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galactic-magick · 3 years

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As Long As I’m With You: Agnes/Agatha Harkness x Reader

Request: Hi, can you please do where Agnes (a villain) saves fem reader's life because she has feelings for her? In the end they end up together // also took some ideas from this request

Summary: You’re accused of witchcraft in your village, and a mysterious beautiful witch comes to your aid.

Words: 2200+

Warnings: fem reader, Agatha is low key evil so she hurts some people, a swear word, reader has an angsty past

Author’s Notes: This can be read as either a standalone fic or as a prequel to my other fic “Spell Practice.” I took quite a lot of creative liberty with this, hopefully that’s alright. Also disclaimer I am in no way a history expert so even though this is set in like the 1500s-1600s it’s probably very inaccurate, but it’s fanfic so anything goes right?

Taglist: @nyx-aira @midnight-lestrange @thestrangeundoing @thegayances @sleep-deprived-athlete @dr-robotnik-said-hella @fallingfor-fics @p-nymph @thelanawinterrs @sunproud (if your tag didn’t work it might be bc your blog isn’t searchable so make sure that’s on so you’re notified of future fics!)

You had no idea how much your life would change when you left your house that day.

It started out with a simple run to the market and the garden to get what you needed for supper that night, a job that almost always falls to you. You don’t necessarily mind getting away from your family and talking to some people in town, but it’s clear that your family doesn’t want you in the house as much as possible either.

It’s gotten to the point where they’re just looking for a reason to get rid of you. You’re a disappointment, after all. You refuse to marry in order to help your family’s status, even though you’ve gotten a couple offers. You counter your parent’s rules and ideas every chance you get, no matter how much they tell you you’re crazy. They belittle you constantly, saying your dreams are worth nothing and you’ll have to be dependent on them forever if you never submit to the role in society you’re supposed to.

Obviously bullying you out of their lives wasn’t working, so they’ve moved on to spreading rumors about you and setting you up for crimes. None have worked yet, of course, but every day you fear they’ll get too close.

Until you get burned at the stake, though, they’ve given you basically every responsibility of the house. You do all the shopping, cooking, and farming, as well as taking care of your younger siblings. You wonder what they’d do without you, despite how much they seem to want you gone.

As you’re buying a few crops and eggs from your neighbors, you swear you see something move. You turn around and see a little boy floating in the air, screaming.

You drop everything in your arms and reach up to him, trying to grab him and help him down, but he keeps flailing, and his screams start to feel directed at you.

“Hey! It’s okay! Let me help you!” you hold your hand up, speaking as calmly as you can. “I’m not going to hurt you,”

“WITCH!” a man yells as he sees you. “SHE’S A WITCH!”

Everyone around turns and watches you.

“No! No! I’m not the one doing this! I’m trying to help!”

“Let him down and maybe we’ll wait to kill you til tomorrow!” someone else demands.

A couple people march towards you to grab you, and all you can think to do is start running.

You race out of the center of town into the trees, and about five men chase after you. You keep going until it feels like your legs are going to give out and you can barely breathe, but they keep coming.

“Please! Please stop! It wasn’t me I swear!” you cry. “I don’t know what was happening!”

“Shut up, girl,” one grunts. “Your father always said there was something wrong with you, makes sense that you’re a witch!”

“What’s so wrong about witches?” a female voice calls.

You and the men spin around, trying to figure out where it came from.

Before you can blink there’s purple smoke surrounding you, and the men are thrown against the trees. They’re knocked unconscious instantly, but you remain standing and untouched.

“Who are you?” you ask, your voice quivering.

“Don’t be afraid, my dear,” the smoke starts to fade and you can make out her silhouette, then eventually her face. “I’m here to help you,”

She’s beautiful. You’ve never seen someone that immediately feels so friendly, so different in all the best ways.

“It’s alright to stare, I know I’m quite a sight,” she laughs. “I’m Agatha,”

“I’m Y/N,”

“Ah, yes, I’m pretty sure I’ve heard of you,” she smiles. “Everyone in the village can barely stand you,”

“Thanks…?” you’re not sure how to respond, especially after all that just happened. “Wait, if you live in my village, why have I never seen you? And how come you’ve never gotten caught using magic?”

“Memory spells, of course,” she shrugs. “Now, let’s get you somewhere safe, alright?”

You nod, and she wraps an arm around you. She takes you deep into the forest until you reach a small house, the glimmer of the fire peering through the windows.

You settle down on a chair while she makes some tea and food. She offers you a blanket and hands you the cup and plate, sitting down across from you.

“So how long have you been practicing magic?” she asks.

“Oh…I…well actually I don’t know how to use any magic,”

“Really? Why were the witch hunters after you then?”

“I was set up, I think,” you say. “There was a little boy floating in the air, and since I was near him they thought it was me. But I wasn’t doing anything,”

“Well,” Agatha sips her tea. “Sometimes magic can manifest itself subconsciously. Maybe you were doing it but didn’t realize it. It’s quite common,”

“But…how would I have magical powers? I’ve never learned it from anywhere,”

“Some people are just born with the gift,” she grins.

You exhale, thinking over what she said. Could it be true? You’ve been a witch all your life without even knowing it?

That night, Agatha conjures another bed for you to sleep in. But even though she made it as comfortable as she possibly could, you can’t get a wink of sleep.

You lift off the blanket and wrap it tightly around you, getting up slowly and quietly. You walk outside and sit against a tree, looking up at the stars.

You’re sure your family has heard the news by now. Their disappointment of a daughter is finally gone, accused of witchcraft. It seems that the foreseeable future will be spent with Agatha, the only safe person you have.

You wonder just how much she already knows about you. She mentioned she’s heard people gossiping about you all the time in town, yet she still saved you after hearing all those negative things.

Why is that?

“Can’t sleep?”

You jump at her voice, and she chuckles a bit at your reaction.

“Sorry,” you sigh. “I just have a lot to think about from today, I guess,”

“No worries,” she sits down beside you. “So do I,”

“Agatha,” you say. “Why did you save me?”

“Us witches have to stick together. I saw you were in trouble, so I saved you,”

“But you knew, didn’t you? You’ve known I was a witch long before this, didn’t you?”

“I had my suspicions,” she agrees. “Whenever I heard people talk about you, I figured you weren’t like everyone else. But I didn’t know for sure until today,”

“I wish you had taken me before,” you huff, a few tears falling down your cheeks. “It’s been so bad, Agatha, feeling worthless just because you’re different, everyone hates you…”

She pulls you into her shoulder, letting you cry into it, “I know, dear, I know,”

It takes you a while to come to terms with your potential powers, but as soon as you’re ready Agatha begins to teach you how to use them. You spend your days studying her spell books and practicing simple spells, most of which you fail at.

She encourages you as much as possible, explaining to you that magic is not something you can learn overnight, sometimes not even over years. She tells you that she’s actually thousands of years old (a surprise to you due to her stunning looks) and she’s been practicing for much of that time, and there’s still some spells she hasn’t mastered.

Your impatience still gets the better of you most days, though. You can’t imagine waiting several centuries to get something to work, if you get it to work at all.

One day you’re sitting at the table, trying out a simple transfiguration spell. You wave your hand repeatedly at a potato, hoping to turn it into an apple. It doesn’t even wobble, not even a single spark, but you’ve been sitting here for hours and don’t want to give up just yet.

You nearly fall asleep from exhaustion when all of a sudden it happens. It works.

There’s an apple in front of you. Not a potato, an apple.

“Holy shit!” you scream. “Agatha! I did it!”

You run over to her and point at your small accomplishment.

“Look at you go, darling!” she smiles, hugging you. “At this rate you’ll be changing rocks into cats before you’re 200!”

You laugh, “Oh come on, this is literally just one of the beginner spells,”

“So what? That’s where everybody starts,”

You break out in giddy excitement again, jumping up and down a bit and looking back and forth just to make sure your creation is still there.

Without thinking, you kiss Agatha quickly on the lips.

She stares at you, mouth open.

Before you can apologize, she grabs your face and kisses you hard. She’s everything you’d imagined and more, soft and warm but with a spark you can’t ignore.

When you finally break apart, her hands linger, brushing across your features and in your hair, “I’ve been waiting to do that,”

Things change after that, but in only the best ways.

Agatha isn’t just your mentor anymore, the only friend who came to your aid.

She’s your everything now, a soulmate, your home.

You tell her all about your life, and she tells you all about hers. As she has significantly more stories to tell, you’ll fall asleep many nights to her whispering all the legends she lived through that no one else knows are true.

She makes you laugh every day, and makes sure you always know how much she cares about you. There’s only so much you can do in your hidden home in the woods, but with magic the possibilities are endless and she’s never short of romantic ideas.

Tonight you find yourself lying your head in her lap while she plays with your hair, close to the fire so you can watch the little shows she creates with the flames.

“What about love?” you ask.

“What about it?”

“Out of all the stories you’ve told me, you’ve never mentioned being in love before,”

“Well,” she sighs. “That’s because I haven’t been,”

“Why not?”

“It’s just never appealed to me,” she says. “Until I met you,”

“Oh,” you grin, looking up at her.

She leans down to kiss you, but you’re broken apart by a loud noise outside.

You shoot up, looking at Agatha in pure panic. Your heart races as the noise gets louder and louder, eventually leading to shouting and knocks at the door.

“WE FOUND YOU!” a booming voice yells.

“Aggie?” you whisper. Everything crumbles around you. Your perfect, happy life, now about to be stolen from you. You have no idea how they found you, if you are about to be dead, if you’ll be able to defend yourself at all.

She kisses you and stands up, “Stay here. I’ll take care of it,”

With a fling of her fingers the door flies open, and the torches the townspeople are holding are burnt out. She smirks, purple smoke covering the area as she goes through them one by one, some just throwing to the side and others suffering a painful death.

She turns their own weapons against them, their own people against them, and makes them regret everything they’ve ever done.

When she returns to you, you’re still in so much shock and panic you couldn’t tell exactly what she was doing.

“Did you…kill all of them?”

“They got what they deserved for threatening us,” she says nonchalantly. “But we’re not safe here anymore. It’s time to find somewhere new,”

“Okay,” you nod as she pulls you against her. “As long as I’m with you,”

“I’ll always protect you, even when you learn enough to protect yourself,” she kisses your forehead. “Always and forever,”

APPROXIMATELY FOUR CENTURIES LATER

“I’m back, darling!” Agatha calls, shutting the door behind her.

“How’d it go?” you run to her, grabbing her hands.

“Splendid, that poor Wanda already loves her new neighbor!”

“Wow,” you giggle. “You know I must say, this whole living in a sitcom thing isn’t that bad, you look gorgeous in that 50s dress,”

“Oh darling, somehow after all this time you still flatter me,” she pretends to fan herself. “I have to go back over real quick, alright? Gotta give her this spicy magazine,” she holds her hand up in the air and magically forms one in her grasp.

“Ah! Be sure to get some ideas to use on me when you get back,” she laugh.

“Oh I will honey,” she winks, kissing you before going out the door.

You settle on the couch, looking around at your home. Out of all the places you’ve moved to together, this was by far the weirdest. There’s no color, and everyone besides you and Agatha and Wanda are under some kind of mind control.

You never imagined that day all those years ago would bring you here, spending your life with a beautiful witch and being her partner in all things, even sinister ones. But you wouldn’t have it any other way, and you know this strange town will only bring you more opportunities to practice your magic and help Agatha with her plans.

#agatha harkness #wandavision #agatha harkness x reader #agnes x reader #wandavision spoilers #wandavision x reader

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plus-ultra-oof · 3 years

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Pretty | SakuAtsu | Haikyuu!! | Tickle Fic

A/N: Ok hi so I wrote this a little while ago bc my SakuAtsu brainrot never stops and I figured I might as well share it. This is my first time posting a T-fic so please be kind lol. Also, sorry if the formatting is a mess I am on my phone.

Disclaimer: This takes place post timeskip so minor spoilers for Haikyuu! It’s nothing to major other than some vague things mentioned in passing. Also includes swearing and centers around tickling within a romantic setting (all sfw).

Summary: Sakusa’s stubborn as hell, but Atsumu is more than willing to get his boyfriend to go to sleep by whatever means necessary. Especially if that means he gets to see that pretty smile of his.

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“Ya know, yer hair is really soft Omi,” Atsumu said, breaking the calm silence that had settled over the room. It was actually Kiyoomi’s room in his apartment this time. Atsumu was lying on his bed, running his hands through Kiyoomi’s dark curls as the other man laid across the bed, head placed conveniently in the setter’s lap as he attempted to read a book. He was far too tired to do so, in Atsumu’s professional opinion. The way his eyes kept falling shut for longer between blinks and how his grip on the hardcover kept shifting until he was barely holding it open where it lay against his propped up legs supported it too.

“You already- said that,” he replied, trying for flat and uninterested but the cute yawn that interrupted his sentence completely contradicted his unbothered persona.

It’d been a long practice for everyone, but especially the spikers. Both Bokuto and Sakusa had to run an insane amount of cut shot drills on top of their usual work. Just watching it had made Atsumu tired, so he could only imagine how Omi was feeling. The man had been practically dead on his feet when they’d gotten back to their complex, so the way he had melted into their bed upon finally brushing his teeth was unsurprising. His attempts at staying up were though. Atsumu blamed that on his insistence on keeping his routine no matter what.

The stubborn bastard could barely keep his eyes open, but sure, making it through a whole chapter of that thick ass book was totally plausible.

“It’s true though,” Atsumu was quiet for a moment and then, when he got no response he added on, “and it’s so pretty too,” For that he received a half hearted glare that was dampened by the way he could feel the man leaning into his touch as his fingertips scratched lightly again his scalp. The twin smiled, his boyfriend really lost his filter when he was this tired.

Gone were the biting remarks and cold expressions, leaving him far more pliant than he would ever admit to. Hell, here he was, letting Atsumu play with his hair and letting out little sighs of contentment. His eyes were even gradually falling closed as he relaxed into his boyfriend’s touch.

The harsh lines of his face were softened by the low light in the bed room, and with his brows uncreased by any worries and his hair pooled around his head like a dark halo, he looked almost angelic. Like something out of one of those fancy paintings.

“Yer so pretty Omi,” Atsumu murmured absently, the words falling from his lips easily. It was a statement to him. A simple truth of life.

The sky was blue, volleyball was the best, and Atsumu’s boyfriend was a damn masterpiece.

This was only proved further when his cheeks began to warm, the pink flush only complimenting smooth skin and pouty lips, twitching down into a petulant frown despite his flustered state.

“Shut it,” he mumbled in reply, unable to come up with a proper comeback in his half asleep state. Atsumu smirked. Another thing he loved about sleepy Omi was his inability to disguise any of his reactions. It always made messing him even more fun.

“Omiiii, Yer so cute m’gonna dieeeeee,” he teased, leaning down to admire his expression more closely. The new angle let him see the minuscule twitch of the corner of his lips, a sign that his adorable boyfriend wasn’t really as grumpy as he was trying to appear, “Aw is that a smile I see?” Said boyfriend had abandoned all hopes of reading his book in favor of moving off of Atsumu’s lap and onto his side of the bed, laying back and closing his eyes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Atsumu,” he stated, his voice still managing to stay level and unaffected, a true testament to Sakusa’s insane amount of self control, “Now its late, let’s go to sleep,” Too bad Atsumu was too much of an asshole to let him be. And, he knew him well enough to chip away at that carefully crafted mask until his boyfriend was puddy in his hands.

Miya pouted and moved closer, letting his right hand come back up to rest in his curls again and the other land at his back, rubbing slow circles into it the way he knew Sakusa liked.

“Oh c’mon baby don’t be like that, I just want ta see that gorgeous smile of yers,” he let his chin rest on Kiyoomi’s shoulder, pressing close to his back as his arm trailed down to wrap around his waist. He placed a light kiss against his boyfriend’s temple. The first in a trail that led down his cheek to his jaw and then took a detour down and up his neck to reach his ear again, earning soft sighs and hums as he went. Atsumu smiled, his Omi really was sweet like this: All peaceful and relaxed and unassuming, “Do me a favor and lemme see it?”

He shifted from kissing at his neck to mouthing lightly and letting his lips graze the expanse of soft pale skin at his disposal and the reaction was immediate, even if Sakusa tried to hide it. Sure, he stayed quiet, but Atsumu could feel the shivers that ran through him when he started and how his shoulders began to shake the longer he went on. He felt him jump when he let the fingers at his waist trace lazy shape into his toned stomach.

“Atsumu-“ His name was rushed out in a breathy way that only Atsumu got to hear.

“Yes Omi?” He purred, directly into his boyfriends ear, savoring the little squeak that came from the man shaking in his arms.

“N-no,” he whined, actually whined, shaking his head in an attempt to rid himself of the tingly sensations that were quickly perforating his sleep addled mind and making him want to give into the bouncy feeling rising in his chest.

“Why not Omi? M’just tryin ta kiss ya?” He followed his movements easily, continuing the playful torment of his boyfriend.

“You- you know exActly whehy not!” The squeak was louder this time and Kiyoomi even let a few titters loose as Atsumu started using his other hand to lightly scribble at the other side of his neck while simultaneously blowing into his ear.

“Ooh was that a giggle there Omi? What’s happenin’ baby? Somethin’ funny?” Atsumu knew that if he could, Sakusa would be griping about the teasing and how this whole thing was immature and unfair. For now though, he was too busy trying (and failing) not to devolve into a ticklish mess, so Miya was content.

“Nahaha stahahap yohuhu bahahastard!” He forced out through his giggles. The sound was light and filled with gasping breathes and squeals. Kiyoomi hated it, but it was one of Atsumu’s favorite sounds. Especially when he knew he was the cause of it.

Whether it came from unraveling him like this or timing a sarcastic joke just right, he savored it each time he got to hear it, so he didn’t appreciate it when both ungloved hands flew up to muffle it.

