewells @therealstartraveller776 @thejollyroger-writer @galadriel26 @galaxyzxstark @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @teamhook @spartanguard @searchingwardrobes @jamif @shireness-says @ultimiflos @onepunintendid @bluewildcatfanatic @superchocovian @killianswannn @carpedzem @captainkillianswanjones @mayquita @mariakov81 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @a-faekindagirl @scientificapricot @xellewoods @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @singersdd @tornadoamy @cluttermind @lfh1226-linda @andiirivera @itsfabianadocarmo @captain-emmajones @ilovemesomekillianjones @taylrsversion​ @dramioneswan​ @jonesfandomfanatic​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​

[shyvioletcat]

I’d like to place a request for Aelin singing Uptown Funk by Bruno Mars and Rowan overhearing it (you decide if it’s intentional or her singing in the shower or drunk karaoke hehe) in Striking Matches of course 😉 since that hasn’t happened yet

cont: Oops wait I always forget it’s technically by Mark Ronson ft Bruno Mars ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ my bad it’s a collab

I went with something different, but let’s be real... Aelin would just about sing this song every chance she gets.

So Timeline wise, this so just after they get together. It’s probably been a month and a half since he busted her door.

Striking Matches Masterlist

~~~~~

The fire alarm ringing through the school gym had the kids in a panic, it even took a few moments for Aelin to get her own feelings under control. But when her kids had flocked to her, their scared faces wide-eyed, she pulled herself together. When she had volunteered to chaperone the Halloween dance this is not what she expected. 

Her and the other teachers ushered the kids outside, not even a trace of smoke to be found but still they got all the kids out to the car park. It was soon apparent that some cheeky troublemaker, probably urged on by their peers, had pulled the alarm and there was no real threat of fire. But they had to follow protocol and that meant the greater portion of the student body from grades 4-6 were huddled in the car park —all in their costumes— waiting for the firefighters to turn up to give the official all clear. The poor things were getting cold in the brisk October air and still nervous after all the drama. Aelin wasn’t feeling particularly warm herself in her Alice in Wonderland costume, the striped tights at least were offering her some protection from the cold. 

So Aelin did the first thing she could think of. 

Turning her phone full volume she led a dance party in the empty spaces of the parking lot. She was dancing to hype the kids up, most likely looking like a dork as she did the sprinkler for the umpteenth just as the fire engine pulled up. The team unloaded from the vehicle very quickly, Lorcan barely gave the excited children a second glance, but Aelin’s students were thrilled to see Rowan again and he gave them a wide smile and a wave. Fenrys directed a thumbs up to her in approval of her dance moves before he waved to the kids as well, giving them some finger guns to top it off.

Another song played through and the whining of the alarm stopped and everyone cheered. Lorcan appeared again and went to clear things with the principal then the others started filing out. Out of nowhere an idea struck Aelin, a song that seemed too perfect to pass up in the moment. So she unlocked her phone, scrolling through until she found the song she wanted. 

The poppy vocalising at the intro of the song started and she made sure to keep at least one eye of Rowan as everyone started dancing. She saw the twins share a look and then they were laughing. Gavriel was just shaking his head. 

This hit, that ice cold

Michelle Pfeiffer, that white gold

This one for them hood girls

Them good girls straight masterpieces

Aelin sang along and somewhere she heard Lysandra cackling. 

Stylin', wilin', livin' it up in the city

Got Chucks on with Saint Laurent

Gotta kiss myself, I'm so pretty

I'm too hot –– hot damn

Aelin pointed at Rowan who was trying his damndest not to smile. He was failing. 

Called a police and a fireman

I'm too hot –– hot damn

Make a dragon wanna retire man

I'm too hot –– hot damn

Say my name you know who I am

I'm too hot –– hot damn

And my band 'bout that money, break it down

Aelin wiggling her shoulders ridiculously at him had him breaking and he laughed. By then Rowan had reached and took her by the hand, spinning her a few times –– her apron and skirts fanning out. The kids, meanwhile, were going insane. 

When Rowan stopped the spinning Aelin’s hands landed on his shoulders. 

“Don’t you think this song is a little inappropriate for the little ones?” He said. 

“I suppose.” Aelin sighed and changed the song, a chorus of disappointed protests sounding. “But I just couldn’t resist.”

A terse Whitethorn came from the direction of the fire engine, making both Aelin and Rowan look over. The rest of the team was loaded back up ready to head back to the station. Aelin linked her arm with Rowan and handed her phone off to Lysandra so she could keep the party going while the executives decided what to do next. 

“Will you come by for breakfast tomorrow? I bought a fresh box of toaster waffles,” Aelin asked, leaning close to leech his warmth. 

“Those things taste like cardboard,” Rowan complained. 

Aelin just she rolled her eyes. “Fine, come for the company then.” 

“I think I’d rather eat the cardboard,” Rowan replied, the corners of his mouth betraying him as they quirked upwards. 

“Remind me again why I agreed to make us a thing?” Aelin said as she let go him and Rowan put one foot on the step of the turck then leaned in closer to her. 

“How about I remind you tomorrow morning,” he said, his voice little more than a purr. “And I’ll pick something up from a bakery on the way home.”

Rowan pulled himself up into the cab before Aelin could reply, but she was smiling as he rolled down the window. Then she stepped up onto the step as Rowan leaned out the window. 

“I like that sound of that.”

They were both smiling when their lips met but they managed. They broke apart when Fenrys’ wolf whistle startled them both, Aelin managed to refrain from flipping him of for the sake of the students and the reprimands it would get her if any of her superiors saw. 

“See you in the morning,” Rowan said, Aelin’s reply was a two fingers salute as the truck drove away.

Aelin watched it go until it had turned and she couldn’t see Rowan anymore. When she went to go back to the impromptu dance party she noticed one of her students, Benjamin, standing on the outskirts watching her, his mouth hanging open in surprise. 

“You okay there, Benjamin?” Aelin asked.

It took him a moment to answer and he looked past her to where the fire engine had been parked, then he beckoned her closer. Aelin rested her hands on her knees so she was just about level with him. 

“Miss G, did you just kiss Fireman Whitethorn?” He whispered. 

Aelin nodded. “I did.”

“But…” Benjamin’s brow furrowed. “You’re only supposed to kiss people who are you boyfriend or girlfriend. Is Mr Whitethorn your boyfriend?” 

The boy was so excited and perplexed he’d completely forgotten about the fireman bit. 

“He is,” she said simply. 

Aelin couldn’t wait to tell Rowan about the look of sheer delight that spread over Benjamin’s face when she told him. He spun around, no doubt to spread this new revelation amongst his classmates, she could practically see the ripple of excitement move through the crowd. Aelin just laughed and kept dancing until the parents started to arrive to pick up their kids.

