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slayfics · 2 years ago

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A girls night at Mitsuri’s house. Don’t worry your secrets are safe here.

Warnings: NSFW themes hinted at~

You arrived at Mitsuri’s doorstep feeling excited for what the night might bring. You couldn’t believe the Hashira found some downtime to plan a girl's night. You wondered what other girls she might have invited to come over. But overall you were excited to take a break from the serious work of hunting demons.

You knocked on the door and Mitsuri threw it open almost immediately.

“Yay! I’m so glad you made it!” She exclaimed and pulled you into a hug. “Let me show you who else came!” She said as she grabbed your hand and pulled you into the room. You saw Aoi and Kanao sitting around a table piled with deserts and tea.

“Hi girls!” You waved.

“Hello.” Aoi said seriously and Kanao just smiled sweetly at you.

“Feel free to have as many desserts and tea as you want! I can always make more!” Mitsuri said as she pulled you down to sit on the floor.

“What is our first task Miss Knaroji?” Kanon asked.

“Hm?” Mitsuri looked confused.

“Miss Kocho said this night was so we could all get special training from you.” Kanao explained

“Oh right!” Mitsuri laughed. “Well actually we're just here to have a girl's night. That can be extremely refreshing for the soul you know! And Miss Kocho thought it would be a great exercise for you to express some of your feelings.”

Kanao’s face turned white, but she kept a straight face and did not speak again. Training was something she could handle any time of day but expressing her wants and feelings was extremely challenging for her.

“Sounds ridiculous to me. What are we supposed to be doing here anyway.” Aoi spoke.

“Oh you know gossiping, talking about boys, the fun stuff! I’ve never had a girl's night before because I've been so busy as a Hashira. It would be nice to just be normal girls for one night. I really wanted Miss Kocho to come too but she said she had to go on a mission.” Mitsuri said.

“Boys... you want us to sit here and talk about boys?? That seems like a waste of time. I’ve got injured demon slayers to check up on.” Aoi replied.

“HEY! You mind your manners when talking to a Hashira! Miss Kanroji risks her life every day to keep us safe! So if on her day off she wants to talk about boys you better believe I’m going to sit here and do it, and I suggest you do too!” You spoke. Aoi seemed to be humbled by this and placed her head down.

“Oh, it’s ok Aoi I understand. You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to.” Mitsuri said, looking hurt.

“No I want to be here, I apologize.” Aoi said grabbing some tea off the table. “Please continue.”

“Well tell me what’s been going on with you girls?” Mitsuri said and sipped some of her tea.

Everyone was silent. No one knew how to begin or what to talk about. Being in the demon slayer corps robbed the girls of having any real childhood or adolescents, it was daunting to think what normal girls would sit and talk about.

“Umm... I really want to play with Master Tokito’s hair.” You started bravely hoping to get some conversation started and fulfill Misturi’s dream of having a normal girls night.

Kanao’s face got even whiter, and she started to sweat.

“Yes! Me too! He has such beautiful hair I would love to braid it like mine one day!” Mitsuri smiled.

“Wow that would be so cute, do you think he would let us??” You asked.

“Hmm I don't know, maybe if we asked nicely or tricked him into thinking it was a training exercise of some sort.” Mitsuri giggled.

Aoi and Kanao exchanged bewildered glances at each other.

“Oh come on what boys do you two want to talk about?” You asked, turning to look at them both.

Kanao started to sweat more.

“Miss Kocho told me a secret about you two, but I won’t share if you don't want me too.” Mitsuri teased.

“A secret???” What secret could she have said about me?” Aoi exclaimed.

“Well, we are all girls here and this is a safe place, so I’ll tell everyone. She said you cried SUPER hard when Inosuke got really hurt. Do you like him?” Mitsuri asked.

“Ooooooooo!” You said teasing Aoi.

"WHAT?! Of course I cried I thought he was going to die!”

“And that would have made you very sad, huh?” You nudged Aoi.

“Why wouldn't it???” She said defensively.

“Ugh..” You exclaimed giving up. Aoi clearly wasn’t ready to admit any feelings she had for the swordsman, or maybe she hadn’t realized it herself yet.

“Hmm I have an idea. I think we need help from some more ladies.” Mitsuri said and brought out a pen and paper. She wrote quickly then gave the letter to her crow. “Don’t worry they are trained shinobis so they will be here shortly.”

“You invited Uzui’s wives??” You exclaimed.

“Yeah! I think they would enjoy this too! Plus they are experienced ladies so maybe we can get some advice.”

Before you knew it there was a knock on the door. And the three girls entered.

“I want to know all the secrets!! What is going on?!” Suma explained bursting through the door and sitting down eagerly.

"Well, Aoi here likes Inosuke but doesn't want to admit it.” You winked and stuck your tongue out at her.

“WHATTTTTT? NO THAT IS NOT E-” Aoi started to protest but was cut off.

“Aweeeeee that’s sooo sweet!” Suma said clasping her hands in front of her. "What do you like about him?”

“Umm uh I don’t ..” She started to stutter and get flustered. Then attempted to change the subject “What do you three like about Mr. Uzui??”

“Yeah! What is it like sharing?? No judgment but tell us please.” You asked eagerly letting Aoi off the hook for now.

“We don’t share! He loves us equally. He always makes sure to take care of each one of us.” Makio said.

“Awe, how does he take care of you?” Mitsuri asked innocently

“Well he spends time with all of us, brings us gifts and he-... How old are you girls again?” Makio asked, blushing and smiling, placing her hand on her neck.

“OOOOO! Say no more.” You laughed. “Well what about you Mitsuri. You gathered us here. What boy do you want to talk about?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She said instantly turning bright red.

“What about Iguro? From what you said in our previous letters it sounds like he comes over a lot.”

“Oh no no!” She waved her hand. “He only comes over to help me brush and feed my cats.”

“You think a boy like that is actually coming over because he is interested in your kitties?” Hinatsuru asked curiously, tilting her head to the side.

“Oh he’s interested in another kind of kitty alright.” Suma laughed as Makio hit her. Mitsuri turned even brighter red.

“What do you mean?” Mitsuri asked.