“Hey what’dya do that for?” He asked, his own pout forming on his lips as he leaned up to see his boyfriend’s face. His eyes were squeezed shut again and the flush was even brighter now. What was really captivating though, was the way his whole face seemed to brighten, even with his open mouth smile covered up.

Atsumu couldn’t help but stop and stare for a few seconds before remembering the task at hand. To see that pretty smile for real.

“C’mon Omi, just pull yer hands away or m’gonna haveta resort to extreme measures,” Atsumu increased his effort at leaving barely there kisses along Kiyoomi’s neck, feeling his heart race against his lips when he reached the pulse point. This got a cacophony of muffled squeaks and giggles before he finally gave into instinct and moved one of his hands away to push at his face.

As soon as it came up, Atsumu saw his chance and took it.

The hand that was drawing shivery patterns over sharp hip bones immediately skittered up Sakusa’s side to find its mark just above his ribs, sending the arm crashing right back down with a muffled shriek.

“Pffft phmp uff,” Came the dampened response as the other hand stayed stubborn in its quest to deprive Atsumu of his happiness. He decided to take it up another notch, because despite his tiredness, his Omi-Omi was still able to put up a good fight. He wouldn’t have him any other way: As headstrong as he was talented.

“Fine, don’t say I didn’t warn ya,” Atsumu leaned back just enough to leave some space between himself and Kiyoomi’s back. For insurance and safety purposes, he threw a leg over his waist to make sure he would fall off the bed.

Then all bets were off.

He started actually scratching at his armpits in tandem with leaving sloppy kisses along his spine and shoulder blades and any other part of his back he could reach at the moment, and the reaction was instantaneous and oh so satisfying.

“Mmmmphhhuhuhuck AtsuhuHU! NaHAHA STAHAP!”

“What babe? Somethin’ wrong?” He made sure to speak against the skin of his back, his words sending ticklish tremors through Kiyoomi as his worst spot was attacked.

“NOHOHOT THEHERE AHATSUHU!” Something seemed to switch off in his brain as his arms finally fell limp at his sides and he threw his head back against the pillows, laughing fully now. When they did, Atsumu immediately toned it down, abandoning his underarm in favor of leaving feather light scratches down the sides of his boyfriend’s back, making him shiver and keeping him caught up in his giggles without torturing him too bad.

Omi could never say that he was anything but nice about this....Well at least at this particular moment. Sakusa definitely kept a dated list of the times that his boyfriend had ruthlessly abused this specific weakness, but that was besides the point.

“Ahatsuhuhu,” Atsumu looked up at the sound of his name falling from upturned lips and found himself mesmerized by the sight.

Now that Kiyoomi had given up on stopping him he’d shifted to flop down on his stomach, bracing his head on his arms as he tried to contain the shaky laughter still spilling easily from his mouth. His hair was tousled from the struggle and his eyes were teary from laughing so hard and he was in an eternal state of flushed and fuck he was beautiful.

Too pretty for his own good. And Atsumu’s. At this rate, he was gonna die before he got to the Olympics.

He could just see it now: Miya Atsumu, beloved son, brother, boyfriend, and teammate. Cause of death: Seeing his godlike boyfriend laugh his heart out.

Shit, ‘Samu was right, he was whipped.

“Tsuhuhuhumuuu, m’tired,” Whiny giggles followed by a familiar yawn brought him out of his thoughts and he let his fingers slow to a stop, moving up in the bed to be beside his still giggling boyfriend. He turned him over onto his back before placing his book onto the nights stand and turning out the light.

“A-asshole,” Sakusa groaned, through breathy pants, giving him a half-hearted shove as he turned to face the blonde.

“But ya love me,” he teased moving in closer to lay his head on the dark haired man’s chest, listening patiently as his heartbeat finally started to slow down.

“You suck,” he murmured in response, his tone empty of any real malice. Plus, the way he was snuggling closer and lacing their hands together across Atsumu’s waist contradicted his words anyway.

Atsumu smiled and took a final look at his boyfriend before closing his eyes to follow him into sleep. And as a man of a limited vocabulary when it came to most things other than volleyball, his last thoughts prior to drifting off were as simple as they were true: Omi’s so pretty.

#sakuatsu #ticklish!Sakusa #haikyuu! tickle fic #tickle fic #tickle #tickles #tickling #fanfiction #haikyuu!!#thanks for reading

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titaniasfics · 3 years

Note

if your prompts are still open, for wanda and vision: "my love for you is set in stone" (bc tell me that 'Heart of Stone' from SIX isn't the perfect song to encapsulate the devastation that was the finale of WandaVision?! gahhh I just want Wanda, Vision and the kids to be together and happy!)

In which Vision needs to defeat Wanda before he can save her.

Inspired by a mashup of two prompts:

1) One shot of Vision and Wanda making up after a fight. Would love to see your take on it.

2) If your prompts are still open, for Wanda and Vision: "my love for you is set in stone" (bc tell me that 'Heart of Stone' from SIX isn't the perfect song to encapsulate the devastation that was the finale of WandaVision?! gahhh I just want Wanda, Vision and the kids to be together and happy!)

Bonkers drabble speculation on how Dr. Strange and the Multiverse of Madness movie might end. I make a ton of assumptions on this so please be aware that this all made up. Like, more made up than usual. Leans heavily into comic book lore, especially the Giant-Size Avengers Comic Book, Issue #4.

Oh, and I’m a noob when it comes to fight scenes, so I’ve contrived every way to avoid writing one.

Thanks, anons! The song “Heart of Stone” is now on my WandaVision playlist.

Heart of Stone

Vision’s vibranium arc reactor, which Dr. Cho installed to replace the Mind Stone and the flimsy solar absorption unit courtesy of SWORD, strains against Wanda’s sustained energy blast. Her beautiful blue eyes which normally turn a color of magma when she invokes her power, are now pitch black from Dormammu’s possession. Under his influence, she is doing her best to fulfill his diabolical directive.

Kill The Vision.

Even after Dr. Strange’s attempts to weaken her, she is as incandescent as the black energy that pulses at the center of the Dark Dimension. The Supreme Sorcerer tried to warn Vision when he first appeared in this hellish dimension of evil in search of Wanda.

She won’t recognize you. She will kill you and when she returns to herself and realizes what she has done, nothing in the universe – not me, not Agatha Harkness, not even Dormammu himself – will be able to withstand the force of her rage.

If he cannot reach her, she will not only destroy him, but in her grief, she will tear apart the multiverse and everything within it. Wanda’s grief is a cosmic force all its own.

He knows. He became well-acquainted with it in Westview when, like a puppet himself, he was sent to neutralize her.

Now, suspended between a host of conquered planets at the mercy of the god of the Dark Dimension, Wanda is draining him, even as he dredges up every last store of energy that the reactor can generate to resist her. Around him, the dimension roars with the collective fear of an infinite number of trapped beings.

I’ll hold off Dormammu, but if she doesn’t snap out of his spell, neither of us will be able to stop her and Dormammu will take Earth’s dimension.

As Dr. Strange warned, Vision needs to thwart Dormammu’s endless designs to absorb Earth into the Dark Dimension, but Vision also needs Wanda and he must find a way to get her back.

He sends another pulse of energy, forcing her to pull back, but she recovers quickly, his blast nothing more than an annoying insect bite. If he could just get to her. Look into her eyes. He knows like he knows who he is, who they are together, that he can reach her.

“Wanda, you are killing me. Darling, please,” he begs, knowing his words are a poor substitute for what he needs to do to free her.

“The Vision must die,” Wanda repeats, sending a last, decisive blast towards him. The impact sends fire through his body, heat like nothing he’s ever experienced. He falls, hurtling like a chunk of meteor to the hellish rock below. The impact is nothing compared to the pain. Vision is burning in his skin. His senses are compromised, his systems failing, despite the nanobots unfurling in his bloodstream, scurrying to stem the hemorrhages of a body struggling to remain intact.

When Wanda lands before him, he senses her more than he feels her. He reaches out to her, lifting his eyes to gaze into hers. Even though his vision is fading, he sees that they are as bottomless as the dark matter of the cosmos. As dark as the evil that holds her.

“Wanda, you must remember…who you are…”

“Wanda Maximoff is no more,” she drones and his heart fractures at the realization that her words might hold an unwanted truth. Perhaps Dormammu has buried Wanda…his Wanda… so far inside herself that she may never emerge again.

“Who said…Wanda is no more? Dormammu? You once said…you needed no one…to tell you who you are. Do you really take him at his word?”

She blinks, shaking her head as if to clear it. “Dormammu,” she murmurs and the emptiness in her voice is rich with confusion. On the strength of this, Vision staggers to his feet.

“You are not a puppet.” He reaches for her, her flinch half-hearted because she allows him to grasp her by her upper arms. “You are Wanda Maximoff. You are the Scarlet Witch –“

“The Scarlet Witch,” she repeats.

“—and you are my love,” he finishes before his strength gives out and he falls to one knee before her. “I am weak. I am not sure if I will recover, but you must remember who you are.”

The struggle is clear on her face. “Remember who I am. Who I am...”

“Yes. And remember that my love for you is set in stone, no matter what happens here.”

“Vision?” she asks, her question as plaintive as a child’s. He looks up again at the brittle tone of her voice. The darkness in her eyes floods with a blue as bright as the summer sky over the mountains, a blue that is out of place in this terrible hellscape.

“Wanda,” he says, reaching for her, but his strength is failing him as energy is diverted to repairing his damaged systems. “Remember us.”

She stiffens as if a distended rubber band has snapped into place. “Vision!” she shouts, kneeling before him. “Did I do this?”

He wants to say give her an affirmative answer but speech has escaped him and staying conscious consumes his every last effort.

“No-no-no-no,” she moans, tears distorting her words. “You can’t…you can’t die again.” Her hands glow and she places them over him. “I’m here. I’ll fix you.”

Vision takes a deep breath as her energy courses through him – familiar, like the smell of her hair or the softness of her skin. The fire that threatened to consume him earlier cools to a gentle pulse as the nanobots in his body feed on her energy, accelerating repairs, putting his body back together again at a rate even they had not been designed for. But they hold onto their structural integrity and Vision is able to see clearly again. His thoughts untangle and his strength returns.

She withdraws her powers, her palms warm as she cradles his head in her hands. “How? How did you get here?”

Vision puts his hand over hers, reveling in the feel of her skin against his. “It is a rather long story that I will share with you when we leave this place.”

“First things first,” she says, crushing her lips to his and at that moment, he realizes how much he has missed this as well, the sheer physicality of her love for him. A mad god howls in rage just beyond, the Dark Dimension threatens to swallow them both, but he is lost to the taste of her mouth and the warmth of her arms wrapped around him.

“Hey, guys?” comes a voice that pulls them from their bubble of bliss. “I could use some help over here.”

They pull apart to see Dr. Strange, locked in some magical struggle for dominance against the god of the Dark Dimension, straining against his power.

“I’ve got this,” Wanda says, rising into the air. “Don’t go anywhere.”

In awe of her power, he takes off beside her, ready to offer her the backup she really does not need. “You will never get rid of me again.”

***

One-shot masterlist on tumblr

ScarletVision Collection on AO3

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charlie-pippin-faraday · 3 years

Note

Please break out your detailed, extensive, itemized list of every single thing you hate about S3 of hoa

*cracks knuckles* don’t say i didn’t warn you

let’s start with some positives

Things I liked about S3

Patricia and Eddie ❤️

like I am a peddie bitch and they are the literal only reason I bothered to watch literally any snippets of S3 at all

Eddie being a fucking simp 💖

The Patricia and Jerome fake date makes me cackle literally every time, so put that in the plus column

KT’s cool I guess, she could’ve been an awesome add-on if you hadn’t like ripped everything else apart

Things I HATED about S3 - LITERALLY everything else

here’s the main problem that threw off literally everything: no Nina???? then LITERALLY what is the point. she was the fucking driving force. nothing felt right without her

and then doing that made you break up Nina and Fabian which???? why?????? the entire first 2 seasons were spent showing that they cared about each other most in the world you can’t just drop it like it never happened and didn’t matter

and then, subsequently, you had no idea what to do with Fabian all season. god I love him but he lost something, you did nothing with him; the guy who was the number 2 billed character in seasons 1 and 2 just felt like an afterthought. he just became an information bank which :(

you sent away Amber?? why would you do that??

I didn’t like Patricia and Eddie breaking up. Like damn @ HOA writers is it that hard to write people in an actual lasting relationship? you tend to focus on the chase and not the relationship. watching people navigate a loving and committed relationship is compelling, too. P&E are better as a kickass pair and should never have broken up

my extremely hot take: Eddie didn’t need to have powers. he didn’t need to be the osiris or whatever the fuck. listen I LOVE Eddie dearly but tbh I didn’t like a single thing about that whole thing. 1) the idea of him being Nina's “protector” just felt icky and wrong to me. 2) I loved the idea of Eddie being normal and having all these great qualities anyway. like just being a regular guy but STILL being as adventurous and protective and wanting to be a hero? beautiful. he didn’t need all this. he didn’t need to be “special.” it felt forced??? having Eddie do all the same things and having those same traits but without the powers or whatever just would have been absolutely beautiful to me

I have conflicting feelings about Eddie being sibuna leader. Maybe if they had built up to it then it would have made more sense, but it just felt really sudden and abrupt and a little forced. he’s not a BAD leader (dumb, but not bad) but god the vibes were just off

really this problem just stems from the you-abruptly-tossed-Nina-to-the-curb problem, god everything just felt WRONG without her, and idk how to forgive them or any of the subsequent decisions they made bc of it

idk how I feel about alfie/willow. the jury’s out on that one

the main mystery/sibuna plot was questionable at best. the whole sinners thing had its moments but overall, meh

FABIAN/MARA????? WTF?????? doesn’t make one lick of sense. nope. get it out of my sight. they could’ve been cool friends but if you wanted that then maybe you should have started it a season and a half earlier

don’t fucking talk to me about how much they absolutely DESTROYED Jerome’s character. Jerome is my absolute favorite character and I am absolutely DISTRAUGHT about what they did to him in S3. like all that development that happened? especially during season 2? GONE. oh, you wanted him to grow and change and develop and be a better person? nah, we’re gonna hit the reset button on that. wtf happened.

why the FUCK would you do that to Jerome/Mara. if I had my way, he absolutely NEVER would have cheated on her. with his season 2 development, him cheating wouldn’t have made any sense, but you erased all of that I guess. and maybe they don’t last but it certainly doesn’t go like THAT. like?? why did you write that?? he spent an ENTIRE TWO SEASONS falling for Mara and opening up to Mara as the person he trusted with intimate, sensitive parts of his life. he developed and grew to be a better person because of that relationship. EVERYTHING through the whole first two seasons was building up to them being together, them trusting each other and being each other’s person and I just don’t understand why you would do that. they made them do a complete 180 from their S2 personalities and nothing that happened made sense and I’m really upset about it

Jerome wasn’t involved in the mystery hardly at all?? like is it really a house of anubis season without Jerome being tangentially involved with the mystery on the other end, his storyline eventually merging with sibuna’s? he felt useless suddenly, and it made me extremely upset. Jerome is a really intriguing and dynamic character who does so many interesting things, and S3 reduced him to a cheating storyline. even if he’s not IN sibuna (which he SHOULD have been, but that’s a different rant), he should be involved in the sibuna plot!!!! i’m extremely upset about everything they did with Jerome

I hated the ENTIRE Mara/Joy/Willow/Jerome storyline. HATED it. The majority of the season was just “getting revenge on Jerome” and I just. hated it. every single part of it. you could have had so many better things for them to do. every time i’m rewatching I skip past every second of this storyline it’s boring, cringey, gross, and takes up far too much time.

I hate literally everything about Jerome/Joy it doesn’t make sense they don’t vibe; I can probably count the number of times they interacted before S3 on one hand; you literally could not pay me to watch footage of them get rid of it burn it with fire

Another hot take: KT and Joy should’ve been lesbians. specifically lesbians with each other, but definitely lesbians on their own. I get that nickelodeon probably wasn’t “allowed” to do that but. they should’ve been

KT didn’t need to drive a wedge between Patricia and Eddie, they could’ve all been friends with no problems. this DEFINITELY would not have been a problem if they’d let KT be a lesbian

there were MANY friendships that needed to be built upon. namely: Eddie/Fabian, Alfie/Fabian, Eddie/Jerome, Patricia/Alfie/Jerome as a trio, Patricia/KT, needed more Patricia/Mara

strengthen the Patricia/Joy and Alfie/Jerome bonds

man I just want everyone to be friends??? I love friendship

reiterating the things I hated most: they should NOT have broken up Patricia and Eddie, they should NOT have put KT between them, and they tbh should NOT have insinuated anything romantic there at all. TIRED of that shit. just let them be in love all season is that so hard

Fabian deserved better

JEROME DESERVED BETTER

burn the Fabian/Mara and Jerome/Joy pairings with fucking fire

should not have sent away Nina and Amber everything just felt wrong

there are SO many better choices they could have made. like....so many. @ HOA writers hire me to re-write the season

in conclusion: Patricia and Eddie being in love was the literal only good part of S3. fin.

#you asked for it #here it is #no one is allowed to dispute me especially on any of the couples things else i'll get mad #if you have agreeing thoughts and would like to chime in please feel free to chime in #anon #asks #house of anubis #Anonymous

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twoidiotwriters1 · 3 years

Text

Written In The Stars CXII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I know you guys hate it but I love making Mel and Harry fight, huge ‘I’m-yelling-bc-I-love-you’ energy -Danny

Words: 4,093

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘Worst In Me’ -by Julia Michaels.

Chapter Ten: Growing.

Turns out Umbridge was inspecting Trelawney's class, and if Mel could've graded the experience, she would've used a massive 'D'.

The girl paired up with Neville because she would often find herself chatting over Trelawney's orders whenever she and Ron shared a table. She didn't want that this time, and so she tried her best to focus on what she was doing with Neville. She was fearing that being in a different table, she wasn't going to be able to stop Harry if he tried to do something silly, the class went by with no accidents besides the fact that Trelawney could not do a prediction for Umbridge, which clearly made her fall a few points down.