~~~~~

I say it every time but... I miss these two.

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[orangeoctopi7]

It’s Fine (It’s not fine)

@forduary week 1 is Hurt/Comfort. The one’s definitely more on the hurt side of things, but I promise there’s some comfort at the end!

Stanford Pines is six years old. He’s in his bedroom, reading quietly. He’s just getting to the climax of the adventure story he’s reading when his brother Stanley crashes into the room. It wouldn't normally be a problem, Ford is really good at tuning out the world around him while he reads, but Stan is complaining loudly.

“I’m booooooard!” The boy moans, grabbing onto the post of their bunk-bed and dangling off it dramatically. 

“Whaddaya want me to do about it?” Ford asks in irritation, not looking up from his book.

“Let’s go play on the beach! Or go to the comic store! Or… or something!” Stan suggests. “Anything but just sit around here doin’ nothin’!”

It was a hot summer afternoon. Ford didn’t want to go down to the beach or the comic store when he knew for certain anywhere they went today was bound to be crowded with people. He just wanted to sit and read in his room and enjoy some time to himself. 

“Can’t you go by yourself?”

“Are you kiddin’? Ma would throw a fit!”

Ford heaves a long-suffering sigh, places a bookmark to hold his place, and snaps his book shut before thumping it down on his bed.

“Well we don’t hafta go if ya don’t wanna.” Stan says lamely.

“It’s fine.” Ford assures him.

“Are you sure?”

“It’s fine.”

* * *

Stanford Pines is ten years old. He’s at recess, trying to lie low. Stan got held back for the whole half-hour because he’d been caught trying to sneak the class pet, a newt, into his backpack. This of course leaves Ford at the mercy of Crampelter and his thugs, who have little to no mercy on any given day. 

“C’mon freak, fight back!” The towheaded bully taunts him, holding Ford back by the forehead as he tries to struggle past the blocking arm for his backpack, held just out of reach. “I know I seen you taking boxing lessons back at Mel’s Gym!”

“It’s ‘I saw’ or ‘I have seen’, and just b‘cuz I’m taking lessons doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to pick a fight I know I can’t win!” Ford protests. 

“Pfft, you’re no fun.” Crampelter scoffs, before grabbing onto one of Ford’s hands while he continues to reach vainly for his backpack. “But y’know what does sound fun?”

“Let go of me!” 

“Seeing how flexible your extra fingers are!” Crampelter starts to push Ford’s pinky finger back with his thumb, stretching it to its limit.

“Stop it! That hurts!”

But Crampelter just keeps pushing and pushing until Ford is sure some tendons are going to pop, when a shrill whistle echoes across the playground.

“Hey! Crampelter! Drop the freak!” The teacher on recess watch commands.

The bully finally lets go, and Ford stumbles to the ground, holding his injured hand close to his body.

“Here, lemme look at that.” the teacher pulls Ford’s hand away to check it. “Eh, ‘snot bleeding or broken, you’re fine.”

As they walk back from school that afternoon, Stan rants over and over that Crampelter Will Not Get Away With This, plotting various methods of revenge, most of them too fanciful to ever come to fruition.

Ford is silent the whole time, his gaze turned towards his shoes.

“Hey.” Stan suddenly stops his ranting and places a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help.”

“It’s fine.” Ford mumbles.

“I promise I’ll try not to get held in for recess again.”

“I said it’s fine.” Ford assures him, knowing that hoping Stan won’t get held back from recess again is like hoping it won’t snow in January. Technically possible, but highly unlikely. 

* * *

Stanford Pines is fourteen years old. He’s a freshman in highschool, and he and his brother are in detention after he was caught letting Stan look off his algebra test.