“Oh it's obvious he’s totally simping for you. He’d do anything you’d say! He even gave her these socks everyone.” You spoke while pulling on Mitsuri’s green socks.

“You really think he likes me??" She asked.

“I know so. Bring him over right now let's play with him.” You suggested.

“Oh no I couldn't do that!”

“Sure you could! He’s a Hashira he can get here fast.” You protested.

“Is he fast?” Suma asked and laughed.

“Cut that out, they aren’t ready for that yet!” Makio said, hitting Suma again.

“I think that poor snake boy would pass out around this many girls.” Hinatsura laughed.

"That sounds fun I want to see!” Suma said.

“Oh, another time another time! I really wanted this to just be a girls day!” Mitsuri explained.

“If you brought us here for advice though, all these demon slayer boys are extremely unnerved by you girls.” Makio said.

“What do you mean?” Aoi asked.

“Well, most only know the demon slayer corps having joined so young. Girls elude them. So, if you want our advice just walk around knowing you have quite a lot power over them and could probably get most of them to do whatever you say.”

“I don’t get it. What would we want them to do?” Aoi asked innocently.

“Come and find me in a few years.” Hinatsuru laughed and blushed. “But if you like one of them just go for it ok. Give them a kiss or something and watch them pass out and get a nose bleed, it'll be funny. We never know how much time we have left in our business anyway.”

“Wow thank you Hinatsuru!” Mitsuri said still blushing a bit.

“Hm makes sense. Alight that’s settled I'll go give Tokito a surprise kiss tomorrow. If he slashes my head off, I'll come back and haunt you though.” You said to Hinatsuru laughing.

“Ok your turn.” Suma said turning to Kanao who was so white and sweaty that it looked like she was on the brink of passing out.

“You don't have to share if you don’t want to.” Mitsuri said.

“Miss Kocho thought it would be good for you to speak your mind though. Think of it like a training exercise.” You encouraged her.

“And this is a safe space we will keep your secrets. Are there any boys you like?” Mitsuri asked.

Kanao did not speak a word but shook her head no profusely.

“What a liar.” Aoi said and tilted her head away.

“WOW! Betrayed by your own sister!” Makio laughed.

“Tell us! Tell us!” You and Suma chanted.

Kanao opened her mouth and with the tiniest amount of breath muttered “Tanjiro...”

“OOOOOOO!” Everyone exclaimed, even Aoi, who had finally lightened up.

“That is soooo cute you two would make such a cute couple!” Mitsuri said clapping her hands together.

Kanao went back to her white face and not speaking another word.

“Aoi you and Inosuke would be super cute too!” Mitsuri said.

“Wait, Insouke! That’s the other boy that helped Lord Tengen! He is super valiant and has some great qualities... In the tummy area.” Suma said pointing around her stomach area and laughing. Aoi’s face turned red.

"I suppose I haven’t noticed.” She said turning away.

“What!” Kanao exclaimed, turning to Aoi.

Everyone froze at Kanao speaking up so loudly for the first time.

“You checked on him every single day multiple times when he was already healed, and I see you eye him while he trains!”

“WOOOOOAHHAHAHA” The other girls laughed at the feuding sisters.

“Ok fine!” Aoi gave in. “He is an above average looking swordsman... and I am fond of him. He makes me smile. HAPPY EVERYONE??”

“Oh I’m so proud of you!!!! That was so brave admitting your feelings!! Thank you girls, this has already been the best girl's night I could have ever hoped for!” Mitsuri said cheerfully.

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greycaelum · 1 year ago

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My shoujo ass cant stop thinking of kenma and masaki wit my baby sai...................

Kaleidoscope Series—Clouds and Mochi Chapters: { First Princess }

—Gojo Satoru X Wife Reader

𑁍 Genre: fluff, domestic life, parenthood

𑁍 WC/CW/TW: (1.7k)—/overprotective Dad Satoru, he's having a girl dad dilemma, lovey-dovey moments, fluff, overall domestic life, 3rd munchkins cameo, slight mention of jujutsu society, childhood friends—/

𑁍 A/N: Trick or Treat! And Satoru got the treat from his Baby Cat! In exchange for a stomachache~

Gojo Satoru... never in his life thought he would die this early...

He can't believe time has passed so much that his bones are starting to hurt when he moves or that his already white hair can get any whiter... or that—

"Love... I have never once doubted where our kids got their drama skills." You sighed, interrupting his monologue.

"Baby!" Your husband whined from the couch and stomped his feet. "She's just 13!"

"Exactly... Calm down 'Toru." You sighed and wiped your hands on your apron. You could see Kouki watching over his two younger siblings in the backyard... Satoru, on the other hand, is having a midlife crisis because of his first daughter.

Barefooted, he trudged to the kitchen and hugged you from the back, a petulant pout on his lips.

"I should have taught her to kick harder as a kid. Maybe I should enroll our daughters in an all-girls school instead. It's not too late y—"

You stuff his mouth with the mochi you're making, effectively shutting him up and, at the same time, calming him down. His ranting turned to munching, and his chattering mouth soon turned to a chin resting on your shoulder while you make snacks for the kids with a husband stuck to your back, hugging you like a teddy bear, asking for bites of what you're making.

You wiped your hand after putting the new batch of brownies you made in the oven.

"You know Saika would never intentionally do anything to make you disappointed. But she's a growing girl, a very good girl at that. Barring her from exploring will not solve the problem." You sighed and turned around to stare at your husband's pouting lips. Gosh, he never grew up from the pouting phase. "If we try to stop her from exploring, she might tend to be sneaky instead. How can we give her guidance if she doesn't feel accepted?" You smiled at Satoru, washing off his worries with your words.

"I know... It's just that..." Satoru blew out a frustrated sigh. "I don't want her to get hurt. She's too young for this, y'know..." He hugged you, burying his face in your neck.

You inhale a large breath and pat his back, empathizing with your husband and his dilemma for being a girl dad. You wonder if you'll ever feel this too with your sons... Or if your husband is simply just being the sensitive big teddy bear he is.

"Y'know, Love..." You trailed and took his face in your hands. "I hate to break it to you like this, but..." You chuckled. "Saika is just with her classmates doing a school project."