Mel walked to her D.A.D.A. class with Neville, they talked about his new discoveries in herbology, she desperately needed to speak about some common silly nothings to remain sane, so when they entered the classroom, she hesitated a moment before finally deciding to sit next to the boy. They were a few tables behind Harry, Ron and Hermione. Mel felt a bit guilty about not making any real efforts to stay close to Harry, but she was feeling in a better mood now that she was having a normal day with a normal classmate.

"Wands away," Umbridge instructed. "As we finished chapter one last lesson, I would like you all to turn to page nineteen today and commence chapter two, 'Common Defensive Theories and Their Derivation.' There will be no need to talk."

Hermione raised her hand a few seats ahead, Umbridge got up from her place and walked up to hers, her usual terrifying smile plastered on her face.

"What is it this time, Miss Granger?"

"I've already read chapter two."

"Well then, proceed to chapter three."

"I've read that too. I've read the whole book."

"Well," Umbridge giggled. "Then, you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counterjinxes in chapter fifteen."

"He says that counterjinxes are improperly named. He says 'counterjinx' is just a name people give their jinxes when they want to make them sound more acceptable. But I disagree."

"You disagree?"

"Yes, I do. Mr Slinkhard doesn't like jinxes, does he? But I think they can be very useful when they're used defensively."

"Oh, you do, do you? Well, I'm afraid it is Mr Slinkhard's opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Miss Granger."

"But —"

"That is enough. Miss Granger, I am going to take five points from Gryffindor House."

"What for?" Harry asked angrily. Mel could see Hermione whisper something to him.

"For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions. I am here to teach you using a Ministry-approved method that does not include inviting students to give their opinions on matters about which they understand very little. Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more license, but as none of them — with the possible exception of Professor Quirrell, who did at least appear to have restricted himself to age-appropriate subjects — would have passed a Ministry inspection —"

"Why aren't we allowed to give our opinion? The teachers always encourage us to ask questions and be curious!" Mel blurted out, emboldened by the memory of her jobless uncle. "Was it really their way of working, or just your racist rubbish?"

"And Quirrell was a great teacher all right," said Harry right after her, "there was just that minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head."

There was a thick silence afterwards, Umbridge smiled a both, a triumphant glint in her eyes.

"I think another week's detentions would do you some good, Mr Potter," said Umbridge sweetly. "Miss Dumbledore, you may only speak when spoken to, or when you're granted the word. Otherwise, I'd recommend you to remain quiet. Sixty points from Gryffindor."

Mel entered the Great Hall fuming, she walked up to her table and saw Angelina, Professor McGonagall and Harry all arguing about something.

"I'm already being punished by her, why do you have to take points as well?" Harry asked in outrage. "Mel already lost sixty!"

"Shut up!" She hissed.

"Because detentions do not appear to have any effect on you whatsoever!" Professor McGonagall looked at her in the same way. "Dumbledore told you to stay out of it, Miss Dumbledore, I see myself in the obligation to talk with the Headmaster about this! And as for you, Miss Johnson, you will confine your shouting matches to the Quidditch pitch in future or risk losing the team Captaincy!"

Angelina stormed out of the Hall, not without giving Harry one last nasty look.

"She's taken points off Gryffindor because I'm having my hand sliced open every night! How is that fair, how?"

"I know, mate, she's bang out of order," Ron put extra bacon on Harry's plate.

"You disloyal twat!" Mel aggressively put down a jar of murtlap essence in front of Harry. "Now Dumbledore will lecture me again because you decided to rat me out!"

"Well it's true, isn't it?" He pointed to the jar. "What's that rubbish?"

"That rubbish is for your hand," She retorted in an awful mood, "put it on your bloody hand and it should heal right away."

The girl left without waiting for a reply, wanting to hex everyone. The fact that she'd spent twenty minutes of her breakfast hour doing the stupid essence now felt like a really dumb thing to do. She wondered why was she still trying to be nice when Harry didn't care, he knew that she could feel his pain and still decided to get another detention. Maybe they were better on their own, trying to remain as a team was starting to break them further apart.

Mel clenched her fists and continued until her feet took her to the only safe haven they could remember. The library was empty, no one had urgent schoolwork to finish being the second week of the trimester. She sat down at the very end, rubbing her temples and pondering on whether she should cry a bit to release some tension or go back to the Hall and have breakfast with Ginny when she heard the soft sound of footsteps.

"Woke up on the wrong side of the bed?" asked a voice in amusement.

Erick stepped closer with a teasing glint in his eyes.

"You stood me up last Saturday. What now, you get a boyfriend and suddenly decide you no longer need friends? That's a bit–"

Mel didn't let him finish, she stood up and hugged him as tightly as she could.

"You have no idea how much I've missed you."

Erick froze, his arms hovering above her awkwardly. "I... I missed you too?"

Mel stepped back, quickly cleaning her face.

"Merlin's sake, you don't have to say it if you don't want to..."

"Sorry– it's just... That's the first time someone says that to me..." The last part came out barely above a whisper, Erick avoided her eyes.

"Well, it's true. This summer was a nightmare..."

"I know what you mean... at least a little. My grandad's been... not great," Erick glanced at the table and then her. "Every time I catch a glimpse of you, you're always grumpy..."

"It's the O.W.L.S, you know?"

"Sure, not like I've seen you argue with Potter," Erick smirked. "Want advice? Kiss him whenever he acts up, that'll shut him."

"That's out of the question," She sat down again. "We're not dating."

"What?" He exclaimed.

"Shh!" Mel looked around and then glared at him. "Sit down."

"I don't understand," Erick's frown deepened. "You two were so sickeningly happy and–"

"It was a mistake."

"What?" He asked again, this time laughing a little. "I'm sorry, but since when is dating your crush a mistake?"

"We didn't date," She retorted. "We... it blew up in our faces– Sit down, will you?"

"But what happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it!"

"Okay!" He huffed. "What do you want to talk about, then?"

"Why don't you tell me how's your Grandad?"

Erick's face did not tense at the mention, but it certainly grew worried.

"He's well enough... stayed with him the whole summer so I didn't write to Anne, in case you were wondering."

"Don't ask about Harry and I won't ask about Anne," Mel shrugged. "Seems fair."

Erick only looked more alarmed. "Seriously, what happened?"

"Erick," She said, "leave it."

"Are you at least going to tell me why'd you stood me up the other day?"

"I invited Hermione by mistake. I wanted to talk to you in private."

"Why?"

"Because Harry– well now I don't want to," She added when she saw the way he rolled his eyes. "I don't want to do anything. I don't even want to go to my next class..."

"Let me guess, because you'll have to see him and talk to him," He finally sat down, pondering for a moment. "All right, then get rid of him. Stop being his friend."

"I can't do that. Dumbledore's orders."

"He asked you to babysit?"

Mel nodded gloomily.

"Do you really have to be near him?"

"Well," She tilted her head. "I guess not... just when Umbridge's around."

"So just during her class?"

"Probably..."

"Okay, make sure he keeps his mouth shut for an hour or two and then you have the rest of the day free."

Mel thought about it for a second, then groaned in frustration.

"Knowing Harry, he'll find a way to run into her more times a day..."

"Potter's old enough to know better, don't you think?" Erick raised a brow. "Especially after what he went through..."

Annoyance flooded over her at the way Erick so casually mentioned Harry's close call. She clenched her jaw and shrugged. She didn't want to keep talking to him, being honest, she simply didn't want to talk to anyone at all.

"I'm tired," She muttered.

"I can't help with that, go take a nap," He sighed. "I'm sorry you didn't get the prefect badge, by the way..."

Mel laughed humorlessly.

"I don't care. Guess a part of me always knew Hermione would beat me."

"I really thought you'd be it," He replied. "Not that I don't think 'Mione's not smart or anything, it made sense, you and Harry..."

"Maybe Dumbledore thinks we have too much in our hands," She started to peel the corner of the table. "Or that we're out of control..."

"He certainly has reasons to believe it..."

"Did Parkinson and Malfoy report me?" She blurted out.

Erick frowned.

"What did you do now?"

Mel quickly told him about the incident, Erick found it extremely amusing.

"Had it coming, those idiots..." He admitted. "But you really shouldn't do that. Umbridge will take any opportunity to take you to her office and see if she can force you into confessing about the Order."

"Talking about that..." She moved so she was now facing him. "Are you part of it, then?"

"Not until I'm seventeen and out of school... I'm a very active intern for now."

"But do you want to be part of it?"

Erick didn't hesitate this time.

"I do. I won't be hiding behind my mother's skirt, once I'm out, I'll be out forever. My plan hasn't changed, I'll live with my Grandad and I'll help as much as I can."

"I'm proud of you, you know?" Mel smiled, her mood lifting with the passion he was letting out in every word.

"Shut up," He muttered.

"I mean it! You've come a long way. Remember my first year? You found me crying and told me to just give up on Hermione. Look at you now..."

"I'm still trying to convince you to give up on people," He moved on his chair awkwardly. "I told you this was my plan since the beginning, I'm just finally doing something about it."

"Yeah," Mel agreed, thinking that her own plan had been obliterated and now she was stuck in place. "I'm happy for you..."

"You know what? Take my advice. Keep Potter's mouth shut during class and we'll trust that he can find his way without you for the rest of the day. You need a break," Erick stood up, grabbing her bag and picking it up for her.

"Trust me," She sighed. "I know."

Mel stayed away from her friends for the rest of the day, and Harry found a way to get an extra day of detention during their Care of Magical creatures class -Umbridge had been there– but the girl persisted, she had lunch and dinner with Ginny and her friends, and she spent her free period with the twins and their friends.

When she entered the common room, she discovered that Harry wasn't there with Ron and Hermione, which explained why her right hand was starting to feel sore. She sat with a small smile playing on her lips, her day had improved after a whole afternoon without useless bickering.

"Is there any point on asking?" Hermione sighed.

"No," Mel said calmly, tunning out the pain on her hand.

Harry arrived close to midnight with his hand bleeding profusely, Mel made sure to write in a way that the darkness could hide her own bruised hand. Hermione handed him the murtlap jar Mel had left for him during breakfast.

"I still reckon you should complain about this," said Ron.

"No," said Harry.

"McGonagall would go nuts if she knew —"

"Yeah, she probably would. And how long d'you reckon it'd take Umbridge to pass another Decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?"

"She's an awful woman. Awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in... we've got to do something about her."

"I suggested poison."

"No... I mean, something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we're not going to learn any defence from her at all," said Hermione.

"Well, what can we do about that? 'S too late, isn't it? She got the job, she's here to stay, Fudge'll make sure of that."

"Well... You know, I was thinking today... I was thinking that — maybe the time's come when we should just — just do it ourselves."

"Do what ourselves?" said Harry.

Mel's hand stopped writing but she didn't look up.

"Well — learn Defense Against the Dark Arts ourselves," said Hermione.

"Come off it! You want us to do extra work? D'you realize Harry and I are behind on homework again and it's only the second week? And Mel's all right but I'm sure not even her can get past the stress!"

"But this is much more important than homework!"

"I didn't think there was anything in the universe more important than homework," Ron teased.

"Don't be silly, of course there is! It's about preparing ourselves, like Harry said in Umbridge's first lesson, for what's waiting out there. It's about making sure we really can defend ourselves. If we don't learn anything for a whole year —"

"We can't do much by ourselves, I mean, all right, we can go and look jinxes up in the library and try and practice them, I suppose —"

"If you're planning on reading just like you read in Umbridge class, then it won't change much," Mel said.

"No, I agree, we've gone past the stage where we can just learn things out of books. We need a teacher, a proper one, who can show us how to use the spells and correct us if we're going wrong."

"If you're talking about Lupin..."

"No, no, I'm not talking about Lupin," said Hermione. "He's to busy with the Order and anyway, the most we could see him is during Hogsmeade weekends and that's not nearly often enough."

"Who, then?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm talking about you and Mel, Harry."

"About me what?"

"What?" Mel laughed.

"I'm talking about you teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"That's an idea," Ron said calmly. "Mel could teach us, with her extra lessons and everything..."

"But... But I'm not a teacher, I can't —"

"You and Mel are the best in the year at Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione.

"Me?" said Harry, this time grinning. "No, I'm not, you and Mel have beaten me in every test —"

"Actually, I haven't. You beat me in our third year — the only year we both sat the test and had a teacher who actually knew the subject. But I'm not talking about test results, Harry. Look what you've done! Look at what Mel can do!"

"How d'you mean?"

"You know what, I'm not sure I want someone this stupid teaching me," Ron said to Hermione with a smirk, then pretended to concentrate fully. "Let's think, uh... first year — you saved the Stone from You-Know-Who–"

"But that was luck, that wasn't skill —"

"Yeah, and Quirrell smashed my skull afterwards!"

"Second year," Ron insisted, "you killed the basilisk and destroyed Riddle, Harry."

"Yeah, but if Fawkes hadn't turned up I —"

"Third year," Ron raised his voice, "Mel starts her private lessons with Dumbledore and she learns to do non-verbal spells as if they were as simple as a nap. Then you two fought off about a hundred dementors at once —"

"You know that was a fluke, if the Time-Turner hadn't —"

"Last year," Ron was practically yelling now. "Mel learned to fight off the Imperio curse in her first try and saw right through Moody before anyone else. You fought off You-Know-Who again—"

"Listen to me!" Ron and Hermione were both smirking now. "Just listen to me, all right? It sounds great when you say it like that, but all that stuff was luck — I didn't know what I was doing half the time, I didn't plan any of it, I just did whatever I could think of, and I nearly always had help —"

"I had tons of help!" Mel exclaimed, finally finding her voice. "I read until I couldn't keep my eyes open– most of the things I know are all theory and no practice– don't smile at us like that! You know we're as close to being teachers as a bowtruckle!"

"Don't sit there like you know better than we do," Harry said heatedly. "I was there, wasn't I? I know what went on, all right? And I didn't get through any of that because I was brilliant at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I got through it all because — because help came at the right time, or because I guessed right— or Mel lost control and it just happened to work out in our favour, but we just blundered through it all, I didn't have a clue what I was doing and Mel— STOP LAUGHING!"

Harry stood up menacingly, the jar falling off his hand and breaking into a bunch of sharp pieces. Hermione and Ron quickly lost their smiles.

"You don't know what it's like! You— neither of you— you've never had to face him, have you? You think it's just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you're in class or something? The whole time you know there's nothing between you and dying except your own — your own brain or guts or whatever — like you can think straight when you know you're about a second from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die — they've never taught us that in their classes, what it's like to deal with things like that, having to suck the life out of a someone in order to survive!" Mel's breath hitched, none of them had told the others what had happened last June. "And you two sit there acting like we're two clever little kids standing here, alive, like Diggory was stupid, like he messed up — you just don't get it, that could just as easily have been me if it weren't for Mel– it would have been if Voldemort hadn't needed me and I hadn't used Mel's—"

"Shut up!" She yelled, pulling him back because he'd gotten too close to their friends.

"We weren't saying anything like that," Ron said fearfully. "We weren't having a go at Diggory, we didn't — you've got the wrong end of the —" He stammered the rest under his breath, unable to end his sentence out of shock.

"You didn't sound understanding," Mel stated, dropping Harry's arm when he snatched it away. "It's never over, not like we lived through it and then just continued with our day... there's... we would always have..."

"Nightmares," Harry ended weakly.

"Guys," Hermione said quietly, "don't you see? This... this is exactly why we need you... We need to know what it's r-really like... facing him... facing V-Voldemort."

Mel would've been proud of Hermione, but she was still too agitated. However, Harry did react, he sat down again, though still breathing as he'd run for hours. A cramp ran down her hand in full force and she hissed. Harry frowned, noticing right away.

"I'm an idiot."

"I'm not going to argue you that," Mel scowled, holding her hand tightly. "I thought you'd be smarter, knowing what it does to me..."

"I don't mind being punished for telling the truth... but I don't want to drag you with me– I never wanted that," Harry sentenced.

Ron and Hermione stared at the both of them without really understanding what they meant.

"Well... think about it," said Hermione, glancing between the two. "Please?"

Harry nodded quietly, Mel hid her hand in her pocket and shrugged.

"Well, I'm off to bed," Their friend continued, still shaking. "Erm... 'night."

Ron got up too, he turned to look at Harry. "Coming?"

"Yeah," He said, looking down at the shattered glass. "In... in a minute. I'll just clear this up."

"I'll help..." Mel murmured.

When it was just the two of them, Mel crossed her arms and stared pointedly at him.

"Well?" She raised a brow. "I'm tired of being the one cleaning up your messes."

"I never asked–" He looked up at her and sighed, tired of fighting. "Doesn't matter... Reparo!"

The essence was gone, and she groaned thinking of how it was up to her to get more. She also knew that Harry needed to tend his hand now if she wanted to have a good sleep, so before he could leave she added:

"Sit," Mel grabbed her wand. "I'm going to mend you."

"I don't need–"

"I'm doing this for me," She showed him the purple bruise of thin letters that were forming on her skin. "You're still trying to cut out the lifeline? It's not working."

"Like you're doing any better," He hissed when she 'accidentally' pressed his wound.

"I'm not the problematic one, am I?"

Harry remained silent.

"That's what I thought," She healed the open cuts gradually. "Unlike you, I know how to stay out of trouble and I don't get as injured..."

"Well, it's not you the one people's been attacking–"

"It's not you either," She replied sharply. "People talk about you, but you're the one picking fights. The only person being attacked here is Dumbledore and I don't see him yelling at the rest of the staff."

"I don't see him talking to anyone but you, so that must be why," He said hastily.

"That's not my fault," Mel let go of his hand, it wasn't bleeding or inflamed, which was impressive considering it was her first time healing someone.

There was something bitter about the fact that holding his hand wasn't bringing her any kind of sweet emotion like it used to. She would still feel waves of affection, but those were dying quicker as time went by, something inside her was successfully pushing him out of her system, and she was starting to get used to it.