It’s not that Ford has anything against sharing his answers with his brother. It’s not like he has any sort of moral high-ground here. It’s just that Stan is always so carelessly obvious about it!

“I said I was sorry, alright!” Stan hisses at him, trying not to draw the teacher’s attention.

“We’re not in middle school anymore, these things actually go on our record now!” Ford hisses back. “You have to be more careful!”

“Well maybe if you would actually slip me your paper instead of making me crane my neck over your desk! Nobody’s gonna notice if you hand your test in two minutes before everyone else instead of five!”

“That’d be even more obvious! Maybe if you wore your glasses for once!”

“Maybe I would, if you could hold your own in a fight!”

“What does that even have to do with anything!?”

“You don’t wear glasses in a fight, genius! That’s just asking for them to get broken! And I know I’m always having to step in and save your skin, so why would I even bother wearing them in the first place?”

“Hey!” The teacher overseeing detention snaps at them. “No talking!”

The boys shut their yapps and go back to studying, or at least pretending to study.

“I’m sorry.” Stan murmurs, once he’s sure the teacher is no longer paying attention to them.

“It’s fine.” Ford grunts back.

* * *

Stanford Pines is 17 years old. He is begrudgingly walking down to the beach with his brother.

“C’mon Ford, it’s October, there’s only a few more days of weather nice enough to work on her left! And the dumb science fair isn’t until April!”

“I still have so much research to do before I can even start!” Ford complains. “Not to mention procuring parts, testing different models--”

“That all sounds like stuff you can do once it gets cold.”

“I should be in the building phase by then!” 

“Alright, look,” Stan jabs a finger in his brother’s direction. “If you wanna spend the last few warm days of the year cooped up in the library, that’s your problem. But I’m gonna enjoy the sunshine and the beach, and finish fixin’ up the Stan’o’war. We’re so close, I can practically taste the treasure and babes!”

“...Fine.” Ford grumbles.

“No, no. You go do your nerd thing. I’ll put the finishing touches on this thing we’ve been working on together since we were pipsqueaks.”

“I said it’s fine.”

* * *

Stanford Pines is 17 years old. He’s just come back from the most humiliating moment of his life (thus far). He confronts his brother, the offending evidence crinkling in his clenched fist. Stan tries to play it off like it’s not a big deal. Like he expects his brother to say It’s Fine.

It is most definitely not fine.

* * *

Stanford Pines is 20 years old. He’s showing his new roommate around their humble apartment.

“I really ‘preciate this, Stanford.” Fiddleford McGucket tells him for the sixth time that day. “Most folks wouldn’t offer to put their TA up in their apartment, ‘specially not when you’re lucky ‘nough to get yer own place!”

“Well, I’ll be starting the Doctorate program myself, next year! That makes us equals, in my mind.” Ford says proudly. “And I’m happy for the company! The only reason I have the apartment to myself is because my last roommate and I parted over… differences.”

“Heh, you too, eh?” McGucket chuckles. “Least you weren’t kicked out, like I was!”

“Why were you kicked out?”

“Oh, several reasons. I think the robot in the kitchen was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

Ford laughs. “Well, I for one would love to have a robot that does our dishes and cleans the counters.”

McGucket grins and leans against the table.. “See, I knew we’d make great roommates!”

Unfortunately, McGucket’s leaning is more than the wobbly table can take, and it tips over on its side, scattering textbooks and papers everywhere. The two friends begin cleaning up the mess, McGucket apologizing profusely. 

They’ve almost finished putting everything back onto the table when Fiddleford picks up an old photo of two little boys standing before a derelict little boat.

“Well bless my soul! Is this you, Ford?”

Ford’s heart skips a beat. He hadn’t realized he left that photo lying on the table!

“Ah, yes, that’s me. That was the day I decided I wanted to be a researcher--”

“And lookit this little fellah next to ya!” Fiddleford interrupts Ford’s soliloquy. “He looks just like you! I can’t believe I’ve known you for three years, and you never told me you had a twin!”

“Er… it just-- it never came up.”

“How in tarnation does yer own twin brother never come up?” Fiddleford asks incredulously. “So, what’s his name?”

“Stanley and I are not on speaking terms.” Ford says stiffly. “I haven’t spoken to him since I was a teenager.”

A multitude of expressions dance across Fiddleford’s face before Ford can hope to interpret any of them. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He finally says.

“It’s fine.” Ford says tersely, snatching the photo back.

* * *

Stanford Pines is 21 years old. He’s trying to get a good night sleep before his first dissertation tomorrow. 

Trying being the operative word.

The past year rooming with Fiddleford McGucket has been great, for the most part. Ford loves spending time with an intellectual equal. McGucket accepts all of Ford’s idiosyncrasies, and Ford accepts all those of his friend.

Well, almost all of them.

It didn’t take long after they started rooming together for Ford to realize one of the several reasons McGucket had been evicted from his last apartment had nothing to do with his penchant for robotics, and everything to do with his penchant for late-night banjo playing. As much as it cut into Ford’s sleep schedule, he didn’t have the heart to complain to his roommate about it. He knew he had plenty of his own bad habits that were difficult to deal with, like his coffee addiction, his antisocial behavior, his tendency to start a project and just leave it laying wherever he was around the apartment, and his few dozen subscriptions to cryptozoological newsletters.