Saika has been telling you for one week straight how she's so excited to go over to her friend's house for the first time and do their project, something about some baking activity in home economics, which you agreed with delight. Satoru was also happy about it... until he asked who was her group partners.

"Masaki and Kenma and Iori, and..."

The rest of her partners were ignored the second Satoru heard familiar names.

"Masaki... Kenma?"

"Still! Did you see how that Chiba boy dared come to my doorstep every Tuesday morning to pick up my Cat? That brat, when he grows up, I swear when he grows u—"

You poked his cheeks with your fingers, stopping his plans.

"Baby, you see that?" You pointed to your eldest son, making flower crowns for his youngest sister while his younger brother kept climbing on his back. "You and Kouki have been watching over her since she was born. Do you think your son will be this calm if he doesn't trust Saika's friends? We both know how protective he is of her sister, and he knows Masaki because he goes to school with him almost daily."

You kissed Satoru's frowning brow, easing his temples while his arms remained around your waist, still with the bit of pout on his lips but not as hysterical as earlier.

"Can you blame me? I'm clingy with my first princess." Satoru sighed. "She was so tiny when I first held her. I was so scared if I breathed too deep, she would cry. She's so precious and fragile that I can't handle it. If she cries, it would crush me..." Satoru's words were muffled as he sank into your arms.

"Mnnn... I know. Must prepare our youngest girl if you suddenly bawl out when she finally gets a boyfriend two decades later.

You didn't have to pull his face up to your eyes to know how Satoru turned several shades paler and sucked a nervous gasp against your collarbone. You saw your two youngest munchkins run to the front yard and the famous single-double tone of knock on your doorsteps.

He left you as quick as a bullet train and ran to the door where, as expected, his Cat was, holding a basket of sweets, and behind her... was someone Satoru would pronounce as his mortal enemy years from now.

Maybe because Masaki is the one he often sees, Satoru never really paid attention to Kenma. That was a long time ago. Saika was just a toddler back then, oblivious to what a 'boyfriend' meant, and took it too literally as a male friend.

"Papa! Look, I made mochi for you!" Saika's eyes lit up, and excitedly enumerated the sweet he brought home for everyone.

"Hey Princess, did you make all these? Lemme have this one~" Satoru looked in the basket and got a cheese stick, then praised his daughter for making them very good... that's a lie, it tastes like the Baumkuchen you threw out coz it was three days expired. But he can't possibly say that in front of his precious daughter, who will probably cause him to go in and out of the toilet later.

"Sir, good afternoon."

A serious voice greeted Satoru.

In his straight stance, hands behind his back and feet against each other, Masaki bowed to Satoru. Saika was used to this. Masaki would greet her Papa, and her Papa would grunt with the same constipated look he always had every time Masaki came into their home.

"Masaki-kun, thank you for bringing Saika home safely." You appeared behind Satoru with a smile. The kid looked up and greeted you formally as well.

"Good afternoon, Lady Y/n..." The young boy visibly softened his stance at your sight, but when he saw Satoru watching him like a hawk, Masaki instantly straightened up again like a soldier under his supervisor's stern glare.

"How about you come inside for tea, Masaki-kun? I made some baklava." You warmly invited, patting Satoru's shoulder in silent warning. Saika already went inside, calling her siblings.

"I... I'd love to, Lady Y/n, but my mother told me to be home by 3 in the afternoon." The boy looked a bit somber as he turned down your offer. You know his parents are stricter than others, so you cannot find fault in such an answer.

"Then next time, I'll make some milk pan. Saika loves those." You didn't miss how his eyes sparkled at your offer and the subtle scoff of Satoru on the side.

The kid waved goodbye, but just then, a rushing Saika almost collided with you in the hallway. She ran past you and Satoru towards Masaki, who was already at the gate.

You couldn't hear what they were saying, but based on the cellophane-wrapped baklava your daughter was handing towards Masaki, you could only chuckle and hold down the hand of your seething husband, dragging him a little more inside the house, just enough so the two of you can spy on the kids.

Your husband silently huffs and walks into the house, holding the basket of sweets Saika brought home, calling the kids to share the treat. Though you didn't miss how he ordered his men to watch over Masaki to make sure the boy reached the Chiba Estate safely.

Later that night, you saw Satoru talking to Saika over an ice cream, the two of them huddled up on the couch, playing some Mario Kart.

"Papa doesn't like Masaki, Mama?" Kouki, in his pajamas, walked closer to you, asking you to dry his long hair from the shower.

"You know your Papa, you'd never hear the end of it if it comes to boys." You carefully wring out the excess water from his artic tresses while he hummed and stared at his sister and father fighting over the last spoon of the ice cream.

"Masaki is better," Kouki said with a long look.

"Why so?" Oh? You quirk a brow at your eldest's remark.

"His family is a branch of the Gojo Clan, though the Chiba clan is a minor family, at least that lessens the complexity of explaining about normal citizens and sorcerers." Kouki huffs.

"Since when did my son start thinking of this stuff? Sweetheart? Is that all?" You chuckled and hugged your eldest, pinching his nose.

"Of course, it also makes it easier to hunt him down if he hurts Cat's feelings," Kouki grumbled with a pout. Just like his father, thankfully, your youngest son is just a toddler, or else you don't know how to keep your three boys from guarding their sister like an apparition against other men.

"Mama! That's unfair. You didn't comb my hair tonight." Saika called from the living room as she saw her brother all fluffy and well-groomed from your hands.

"I can comb it for you, Cat!" Satoru added. Kouki soon joined the huddle, poking fun at his sister.

Needless to say, whoever tries to ask for your daughter's hand, they'll have to go through a lot. She is, after all, the first princess of the most important boys in her life... Just like that, you can't help but wish that if ever... she did find the man of her life, he would treat her as precious as you all have treasured her... Just like how her father has cherished you, or maybe even more.

Satoru chuckled and put down the comb.

"See, my Little Treasure is as pretty as ever!"

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out the Masterlist for more

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned images(s) and songs(s) used, belongs to their respective owner(s)

General/Kaleidoscope Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @gummy-dummy @tender-rosiey @lexiene @nevermoresworld @loml-riri @pelicanpizza @emichou-chan

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karahalloway · 7 months ago

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(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 19 - Field Day

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: It's off to the bridal boutique, but Harper and Olivia have a secondary agenda...