"If you're so desperate to talk to him then why don't you visit his office?"

Harry gave her a sour look, and she let out a dry laugh.

"You do want him to ask, don't you? See if he cares?"

"I think I'll go to bed now," He stood up.

"Suit yourself," Mel shrugged. "You're welcome, by the way."

"I thought you had done it for yourself," He replied sarcastically.

"I still made you a favour by doing so," She said. "You know, if you'd show a bit of gratitude instead of ignoring everyone that offers you help, people would–"

"THANK YOU!" He said rudely, his back turned to her as he left the common room.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @sarcasticallywitty15

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

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chrisevansgoodgirl · 4 years

Note

Can we talk about Carol and Steve punishing their sub? Because I love both my captains 😭

(Goodness! Sorry this took so long!)

Anyway. Let’s talk about this! Bc I feel like the styles are SO SO SO SO SO so fucking different.

Carol likes to punish you. She likes to grab you by the jaw when you’re talking back, she likes to pull your hair after you roll your eyes at her, she likes to grab you and pin you to the wall when you try to walk away from her. And she loves spanking you, edging you, and just not letting you come at all. Because she really likes when you’re whimpering and crying bc you need an orgasm while you’re laid out on top of her, head on her chest while she runs her fingers through your hair. And she really loves making you eat her out. For hours. She lets you on the bed so you’re comfortable but she really likes to ignore you while your mouth is between her legs. She’ll answer texts, sometimes calls. She’ll browse Netflix, sometimes even start a new show. She’ll read a book, a newspaper. And then you feel like you have something to prove—which is probably her goal.

Steve is soft. He doesn’t necessarily like it. He definitely doesn’t hate it, but he prefers to spoil you, not punish you. But when he knows he must, he will. Unlike Carol, he only ever punishes you on the bed. You’re not sure why, he’s just very strict about it. He won’t make you stand or bend you over a table, and it is NEVER in public—though, he does enjoy when Carol punishes you in a semi-public way. So, this bitch is a talker. Why am I punishing you? What lesson am I trying to teach you? Are you going to do it again? You always say no and he doesn’t communicate any disbelief even though you’re sure it’s there. Don’t you prefer being my good girl? And you claim yes, again, he accepts the answer. His preferred method is definitely spanking. Carol enjoys that from time to time, but’s definitely a Steve Punishment™️. He will have you count. Sometimes, he runs his fingers through your pussy and if you’re too wet, he makes you wait until you’re not. He loves how you end up absolutely needy and shaking, begging him to touch you—you don’t care how, you just need his hands on your body.

Where they have a common interest is overstimulation. Carol has tied you to the bed and left a vibrator on your clit for two hours before. You were a babbling, crying mess at the end, but the look of absolute adoration on her face and the way she held you afterward made up for most of it. She has you go to parties, meetings, other social events with too many people, where she has a smaller vibrator in your pussy and the means to control it with a handy app on her phone. Steve makes you sit on his face and won’t let you off until he is done. Super soldier. He’s never done. His favorite thing to do is make you talk. He has his hands on your hips and he lifts you just barely, starts using one hand’s fingers to press down on your clit or tease your entrance, and then says things like are you sorry for misbehaving? What do you think your punishment should be? Tell me how much you love me. Tell me how good I’m making you feel right now. You’re mostly incoherent, but he seems satiated by your responses most of the time.

The reasons for punishment are also so different. Most of the time. Carol reacts quickly so you talk back, you roll your eyes, you blatantly ignore her “advice”—see: orders—sometimes. She doesn’t do the talking like Steve. You know why she’s punishing you, she knows you know, and you both damn well know you’ll do it again whenever you please. With Steve, any of that behavior just gets you his disappointed eyebrows and then much later, you’re on the bed talking about it, waiting for him to pull you over his knee. You have never voiced it but you think he gets off on your nerves about it. He likes making you wait, keeping you guessing when, how many, how hard, will he fuck you after? Control. Freak. More often than not, Steve punishes you for “challenging” him in front of the team. You can’t do that, so he claims, because then everyone else will and then it’s not a team—you could recite this lecture in your sleep, you’ve gotten it enough.

These are the light punishments. Like that time you snuck out to a club with Wanda and then returned home with a black eye because long story short, some drunk loser got too handsy with Wanda and you started a fight with him and his friends. Or that time you consented to being bait for a mission and had to act without backup when the team couldn’t get there fast enough, no fault of their own; they just weren’t able to be close enough without being obvious. Or the time you had a drinking contest with Tony and won—which he argues about even though he called Pepper at 3 in the morning and begged her to take him back...they weren’t separated—and fell coming up the apartment stairs and sprained your wrist and bruised both shins. Neither Carol nor Steve were big drinkers and they constantly implored you to be responsible if you needed to do it. Or the time you helped Shuri, Peter, and Valkyrie prank the whole team. You weren’t allowed to retell the stories about Steve and Carol. Maybe it started with a p and ended in —regnancy. Regardless, the three of you decided to swap Thor’s cape out for a pink toned one that looked very much like the lesbian flag, which was totally not intentional... Tony was furious that the media reported Thor being the first avenger to make a political statement regarding sexuality. He was seriously planning a rainbow suit, and the rest of the team was no better, madness that Steve had to put an end to that he blamed you for completely.

But there are other, more serious times. Like when you make decisions during a mission that they are not on board with. And it doesn’t go as well as you would have hoped. Or that time, against Steve’s wishes, you were hanging out with a specific fantastic member of a certain team and there were paparazzi pictures the following day of when the tool kissed you out of nowhere—he swears he didn’t know you were with Steve and Carol, no one really believes him. Or when Carol told you not to go on that road trip with Nat and Bucky because, per Carol, despite them being master assassins, they had few people skills, absolutely no driving skills, and all three of you liked egging each other on way too much. Since Steve had been out of town, you were easily able to sneak out when Carol went to the gym. You guys were attacked, car destroyed, ended up hitch hiking to Montana, and had to call Steve and Carol to come get you.

When Carol is serious about punishment, it’s the craziest thing. She’s just at a complete loss. She’s not sure what to say or what to do, she is truly appalled and frustrated. This is when she leans on Steve a little—she sees him as the epitome of control and thinks he can offer it when she is feeling so out of control. All three of you end up on the bed, he sits against the headboard and holds you while Carol is sitting at the foot of the bed. Sometimes, she has you on your stomach, forearms locked tightly in Steve’s hands. This is when she spanks you. Sometimes, she has you on your back, Steve’s arms wrapped around your waist, and this is when she edges you until she’s satisfied. This is also when she talks. She wants you to show regret for upsetting her. She wants apologies and promises that it’s not going to happen again. But see, it’s not the same as when Steve talks bc Carol is going to do exactly what she wants and it doesn’t matter whether you tell her what she wants to hear or not. So, sometimes, you refuse to apologize, especially if it was a decision you stand by. These scenarios always end in a sort of compromise. It’s definitely not a win for either one of you and she’s okay with that. If anything, this is just to let you know that you scared her and if you would not scare her again, that would be great. Still, she has to send a message. You’re the only one naked, the only one vulnerable. Essentially, you’re the only one in the room without power and she likes to remind you in any way she can.

Steve. This is where things take a serious turn. He gags you. Because he doesn’t want to hear apologies, excuses, or arguments. Really, it’s almost dehumanizing when he punishes you this way, like you’re just an object for him to use however he wants. And it’s not like you can say no. Not that you’ve ever considered it, but there is this dark cloud over the whole room bc you have to wonder if he’ll know if you need him to stop. You hate that it actually gives you this tiny thrill. Carol watches. Steve demands it—but you wonder if it’s this mutual thing that they find in one another, maybe he’s feeling out of control and she’s the brakes then. He tells her what to do, too. He tells her when to undress, when to touch herself. The entire time, he’s fucking you furiously, yet acting like you’re not even there. He always starts you facing away from Carol. When he turns you toward her, you know he’s just about done with you. But when you lock eyes with her, when you know she’s looking at you, it’s harder not to come. You can’t warn Steve when you’re too close, you just have to hope that he’ll stop in time. For your sake alone, you assume—you’re not entirely sure what would happen if you finished without his permission. Not that you would ever tell him, but it scares the hell out of you to imagine. Afterwards, he’ll clean you up and tuck you in next to Carol. He usually goes to the gym to get rid of any remaining anger. You don’t tell him because you know it will make him feel guilty but you don’t fall asleep until he slides into bed and wraps an arm around you. You always take that to mean that he’s no longer mad at you. And every following morning, when he knows you’re awake, his fingers seek out your clit as some form of an apology for losing his temper with you.

#steve rogers x reader #carol danvers x reader #steve rogers x reader x carol danvers #carol danvers x reader x steve rogers #smutask #carolsmut #stevesmut #my writing

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elsaclack · 5 years

Note

for the kiss thing either 12 or 9 (love your writing btw

9. one small kiss, pulling away for an instant, then devouring each other

12. a hoarse whisper “kiss me”

hmmm once again this is 40,000 years late but honestly i’m glad i waited bc i didn’t have a clue what to do with this combination UNTIL i saw a post the other day talking about jake actually arresting the wrong person (accidentally) and it got me thinking,,,,,since he’s now canonically SO much more thorough when working cases, what would the circumstances be for him to a) do that and b) realize that he did that

so naturally i went full mob boss frames someone they want to get rid of LMAO

(I DON’T REMEMBER WHO WROTE THE POST OR WHO REBLOGGED IT AND I’M SO SORRY ABOUT THAT but if that concept sounds familiar and you know who did write it/if you are the person who wrote it please tell me bc you deserve 99% of the credit here!!!!!!!!!!!)

anyways here’s this i’m sorry it’s late and i’m sorry if it’s more angsty than you were originally hoping it would be but boy howdy this was. A Trip

also @startofamoment i wrote the thing

She can hear him in the bedroom when she gets home later that evening.

He’s crying something hoarse and ragged, something that jars her most basic, primal instincts; so focused on the noise is she that she barely registers the heavy thunk of her purse hitting the ground or the noisy whoosh of her sergeant’s jacket following suit. Their apartment is dark but there’s a soft glow coming from the bedroom doorway; she hurries toward it, kicking her boots off haphazardly as she goes.

“Jake,” she calls before she’s even made it past the threshold.

He’s perched at the foot of their bed, head hanging, back curved inward in the perfect image of defeat. His face is mostly covered from her view by his hands, and his shoulders shudder and heave as the storm within him rages. He makes no immediate acknowledgement of her presence, aside from a strangled moan slightly higher in pitch than the moans before it.

Amy rushes to him, dropping to her knees and scrambling forward until she fits herself into the scant space between his knees. She has a much better view of his ruddy, tear-stained face from here; without a conscious thought, she reaches up to grip his shoulders, his neck, her touch light and warm and soothing.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” she whispers, but his eyes remain closed. Now that she’s in his space she can see and feel just how violently he’s trembling; insistently, she presses her forehead up against his fingers, until he has no choice but to move them so that his forehead is flush against hers. “Sh, honey, it’s okay,” she murmurs, palms skating up his shoulders into the curve of his neck until her thumbs brush against the hinge of his jaw. “It’s okay.”

His hands fall from his face down to his lap, limp and still trembling, but after a moment he blindly reaches for her. His body shudders against a harsh, uneven inhale just as his fingers curl around the curve of her waist, and she keeps a steady stream of whispered reassurances going until she feels him stop trembling.

Slowly, his bloodshot, swollen eyes flutter open; she kisses the end of his nose to hide her pitying smile.

Pity is the last thing he needs.

“I fucked up,” he mumbles. “Majorly.”

Every instinct in her body wants to argue with him, but she bites her tongue and gently scratches at the back of his neck. “You followed the evidence,” she reminds him softly.

“The wrong evidence,” his voice is sharp and unfamiliar; she ignores the urge to flinch. “I fell right into the stupid trap like an idiot and - and -”

“You are not an idiot,” she admonishes, careful to keep her voice low despite the passion leaking into her words. “Literally any of us would have drawn the same conclusion -”

“But I’m the one who actually did.” he interrupts again, and the muscles in his neck are tense and straining beneath her fingertips. Slowly, she lowers herself until they’re able to meet each other’s gazes, and though his eyes are still brimming with tears, the rage there is unmistakable. “I’m the one who made the call and put in the arrest report - not just any of us. Me.”

“St. Clair and his mob have been terrorizing New York for thirty years - he’s beyond a career criminal, Jake, he’s an actual bonafide criminal mastermind. I guarantee that wasn’t the first time he’s framed someone for a crime they didn’t commit. What matters is that you figured it out. You knew something felt wrong and you trusted your instincts despite Holt and Terry and every other person involved in the case telling you that you were just being obsessive, and you got him. You got the right person, who happens to be a huge criminal the NYPD has been chasing for years, and you saved the innocent man he framed.”

“Saved him from spending the rest of his life in the prison I put him in,” he mutters, though with far less conviction than before. “I just - I’m so angry at myself.”

“I know you are,” Amy whispers around the painful knot of emotion in her throat. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now. But please, please try to remember the way you felt about the officers who arrested you that day at the bank. You didn’t blame them, did you?”

He studies her face for a moment before answering. “No.”

“And us, the squad - did you blame us for not being there?”

“No.”

��Who did you blame?”

His gaze drops to his knees. “Hawkins,” he says after a moment.

“Exactly. You blamed the person who framed you, because she’s the one who tried to ruin your life to begin with. No one blames you for this, Jake. Especially since you’re the one who figured out it was a frame job two days after the case officially ended.”

Tears are springing up in his eyes again - though she suspects they’re far less angry than before.

“You are a excellent detective and an amazing person, babe,” she murmurs, framing his face between both of her hands before pressing her forehead against his again. “Richard Smith is lucky to have had you involved in this case - no one else would have thought to question the legitimacy of the paperwork on the bank accounts the vic’s money was drained to, no one else would have dug as intensely as you dug. You’re a good man,” she says slowly, “and I am so, so glad that you’re the one I get to spend the rest of my life with. I love you so much, Jake, more than anything in the world.”

His breathing has gone more shallow, tears beginning to drip down his face. “Kiss me,” he says hoarsely.

She hesitates for all of one moment before angling her head down and pressing a soft, chaste kiss against his lips. His hands are far more abrasive than before when he reaches round to pull her closer; she pulls away abruptly, gasping into his mouth, and then he’s yanking her closer, all but devouring her.

He kisses her hungrily, hands rough and restless where they roam the expanse of her back and tangle in her hair. He hums something high-pitched, almost absently, edging closer to the end of the bed and trapping her in place with his knees. She slings an arm around his neck for balance and cups the side of his face with her free hand, letting him take what he needs but still grounding him to reality with her thumb softly caressing his cheekbone.

It takes a long moment, but eventually he seems to come back to himself; his kisses soften and slow, like all the tension of the day behind him has finally leaked out of him. She keeps her hand on his face even after their lips part, thumb stroking steadily as he shudders and leans forward, past her face, head nestling comfortably into the crook of her neck.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

“For what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Me either.”

“Sometimes I just - I still can’t believe that this is real, y’know? Like - like you’ll wake up one day and realize you’ve made a horrible mistake with me -”

“Being with you is the single best decision I’ve ever made in my life,” she interrupts. “From the moment we first kissed in the evidence lockup, all you’ve done is prove to me how good and right and perfect you are for me. Time and time again, you’ve shown me how much you love me, how much you care about me, all the things you’d rather not do, but do anyways for me. You’ve brought so much joy and happiness and laughter into my life, you’ve made everything brighter and better. For all the anxiety and doubt and confusion I deal with on a daily basis, I need you to really hear me when I say that this - you and me? It’s the only thing I’ve never once doubted. You’re my orangina, Jake. You always have been, and you always will be, no matter what life throws at us.”

She feels the muscles in his jaw clench against her shoulder and he nestles closer, his arms around her waist cinching tighter. “I love you so much,” he whispers, sounding dangerously close to tears once again.

“I love you, too,” she whispers, finally moving her hand on his face up to gently card her fingers through his hair. “And I know you haven’t eaten in two days, so I called Sal’s on my way home from work. The delivery guy should be here in less than ten minutes.”

He releases a strangled groan, squeezing her so hard she can’t draw a breath for a moment. “You’re the best person I know,” he breathes.

She smiles and turns her head to press a kiss to the crown of his head. “And you’re the best person I know,” she murmurs into his hair.

And she means with with every fiber of her being - just as she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he does, too.

#brooklyn nine nine fanfiction #brooklyn 99 fanfiction #peraltiago fanfiction #jake peralta #amy santiago #my b99 fics #b99 #jake x amy #merp guess who didn't proofread #hope there are no glaring mistakes lmfao #Anonymous

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jessethejoyful · 6 years

Text

part three bc i’m weak-willed

more of this art school au that is dominating my life tbh

read it here on ao3

BAZ

Class on Monday is an unexpected balm to my stress, and I’m feeling rather pleased with myself when I walk out. The professor was very complimentary, as they always are, but this felt different. Maybe because I’d felt so unsure about the piece. The colors had felt off, and I told the professor as much, but he told me it conveyed something private and almost intimate about me.

Which is cool, but a little scary. I don’t like to convey too much about myself, not to anyone.

Dev had texted me that morning about getting lunch, and I agreed to meet him in the student union after class, where several fast food restaurants had set up storefronts. I don’t have much interest in the food, but I do get myself a milkshake and let myself enjoy it. Meanwhile, Dev sits down with a tray full of fried food, and I try to ignore how the smell makes my stomach twist. My cousin might also come from money, but he never really acts like it. It’s almost refreshing sometimes.

Almost.

“So you ready for the show?” Dev asks, shoving food in his mouth like a cretin. He even talks with his mouth open. “Aren’t you taking like three pieces this time?”