The digital clock on Ford’s bedside table reads 2:20 AM when the music finally, thankfully stops. He sighs and turns over in his bed, hoping to finally fall asleep.

When he wakes in the morning, groggy as a hung-over sailor, Fiddleford at least has the decency to look apologetic.

“Sorry, did I keep ya up last night? I kinda got lost in the music an’ lost track of time.”

“It’s fine.” Ford mutters as he pours himself a large mug of the strongest coffee he can brew. This is the first roommate he’s gotten along with since… since he started college. He can put up with this.

“Well, if’n ya need me to, I can start headin’ up to the practice rooms in the assembly hall fer my jam sessions--”

“It’s fine.”

* * *

Stanford Pines is 31 years old. He’s spreading thick globs of slimy aloe vera on his hands. He’s been letting his muse take control of his body while he sleeps for about a week now. Bill says he’s not used to the limits of a physical human body. He’s injured Ford’s body just about every night so far, but last night, when he picked up the hot coffee pot by the pot instead of by the handle, was the worst by far. 

“This keeps on happening, Bill. You need to be more careful.” He gently chides his muse.

“WELL HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT’D HAPPEN? WHY DIDN’T THE IDIOT WHO DESIGNED THAT THING INSULATE THE WHOLE CONTAINER INSTEAD OF JUST THE HANDLE? YOU COULD DESIGN A COFFEE POT WAY MORE EFFICIENT THAN THAT!”

Ford smiles, blushing. “Perhaps I’ll get around to modifying it someday. But for now, as I was saying, could you please be more careful with my body at night?”

“HEY, YOU’RE ACTUALLY LUCKY THIS HAPPENED. IF I HADN’T DROPPED THAT POT, I WOULD’VE TRIED DRINKING IT THE SAME WAY I DO IN MY NORMAL FORM, AND THEN YOU’D PROBABLY BE BLIND. SO WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT IT, YOU SHOULD BE THANKING ME!”

Ford pales. “Er, perhaps I should help you practice using my body first, just to decrease the risk of that sort of thing.”

“OH, I’M SORRY! DO YOU NOT WANT MY HELP? DO YOU NOT WANT TO ACHIEVE GREATNESS AS SOON AS POSSIBLE?”

“No! No of course not! That’s not what I meant!”

“DON’T FORGET, I’M DOING THIS FOR YOU, SIXER! I’M AN AGELESS BEING OF PURE ENERGY! THE ONLY REASON I’M HELPING YOU SPEED UP THE PROCESS ON BUILDING THE PORTAL IS BECAUSE I KNOW HOW PATHETICALLY SHORT YOUR MORTAL LIFE IS. YOU’RE JUST GONNA HAVE TO TRUST ME. OR ARE A FEW BUMPS AND BRUISES TOO MUCH FOR YOU TO HANDLE?”

“Of course not! It’s fine! I’m fine!” Ford insists, finishing bandaging his burns.

* * *

Stanford Pines is… probably 45? He’s not quite sure. He’s lost track of time after traveling the multiverse for so long, especially after the Do-Over Dimension.

He’s making his way through a crowded alien market, hoping to find something he’ll be able to use in his Quantum Destabilizer, and also hoping not to be recognized by any bounty hunters. It’s annoying, having to wear a hood and goggles and mask everywhere he goes, but that’s just the way it has to be now.

It’s fine.

It’s only until he can complete the Quantum Destabilizer. After that… it didn’t matter what happened after that.

It’s fine.

* * *

Stanford Pines is 62 years old. He’s sitting in a hospital bed. Despite what that may suggest, his life has finally taken a turn for the better. Bill is gone, Weirdmaggeddon is over, and, miraculously, no one died. Stanley was going to be ok. The kids didn’t hate him. He’s achieved his goal of destroying Bill Cipher, and survived! He’s fine. They’re all incredibly, wonderfully, fine.

The doctor is giving his vitals one last check before officially discharging him from the hospital. It’s obvious that under normal circumstances, Ford would not be leaving the hospital any time soon, but thanks to the incredibly persistent insistence of his family, and the fact that the hospital is already absolutely filled to the brim with people who were injured during Weirdmageddon, and the fact that Stanford was instrumental in stopping Bill, they’re making an exception. 

“Alright, you’re free to go!” The doctor finally says, handing his clipboard over to Ford to sign. 

“Hooray!” Mabel cheers as her uncle signs his exit papers. “Now you’ll be able to help us set up for our birthday party!” She slings an arm around his neck to hug him, completely forgetting about the thin layer of bandages around his neck. Ford can’t suppress a yelp of pain.

Mabel reels back, hands flying to her mouth. “Ohmigosh, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine.” Ford forces a smile.

“I wasn’t thinking!”

“Mabel, really, it’s fine.”

“Ford.” Stan says firmly. Ford recognizes the expression on his face from the last few days. It’s the look he gets on his face when he’s remembering something painful. “You gotta stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” He asks, confused.

“Saying ‘It’s fine’ when it’s not.”

Ford raises an eyebrow. “Stanley, it was just an accident. It really is fine.”