Word Count: 6,200

Rating/Warnings: M (royal bitchiness, possible emotional abuse, kidnapping, threats of murder)

Chapter theme song:

A/N: So, I have tried to keep everything as realistic and accurate as possible in terms of the locations that are touched on in this chapter. The only thing that is made up is the antique store. As usual, translations for the French and Italian are at the end.

Chapter 19 - Field Day

The five-minute drive to the bridal boutique is every bit as excruciatingly awkward as can be expected.

"What part of we are already running late is so difficult to comprehend?" derides Madeleine before the limo door even shuts. "When I tell you to hurry, I expect you to do exactly that!"

"I'm sorry, Lady Madeleine," stammers Penelope tearfully. "The heel of my shoe became caught on—"

"Save it!" the Countess of Fydelia snaps. "If you cannot do something as simple as totter down a corridor without breaking your neck, then frankly, I do not see how you are supposed to be of use to me."

Penelope's face turns whiter than a sheet. "I—"

"As lest you forget, I took you on as a lady-in-waiting as a favour to your family, given the historically close personal relationship between our fathers," Madeleine reminds her with a steely edge to her voice. "But that does not mean that I cannot send you packing just as easily. And if you do not get your act together, then that is exactly what will happen. Am I clear!"

"Yes," Penelope whimpers, lowering her gaze.

"What was that?" demands Madeleine imperiously.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"And the same goes for the rest of you," adds Madeleine, casting the haughty gleam of her gaze over the limo. "One misstep — proverbial or otherwise — and you are gone. Not just from my employ, but from court as well."

Shifting my gaze over to Hana, I see that she is just as perturbed as I am about this borderline psychotic power-trip.

Talk about being a queen bitch...

Olivia scoffs from her seat in the corner. "How about you try making a threat you can actually carry out..."

Madeleine bristles. "As Queen I will have the authority to—"

"Do exactly what Christian permits you to do," Olivia interjects flatly, examining her nails. "As lest you forget, you will only ever be a queen consort — not queen regnant."

The Countess of Fydelia's eyes narrow. "That is but a technicality."

"I still wouldn't overplay my hand," Olivia cautions with a smile. "Wouldn't want to get caught out on a technicality now, would you?"

Madeleine glares down the length of the limo like a viscous viper.

"Didn't think so," smirks the Duchess of Lythikos as the driver pulls the vehicle to a stop...

...and the paps immediately descend on us like a swarm of black flies.

"What the—?" I blurt, catching the flash of the cameras through the blacked-out windows. "When did they get here?"

"Five minutes ago," replies Madeleine tartly, slotting a pair of shades on.

My jaw drops. "You... told them where we were going?"

"Of course," she affirms as the Royal Guard who had been riding shotgun manages to squeeze his way through the human press to open the door. "Royal patronage elevates the esteem and profile of any institution. It is only right that the press should be invited to cover the visit."

"Like that's the only reason..." I mutter as Madeleine steps out of the limo and the roar of the crowd becomes deafening.

"Contessa!" several people shout. "Contessa Maddalena! Quaggiù, per favore!"

"It's horse shite, by the way," Olivia advises as she slides past me. "The only thing she is looking to promote is herself."

"Well, she definitely seems to be succeeding..." I admit, watching the Guards struggle to hold the photographers back as Madeleine sashays her way towards the doors of the boutique.

Olivia scoffs. "It's an act of desperation. Nothing more. She knows she is on thin footing with Christian... and the public."

"Great..." I groan, pulling Drake's blue aviators from my clutch as I, too, exit the limo.

Rather than being an unfortunate one-off, it seems like yesterday's altercation at the Apple Harvest Festival was actually the opening salvo in a concerted campaign of media brinksmanship that Madeleine is determined to win.... at my expense.

Yet, I'm just not sure I have it in me to play her contrived publicity game. The paps have already up-ended my life more completely than I would've ever thought possible, so the last thing I want to do is pander to their voracious appetite for scandal.

"Duchessa Harper! Duchessa Harper!" the photographers shout as I step out onto the sidewalk. "You made it to Italy! What do you think of the city so far?"

"You did not travel with the King and future Queen! Were you forced to make alternative arrangements because of your argument?"

"Will you attend the opera tonight?"

"When was the last time you spoke to your family? Is it true you cut all ties with them?"

Gritting my teeth, I force myself to keep my head down and my feet moving forward as the invasive questions zing over my head like bullets. Camera bulbs flash in my face as the photographers press in, trying to get that front page close-up...

...and that's when I spot him.

My heart skips an uncomfortable beat as recognition hits me like a punch in the chest.

Oh, my God, the photographer from Applewood!

He's standing in the second row, regarding me almost casually, like a tourist at a zoo, faded red baseball cap slung backwards over his head, just as in the picture Ana de Luca had saved on the flash drive.

Our eyes meet and I stumble to a stop, unable to tear my gaze away, my morbid curiosity overpowering my senses even as the paps close in around me...

...but then I feel the warmth of a hand on my back and the sound of a familiar voice brings me back to earth.

"Nous vous tienons, Demoiselle," Allard assures me, appearing at my side to shield me from the press invasion.

Glancing up, I see that Schweitzer has taken up position in front of me, using his body like a blocker to force a path through the crush.

Curling into the safety offered by my Guard's no-nonsense attitude, I let them whisk me into the boutique.

"Thank you..." I say sincerely as we pass through the doorway into the foyer.

Allard relinquishes his hold on me with a nod. "Certainement. Vous allez bien?"

"Yeah..." I reply, heart pounding as I try to recollect my bearings. "I just—"

"Oh, my gosh!" gasps Hana, stumbling into the boutique behind us. "That was horrible!"

"C'est le bordel!" agrees Kiara as she and Penelope manage to squeeze themselves through the press before the Guards shut the door. "Qu'est-ce qu'elle croyait?"

"She wasn't," Olivia replies flatly, shooting an accusatory glance over her shoulder at Madeleine, who is already being given a queen's welcome by the boutique's owner.

A tense silence descends as we all process this assessment.

"I... I suppose we should go through," Hana suggests eventually.