I grit my teeth, fighting down the swirling stress that threatens at the edge of my mind. The art supply store in town is hosting another huge art sale party. I always attend with one piece, and am out of there before ten o’clock. That much of a crowd, milling around and talking about art - nope. My social anxiety doesn’t allow for it. But Fiona was up my ass this summer to do more (“You could be making a mint off these, Basil! What’re you doing, holing up with these at home, building yourself a nest? Don’t be such a coward!”) and I’d finally given in, if only to get her to shut up. I had three large paintings ready to go, but I still felt the nerves like a hot poker shoved into my side, burning me.

“Of course I’m ready,” I say through my teeth. “It’s in two days. Unlike you, I don’t procrastinate everything until the night before.” Dev grins at me, and he’s got a mouthful of food, and it’s horrific.

“Well, I can’t wait to see them.”

I stare at him, straw halfway to my mouth. “You’re coming? You’ve never come to one of my shows before.”

“Thought you might like some support.”

“What ever gave you that idea?” Dev shrugs and doesn’t say anything, focusing on his disgusting food again. “I… thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome, Basil.”

I head back to my apartment, my classes over for the day and with half a mind to take a nap, even knowing how it’ll ruin me later. Usually, I’d spend the rest of the night in the studio, but the sore ache behind my eyes is getting to be too much. And I’m hungry. I’m regretting not eating lunch, especially since that had been the point of meeting Dev today. My cousin had looked dubiously at my milkshake, but hadn’t commented.

In the end, I decide to go to the bakery down the street. The scone Snow had given me had been wrapped in paper with the store’s name printed repeatedly across it and it had actually been quite good, even when it was lukewarm.

When I step inside the cushy space, I immediately regret it, because there’s Penelope, Simon’s other friend, behind the counter. Another potential girlfriend? Probably not.

If I didn’t know any better, I would think this idiot boy is trying to take over my entire life. But it’s too late for me to step out, she’d called out a welcome when the door chimed, so I step over to the line. I stare hard at the pastries behind the glass without really seeing them.

“Basil!” Penelope greets me, and I’m taken aback by the friendly tone. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here before.”

“I’ve - never come in.” I swallow down any snarky remarks, ready to make nice. “Snow brought me one of your scones the other day, and it was quite good. I wanted to see the source.” She smiles at me, and her chubby cheeks push up her garish turquoise glasses.

“Well, you came at a good time. Just took the cherry scones out of the oven. How many would you like?”

“Ah - just two, I think.” Penelope nods and pushes the glass open, wrapping the two pastries in wax paper before slipping them into a bag and handing it to me. “How much do I -?” She’s shaking her head, and I frown at her.

“Take ‘em. I’m glad we’ve a new convert, and I expect to see you in here more often, alright?” And then she winks at me, inexplicably.

“Yeah… alright. Thanks, Penelope.” She looks pleased, and gives me a small wave as I turn to go. I leave feeling oddly warm, if a bit confused by the kindness I’ve been shown by Simon’s two friends, after the treatment I’ve subjected him to. Maybe they’re all just too nice for their own good.

My keys are in my hands, hovering by my lock, when I have an idea. I go across the hall and knock before I can talk myself out of it, and wait. Snow could easily not be home. But then I hear a thump and a grunt inside, followed by a moment of silence before the lock clicks and the door swings open. Simon is staring at me, brow quirked and glasses on, half of his hair poking up like a rat’s nest.

“Yeah?”

I try not to frown as I dig into the bag and take out one of the scones, holding it out to him. He takes it slowly, looking at the pastry and then back up at me, eyes wide. And then I turn away, quickly unlocking my door and diving inside before Simon can get a word out. I shut myself in and lean back heavily against the door, breathing heavily and closing my eyes.

What was I thinking? What the fuck was that? Simon probably thinks I’m an asshole as well as a fucking weirdo now. Not like it matters.

Safely in my apartment, alone, I kick off my shoes and wander through to the second bedroom of the flat, which I’d converted for my use to a type of studio. But it’s carpeted, so I mostly use it for storage, supplies and paintings. The three I’m planning on selling are carefully leaning against the wall, staring at me.

One of them had sprung from an absolute fit, when I’d woken in the middle of the night with the shakes, drank three mugs of tea, and shoved paint across a canvas until I was happy (or as happy as I get) and went back to bed. The other two were from this summer, when I’d spent two dreadful weeks at home, closed into the studio my father had decked out for me three years ago for my birthday. That was the only good part of going back to the family manor. That, and my little sister, Mordelia. I give her a lot of shit, but I’m quite fond of her.

Those two pieces aren’t within my usual style. One is far more colorful than anything else I ever do, with flowering branches and a fading backdrop. The other was a fluke, some error of my subconscious. It was of a kneeling figure, a dancer, in her final resting position in the bottom corner of the canvas, bathed in dim light but with darkness surrounding the edges. It reflected Snow’s animation, and I hadn’t realized it until I was through. I might have painted over it, but it was beautiful, and I ended up keeping it.

I’m ready to be rid of it. After everything that’s happened, I don’t need any more reminders of Simon Snow. There’s no way he won’t avoid me now, and I try to tell myself it’s for the best.

I should make some tea.

PENNY

I’m exhausted when I get back to the apartment. The evening rush was hellish - we’d run out of filling for the eclairs, and I thought the roof was sure to fall it.

I might have been grateful if it had.

All I want to do is rip off my clothes, take a bath, and go to bed, but instead, Simon greets me at the door like a dejected dog, having another one of his stresses.

“He actually came into the bakery?” he asks, following me as I go into the kitchen to shove a piece of cake I’d stolen in the fridge. “Like, he was actually able to get through the door? I thought vampires had to be invited in.”

I look at him skeptically, furrowing my brows. “Simon - what? How is he a vampire? Aren’t vampires pale? His skin is nearly darker than mine.”

“With a widow’s peak like that, you’d doubt it?”

“He can’t help his hairline, Simon.” I’m too tired for this conversation. I continue to my room to put on my robe for the bath. Simon stays in the living room, but keeps talking to me, elevating his volume.

“Was he rude? Did he shove over the other customers in line? Did you see him put poison in my scone?”

“You ate it, didn’t you? You’re not dead yet. If you were, I’d have some peace right now.”

“It could be slow working!” I come out of my room, comfy in my fluffy yellow robe, and stare at Simon tiredly.

“He was incredibly polite, Simon. He complimented the one you gave him, and thanked me by name when he left. I don’t know what you’re getting so worked up over. He’s not out to kill you.”

“He’s a wanker, Penelope! You said it yourself, he’s endlessly contrary!” Simon leans over the back of the couch, spreading his arms at me wildly. “He’s trying to turn all the people in my life over to his side!”

“Simon, for the love of God.” I close myself in the bathroom and flick the lock loudly for good measure, making sure Simon hears it. I hear him groan, but he doesn’t keep trying to yell at me. I turn my music on loudly and start the bath water, sliding in before it’s finished filling and not minding the heat.

I glare at my nails. They’re caked with both flour and clay. That’s the struggle of being a sculptor - it’s all but ruined my hands and my nail beds. I try to let them soak in the bath, beneath the foaming fizz coming from my bath bomb, but I’m too fidgety. I dry my hands and reach for my phone, typing a quick text to Micah to see what he’s up to. Maybe I can convince him to bring me dinner.

Sure thing, he texts back almost immediately. Curry?

Perfect.

SIMON

This new job has honestly been really good. Even if it did take me a bit to figure out the register. It kept honking at me anytime someone tried to put their card in, and it took me too long to realize it was in the wrong mode.

Anna’s been very sweet, gently reminding me of things I forget when I need it. She blushes whenever I ask her a question and it’s kind of adorable.

It’s Wednesday, and we’re decorating the store for the event this evening, another one of the big local sales. Penny has two pieces she’s putting in, and I’m excited to see the party. I know a few of the other kids from the art school will be there, and I’m intrigued to see what they decide to sell, if I’d seen any of them hanging in the halls at school.

I can’t help but wonder if Baz will be there. Baz. Basil. I haven’t seen him since Monday with the whole scone thing. I figure he’s been holed up in his studio, being a recluse and hissing at sunlight, or whatever. I couldn’t help but take in the dark circles under his eyes the other day.

I don’t imagine he’ll be here - that would mean actually interacting with people. Smiling. Selling. I can’t fathom Baz willingly doing any of those things. The thought makes me snicker.

We’re closing up at seven for an hour, so we can all run home and put on nicer clothes. I end up taking a shower, trying to tame my curls to look a little more presentable, and dress in the smart suit Agatha helped me pick out. It’s sky blue, perfectly fitted, and I push the sleeves up to my elbows so my tattoos are visible. Blank ink wings, my designs, on the insides of both of my forearms. The white button-down underneath is well-fitted also, so if I get hot (which I tend to), I can easily take the jacket off and still look nice.

Penny finishes up about the same time, stepping out of her room and coughing. I look up from my phone and feel my jaw drop. She looks amazing. Her normally frizzy curls have been tamed into a sleek braided crown around her head. She’s wearing a deep green, flower-covered dress with a very vintage feel to it, with a boat neck and a natural waistline, and a pair of shiny heels finish the look.

“Holy shit, Penny,” I say, pushing up from the armchair, “you look - amazing. Seriously.”

“Such a way with words,” Penny says fondly, going to pick up the box holding her sculptures. I intercept, grabbing the box and slipping away.

“Uh-uh, no way you can carry these looking like that. I won’t have anything distracting Micah from how good you look!”

“He’s already my boyfriend, Simon, I don’t have to impress him anymore! Give me my stuff!”

“No way! I won’t drop them, Penn, I swear.” She glares at me, hands on her hips. “Penny. Trust me. I would never, ever let anything happen to these.” She finally relents about the time that there’s a knock on the door, and she goes to let Micah in. He comes into the room, raving about how good Penny looks, and I think he must have had a heads-up on her outfit. His suit complements her dress perfectly, a navy blazer with tan trousers, and a tie the exact green of her dress.

I like Micah, but the guy always makes me feel small. I’m not short, at a hundred and eighty-two centimeters, but Micah has to be nearly two hundred.

“Looking good, Simon,” Micah says, grinning at me with his blinding white teeth. “Working man. Congrats on the new job, dude.” He offers me his massive hand, and I grip it firmly, smirking.

“Thanks, Micah. Penny kind of forced me, but I’m glad she did.”

“I’m convinced she knows what’s best for both of us at this point. I’ve stopped arguing with her.”

“That is false, and you know it!” Penny calls from her room, where she’d left her clutch. “You argue with me constantly! About everything!”

“Only to keep you on your toes, babe!” She comes out of her room, snickering and shaking her head, and Micah stops her to press a kiss to her temple as she passes him.

“Ready then, boys? Simon can’t be late.”

Micah turns to me. “Want me to take her sculptures, man? I don’t mind carrying them.”

I shake my head. “No, no, I’ve got them, don’t worry.” He doesn’t argue, going to take Penny’s arm. I step out the door first, and they follow me out, locking up behind us.

When we get to the store a bit before eight, there’s hardly anyone there apart from the selling artists. Penny told me that people who aren’t selling don’t usually show up until eight-thirty or nine, so I’m not really surprised at how quiet it is. Anna is excited to see Penny, recognizing her from last time, and Penny takes a moment to introduce Anna to Micah. I continue on ahead, taking the sculptures to the spot where Penny wanted to set up, carefully placing the two beautiful sculptures on display before continuing to the back room.

My manager is back there, a big man named Alex, and he tells me my main role tonight is just greeting and talking to people, and making sure that the hors d’oeuvres and wine don’t run out. Which is fantastic, because I’m really good at talking to people.

I return to the main room, dazzled by how posh everyone looks, and approach one of the artists. It’s a boy I recognize from school, and Penny and Micah wander up and fold easily into the conversation. When it gets to eight o’clock, the door swings open, and I look over.

And there’s Baz, standing in the doorway and staring back at me, holding three canvases very carefully, another boy following him in and nearly running into him.

“Oi, Basil, go on, mate,” Simon hears the boy say behind Baz, and it’s like he gets an electric shock. He comes all the way inside and goes to set up, obviously used to the routine. I try not to watch him, but he looks so good in a fitted green and black suit (more posh than the rest of us) that I can’t really help it. I give him a few minutes to set up and get his bearings, before I excuse myself from my conversation and start over.

Baz actually meets me halfway, leaving his companion by his paintings, hidden from my view.

“Er, hi,” I say, trying for a smile, and it’s awkward. “I’d actually been wondering if you were going to be here.”

“I always come to these.” I’m startled, then look around the room for Penny, who could have (and should have) warned me. I find her watching us, looking smug. “But you’ve never been here before.”

“Oh. Well, no. I just started working here last week, and -”

“You work here?” Baz cuts me off, and I take a half step back. “Sorry, just - ehm, congratulations. On the new job. I’m in here all the time.”

“Oh! Thanks.” An uncomfortable pause settles over us, in which Baz adjusts the cuffs of his green blazer, a faint blush on his dark cheeks. “Thanks, by the way. For the other day.” Baz looks confused, so I add, “For the scone?”

A slight nod. “Just returning the favor.”

I figure he must be shit at things like this, but he’s actually working to be friendly. I make up my mind suddenly and offer Baz my hand. He stares at it like he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with it.

“How about a truce, Basil? It’s clear we can’t avoid each other, you seem to be basically everywhere I go anymore - and you seem like an okay bloke. Maybe not friends, yet. But not all this bickering. What do you think?”

He stares at me, so fucking cool, like he’s just mulling it over, weighing his options. Finally, like a swan lifting its head, he raises his hand and places it in mine. His skin is smooth and surprisingly cold, but his grip is solid. “Alright, then. A truce.”

BAZ

I don’t know what to do with myself now. I didn’t expect Snow to be at this sale, let alone looking so fucking good in that suit. The color perfectly balanced with his skin and his eyes, it was hard to look away. I’m not ready to admit how badly I’ve got it for this stupid boy, when I don’t even know if he’s gay or not.

We parted ways after shaking hands, which had been almost too much, and I returned to Dev.

“Who was that then?” he asks, having watched the whole unfortunate exchange. “Guy turned bright red when he saw you. Nearly matched his hair.” I look sharply at Dev.

“Did he really?”

“Yeah, mate, I figured he was your boyfriend or something. Or maybe that you two were just fucking, I dunno.”

I nearly choke, but pass it off as a scoff. “Don’t be so vulgar, Dev, good lord. That’s Si-, er, Snow. He’s an animator from school.”

“He sure did seem pretty animated.” I can’t deal with this, and I leave Dev again to wander the floor and look at some of the other artists’ works. Penelope is there, standing beside two pieces that really are quite good, with a black boy who nearly dwarfs me.

“Oh, Basil!” Penny calls me over like we’re friends, and maybe we are. I step over. “Baz, this is my boyfriend Micah. Micah, Basilton Pitch. He’s a spectacular painter.”

I shake Micah’s platter-sized hand, surprised by the compliment from Penelope. I didn’t realize she was even aware of my work.

“Baz. Nice to meet you.” American. A bit of a shock, but I don’t show a reaction. At least this confirms for me that Penelope isn’t Simon’s girlfriend.

“And you.” I clear my throat and step forward to look at the two pieces Penelope is selling, and they really are nice, but I don’t know enough about sculpture to give an educated compliment. “Those are lovely, Penelope. I can tell you put a lot of time and work into both of them.” She beams, and I think maybe I said something right for once. One of them is a smaller bust, with impeccable attention to detail, and I think she might have used Simon as a reference, because the nose and the hair look impressively familiar. The other is a bit more abstract, possibly two people embracing, but the colors are far more aggressive than the neutral grey of the bust.

I continue on, replying with a few quiet words to any greetings, but I keep mostly to myself. I’m painfully aware of Snow bouncing around the room like a hyper mutt, talking to pretty much everyone. I’ll glance at him now and then, because I’m weak, and always seem to catch him turning away, a blush spreading across the back of his neck.

Agatha shows up at some point, and she makes sure to say hi to me (and Dev, who’s awestruck by her), before going over to Penelope and hugging her and the American boyfriend.

I don’t see Snow again for another hour, when he finally wanders over, where Dev left me on my own to try his luck at flirting with Agatha, who clearly has no interest.

Simon smiles at me, shy again, and takes his time looking at the two paintings I have remaining. The flowering one sold almost immediately, to an older woman I didn’t recognize, and who gave me far more than my asking price. When his eyes slide to the dancer, I freeze, remembering where the idea came from. He goes stiff as well, leaning closer to the canvas.

“That’s -” He doesn’t continue, looking at me in alarm.

“I saw your animation reel at the student showcase.” No point in hiding anything now. “The ballerina clip… it was hauntingly beautiful.” He runs his hands through his hair, looking back at my canvas as I continue. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I wasn’t really thinking about it when I made this. But I realized when I finished, I’d tried to draw some of the emotion out of yours.”

He’s quiet for a long moment after I finish explaining, and I’m worried he’s going to get mad at me for plagiarizing or something. Instead, the eyes that turn to me are like pools of warm water, flickering under the surface, and I’m instantly drawn in. “Baz, this is - amazing. Really. You somehow captured - everything. All of it.” He looks back at it, and my heart catches.

This is too much of a soft moment for my cold, dead heart. “But the bit after the ballerina - two stick figures having a fight? Really? I was ready to shut the laptop off when that came up and ruined the mood.” He looks up at me, brows furrowed, but the look didn’t sit like anger.

“Two stick figures? What are you talking about? I didn’t put that in my reel.” I narrow my eyes at him, trying to figure out if he’s messing with me.

“Yeah, the clip immediately after the ballerina was two really shit looking stick figures beating the shit out of each other. You don’t remember?”

His eyes widen in sudden realization. “Fuck. Fuck! I hadn’t meant to leave that in! I’d put it in there as a joke when I sent it to Penny - I must have set up the wrong file.” He claps his hand to his forehead, bursting out in sudden laughter. “No wonder you wanted to shut it off! Christ, that’s embarrassing. I can’t believe that shit was playing at the showcase.”

I’m breathless, because watching him laugh is such a fucking gift. A gift from the universe that I don’t deserve. His whole body goes into it, his head going back and his legs tilting. I knew he was an idiot, though. Somehow, this doesn’t surprise me.