“Oh, yeah, of course this was…” Stan stammers, apparently coming back to the moment. “Mabel’s not-- this was just an honest mistake. But you say… uh, or at least, you used to say that a lot. Even when I could tell it wasn’t really fine. You gotta stop that.”

Ford shifted in his bed uncomfortably. “I’m just being polite.”

“There are ways to say things aren’t fine while still being polite.” Dipper points out.

Ford can feel himself flush. “I’m not good at that. I always come off as rude… or angry.” Saying it’s fine is just easier. He can just move on and forget about it. Control his emotions. Remove them from the equation for the time being, process them later when he’s alone, so nobody gets hurt.

Stan takes a deep breath before he speaks again. “You just gotta trust us, that we’re not gonna leave you just ‘cuz you get angry sometimes.”

Is that really what he’s been afraid of this whole time? That certainly seems to be a part of it, but not the whole. All the same, he does at least feel that he can trust his family. And he can try to be more honest with them when something is bothering him.

“I think I can do that.” he says as he gets up from the hospital bed, ready to go home.

[rmtndew]

Begin Again

Summary: Walter Marshall is a dedicated homicide detective doing his best to balance his work life with being a single father to a teenage girl. Fiona Sparks is a woman doing her best to take care of everyone and everything around her, except for herself. Neither has had the best luck with relationships, but once they meet, they’re willing to give it another shot, this time with each other. (It’s basically just romantic fluff) 

Pairing: Marshall and OFC.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mentions of death, cancer.

A/N - This is a sequel to ‘All I’ve Ever Known’. I started writing this because I needed an escape for some personal stuff going on and my coping mechanism included giving Marshall all the love that man needed, and imagining him being the softest boyfriend to me, then passing those details on to Fiona (my OFC).

I also made a Spotify playlist for this story, if anyone is interested - Begin Again Playlist 

 Tag list - @hollydaisy23, @alyxkbrl, @onlyhenrys, @omgkatinka, @speakerforthedead0​, @gearhead66,  @thethirstyarchive, @oddsnendsfanfics, @littlerinoa, @agniavateira, @aaescritora, @justaboringadult, @beenthroughalot, @seriouslygoodlookinggents,  @xxxkatxo

If you want to be added/removed from the tag list, let me know!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

The last Wednesday in October was a gray, misty, windy day. It was cold, the kind you felt more in your bones than anywhere else, with the sky occasionally spitting out sleet. I spent the entire twenty-minute drive to my job at Waverly Catering clutching the steering wheel so tightly that my hands were cramping by the time I arrived from white-knuckling it the whole way there. Usually, I would get to work early enough to enjoy the silence and finish off my coffee before officially starting my workday. That day, however, I spent the very little extra time I had trying to get my hands to stop hurting, then chugged down my coffee that had cooled dramatically to a gross lukewarm temperature. 

Before going in, I checked my phone. I always kept it on silent while I drove. My mom had a tendency to text me, make a dozen spelling mistakes because of auto-correct, then correct them one by one, leaving me with about thirteen separate texts to read. It didn’t use to bother me, I thought it was charming and very distinctly Mom. But when she’d gotten sick at the beginning of the year, every text she sent that I couldn’t read immediately made me panic, worrying that something terrible had happened to her, even when I’d just seen her at home a few minutes before. So for my sanity - and hers - I started putting my phone on silent until I got to work, or wherever else I was going. It was a habit I’d kept even after she’d gone into remission because her cancer may have been gone, but my anxiety over her wasn’t. 

That morning when I checked my phone, I saw that I had two texts, but they weren’t from Mom. 

Marshall:  Good morning, Fi. I hope that I get to see you today. I’ll be chained to  my desk with paperwork for a while. This is the first time I’ve not dreaded it. You’re my silver lining.

That was cheesy. I’m sorry. I’m bad at this.

And just like that, all of my stress melted away. The weather didn’t matter, my disappointing coffee didn’t matter, even the cramping in my hands didn’t matter. All that did matter was that Walter Marshall thought of me as his silver lining. Yes it was early days, yes we’d barely known each other a month, yes we’d only gone on two dates, but he made me happier than I’d been in a long time. I felt like I’d been holding my breath for two years, starting when my dad had died in a car crash, followed by my boyfriend Ezra breaking up with me, then losing my job as an interior designer, and capping off with my mom’s cancer diagnoses. Then Walter came along and it was like I could finally breathe again. 

Me:  Please don’t apologize. You have no idea how much I needed to read that this morning. Feel free to be as  cheesy as you want. And I hope I get to see you today, too, even if it  means you’re chained to your desk.

Marshall:  If I don’t see you for some reason,  can I call you tonight? I miss your  voice and you make me want to get better at this talking thing. 

I could feel myself blushing. Even over the phone he made me feel like a teenager with a crush. I had no idea that anyone could make me feel that way as an adult, but he did every time he texted me. 

Me:  Of course you can. Even if we do see  each other, you can still call, if you want? Practice makes perfect, and all that.

Marshall: I’d like that. Talk to you soon.

I sat back in my seat with a sigh as I looked out at the sleet falling from the gray sky, spattering my windshield, blurring out the image of the trees in the park across from me blowing and bending in the wind. 