"Oui," Kiara affirms with a huff, smoothing the front of her dress. "Sa Majesté expects our assistance."

Penelope glances uncertainly towards the fuss being made over Madeleine. "I don't think she's expecting mine..."

"Don't be silly!" Kiara admonishes, looping her arm through her friend's to tug her forward. "She just had a petite éclat. Every bride gets nervous and she is under a lot of pressure to maintain constant perfection. But that is why we need to help her, non?"

Penelope looks like she's about to disagree, before finally acquiescing with a sigh. "I just miss Merlin and Morgana..."

"J'sais..." consoles Kiara, patting her reassuringly on the back of the hand. "Hopefully once the tour is finished, Madeleine will allow you to send for them."

"I doubt it..." Penelope mutters meekly as they join Madeleine in the store proper. "She said she hates yappy little dogs. You don't suppose they have anything here with poodles on them, do you?"

"I don't think this boutique specialises in that type of lingerie..."

"Oh..."

"I'm sure they have some pretty floral designs, though!" Hana offers encouragingly. "Italian lace is known around the world for its intricate rebrodè detailing."

"Yes, because that's what men care about on the wedding night..." Olivia mutters dryly, turning towards me. "You coming, or what?"

"Huh?" I ask, snapping my head up. "Umm... Yeah. Sorry."

"You better be," she snips disdainfully as she starts down the foyer as well. "I refuse to be the only sane participant in this clown show..."

I glance warily back towards the front of the boutique, where the paps were still battling each other, trying to snap a shot of us through the tastefully curated window displays.

"What?" Olivia objects after a beat. "No snide comment? No wry clap-back? You're not conveniently coming down with a sudden fever, are you?"

"I... I saw him," I admit, tearing my gaze away from the feeding frenzy outside.

Olivia grabs my wrist to yank me to a stop. "Saw who?"

"The photographer," I say tightly, pulling my arms around myself in a bid to stop myself from shivering, despite the record-breaking temperatures outside. "From Applewood."

"Dion Guillard..." clarifies Olivia, staring at me intently. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I nod.

Olivia purses her lips. "He could be here on his own volition, or because someone invited him. Either way, we should make use of this opportunity."

"How?"

"By making him an offer he can't refuse," she replies slyly, pulling her phone out.

My eyes widen. "You mean right now? But Madeleine—"

"Has enough sycophants coddling her already," she counters flippantly as she quickly types up a text. "We only have one chance to do this. Do you want the truth, or not?"

I swallow down the lump in my throat. "I do."

"Good," she nods, slotting her phone away again. "You don't mind if I borrow your hunks, do you?"

"Umm..."

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," she responds, clicking her fingers authoritatively at Allard and Schweitzer. "Meet me in the back in fifteen minutes."

Before I have a chance to respond, Olivia has already spun on her heel and is striding towards the rear of the store, my two Guards in tow.

"'Kay..." I mutter under my breath.

I have no idea what Olivia's plan is... much less how she thinks to arrange a clandestine meeting with the photographer under Madeleine's nose while there's an entire army of paps parked outside watching our every move.

But I've learned during the course of the social season that the Scarlet Duchess is as enterprising as she is resourceful, having pulled a number of successful ploys in a bid to advance herself in the competition. And Drake seems to trust her implicitly, otherwise, he wouldn't have asked her to keep an eye on me while he's off in Dubai.

So, it looks like I'm just going to have to trust her, too.

Taking a deep breath, I move towards the other end of the shop floor, pretending to peruse the various items on offer while I wait for the allotted time to tick down.

Luckily, Madeleine is busy loudly shooting down each and every lingerie option that is presented to her by both the boutique staff and her increasingly frazzled ladies-in-waiting, so nobody really notices when I announce a pretend visit to the restroom.

Slipping back out into the foyer, I move as casually as possible towards the back of the store, knowing that the paps are still watching me like hawks through the windows.

Rounding the corner, I allow myself to speed up a bit, casting my gaze left and right, looking for Olivia...

...when I'm suddenly yanked into a dimly-lit storeroom stacked with cardboard boxes and plastic-wrapped veils and dresses.

"Hey! What the—?" I protest as the door is shut promptly behind me.

"You're late," Olivia informs me dryly, clicking the lone light bulb on above us.

"Sorry, I had t—"

I reel back in horror as my eyes land on the bound and gagged form of Dion Guillard perched on top of a box of lingerie.

"Oh, my God!" I gasp. "When the heck did this turn into a kidnapping?"

"Ten minutes ago," she replies breezily.

I drop my head in my hands. "I am going to jail... I am literally going to jail..."

"Oh, ye of little faith..." Olivia admonishes, stepping over to the photographer.

He shrinks instantly back from her.

My brows shoot skywards. "Jesus Christ... What did you do to him?"

"Nothing," she shrugs. "Yet..."

A chill runs down my spine. Apparently, Olivia's reputation is more than well deserved...

"I presume you know who we are?" she asks Dion levelly, coming to a stop in front of him.

The man nods tightly, brows bunched together beneath the line of his baseball cap.

"And your current circumstances leave you under no illusions as to the lengths we're willing to go to obtain — by force, or otherwise — the clear and unvarnished truth?"

His gaze slips to meet mine for a second before sliding back to Olivia's to give her the barest of nods.

"Good," she smiles, reaching towards him. "Then this will go that much faster."

In one quick motion, she yanks the scrunched-up handkerchief from the photographer's mouth, making him wheeze.

"Sa mère la pute de—"

"Who are you working for?" Olivia demands, folding her arms.

Dion spits on the floor next to her feet. "I'm a freelancer. I work for—"

"We know who you are," Olivia interjects with a wave of her hand. "You're a lowlife slug who's willing to do anything to make a name for himself. You demonstrated as much when you sold compromising photos of my friend here to the press. The question is, who hired you?"

Dion scoffs. "Nobody hired me. I work for myself! That is what I've been trying to—!"

"Liar," Olivia accuses. "We know you didn't just stumble upon this by yourself. Who's your client?"

"Nom de dieu..." he disparages under his breath. "I told you already, I—"

Olivia is suddenly up in his face, knife pressed to his throat. "And I didn't like your answer."