“Amazing. I’m almost impressed by your ineptitude, Snow. Such lovely work, and you manage to fuck it up.” He looks at me, ready to fight, but realizes I’m teasing and grins, breathing out a weak laugh.

“That’s me, the inept, lovely idiot,” he chuckles, and I wish I could tell him how much I agree.

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spell-bound-life · 7 years

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Beginner Witch Tips

WARNING: I am a sarcastic butthole and it shows through out this hot mess of a post. This is some random craft junk I have learned in my days of practicing witchcraft

Witch craft is not magic.

I don’t care what you have heard. Witchcraft is not magic. It can not turn your eyes different colors. It can not make you into a animal. You will not be able to control the weather or summon wind with your fingers. Ghosts will not do as you say. This is not Harry Potter. Case closed

Intent over tools

Do you think it’s gonna matter if you use a butter knife as an athame? Or you have to sub a white candle for another color because you don’t have the funds to buy that color? Or you had to leave out an ingredient because you don’t have it or you’re allergic? No, it’s not. Witchcraft (to me) is about mind over matter. If you are making an effort for your God/god/goddess/deity/elf/fae/etc it isn’t gonna matter what or how you got there, but the intent you had getting there

Cursing and hexing is up to you and your beliefs

Totally up to you if you believe that this is okay or not. However, if you don’t like this, do not go and tell someone else it’s wrong. If they ask you how you feel you can tell them it’s not your thing. If you do like this, do not go and tell someone else it’s fine and try to get them to accept it. If they ask you about it, you can tell them that you are into it

You do not have to have an alter

It’s up to you and your practice. And if you can where you are etc. If you want one and can not have one, draw one or, my favorite, Set up a pinterest board for your god/goddess/fae/elf/deity etc. and save things that you thing relate to them.

It’s not about fancy stuff

This goes back to intent over tools, as long as you are comfortable with what you are doing and using, do it and use it. I use salsa and yogurt containers, coffee filters taped together, M&M tubes, and envelopes to keep crap in. I use a 99¢ Wal-Mart bandanna to do spells on that I got from Girl Scout camp and it has rainbow peace signs all over it. Do I care? Nope. Does anyone else care or will they judge you? Nope. we are all in the same boat here.

Hand making things is way too underrated

I LOVE hand making things. Whether you are good or bad at it, it is a good way to save money, and personalize it just for you. Example: I made tarot cards out of printer paper that I cut out and wrote the card name, and definition of what it means (to me) and I love them. Pencil wand? Yas queen. DIY cauldron out of play-dough? Frick me u p daddy.

DONT EAT/SMOKE/DRINK SOMETHING YOU HAVE NO CLUE ABOUT

You’d think I would have to include this bUT Some things are okay to consume. Sometimes if taking a certain medicine you can’t consume that. Sometimes you are allergic to one thing, and in turn you will be allergic to that thing too. Sometimes you are pregnant and it’S HIGHLY DANGEROUS TO CONSUME THINGS WITHOUT KNOWING WHAT IT DOES

Never ignore professional medical advice and help in favor of witchcraft methods.

Case c l o s e d

Spirit workers

Not nice spirits can attach to people who have depression and anxiety more so than people who don’t

There are good and bad spirits. if one makes you feel comfomy, do not feel bad for asking it to leave/getting rid of it

Don’t ask your tarot cards every time you have a question

This happens a lot. Especially when you get a new deck and it’s so new and shiny and you can’t w a i t to get your grubby little hands on it and do crap >:D but you don’t want to get into the habbit of “ohgoshgollybatman I have to go to the store, okay let’s see if I’ll get hit by a car... oh and do I really need the applejuice..” or “do I REALLY need this plant..” bc the answer to that is always yes duh

Divination is not for predicting the future

Now stay with me, it is for guiding you in the future. It can not tell you what day you are going to die, who you are going to marry, etc

The future is not written in stone

Let’s sayyyyy you do a simple past, present, and future reading with tarot, and you get a bad reading for the future, it doesn’t matter. That is how it is going right now, now you can see what you need to change etc

You dont need a fancy journal for a grimore or book of shawdows

Heckadoodle I use a binder and notebook paper so I can move stuff around. I just write with a pencil and pen, and color with dollar store crayons or collered pencils. Now, you may be thinking, “Oh but, it’s a nice binder right?” Lemme stop you right there. It is falling apart, needs to be ducktaped, has a picture of my doggo inside and I’ve used it for school for abouutt.. 7 years? Summin’ it up: It don’t gotta be fancy

If you forget to blow out candles set a timer on your phone

I do this all the freaking time and I’ll leave a candle out, and then here comes mother. Closet underage witches know the struggle. Trying to explain why you have a burning candle left in your room. Or if you are adult and have to adult after a spell or whatever and leave the house and come back to the candle just sittin’ there. Burning away. (my mom did this once and it caught her table on fire) Timer. Yep.

You don’t have to know a certain language

This is more focused to me bc i am nerd but okie dokie I know Latin from school, therefore I mix it into my spells (like some on @witchy-recipes-and-things) and provide a translation. I don’t want anyone to think you have to have a certain language for your craft.

How to Ouija

Tbh this is too long already so if you want another post on it tell me and I’ll make one and link it

Sigils can be drawn everywhere

In your phone case, in your wallet, in a shoe, under fingernail polish, under seats, wherever whatever-I can also elaborate more on this

TAROT IS PRONOUNCED “TARO”

CONSENT IS KEY

When doing love spells, consent from the other person is a must.

You can be a christian, athiest, pagan, whatever, and still do witchcraft

It is about the craft, not religion

Witchcraft is not a religion, Wicca is

And you do not have to be Wiccan to partake in Witchcraft

Sage doesn’t have to be in cone shape to burn it

I put rubbed sage meant for cooking on a metal plate and torch the sucker Shane Dawson style but with one of the long lighters, then run around my house in my underware screaming “MAY THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPEL YOU BITCH” in Latin

When cleansing

OPEN.THE.WINDOWS.WHEN.DEALING.WITH.SMOKE Trust your witch mother who is allergic to everything and is an asthmatic, open the windows and doors. Also, as the smoke leaves you room through the windows or whatever, the spirits/bad vibes/etc leave with it

You don’t have to believe everything you read

Witchcraft is how YOU feel about things. No matter how other people feel about things

You can have your own corresponces for things

Like I think cinnamon is hot, deals with the sun, direction south, used for healing love etc., but it can be totally different for you

Divination doers do not have to be witches and witches do not have to be divination doers

S T U D Y

Can not stress this enough. This is the best thing to do even if you can not practice your craft where you are atm. knowledge is power.

So here is a list I’ve complied :D (yes I’ve made all of these, I was too bored to ask people’s permission to add things, sue me) (All of the spells are all religion inclusive)

Learn you star sign with detail Edible Flower List Witch Tools Tarot Meanings Cheat Sheet

Good First Spell-Calming Tea Spell DIY Charcoal Pencil Get Shit Done Bottle Spell to Sleep Sea in a Bottle Protection and Calm Bottle Find a Item You Lot

Referring to “When cleansing”, Line two, words 3-4, I am now your witch mother and if you ever have any questions feel free to ask! This list was requested from a witchling and if you have any requests feel free to ask :3

#witches #witch #wicca #wiccan #witchcraft #christian witch #spell #spells #spellwork #spellcraft #witchblr #witchling #new witch #pagan #craft #witch craft

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hyfdanielle-archive · 7 years

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Romance and Candles → granielle

TITLE: Romance and Candles CHARACTER(S): Danielle Panabaker and Grant Gustin @theflashgrant SETTING: Vancouver, BC Canada on Jan 26th CONTENT RATING: NC - 17 SUMMARY: Danielle plans a date for her and Grant on the evening that marks them 7 months married

Danielle came home from work after a short day on set. She only had to film a couple of scenes in the cortex so it wasn’t that much to be done. It gave her enough time to figure out what she was going to make for her anniversary dinner with her husband and to settle everything in order. Alison would be entrusted by one of their amazing friends and Jesse had made sure that she would be able to pick up the little girl later on that night and the dogs were going to be taken care of by their walker who would bring them back around the next morning. It had been seven months since she and Grant got married and celebrating it tonight seemed in the cards. So, with everything and everyone out of the apartment, she settled herself to get to work. Something simple would be made to eat, but the setup in the living room was anything but. All of the lights were out sans a bunch of candles she lit and placed all over the room to light everything up, and a picnic would be set up on the floor for both of them. Even a small cake for dessert was on top of the coffee table for them to eat her. Once Danielle was done, she brought her phone to her hands and called her husband. “Hi”, she spoke into the phone. “How long are you going to be?”

Grant was going about his day on set normally like he always would, glad that it was almost the end of the week. He was feeling tired from all the hours they worked and he was glad that they'd have the weekend to celebrate Alison turning six months and just getting some family time. He hadn't seen his wife in a while and he figured that meant she had a short day, something he was envious of. He was finishing up one of his scenes when his phone rang, seeing that it was his wife herself. "Hey," he greeted. "Um...I don't know. I have one more scene to do so probably another hour or so. Why?" He asked her curiously. "Are you home?" He added as he made his way back into his trailer. Once he finished talking to Danielle, he got ready for his last scene of the day and made his way towards set to get that done as soon as he could. Now that he knew Danielle was home, he just wanted to get done so that he could join her.

Danielle ‘s surprise was evident on her face. She didn’t realize she had finished setting everything up so early. “Oh”, she started out and stood up, turning on the lights in the living room and blowing the candles out so she wouldn’t burn them out. She even let out some nervous giggles in order to hide what she was doing. “I am. I’m just about done getting dinner ready, but I can slow down and wait until you get home”, she started out to speak, but her words trailed off as her eyes went to look at dinner. In her haste, she probably should have said something to Grant about tonight and she scolded herself for not remembering to. But she could always keep everything warm in the oven. “You’re going to be an hour? That’s okay. I’ll see you when you get home then”, she said before she hung up the phone. About a few moments later, she started on her actions again, this time pouring herself a glass of wine as she finished lighting up the last candle in order to celebrate.

Grant was confused as to why Danielle was being so weird and short, not telling him why she wanted to know when he was home. "Alright then," he said, hanging up the phone and going about the rest of his work day. He was already somewhat annoyed and bothered by the fact that Robbie was back and he and Danielle were posting all sorts of pictures and talking about it. Trying to ignore it, Grant just did his thing and when it was time to go home, he met with his driver and got in the car. He texted Danielle to tell her that he was on his way home and once he got home, he thanked the driver and started making his way inside their apartment. Grant had no idea where Danielle was but found it weird that the lights were off, only until he reached the living room and saw candles and what looked like a fancy dinner being made. "What's all this?" He asked in a confusing tone.

Danielle didn’t miss the tone that her husband had given her and she winced at it. okay, maybe it would have been better to tell him about what she wanted to do tonight. “It’s been seven months”, the brunette started out, taking a few steps towards her husband. Her phone was at her place on the couch and forgotten at this point, hands now together in front of her and wringing as she walked. The pause was more or less for dramatic effect and the smile on her lips—soft and never yielding for anything—still upon her rosy red lips. “Seven months since we became husband and wife and those seven months have been absolutely wonderful and amazing.” Her tone of voice didn’t match his at all. Instead, it was this soft, melodic, proud song that floated around the air and surrounding them. “I know it’s a milestone and it’s a milestone that people usually don’t celebrate, but I figured since we spent our six month anniversary on a hammock in the Caribbean.” Danielle’s words trailed off and she was now standing in front of her husband, hands on his arms as she tilted her head up to look at him. “Happy anniversary? Are you okay?”

Grant thought it was a nice gesture, what Danielle decided to do and even if they normally didn't celebrate a seven month anniversary like this, she had a point in saying that they didn't really get to celebrate their six month marriage anniversary since they were just getting to St. Martin. "Well thanks, that was nice of you to do," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah. Yeah I'm fine," he said, clearing his throat. After a weird day of being away from his wife and hearing all about her and Robbie filming together and him calling her his wife, Grant definitely wasn't in the mood to celebrate anything but he wasn't going to let it go to waste. He could tell Danielle worked hard on it and it was a nice idea. "So what did you make?" He asked, changing the subject. "And where are the dogs? Is Ali even home?" He asked, feeling like he didn't have a clue about anything going on right now.

Danielle wondered what was going through Grant's mind. It wasn't the reaction that she thought that the night would get from him and it unnerved her. "Baby", she spoke out now, watching as he brought his arms to his hair which caused her hands to fall back to her side. The subject had been changed and Danielle was still so confused about everything. Hazel eyes ended up searching her husband for anything, wondering what was happening, and maybe today hadn't been ideal at best; but that was that. "Oh", she whispered out as she tried to answer all of Grant's question at once and pointed while moving her arms while talking. It was a nervous habit she had. "I made a roast. Ali is with Jesse for a good three hours so we can get some alone time, and the dogs are with the walker until tomorrow morning." There was a pause now, her tongue darting out to lick her lips and she shifted on her feet. "I can get rid of the candles and move the picnic to the dining room if this is all too much. It's too much, isn't it? It's been a long day and you probably just want to rest and I'm sorry for not thinking about what you wanted to do. I'm so sorry."

Grant listened to Danielle explain where Alison was and where the dogs were. He could tell she put some thought into this and planned the night so that it could be just the two of them without any interruptions. He shook his head when she suggested getting rid of the candles and moving the picnic to the dining room. "No, no. It's not. It's great. I really appreciate you doing all of this. I'm sorry I'm in a weird mood," he said, rubbing his face with his hands. "If it was any other night, I'd probably be way more accepting and excited about it but I just...I don't know," he said, pursing his lips. Grant knew he should be honest with Danielle about how he was feeling so he took a deep breath before speaking. "It's just weird, you know? Seeing you and Robbie acting like husband and wife. Especially now that we're married. It hits home and strikes a nerve, even if it's fake," he said to her honestly. "I don't know, I guess I just didn't expect all this once he came back to film."

Danielle looked onto Grant with a worried expression on her face. Something was bothering him and she figured out what it was, but she wouldn’t push it. She wanted Grant to tell her on her own, know that she was there for him no matter what the cost, and was going to make things better. Even so, when she heard it, she realized that it had been the same thing she had gone through just earlier with Grant and Candice for work and it was going to be hard. It was going to be hard for them both to do this; but they had to because of work. “I know what you mean”, she whispered out and took his hand, leading him towards the picnic area where they’d be able to sit down and talk about this. “And it’s okay for you to feel that way and I’m glad you’re talking about it with me. It’s hard, but you know what? We’re gonna get through this hurdle together too.” Maybe it wasn’t so much of a hurdle but just something that they just had to talk out in order to get through. “I love you. That’s why I did all of this. I tried to be romantic and surprise you with dinner and the candles because you deserve to know that I love you and I appreciate you—I even got us cake. It’s behind you.”

Grant nodded when Danielle said she knew what he meant, knowing she had similar thoughts with his own relationship on screen. It was hard and stressful and now Grant knew how she felt, even if he did earlier on when Robbie was on set more frequently except they weren't married then. He was just starting to realize his feelings for Danielle in the very beginning of that and then when they started dating, it only bothered him more and more. "I know we will. I mean there's nothing we can do about it, right? So it's just...something we'll have to talk about whenever it's bothering one of us," he shrugged. "I'm so lucky to have you and I really think it's sweet that you put this all together and I didn't know about it at all. You caught me off guard and it's a great way to spend an anniversary," he told her. "You did? We get to have cake again? Awesome," he said, smiling for the first time all night. "I'm going to have to hit the gym this weekend with all the cake we're eating," he chuckled softly.

Danielle nodded her head. She agreed with Grant wholly on this. It was just going to be something they had to talk about as a couple and as spouses. Open and honest communication was something that she prided them on having and it was best to be able to accommodate needs and feelings because of it. “Exactly. We just have to talk to each other and then we’ll figure things out together because we’re a team and I’m here to stay. I’m not going anywhere. I promise”, she whispered out and reached for his hand. Lacing their fingers together, Danielle smiled as she told Grant about the cake. Her heart lifted and warmth radiated from her when she heard Grant’s laugh and joke. Things were getting back on track and she hummed appreciatively for it. “Can I come watch”, she asked her husband, trying to be as sultry as she could with her words before she reached forward to cup his face. It commanded attention, and her thumbs brushed against his cheekbones gently. “Now, can we make the most of our night alone before Jesse drops off Alison? I never get an hour alone with you that we’re not sleeping, let alone three when we’re at home. I want to be selfish with my husband tonight and hoard him and his attention all for me.”

Grant licked his lips and nodded when Danielle said she wasn't going anywhere and they'd just figure things out together. "You're right," he whispered, squeezing her hand gently while staring into her eyes. "Of course you can watch, I'd very much like that actually," he smirked, winking at his wife. Now that things were starting to get back to normal, Grant found himself forgetting about his day on set and focusing on the rest of the night he had to spend with his wife without the dogs or their daughter around. "I think that's your best idea yet," he teased, grinning at Danielle. "We'll have to make the most out of those three hours. That's going to go by pretty quickly..." He said. "We should first enjoy this amazing meal you made because it looks awesome. And it was such a good idea to make it a picnic style," he said, finally sitting down in front of where everything was, excited to start eating.

Danielle bounced a bit and took the wine she had opened up and poured Grant a glass. “It’s going to go by quick, but that means we just have to make the most of it, you’re absolutely right”, she started out and finally handed her husband a glass of wine. The roast was simple and she had made some greens to pair it with, giving into a whole plethora of good food in front of them both. “I wanted to make it romantic”, she said as she pointed towards all of the candles that were around them now. “And I know our living room isn’t exactly the most romantic spot that we could have it, but a night in and a candlelight dinner just the two of us was exactly what I felt like we needed.” There was softness to her words now while she spoke, but her words carried so much weight. It was the truth—or the truth in which Danielle believed to be. “I just wanted tonight to be special, to make up for last month.” They were traveling all day on their official six months and really didn’t have time to celebrate each other in that sense; but she was glad that they would have that chance now. Now would be the time for Danielle to give Grant his plate, and only after did she bring her glass of wine up. “Can we toast to love tonight?”