It was going to be a good day. 

“You look...dare I say it? Happy?” Darcy said as I walked into her office.

I smiled. “You may dare to say it because yes, I am quite happy.”

“And what brings you to such an extreme emotion so early on such a disgusting day?”

I went to her desk and sat in the chair opposite her. “Well, for one, I know that you’re about to do me a big favor that I will forever be grateful for.”

“Fiona Sparks asking for a favor? I’ll mark the day in my calendar,” she joked. “What kind of favor do you need?”

“I need a copy of the peanut butter cookie recipe.”

“For what purpose?” 

“See, that’s where the happiness part comes into play and you, being one of my dearest friends, would love to see me happy.” 

“I would but I’m unsure how a cookie recipe is going to do that.”

“It’s not for me,” I said, smiling wide. “I met this guy -” 

“What? Who?” she asked enthusiastically, her eyes wide with excitement.

“His name is Walter Marshall. He’s our detective who never changes his lunch order.”

“You’re dating one of the homicide detectives? You can feel free to thank me later for giving you that order, by the way. But right now I want details: How long have you been dating and why am I just now finding out about it?”

“We’re not technically dating. I met him a few weeks ago for the first time and we went on two dates last week.” 

“You haven’t dated anyone in over two years, and then you go on two dates in one week?”

“Well, the first was just a coffee date. Saturday we tried having a proper one.” 

“Tried?” she asked, raising her eyebrow. 

“He wanted to take me to dinner, so we went to an Italian place, but before we could order, his daughter called. She was supposed to be at a Halloween party, but some of her friends had lied to her, I guess, and it ended up being a basement party with slightly older boys and she felt uncomfortable, so we went and picked her up. Then we all went for pizza together.”

“He has a daughter, which is some heavy baggage to begin with, but you met her on your second date? That’s a lot, Fiona.” 

“I know it seems like it, but it’s really not. She’s a good kid. And he’s an amazing father, which, oddly, just makes him more attractive,” I said. “But that’s not the point. The point is that his daughter was, understandably, a little iffy about me being with him when he picked her up until she found out that I’m the one who brings the cookies. She apparently loves them and I told her that I might be able to get her a copy of the recipe and that seemed to pave the way for her not hating me instantly. And she’s thirteen, so that’s a pretty big deal.”

“I have so many questions right now but I can’t sort them all out so I’m going to be annoying you with them all day, just be prepared for that. All I want to know right now is if you want the recipe laminated or not?” 

I let out a relieved breath. “Yes, please, if you don’t mind. And thank you so much, Darcy. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“I do know. You never ask for anything, even simple things, so the fact that you’re willing to ask me for a favor means this is a pretty big deal,” she said. “He must be a good guy.”

I nodded. “He really is.” 

I arrived at the police station that morning a little before eleven. I’d left the shop early, worried the weather might get bad again and didn’t want to be late for my delivery. Thankfully the sleeting had stopped, allowing me to get there a few minutes early. A few minutes that I used up trying to pull my dolly through the parking lot. The lot had been salted, which was good in that at least it wasn’t icy, but the wheels on my dolly didn’t seem to like the brine mixture. They kept locking up on me. Between that and having to fight against the roaring wind, it took me an embarrassingly long time to reach the station door. Before I could push it open, someone opened it from the inside for me. I looked up, expecting to see Officer Bates. He was the security officer that was posted downstairs and always went through the containers full of lunches that I brought to the homicide unit every week. Instead, I saw Marshall.

“Hello,” he said with a smile. 

I immediately felt like giggling. The last time I’d seen him, we’d kissed. And seeing him right then, seeing his beautiful, handsome face, I wanted so badly to kiss him again. Instead, I felt myself grow shy as I blushed so fiercely that my cheeks stung with the new heat that rushed to them. 

“Hi,” I said. He pulled the door open all the way, then stepped back, allowing me to walk in. My stomach fluttered as I looked back at him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He closed the door behind me. “May I help you with your cart?”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Would you let me help you take it back to your car when you leave, at least?”

I fought every instinct inside of me that insisted I say no. Darcy was right: I hated asking for even simple things. I never wanted to burden anyone. But since I’d met Marshall, I’d learned that his way of showing interest or affection was to do things for me. But he always asked first, wanting my permission. It challenged me, but in a good way. I didn’t need to always go it alone if I didn’t have to. 

“Um, yeah, I’d appreciate that. Thank you,” I said. “The wheels didn’t seem to agree with the salted parking lot. You could probably pull it a lot easier than me.” 

Marshall stayed with me as Officer Bates went through the containers I’d brought in. He wasn’t close enough to make anyone passing by question it, but it was close enough that my hand hanging at my side could feel the heat coming from his hand and forearm, that was visible from the blue henley that was pushed up to his elbows in a way that I found incredibly attractive. My fingers itched to seek out his, but I fought it. Keeping them obediently beside me. Once Officer Bates was done and gave me the all clear to take the food up, Walter walked me to the elevator and pressed the button to call it down. Then he held the door back, letting me in first before following me. After the door slid closed, he fell back half a step, putting him right beside me. His hand bumped mine, his fingers snaking through, gently holding mine. I smiled, knowing I wasn’t the only one itching for contact. 