Dion jerks back instinctively. "Your petite friend is correct... You are going to jail..."

"They'll have to find your body first," she tells him silkily. "What little will be left of it, anyway... Because no one here is going to the police. And I'm sure that your so-called friends out the front will secretly be glad for your unexplained loss. The freelance photography business is oh-so cutthroat, after all..."

"Tu es une salle grace..." he snarls through clenched teeth.

Olivia presses the knife tighter. "Then you should know that it's not in your interest to test what's left of my patience..."

Dion laughs bitterly. "À quoi ça rime? You say already that you will just—"

"What if we paid you?" I interject, stepping forward.

Olivia's head snaps angrily around. "Harper, stay out of—!"

"Paid me?" the photographer cuts in, eyes swirling to meet mine with interest.

"To give us the information we're after... voluntarily," I clarify, in a bid to avoid the impending bloodshed. "And to sell us the photos from Applewood."

Dion frowns. "I already sold the pictures to the papers..."

"Not all of them," I correct, hoping against hope that my gut instinct is correct and I haven't just torpedoed Olivia's interrogation for nothing. "You only sold the ones you were told to sell — the ones that fit your client's narrative."

Dion seems to assess me in a new light. "You come prepared... Fine. I'll do as you ask... for five million."

"Ducats?" asks Olivia.

"Euros."

I very narrowly catch my jaw from falling to the floor at the sound of the obscene price tag.

"You've been paid once already," counters Olivia. "The highest we can go is one million."

"Four," insists Dion, somehow managing to find the balls to negotiate even with a knife pressed to his throat. "There are a lot of pictures."

"Which no one else is willing to buy, so two is our best and final offer."

"Three," declares Dion. "And I'll forget this conversation ever happened."

Olivia purses her lips for a moment, before whipping the knife away with a flourish. "Fine. Start talking."

Dion lets out a low exhale. "I received a call some days before the Jamboree. The person had a tip on one of the Prince's suitors, and said it would make big news if it got out. Naturally, I was interested."

"Who was this person?" I ask.

"I don't have a name," he replies. "The tip was anonymous, and the call came from a hidden number."

"Was it a man or a woman?" Olivia queries.

"A man."

Olivia and I exchange a glance. Tariq or Godfrey.

"How did you get into Applewood?" I ask, turning back to Dion.

"A security pass was delivered to my apartment. No return address," he adds before either of us can ask.

"And that didn't seem suspicious?" I press.

"Demoiselle," he scoffs. "I am a paparazzo. I am not going to... How you Américans say? Count the teeth of a dog?"

"Look a gift horse in the mouth..." I correct dryly.

"Once on the estate, I took some pictures of the Jamboree — in the event, you know... nothing came of the tip — but then I received a message on my phone that the suitor in question was on her way back to her room with her paramour, andI should make myself ready."

"How did you know which room to go to?" I cut in.

"There was a blueprint of the manor included in the same envelope that provided me my security pass," Dion explains. "It was your room that was marked."

His words hit me like a kick to the guts.

It's been clear for a while that my run-in with Tariq has been anything but chance. But to learn the malicious extent of the planning that had gone into setting it up makes me want to actually puke.

Who was sick enough to even think up something so twisted?

"What then?" asks Olivia, diverting Dion's attention from my momentary muteness.

He shrugs. "I took the photos, and left."

"How?" I croak in disbelief. "How could you just stand there while—?"

"I am a journalist," he shrugs apathetically. "My business is to be impartial..."

"You watched me get assaulted," I hiss through trembling lips. "There is nothing impartial about that!"

He shrugs again. "Affairs are messy. Maybe you should choose your lovers more carefully."

I feel my fists clench at my sides as I take a step forward. "He is not—"

Olivia's hand pulls me back. "How did you deliver the photos?"

"There was no delivery," Dion counters with the same level of nonchalance that he's exhibited since he started talking. "I selected the best pictures and put them out to offer to the newspapers. The Sun offered the most for them, so I sold to them the exclusive rights to publish."

"That's it?" queries Olivia. "No one else was given copies?"

Dion scoffs. "Absolutement pas! Selling copies to anyone else would violate the license agreement with the most influential tabloid newspaper in the country! Why would I put myself out of business? I am not an idiot..."

"You didn't send any samples to the person who tipped you off?" I press, having finally managed to regain my composure somewhat.

"Non," he insists. "I said before — he was not a client. I have no obligation for him. And even if I did, I have no way to contact him because—"

"—the conversations were anonymous," I finish wearily.

Apart from lending credence to our suspicions that Godfrey may have had a hand in the set-up, this conversation has confirmed literally nothing.

The people involved in the plot have been too careful in covering up their tracks.

Which means that all our hopes now rest with Tariq... and Drake's ability to find him.

Dion nods. "C'est correct. And I told you everything you asked. We still have a deal, yes?"

"On the condition that you hand over all the remaining photographs — including any digital and backup copies — and disappear off to a godforsaken island somewhere," Olivia clarifies.

Dion nods eagerly. "Naturellement. I always desired early retirement."

"Good," she approves, cutting the bonds from his wrists with a cold smile. "Otherwise I will personally ensure that you don't live to spend a single Euro of your newly acquired millions."

The flash of the wicked-looking blade so close to his groin causes the photographer to blanch involuntarily. "Je le jure."

Olivia flashes him a cold smile. "We'll be in touch..."

"You're just letting him go?" I hiss into Olivia's ear as Dion pushes himself up.

"Unless you would prefer to dump him in the Tiber?"

I reel back. "What! No! I just—"

"Your instinct was right," she advises softly, as Dion gathers his bag and Allard escorts him back out. "He is an opportunistic shark. He just had to be made to believe that he was fleecing us."

My eyes widen. "So, you played bad cop deliberately."

"As you said, this is my area of expertise," she smirks. "And I knew you would not be able to keep your sentimentality at the door."

"Umm, thanks... I think..." I mutter. "But where are we supposed to get three million Euros from? We may both be aristos, but neither of us is Jeff Bezos..."

"The Palace has a designated slush fund set aside for these sorts of expenditures," Olivia assures me breezily, slotting her knife away. "Since you are now a member of the royal family, we'll just send the bill to Jonathan."