Grant smiled softly at his wife, taking the glass of wine from her. He enjoyed having a nice piece of meat with a glass of wine and it just proved how well his wife knew him. "You're always romantic," he said, smiling at her. "It definitely works, you made it look very romantic," he told her. Once he had his plate, Grant looked up and nodded when Danielle suggested toasting to love tonight. "Absolutely. To love. Happy Anniversary, baby," he said, clinking his glass to Danielle's before taking a sip. "This all looks so good," he said, starting to eat the meat and veggies that were on his plate. It was a nice way to celebrate an anniversary, even if they actually missed the one they were celebrating a month ago. "I think we did okay, missing it last month. We were on a beautiful beach instead," he chuckled before taking another bite. He had finished rather quickly, not eating much all day and once he took the last sip of his wine, Grant sighed contently. "That was delicious. Thank you babe."

Danielle clinked glasses with her husband when they did the toast. The smile on her face still stayed close as she brought the glass to her lips to drink the wine. Now, they were able to eat in content, happy that the worst of the day was behind them. It was just them and them alone and the brunette was going to make the most of it. There was a smile on her face as she ate; nodding her head to show Grant that she was listening to him about last month and they were together. “All that traveling though”, she offered up at this rate to get him to remember just how much they had done that day alone, but glasses needed to be refilled and Danielle was going to do just that. “You’re welcome”, the brunette whispered to her husband as she poured more wine into his glass, nodding towards the cake that was sitting on top of the coffee table behind him. “Do you want to bring that over so we can dig into dessert? I think you’re going to like the flavor of the cake”, she continued knowingly. It had taken her all day to find a bakery in Vancouver that was willing to make an exact replica of their wedding cake in such a short time, but she did it. And once the cake was in front of her, Danielle cut a piece and picked it up with her hands, placing it on her husband’s lips to feed him.

Grant thanked Danielle once more when she refilled his wine glass, happily taking another sip. He enjoyed the nights that they got done with work early enough to have dinner and to have a nice glass of wine with dinner, or maybe even more than one like he was tonight. When she motioned to the cake behind him, Grant smiled and nodded immediately, never being able to resist cake. "You know I won't say no to that," he replied, getting up to bring the cake over, setting it in between them. Watching as Danielle cut a piece, he grinned when she started feeding him by guiding it to his mouth with her hands, Grant taking a bite in return. He immediately recognized the taste of it and realized what flavor she had gotten, staring at her in disbelief. "You got the flavor of our wedding cake?! How?!" He asked her, smiling and leaning forward to take another bite. "This is amazing. I haven't had anything like that since our wedding obviously. It's so nice to be tasting this flavor again."

Danielle nodded her head rapidly when Grant asked her how she had managed to get the wedding cake flavor. "That's my secret", she teased out of her husband, and let out a soft gentle giggle afterwards. She was just lucky that she was able to find a bakery in Vancouver that had bourbon vanilla as one of the flavors cakes that they made and tasting it in the shop itself had brought back memories of their wedding that she couldn't pass up. "There's a shop near Granville that has the flavor and I couldn't believe it when I found it. It's almost exactly the same, isn't it? The chocolate's missing, but at least they have the vanilla that we chose." And Grant was right. It was just a great thing to have, to remind them of such a romantic day, and she hummed when she leaned forward to her husband in order to steal a cake filled kiss. "Now it's like our wedding", Danielle laughed out again; and soon, she was done with her piece of cake and licking her fingers clean slowly and absentmindedly.

Grant listened to Danielle explain where she had gotten the cake flavor that was similar to what they had on their wedding day. "Uh oh, you shouldn't have revealed the place, now I'm going to go there all the time and get fat," he teased, licking his lips. "It's delicious, I missed the bourbon vanilla so much," he said to his wife. Smiling against her lips as she kissed him while he still had cake in his mouth, Grant chuckled and nodded. "Perfect," he whispered before leaning in to swipe his finger along the icing, putting some on Danielle's nose before leaning in to kiss it off. He continued eating the cake and occasionally putting icing on Danielle's face that he could lick off until the cake was completely gone. "I can't believe we just devoured that. Or I should say me but you had some too," he smirked, shaking his head. Standing up, Grant started bringing in all the dirty plates and glasses so that Danielle wouldn't have to, already doing enough by putting it all together. He started washing everything and cleaned up in the kitchen, wanting to get it done fast so that he still had some alone time with his wife before having to get their daughter.

Danielle giggled at her husband's antics, even going as far as to squirm away for a bit when he decided to place icing on her face; but she would always hum appreciatively when he would lick it off of her or kiss her with it. And of course, she would return every single one he had given her. The cake was gone now, the both of them eating it to the point where it all disappeared, and she was disappointed that there wasn't any more for them to have. "We'll get the cakes on special occasions so you won't be tempted", sighed Danielle; but she did give her husband a wink before helping move things into the kitchen to wash up. While he did that, the woman was able to clean up the living room enough so that they'd be able to sit on the couch now--the candles were still burning around the and the wine glasses that they both had would be refilled. "Are you going to come back when you're done", she asked of her husband, taking another sip of her glass and humming when the wine tasted sweeter because of the cake.

Grant smiled when Danielle said they'd be able to get this cake flavor on special occasions, feeling like that was a good way to settle his craving and so that it would be a special thing like their wedding was. Hearing his wife ask if he was going to come back into the living room when he was done, Grant chuckled. "Nah, I think I'm just gonna stay in here all night," he teased, shutting the water off and drying his hands. "I need to pee and then I'll be in there," he called out to Danielle, making his way into the bathroom. When he opened the door, Grant was suddenly met with two balloons hitting his face and when he saw that they were Superman balloons, Grant got so excited. "Babe! You got my balloons?! Two of them?!" He asked her, grabbing them by the string and running into the living room with them. "These are awesome! I love them!" He continued on his excitement, completely forgetting about having to pee at this point.

Danielle 's eyes widened when Grant said he was going to use the bathroom. That was where she had hidden the second part of the gift she had for him and wondered if it was the right place for it. When her husband's excitement reached her ears, maybe it was the best place for them. Placing the wine glass down, she nodded her head and clapped her hands together when he came out to the living room with them. "I'm so glad you love them", she spoke out, her tone just as excited as his was. She had been feeling so guilty about forgetting them just a few days earlier that she had to get him at least two of them that was there. "I hope they last. I know how much you wanted them. I did good on my promise, didn't I? Happy anniversary, baby." That had given her the incentive to stand up, laying her hands on his torso before tilting her head up at the balloon. "You're so much better looking than Superman."

Grant smiled and nodded. "I love them so much, I hope they last too," he said, looking up at the balloons, still holding them by the string. "You did and I knew you would. You never disappoint," he said, wrapping his arms around her tightly as he hugged her. Smiling when she placed her hands on his torso and said he was much better looking than Superman, Grant shook his head. "I don't know about that, Superman is a great looking dude," he said proudly. "But I can pretend to be him and then I'll be just as good looking," he teased, now realizing that he still had to pee. "Hold my balloons," he said before running back towards the bathroom. Once he was finished, he made his way back into the living room and smiled at Danielle who was still holding the balloons. "We have to put them somewhere safe so that the dogs don't get to them when they get back," he told his wife before joining her on the couch and grabbing his glass of wine to take a sip.

Danielle let out a laugh through her nose and took the balloons. "Silly", she had muttered under her breath as Grant walked away from her to use the bathroom. The balloons were still in her hands as she moved to sit down on the couch, looking at them properly at this point. She was studying them and looking at their details before Grant would come back and sit with her, but now she had moved so that she was practically sitting on his lap in order to get close to him. "I know what you mean. Those four would chew through a tank if you give them one", the brunette said as she handed the balloons back to him by placing the strings on his side of the couch. They weren't going anywhere, and that gave her enough momentum to wrap her arms around his neck to steady close. "There", she whispered out now, hazel eyes looking into green. "Much better."

Grant watched as Danielle sat in his lap, smiling and wrapping his arms around her gently. "I know, they can't be trusted. And if one of them pop my balloons, I might just cry," he said to his wife. Now that the balloons were by the arm of the couch, Grant was focused on his wife and the remainder time they had left together just the two of them. "I agree," he whispered, leaning in to kiss her gently. "I miss this, just having you to myself like this. We don't get to have it often. I love the dogs and of course our daughter but it's just nice to be here with you in the peace and quiet and not have to worry about anything else right now," he said softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear gently. Staring into her eyes, Grant licked his lips before leaning closer, closing the gap between them and pressing his lips against his wife's. He wasted no time kissing her passionately, slipping his tongue inside of her mouth while cupping her cheek with one hand, nibbling on her bottom lip at the same time.

Danielle agreed with her husband's sentiments. She loved her life as a mother, she really did, but there were times where she wanted a moment to herself or a moment with her husband--but then her anxiety about leaving her daughter would flare up again. She was doing better with it, and maybe that would be enough for now. Her eyes didn't leave Grant's at this point, just watching him and listening to him speak. His voice always brought out something for her--a calming factor like he would say hers did, but it was so much more. The tension at this rate because of it would flare up and her breath caught in her throat, eyes darting back and forth from keeping his gaze and staring at his lips. But once the gap was closed between them, all bets were off. Danielle returned the kiss that Grant started wholeheartedly, deepening it by running her tongue against his. She sucked at it gently, bringing her hands down to fist his shirt and tug at it without taking it off of him.

Grant let out a soft moan as he felt Danielle's tongue against his, both of them kissing each other passionately at this point. When he felt his wife tugging at his shirt, Grant moved his own hands to the hem of Danielle's so that he could start pulling it off her body. They didn't have much time and Grant wanted to make the most of it. Pulling the shirt over Danielle's head, Grant tossed it to the floor and helped her with his own shirt so that they were both shirtless. Grant kneaded one of Danielle's breasts through her bra, his thumb moving in a circular motion against the fabric. When he pulled away from the kiss to breathe, Grant started pressing light kisses to her jawline, moving towards her ear and biting on her earlobe playfully before kissing the skin underneath it. Grant pulled Danielle closer and started bucking his hips against her body, desperate for friction in between his legs as he started kissing her neck.

Danielle breathed heavily, moved quickly, and desperately craved everything that was happening. It was like it was all at once--encompassing everything and she wanted Grant more and more. Laying down on the couch now that her shirt was off, she pulled off Grant's with his help and finally they were able to continue with their actions. His hand provided pleasure and his lips upon her frame was more than enough to set her off. When he rocked his hips against hers, she did the same in return, the figure igniting within her to the point where she let out a low moan of frustration. "Oh my god", she whispered out, her bottom lip quivering in pleasure when Grant started kissing that spot near her ear. Her hands at this point raked against his side and appreciated all of the muscles that had formed on him, bringing him even closer to her. "Isn't it great we have no interruptions", Danielle mused out and tugged off Grant's belt, throwing it onto the floor with the rest of their clothes.

Grant felt a throbbing in his cock the more things got heated, hearing Danielle whisper out in pleasure which made him groan. He started sucking on her pulsepoint while kneading her breasts with both hands now, still through the fabric of her bra. "Mhm," he mumbled against her skin when she mentioned not having any interruptions. It was great that they could be making out on the couch like this and not have to worry about a dog coming around or hearing Alison make noises. Lifting his hips when Danielle tugged at his belt, Grant wasted no time taking Danielle's bra off now, sick of the barrier in between them. He then took one of her breasts into his mouth, moving his tongue in a circular motion quickly before sucking gently. Doing the same to the other, Grant's hands started moving lower and he unbuttoned her pants, trying to get them off desperately so that they could have all of their clothes out of the way.

Danielle was putty in Grant's hands at this point. Everything about their actions had proved to be lascivious in nature and god if that meant she didn't want more. Her body was on fire and all she wanted was her husband. His actions had proven time and time again that she could already be slick with want and need just by a few actions alone and this teasing was only frustrating her further. Soft mewls escaped her as his tongue moved about her body, but it was as if her hands had a mind all on its own. "Fuck", she purred out now, wanting to get some sort of action to reciprocate towards her husband and that was it. Her hands made quick work and soon she was able to palm his cock through his pants, lifting herself up to use her free hand to unbutton them. "Clothes are stupid", she whispered out to him, stealing another heated kiss afterwards. "No more clothes. Need them off."

Grant tugged on Danielle's pants so that they would be kicked off her legs, now only in her underwear which Grant would get rid of shortly after. He was still in pants and when he felt Danielle start to palm him through them, he let out a soft moan. It felt nice but he needed way more at this point, so he sighed in relief when Danielle started unbutton them. "It's like you read my mind," he said to her, smirking and nodding when she said clothes were stupid. "Agreed, totally just getting in the way here," he mumbled, kicking his pants off so that he was left in just his boxers. Hooking his fingers into Danielle's underwear, Grant tugged on them roughly and gasped softly when he realized he had ripped them completely. "Oops?" He said to his wife. "Not really sorry about it though," he murmured before capturing her lips into another heated kiss.

Danielle let out a gasp when her underwear was torn from her. Her eyes would follow it to the ground, but she returned the kiss that was given to her just the same. "That's so hot", she mumbled through the kiss, hands already going to tug down Grant's boxers now. She need all of the clothes away and though she wasn't as rough as Grant had been, she was definitely eager to have some sort of friction so that they would be able to have something--feel something. With that same sentiment, the brunette would pull away at this point, shifting her legs to be able to keep her husband in between them, and brought her hand back down between them. Lips would suck gently at Grant's jawline, but that same hand from earlier would be able to palm his cock once again, this time without the barrier of clothes hindering their pleasure. "I want you", Danielle purred out and used her free hand to bring one of Grant's down to her center. "Baby, feel. I'm so wet already", she mewled out again and this time even rocked into his hand.

Grant smirked when Danielle said it was so hot that he ripped her underwear right off her body, shrugging in response. She had taken off his boxers now and now that they were both naked, Grant was ready to give them what they both wanted. He leaned his head back in pleasure as he felt his wife's lips against his jawline, letting out a moan in pleasure. "I want you too," he breathed out, feeling Danielle grab his hand to put in between her legs to feel how wet she was. "So wet for me," he whispered, biting down on his bottom lip. That's all Grant needed to start guiding his cock into Danielle's center, the tip brushing her clit teasingly before thrusting into her. He sighed and let out a moan once he was completely inside of her, enjoying the feeling. "Much better," he said before beginning to move in and out of Danielle slowly.

Danielle moved so effortlessly at this point. They were finally connected and that had brought out a soft moan from the brunette's lips. She was reeling at this point, arching her frame and keening so perfectly at this point. All that mattered to her now was them and them alone, nothing in this world could ever compare to the feeling of her husband and her connected like this. "So much better", she agreed with him, looking up at him with half lidded eyes. But now she was begging for some friction, begging for him to continue and needed him to do so. Once they started rocking with each other, her eyes closed and her hands went up to cup his cheeks and bring his face closer to hers. The slow movement was definitely intense, building up more of that tension, and it was utterly amazing. It was like they were both savoring the moment, savoring the sensations that were there, and savoring each other. "So perfect", she whispered out again. "So fucking perfect."

Grant smiled and pursed his lips, focusing on pleasing both himself and his wife, still moving back and forth so that he was thrusting in and out of her. He started picking up his pace a little bit, this time more steady and firm each time he entered Danielle again and as he started building up to a climax, he started moaning and voicing how good it felt. "So perfect," he whispered in agreement, picking up his pace even more as he gripped the back of the couch for some support. "I love being inside of you, it always feels so good," he breathed out, reaching down to start rubbing Danielle's clit now that he was thrusting into her harder and deeper. He moaned at the feeling, a tingling sensation starting to build up in his body and he knew it wouldn't take much more to send himself over the edge. "Ah, fuck," he moaned, leaning his head back as he tried his best to keep up with his thrusts. "I'm so close, baby."

Danielle growled softly. All of the sounds that were coming out of the both of them filled the room and soon she was completely gone. All of her was encompassed by this feeling, this intensity that was rocking to her core, and god it felt utterly amazing. Even now, she was just reeling with pleasure, the actions that Grant had been giving her just honestly becoming too much and she nodded her head as he spoke. He was close, and she was determined to send him straight to that edge just has she had wanted. Immediately, her lips went to his neck and sucked at his pulse point as best as she could. Heavy breathing and her own erratic movements would prove to hinder it completely; but she managed to do it and soon enough she was more than satisfied with the mark she had left on him. However, she didn't even get a chance to voice just how amazing it had felt, how wonderful it was to be connected to him once again, before her climax hit her. It was rough and every part of her clenched and unclenched--the feeling of euphoria washing over her like a tidal wave. "Tom-my, oh my god", she let out as she came, eagerly searching for his lips to give him a heated kiss while her hips rocked intensely--both to prolong her orgasm and to goad out his.

Grant was trying to hold off the best that he could, always trying to make sure that he made Danielle come first but sometimes it was impossible to do that. This time the more he continued thrusting into her, the harder it was to hold back but he sensed that his wife was close, always noticing how her sounds got louder and more frequent when she was about to reach her climax. Feeling her muscles clench against his cock was all it took for him to come as well, practically experiencing it at the same time as his wife, hearing her moan his name which made him moan hers shortly after. "Fuck," he moaned in pleasure, bucking his hips to ride out his orgasm and so that his wife could do the same. Crashing down in pure bliss once they were both done, Grant rested back against the arm of the couch and guided Danielle's head to his chest, still inside of her for the moment so that they could prolong the nice intimacy they had going right now. "That was perfect," he murmured before kissing the top of her head gently.