I turned without a thought and placed a kiss on his shoulder. Then I paused, a moment of panic rising in me that maybe we weren’t at that level yet. But before I could move or feel too worried, he placed a kiss on the top of my head.

“I keep thinking about Saturday,” he whispered. 

“Me, too,” I said. I looked up at him. “It was...pretty amazing.”

He smiled. I could see his sharp canine teeth. They were oddly charming. “Yes, it was.” He laced his fingers with mine more securely, properly holding it. “I know I mentioned calling you tonight, but I hoped that we might have dinner again instead. If you’re not busy?”

“I’m exceptionally not busy tonight.”

“Good.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead before turning his head back to face the elevator door. “I won’t be able to finish all my paperwork today, there’s too much and it keeps multiplying like rabbits, so since I have to do it tomorrow anyway, I’m going to knock off here around five. Could I pick you up after that? Around five-thirty, perhaps?” 

I nodded, smiling. “That sounds great.”

The elevator dinged as we reached the homicide unit floor. He gave my hand a couple of gentle squeezes before letting it go as the door slid open. He stepped out, then held the door for me like he had before, letting me pull my cart out. He walked with me almost all the way to the break room before a shorter man with glasses stopped him. 

“Lieutenant Marshall, can I speak with you in your office for a moment?” he asked. 

“Of course.” Walter touched my shoulder. “Excuse me,” he said to me quietly before leaving for his office. 

I continued on and was met by most of the detectives waiting for me. Like usual, they didn’t talk to me much, just thanking me for the food before taking their box and going. I took my time, hoping that by the time that I was done, the man speaking with Walter would be gone before I brought him his lunch. When I was done, I packed up my cart before taking Marshall’s boxed lunch and walked down the hall, finding the door to his office open. I could hear him talking still and wasn’t sure what to do. I’d made a deal with him a few weeks back to always bring his lunch to his office whenever I delivered - the first time was because a uniformed officer looked like he was going to swipe it, after that, it was to thank him for rescuing me from a pushy creep while I was with my ‘friends’. We’d never discussed if I should interrupt while he was working. I chewed my lip, debating what to do for several seconds before deciding to just take a chance and knock on the door frame. The worst case scenario was that I looked like a very dedicated delivery woman making sure that all of my orders reached their proper owners. 

“Yep. Come in,” Walter called out in response to my knocking.

I entered his office only far enough to be seen and not a step further. I didn’t know if Marshall wanted people to know about us, so I was prepared to make a quick exit if I needed to. “I have a delivery for Detective Marshall,” I said. 

He looked at me and smiled, then waved me in further. “Harper, this is Fiona Sparks. Fiona, this is Commissioner Harper.”

“Hi. It’s nice to meet you, sir,” I said. 

“You, too.” He looked at me over the top of his glasses. “You don’t happen to be related to Rodger Sparks, by any chance?” 

I felt speechless for a moment. I hadn’t heard anyone other than Mom say Dad’s name in months. Finally, I forced myself to nod. “Yes. He was my dad. How - how did you know?” 

“We went to college together. You’re the spitting image of him,” he said. “I was sorry to hear about him passing away. I lost my wife around two years ago as well. A brain aneurysm.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t get any easier.” 

“No, it doesn’t,” I agreed.

He looked at me for a moment longer, then back to Marshall, who was standing patiently with his hands clasped behind his back. He looked back at me briefly before taking the folder he was holding and tapped it against Marshall’s shoulder. “You know what? This can wait until tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll bring it by in the morning.” He left Walter and stopped beside me before leaving the office. “I’m very sorry about your father. Rodger was a horrible sport when he lost at cards, but other than that, he was a great guy. And probably the smartest man I ever met.”

I smiled slightly. “He was a horrible sport at cards.” 

He smiled back. “The worst.” He gave me a wink. “It was a pleasure seeing you.” 

“You, too.”

When he left, he closed the door behind him. I looked at Marshall as he walked towards me. “Did I interrupt something important?” I asked. 

“No. He was just asking about a cold case.”

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to come in since he was here. Next time, if you’re talking to someone, would you rather I left your lunch in the break room?”

He stopped in front of me. He was so close. He smelled like coffee and Old Spice. I swallowed thickly, trying to meet his gaze as he looked down at me. He shook his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “No. I’d still like you to bring it to me, please. If that’s alright?” 

“Yeah, of course. I just don’t want to get in the way of your job.”

“You won’t,” he said. “But I’ve let my job get in the way of other things for too long, so maybe it’s time someone got in the way of it for a bit.” 

“You have an important job, though. If you were a boat salesman, I might feel a little differently about disrupting your work.” 

His smile grew as he tilted his head at me. “A boat salesman?” 

“I mean a job where it wouldn’t really matter all that much if you were distracted every once in a while. If someone doesn’t sell a boat, it’s not that big of a deal. But if you don’t solve a murder case...that has very real repercussions. I wouldn’t want to be a reason for something slipping by in a case.” 