I slant her a wry look. "I'm pretty sure that's not what either he or Christian had in mind when they decided to clean up my image..."

"Oh, please!" she admonishes, stepping back out into the corridor as well. "As recently as last year, Constantine was authorising expenditures of five to ten million Euros to stop pictures of Leo shagging B-list actresses on top of various vehicles making it onto the front pages. Three million Euros is trump change for the Rys."

"If you say so," I concede, my mind still reeling from astronomical sums of money that had been so casually bandied about. "Let's just hope Dion doesn't screw us over..."

"He won't," she assures me. "Nobody is stupid enough to cross a Nevrakis."

"The people who blackmailed you did..." I remind her cautiously.

Olivia's mouth tightens as we reach the end of the corridor. "Which was their first mistake. And one that they will pay for dearly."

"You never actually told me what they threatened you with on the night of the Coronation Ball..."

Olivia glances at me sharply. "The less you know the better."

"But—"

"It is for your own protection," she insists. "You haven't played this game long enough to know how to handle something so... explosive."

My eyes widen. "What? More explosive than—?"

Olivia clamps her hand over my mouth. "What did I tell you on the plane?"

"Sorry..." I mumble through her fingers.

She withdraws her hand. "If — on the very slim chance — I require assistance, I'll ask for it. In the meantime, you should rejoin the bridal parade."

"Why? Where are you going?" I ask as Olivia moves towards the back loading doors.

"None of your business," she ripostes, disappearing outside.

"Bye to you, too..." I snip as the door slams closed in her wake.

Olivia may now be on my side, but she is still as caustic as ever.

Turning back towards the main part of the boutique. I barely make it four steps before Madeleine's shrieks of outrage — and the sound of breaking glass — echo down the hallway.

"How many times do I have to tell you, no thongs! They are ribald and tasteless!"

"Yeah, no..." I mutter under my breath as I promptly spin on my heel to head back towards the rear of the store.

I don't care what Kiara may have said earlier; I have no interest in spending the rest of the morning being trapped in a bridal boutique, being screamed at by Madeleine. I have much better things to do with my time... and sanity, especially given that I'm still trying to mentally and emotionally process what the photographer had said. And after everything else that's happened in the past twenty-four hours, a small break would definitely go a long way in diffusing my pent-up stress.

Admittedly, a part of me feels bad for leaving Hana behind to suffer the full brunt of Madeleine's tirade, but trying to pull her away as well would only jeopardise my chances of making a successful getaway. I'll just have to think of some other way to make it up to her.

Not wanting her to get into any unwarranted trouble on my account, I decide to pull out my phone to send her a quick text letting her know that I'm not feeling well, and that I'll hopefully see her at the opera in the evening.

Slotting my phone back into my clutch, I push the back doors of the boutique open with a decisive shove, and step out into the sunshine.

Letting my eyes adjust to the brightness outside, I find myself in a small courtyard. On a whim, I turn back towards my Guards.

"Which way to the Trevi Fountain?" I ask, pulling my sunglasses back down over my face.

Allard and Schweitzer trade glances, clearly uneasy with this request.

"Demoiselle, that is not a prudent—"

"—way to get lost in the crowd?" I counter. "I can't think of a better one. If I don't advertise myself, no one will know I'm even there. Especially while the paps are tied up on the other side of the building."

My Guards don't seem convinced. "Commandant Walker left specific instructions to—"

"I'm not planning on disappearing on you," I assure them. "I just want to make a quick detour to grab some pastries, and check out the fountain. So, which way is it?"

Perhaps seeing that I'm not going to be swayed by any cautionary counter-argument, Schweitzer gives Allard a one-shouldered shrug of acquiescence.

Allard pulls a face before finally resigning himself as well. "Par ici," he says, indicating the far side of the courtyard.

"Thanks," I chirp with a smile, setting out across the cobblestones...

...and promptly get the heel of my stiletto pumps stuck in a crack between the stones.

"Eugh," I grumble, as I manage to wrench myself free after a brief battle. "I really didn't think this through..."

"Would Demoiselle require a taxi?" asks Schweitzer as he helps steady me from behind.

"I was hoping to walk..." I admit sheepishly.

"Via Borgognona is nearby," Allard suggests. "It is a well-known shopping street, though quieter than the more famous Via Condotti. Demoiselle might find more... comfortable footwear there."

"Not to mention some more appropriate clothes in general," I gripe, already feeling the tight fabric of my pencil dress start to stick to me. "How far away is it?"

"Just around the corner."

I flash him a bright smile. "Perfect!"

With Allard leading the way, and Schweitzer holding my hand, we manage to cross the courtyard without further incident, and sneak past the paps still thronging the front of the bridal boutique without getting spotted.

Crossing the pedestrianised thoroughfare, my Guards usher me down a narrower street that is lined on either side by cream-coloured buildings casting some welcome shade in the midday heat.

We pass a smattering of tourists and locals, but luckily everyone seems to be too absorbed in their phones or personal conversations to pay any specific attention to me.

And — more importantly — as Allard promised, the street is composed entirely of fashionable-looking independent boutiques.

"Let's try this one," I suggest, indicating the arched entryway of a store with an Italian name that I do not recognise, but which nevertheless seems to have several options for sandals on offer. And — given the scalding nature of the weather — an open-toe option is definitely appealing right now!

Stepping into the air-conditioned entranceway, I am immediately greeted by an immaculately made up woman with a severe ponytail, who starts questioning me in rapid-fire Italian.

"Umm..."

Luckily, I am saved from the embarrassment of trying to cobble together some kind of inappropriate response with the very limited — and wholly unhelpful — Italian that Bertrand had managed to teach me on the plane by Allard, who steps deftly up to my side.

"Lei è alla ricerca di alcune nuove scarpe."

"Che tipo de scarpe?"

"Sandals," I say, having understood the gist of the question. "No heel."

"Prego," the assistant says, flicking her hand towards some minimalist shelving.

"Gracia," I acknowledge with a smile.

Moving over to the indicated section, I quickly assess the options...

...and nearly die when I lay eyes on the price tags.

"Almost a thousand Euros...?" I gripe under my breath "For a few scraps of leather...?"