Danielle rested against her husband now, letting her arms just stay besides them both and her head on his chest. It was great to have such a thing, considering it was more than hard for her to have some time alone with her husband like this. “Hmm”, she started out now as he spoke, moving her hips just a little bit and jerking since they were still connected. Sensitive to each touch, each movement, the brunette didn’t dare to jerk anywhere else; but still she stayed with her husband. “Only the best for my husband”, she whispered out quietly, turning her head to press just a soft kiss to his chest as he had done to the top of her head. Every part about that was true. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for Grant and she always wanted everything to perfection. “I’m glad we had such a calm night now. It’s the best thing about what happened. I love you and I only want what’s best for you.”

Grant smiled softly and slowly pulled out of Danielle when it got to be slightly uncomfortable, still holding her in his arms and grinning when she kissed his chest. "You're always the best," he sighed contently, running a hand through her hair now. "It was a great night. Even if it didn't start off so great, you managed to turn my mood around completely. I don't think anyone else is able to do that," he said to his wife. "I love you too," he whispered, leaning in to kiss her sweetly. Grant then looked at his watch and realized it was getting kind of late, almost Alison's bedtime and he knew that they should probably go get her from Jesse's. "We should get Alison so that we can put her to bed. I thought he was going to be watching the dogs too. It's going to be weird that they're not coming back until the morning. We don't really need the walker to be doing that kind of thing since they're usually with us all the time anyway."

Danielle let out a sigh through her nose once she was reminded of that fact. To think that Grant’s mindset was just somewhere that wasn’t the best had her completely saddened. She didn’t want him to feel like that—the jealousy that she had felt just weeks ago. it just eats and gnaw at self-esteem until it was no more. “I’m here for you, always. I just don’t want you to think that you can’t come to me because I know what you’re going through. I’d do anything to make you happy.” But for a while she paused and turned to look at the time. The three hours alone had gone by so fast and she realized that he had a point. They had to be able to pick up Alison. “I know, but four dogs and a baby is hard for one person. He’s not you, you know. You have it down to a science. You’re great with them. You’re literally a superhero.” But now Danielle had pulled away, shifting her weight and standing up properly to grab her clothes off of the floor. “I’m just going to change into some pajamas and then we can just go—“, she tried speaking, but there was a knock at the door that had interrupted her. “Or not if that’s Jesse that brought her back. Do you mind getting it”, she yelled and bolted up the stairs in order to get dressed.

Grant chuckled when Danielle said that four dogs and a baby was hard to take care of all at once. "You're right, he isn't SuperDad," he teased. "I like to think I have the hang of it now but I'm biased. And so are you. Thank you anyway though," he said, smiling at her softly. Suddenly there was a knock on the door and Grant was still naked which made him back. "But I'm-," Danielle was already making her way upstairs and now Grant was rushing to put his clothes on, not even bothering to button his jeans and slipped on his t-shirt before racing to do the door. Seeing that it was in fact Jesse holding his daughter, Grant ran a hand through his disheveled hair and smiled. "Hey. Thanks for bringing her over. Danielle and I were just gonna come get her," he said to his friend who was just laughing at him. "Yeah, looks like that's what you were going to do," Jesse said and Grant blushed slightly. "Thanks again," he said, clearing his throat before taking Alison and shutting the door once Jesse left. "Hi sweetheart. Did you have a good time with Uncle Jesse?" He asked as he started carrying her upstairs. "It was Jesse, now we don't have to go out."

Danielle finished dressing in no time flat, wanting to make sure she was okay before she would be able to meet anyone. However, Grant’s voice slowed her down a bit and soon she was already out and going to tickle her daughter upon meeting her in her husband’s arms. “Hi baby”, she cooed out to Alison who looked so tired and it was honestly just the same as she had been. “You look sleepy. It’s okay to be sleepy. Looks like you had fun with your cool Uncle Jesse now, did you?” Her tone of voice had been octaves higher to coo at her daughter, but Alison just laid her head at the crook of Grant’s neck where it met his shoulders and her heart instantly melted. “Would you look at that”, she said in her normal voice, maybe even whispering at this point. “I think she has the right idea. You’re so smart, Alison. You might just be the smartest out of all of us.”

Grant smiled as Danielle greeted Alison, looking down at his daughter and seeing that she did look tired. It was a little bit past her bedtime now and since she was with Jesse for a few hours, she could've been preoccupied and using a lot of energy. Suddenly he felt Alison rest her head in the crook of his neck which made his heart melt. It was the cutest gesture and now he didn't want to move her at all. "I think she is too," he whispered, kissing the top of her head gently. "Is it selfish of me to just keep her like this for a while? I don't want to move her yet or put her in the nursery," he said, carefully sitting down on the bed and leaning back against the headboard. The fact that Alison was now sleeping with her head buried in his neck made him smile and nothing was going to ruin that. "This night went from kinda crappy to pretty perfect," he whispered. "And it's all thanks to my two favorite girls."

Danielle gave her husband a smile and nodded her head, placing a hand on his arm before watching him carry their daughter into their bedroom. She wasn’t going to be selfish if he wanted to spend time with her, knowing that sometimes he rarely did; but it was nice to be able to see him like he was holding the world in his arms. And maybe that was true. Alison was their world and seeing both Grant and her together made her heart belt. “Just one night wouldn’t hurt”, she whispered out, not wanting to wake up her daughter after she had fallen asleep. “I don’t want you to wake her up either. She’s been good and I really don’t want to have to wake her up because she’ll get cranky. No one wants a cranky baby” But Danielle paused to get into bed with her family. The apartment had been quiet and there wasn’t much else to do but get in bed and relax. Her cheeks blushed pink when he said something about it being the perfect night and the brunette reached over to steal just a soft kiss on his lips. “I love you”, she whispered out to him afterwards and then kissed her daughter’s head from the side. “And I love you. There isn’t anything that I wouldn’t do for the both of you.”

Grant was glad that Danielle was okay with him keeping Alison like that for the night, even if he first meant that he wasn't going to wake her for a little while. He thought eventually he should probably put her down in her crib for the night in the nursery but by the way she was sleeping heavily on his chest, Grant didn't want to. "It reminds me of when she was a little little baby and liked to sleep on my chest," he said happily. "But yeah, we shouldn't wake her, even if I would've tried to put her in her crib without waking her. Which probably wouldn't have worked but you know," he shrugged. "We don't want her to be cranky right before we're trying to go to bed either," he chuckled. Smiling as Danielle kissed him, Grant returned the kiss before staring into her eyes. "I love you too. Both of you and I feel the exact same way."

#theflashgrant #f2f #f2f: theflashgrant #f2f: romance and candles

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reginasrandomthoughts · 6 years

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Kill your heroes - an opinion on why The Last Jedi feels different

(guys, you know the drill, I wanted to do something short, it became long, it is under the cut, I am tired, as per usual, so I probably lost my train of thought at points, if you are interested read it, if not not, if you wanna correct me at any point or discuss with me, please do so. I love a good talk)

Even before I saw The Last Jedi I was aware that some people had issues with it. Chatter was that it mishandled Luke’s character and that it did not feel like a Star Wars movie, and I have to agree with it, It does not feel like the other Star Wars movies because it is purposefully trying to distance itself from them. Or, to quote my bae

“Let the past die. Kill it, if you have to”

This approach was a bit of a shocker to me as well, especially after The Force Awakens tried its absolute damnest to remind us of what the original trilogy was like. It was basically New Hope 2.0 with a few tweeks. TFA set up a pattern and expectations and The Last Jedi decided to shit all over it, but it didn’t come out of the blue.

TFA already sets up the scene: The victory at the end of Return of the Jedi was hallow, Palpatine’s death did not matter because the Empire rebranded and came back swinging and the New Republic fell apart. Everything fell apart and our heroes couldn’t keep it together. That is already pretty depressing. Even the Extended Universe, that had the same job of continuing from RotJ didn’t go that far. It was always “oh, there is still some Empire commanders fighting isolated battles”, “oh, some new invaders are coming”. It gave our heroes their victory so that was what we were expecting, but TFA already took it away from us.

Furthermore, it underlined that our heroes might not be as good of a people as we imagined. We knew nothing of Leia and Han’s parenting skills, only that their son ended up being the main enemy. (Yes, I know about Jacen Solo. Don’t spoil, not there yet in the Legends Era *spits into the corner*) Also, Han and Leia are not together. Their relationship fell apart and Han pretty much abandoned her in a difficult situation. Han also didn’t change, didn’t step up to be a better man and he also lost the Falcon, something that became very special to all the fans. And of course, Luke disappeared and we already know that he trained B/Ren.

TFA already claims that our heroes are failures, or at the very least more flawed than we are willing to admit.

Enter The Last Jedi.

The Last Jedi knows what the audience expects from it. And it deliberately refuses to give it to us.

The greatest example is Poe. Poe is the new Han Solo: he has the swagger, the arrogance but also the skill. He is an amazing pilot but he hasn’t an ounce of respect towards the chain of command and thinks he knows better than everyone else. Now let’s see how the Star Warstm pattern works out for him:

First action scene, he has an insane near suicidal plan but he pulls it off. But at what cost? Many people died, the bomber fleet is gone and we have to face the fact that there is like 3?4? Resistance ships left with roughly 400 people. Poe refused to get out of there when he was ordered to, many people died and in the end it was proven useless, because the First Order found them again withing 30 seconds. This already undermines our expectations: we expect them to get away with it like Luke did when he blew up Death Star #1. But this is not that Star Wars anymore.

Now the next stunt is basically the same as in RotJ when the Rebel Alliance has to by time to knock of the shield generators. This time around they have to buy time so Poe’s insane plan of getting a codebreaker in there to get the tracker offline so they can get away. The stakes here are different: they aren’t fighting for victory, they stand no chance. They are fighting for survival. The bloody miracle that bought the Rebels their victory is devalued into something that now is good enough only to buy them a little bit more time alive.

And they cannot pull it off. Poe is a gambler. He likes the kind of high stakes, high rewards plans that Star Wars (Orige Trige) was known for. He acts as we expect him to act, but he cannot pull of the miracle. Finn and Rose bring back a codebreaker. Then get it. Smooth sailing right? It will be a close call but they will make it. Look, DJ even gives Rose back her necklace, he must be one of those Hollywood outlaws with a heart of gold who will come through when necessary. But no, they get captured and get sold out. Poe’s plan did not only fail, thanks to it the rebel transporters get picked out one by one. They loose so many people. Most of the Resistance dies because Poe wanted to make one of those Star Wars gambles and he couldn’t pull it off.

And I think this is why it was important? good? to keep Holdo’s plan a secret from the audience. We were emotionally invested in Poe’s plan. When he stages his rebellion we were with him, trusting this to go off well, bc that is what Star Wars taught us would happen. And then suddenly Leia comes in, wacks Poe’s takeover and we realize that there was a much safer way to do things. Something that would have worked if not for Poe. Is it stupid in universe? Most likely, yea. Holdo should have told someone. But from a message point of view it paid off. Poe pretty much managed to off the Resistance with his stupidity, but he learned his lesson.

The next classic Star Wars moment, the suicide run against the battering ram cannon (hello X-wing runs from New Hope) is one where he recognizes that he cannot pull it off. It cannot be done. Choose life, and live to fight another day. And that’s what he does and that is the good call, we see it because it almost costs Finn his life.

These insane last minute saves are such a great part of the identity of Star Wars. New Hope has it, Return of the Jedi has it, The Force Awakens has it, heck Rouge One is one big Ave Maria. We are conditioned to expect them to work, but here they simply don’t. That is a large part of why it might not “feel like a Star Wars movie”.

Another part of course, is the Jedi. Luke. Luke is the big legend, the idol, the savior of the galaxy far, far away and we, just like Rey, expects him to live up to it. But Luke failed miserably. He got arrogant then he got in way over his head, buying into his own glory and he made a mistake. He did not catch Ben being corrupted then he got scared and wanted to murder him, quintessentially spooking him into being Ren. Luke’s failure as a master and as FAMILY created Kylo Ren. And what did he do after? He ran away. Not the glorious hero we expected.

And if this is not enough then the Jedi, the universally accepted good guys of the Star Wars universe get shade thrown on them as well. We cannot pretend that oh, its Luke’s training not being complete. He was alone, of course he failed. He reminds the audience that Darth Vader was trained by Jedi as well, and why did Anakin fall? Because the Jedi demanded from him to kill his humanity. The Jedi order’s very code created Vader. And if that is not enough than the raise of Palpatine happened at the height of the Jedi’s power. Yet they got whiped out.

And that is not something that was invented in TLJ or TFA, it was in the Original and Prequel films. TLJ does nothing more than tear down the wall of nostalgia around these things and highlights how incompetent these people were.

And now let’s move on to Luke’s death. Luke’s death is Obi-Wan’s death: the old master facing the monster that was born from the student he failed. He dies pretty much the same way as well, short fight, gets killed, turns into a Force ghost. Why? Luke has to die because he is a part of the old Jedi order, because he is a failed hero but why does he get Obi-Wan’s death? Why make the purposeful call back? Because now we have context. It adds a layer to Obi-Wan as well. These are two man who are facing down their own mistakes and they are both arrogant about it. “Strike me down and I will stay with you forever” “Strike me down and I will become more powerful than you can possibly imagine”. They plan to haunt their killers, to be a reminder to them that there is some power outside if their reach. To choose how they die is the only victory they can achieve.

But Luke here can be assumed to be trying to accomplish something else as well: Yoda told him to teach Rey his failure. Can he possibly be trying to show Rey that Ren is irredeemable? That would be a very Jedi thing to do, wouldn’t it? In Phantom Menace Yoda wants to throw away the obviously very talented and powerful Anakin because he is not a perfect Jedi candidate, Obi-Wan refuses to acknowledge Vader was ever Anakin for quite a while and of course Luke decided that Ben needed to be gotten rid of since he has a taint. The Jedi, Luke’s Jedi, demanded a kind of inhuman perfection and that has to die, especially since Rey shows to be different from them. A new kind of Jedi, a new kind of hero.

Another aspect in which Obi-Wan and Luke’s death are similar is that they are leaving behind a new apprentice to take down the monster. But as we saw with Poe’s example’s, this is not that game anymore, so Luke’s gamble is not nearly as sure, especially since Rey is different than what Luke was.

And now let’s move to one more piece of deconstruction of the old Star Wars tropes. Vader and Luke vs Palpatine / Rey and Kylo vs Snoke. It plays out pretty similarly for a while but with a quite a bit of a difference: Rey cannot talk Ren into turning back to Ben. As we established, this is not how it will work anymore. A few nice words and an “I believe in you” won’t right the wrongs and save the world anymore. One of the bigger differences here is that Ren is not dying. For him turning back would mean something very different than what it did to Vader and anyway, Ren likes being Ren. He feels like he has a place where he is and that he was rejected in the chaotic world of the Resistance. Ren’s story wouldn’t conveniently end with a “yay I turned now I am dead” just so the good guys can pretend they saved him.

In many ways TLJ saw Ren come into his own. He, just like Rey and the audience clung to the nostalgia, he idolized his predecessor, Vader and in this film very early on was challenged in his identity as the new Vader. “you are no Vader just a kid in a mask”. So he destroys the mask. He destroys his pretense of being Vader. He does what Vader never did and makes a connection to someone on the light side of the Force. He is no mere petsy anymore either. The minute he rejects the Vader persona he starts acting on his own accord: he gets into his ship, he commands his small platoon and he makes the critical choice of not killing Leia. In the previous movie killing a parent was a step closer to the dark side, towards becoming Vader but now he rejects it. Is it that he cannot bring himself to do it this close to another? Is it that his commitment to the dark side is wavering? Or is it that he refuses to walk a path he does not truly wants to? At that moment he does not want Leia to die and from this perspective Leia’s survival makes sense.

Tangent: I know that Leia surviving the way she did was stupid from an in universe perspective because she never exhibited Force control powers before and for her to pull something on this scale, but it makes more of a sense if you think about this as an unconscious thing. Pure survival instinct kicking in. AND it was important bc the TIE fighters showed us what Ren was supposed to do, they made sure we know that yes, he could have killed Leia. But he didn’t. So Leia was saved via Force Powers bc.... you know, Ren uses the force as well so it is a sorta weird stand in. Execution was weird here.

BTW, this was the point where Snoke signed his own death warrant. He wanted a new Vader but he ripped Kylo’s identity as the new Vader away from him, forcing him to look for something else to be. And part of that was rejecting Snoke’s demands to kill his still living parent, Rey and to be a petsy. Vader was a glorified henchman and REN refused to be one. So he offed Snoke. And with that Supreme Leader Ren was born.

Now, I use this title because it is very fitting at this point because Ren is pretty much the driving force, or at least the manifestation of the driving idea behind The Last Jedi. Ren stood on both sides and was disappointed in all of his heroes, all of our heroes. Leia, Han, Luke, Vader, heck even the new replacement Snoke proved to be a failure. Ren came out on the other side of the experience wanting to “Let the past die”. He says “Kill it” but only “if you have to”. He wants to get rid of all of this past nonsense, get out of the shadows of those coming before him, stop being a copy only there to repeat patterns and to live up to what other people expect him to be.

Ren’s decision changes the game. The minute he decides on his new path, when he lets go of Darth Vader things shift: Poe’s final miracle happens before that, but after Ren changes his platoon wrecks the lead ship sending Leia into a coma, without the proper leadership the Resistance gets into a bad situation where Poe acts against orders trying to play according to the old rule book, he fails. Ren is not Vader, he is not Palpatine or Snoke, the same tricks do not work with him and the Resistance reaches some success only when they change tactics (e.g. retreat rather than do a suicide run against the battering ram cannon).

So Ren changed the game, he wants to burn down the old, so the question is what will remain or what will emerge? That is Rey’s job to answer. Ren tells us what the new trilogy isn’t but Rey should define what it is. What stays? What becomes new? Episode IX’s job will be to establish what the new Star Wars is like and yea, maybe the backlash will make Disney chicken out and revert to the old ways but I hope it won’t.

We, the audience should learn to be a bit more like Rey and Ren and let go of the past, stop glorifying it and stop letting it define what the present and the future can be.

#sw tlj meta #sw tlj spoilers #regina shitposts #she is still horrible at it #and now she apparently got into the habit of writing meta???

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