He put his hand on my cheek, directing my eyes back to his. “That won’t happen,” he said. “I take my job seriously. That’s never been a problem for me. My problem has always been figuring out how to balance it with the rest of my life, which I never could, and I neglected a lot of people because of it. Especially Faye.” He shook his head. “I’m still not good at it. But I had a case back in the winter that...put Faye’s safety in jeopardy, among other things, and it made me realize that I need to put more of an effort in my life outside of this job. Despite how hard that is for me.” He stroked my cheek with his thumb. “You motivate me to slow down a bit. And that’s a good thing.”

I took my free hand and placed it over his, then turned my face slightly and placed a kiss on the inside of his wrist. “I would be happy to slow down with you,” I whispered. 

Marshall had a smile that somehow showed in his eyes more than his mouth, and that’s how he was looking at me right then. “I’d like that.” 

A knock on the door startled me. I took a step back, his hand falling from my cheek. He then ran it over his face, almost like he was trying to scrub the irritation of being interrupted off it. Then he folded his arms across his chest before calling out for whoever it was to come in.

The door opened and a man stepped up to the doorway. He was wearing plain clothes like Walter, so I assumed he was a detective, too. He all but ignored me as he and Walter spoke. Half of what they said was in a jargon I didn’t understand, so I just stood there, head down, waiting. After a few minutes, the guy left, only halfway closing the door as he did. When Marshall finally turned back to me, I could see that he was frustrated. I knew he wouldn’t admit it, but me being at his work right then was only going to cause more irritation with every interruption we had. 

“As much as I hate it, I should probably get back to the shop. We have a big order going out tomorrow, so there’s quite a lot to do today to prepare for it,” I said. “Plus, I have a date with a very handsome detective tonight that I want to get ready for.”

The frustration on his face seemed to melt away as he looked at me with a smirk. “Is it anyone I know?”

“Possibly. He does work in your unit.” 

“Is that so?” he asked. I nodded. “Well, if I see him around, I might have to have a talk with him.”

“And what would you say?” 

“I’d tell him that he better be good to you because you deserve to be treated well.” 

My stomach fluttered. “You can rest assured that he treats me very well. Better than any man ever has.”

“All those other men were idiots.”

I smiled. “Maybe so.” 

He shook his head. “Definitely so.” He reached out and took his lunch from my hand, then turned and placed it on a filing cabinet behind him. “Will you let me help you to your car now?” 

I nodded. “Yes, please.”

He put on his coat and followed me to the break room. He pulled my dolly for me, moving it like it was as light as a child’s toy. Even when we made it to the parking lot, he didn’t seem to have any issue with the wheels fighting against him. Then he picked it up and placed it in my trunk with ease, despite how I very often fought to get it back in. I thought about telling him that he was welcome to help me anytime he wanted, but I was afraid it wouldn’t come across as a joke and he would feel obligated to actually help. 

“Thank you. You made my morning a lot easier,” I said after I closed the trunk. I looked at him. “I guess I’ll see you around five-thirty?”

He nodded. “I’ll call you when I leave here, but yeah, I should be there by then,” he said. “And I promise it’ll only be the two of us and no cheap pizza.” 

“To be honest, I quite liked the pizza. It didn’t taste cheap. And I really, truly didn’t mind Faye joining us, but it'll be nice to have dinner with just you tonight,” I said. “But that reminds me - I put a copy of our cookie recipe for Faye in your lunch box.” 

He smiled. “Thank you. She’ll be very excited about that.”

“You’re welcome. And let her know if she has any issues with it, she can call or text me.” 

The crease between his eyebrows appeared as he looked at me thoughtfully. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah. I’ve made them enough times over the last year and a half to make every mistake you can with them. If she has a problem, I can probably diagnose it over the phone.” 

“You don’t mind her having your number?”

I felt my facial expressions mirroring his, but from confusion. “Of course I don’t mind. As long as you’re okay with it,” I said. “Unless you think your ex-wife would mind? I don’t want to step on her toes or anything.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think Angie would mind for that purpose, and I don’t have a problem with it. But I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

“I don’t but I’ll leave it up to you. If you’d feel more comfortable being the middleman you can always call me for her.” I gave him a big smile. “And I can help you practice the whole talking thing. Then it’s a two birds with one stone kind of deal.” 

He smiled back, nodding his head. “And if she doesn’t need help?” 

“You can still call.” I shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned, you don’t have to have a reason for calling. If I’m not at work, I’m usually pretty free. I may be cooking, or watching ‘The Golden Girls’ with Mom, but that’s about it,” I said. “I’m afraid you’re courting quite a socially boring person.”

He laughed. “I’m not sure if you’ve caught on, but I’m not exactly a sociable person, either,” he said. “So perhaps we make a good fit for each other.”

“Perhaps so,” I agreed. “We can be selectively social together.” 

“Sounds good to me.” 

I let out a sigh and watched my breath turn to steam in front of me. “I better let you get back to your paperwork and I need to go help Darcy at the store. We have over fifty loaves of bread to bake before the end of the day, so depending on when I get home, you may have to deal with your date smelling like freshly baked bread.” 

He squinted slightly. “I’m not really opposed to that,” he joked with a smile that showed off the sharp ends of his canine teeth. 

I laughed. “Good to know.” 

He gave me a short hug, kissing my cheek as he pulled back. “I’ll see you this evening.” 

“I’m looking forward to it.