But then my eyes land on a pair bejewelled, gladiator-style sandals.

Given my limited window of opportunity to sneak in some sight-seeing before people start to question my absence, I don't have the luxury of being able to hunt for a bargain. And if I'm going to end up forking out this much money on a pair of shoes, I'm at least going to spend it on something that I like the look of.

And these sandals definitely fit the bill.

Decision made, I pull out my phone to quickly find out how my normal US shoe size converts to the vastly different European sizing, and turn back to the patiently waiting assistant.

"Size 36, please."

With a nod, she disappears 'round the back.

While she's gone, I take the opportunity to look up the location of the little pastry shop that the President had mentioned.

Since I'm heading towards the Trevi Fountain anyway, and Madeleine had pulled us out of this morning's meeting before the refreshments could be served, I had been serious when I told my Guards of my intent to tackle two birds with one stone. Especially since it's nearly lunchtime, and chances are I won't otherwise see food until the opera this evening.

The assistant reappears with my selection, and after a quick try-on, I give her a nod to ring up the extortionate purchase, being excessively grateful that I still have cash left in my US account, given that I don't actually have access to my new Cordonian accounts yet.

Stepping back out onto the street, I change out my shoes, slotting my pumps away into the high-end bag that I've been given, and dumping the shoebox in a nearby trash can.

My toes flex gratefully in their newfound freedom as I cross the street to the clothing boutique, wondering how much a top and pair of jean shorts is going to set me back...

In the end, however, I am pleasantly surprised to emerge back onto the street in a simple, white wrap-dress, a straw Panama hat, and a matching straw bucket bag in which I've stowed my old dress and shoes, all for under two hundred Euros, which means I was able to make recourse to the money Drake had given me, and still have plenty of cash left over for other potential emergencies.

"Thanks for the suggestion," I tell Allard sincerely. "It has definitely saved me from melting into the pavement!"

"De rien, Demoiselle," he acknowledges with a smile. "Are you ready to continue?"

"Lead the way, Monsieur!" I tell him with a grin.

Taking up poll position with a scoff — with Schweitzer bringing up the rear — Allard takes us left at the next intersection to zig-zag us down various side streets, presumably in a bid to avoid both the ferocity of the midday sun, and the chances of me being recognised on the busier avenues.

But, the back route pays off, and within ten minutes, I find myself standing on the edge of the crowded plaza that serves as the gateway to the romantic monument.

"Wow..." I breathe, taking it all in. "It sure is busy!"

Allard and Schweitzer exchange a tense look, no doubt worried about the prospect of being able to keep tabs on me in the press.

"I'll be fine," I assure them. "Just a quick peek and then we can get moving."

Neither of them look convinced, but they don't try to dissuade me as I plunge into the crowd.

Skirting around wedding parties, tour groups, and other miscellaneous sightseers, I manage to work my way to the front of the throng, and my mouth parts with a gasp at the sight spread out before me.

The four-storey monument rises up from the base of the fountain, framing the dynamically positioned statues from under whose feet the water gushes into the aquamarine pool.

It's like a Renaissance painting brought to life.

But, while I'm glad to have made the trip out here to see it in person, I can't help but feel my chest tighten morosely as I gaze up at the beauty of the world-famous landmark.

I didn't necessarily realise it at the time, but part of the reason why I enjoyed my outing in the Cordonian capital so much was because I had Drake to share the adventure with. And it was the same in Avignon — his wry quips and local knowledge had definitely brought the whole experience to life, making me see the city through different eyes than I probably would have had I been by myself... like I am now.

Eugh... I miss him...

Reaching for the ties of my bag on impulse, I pull the fastenings apart just enough to plunge my hand inside. Finding my purse, I snap it open and extract a Euro from the coin pouch.

Squeezing my fingers 'round the warmth of the metal, I clench my eyes shut with a heartfelt wish as I turn back towards the fountain...

...before sending the coin flipping through the air to land in the water before me with a soft plop.

Blinking my eyes open, I am somewhat disappointed to find myself still standing solo by the railing, and Drake has not magically appeared before me like the hot Italian guy did in The Lizzy McGuire Movie.

"Worth a shot..." I console myself somewhat dejectedly as I reach back into my bag to extract my phone so I could snap a couple of pictures to send to my mom.

Mission accomplished, I turn away from the fountain to make my way back to the edge of the square, Allard and Schweitzer falling into step behind me as I scan the various store-fronts clustered around the fountain, searching for the bakery with the pistachio croissants.

My eyes suddenly land on something in one of the window displays...

...and without really thinking about it, I let my feet carry me inside.

The little brass bell above the door jingles as I step into the cramped confines of what appears to be a shop selling a motley collection of antiques and touristy knick-knacks. A wizened old man sporting glasses and a thick head of white hair looks up at the sound of my arrival.

"Buon pomeriggio, signorina," he greets. "Posso aiutarla a cercare?"

"Umm... sì," I say hesitantly. "Hai avo... in the window?" I point at the item that had caught my eye with an embarrassed flush.

The man's face cracks into a grin. "Ah, certamente!"

Stepping out from behind the counter, he ambles his way over to the window display, to pull back the protective glass. Reaching in, he lifts up the silver chain and holds it out to me.

I run the tip of my finger across the edge of the pendant with a smile. "It's perfect."

"For you?" he asks, lifting the chain up to my neck indicatively.

"No," I laugh. "It's a present... Por mi amore?"

His eyes light up. "Ah, bellissimo! Lo avvolger�� in su per voi!"

"Gracia," I say as he scuttles excitedly back behind the counter in search of a box.

Pulling one out with a conspiratorial flourish, he sets about packaging up the piece as if he were swaddling a precious child for a hazardous journey, even managing to dig out a slightly dusty ribbon to tie on top.

"Cento euro," he declares, presenting the completed ensemble to me.

Pulling my wallet out, I extract my card. "Visa?"

"Sì! Ovviamente!" he proclaims, slapping a brand new Square card machine onto the counter, that was starkly at odds with the otherwise Ollivander-esque décor of the place.

Slotting my card into the reader, I complete the purchase, and am just about to reach for the box to stow it away in my bag when I feel a sudden presence behind me.

"This is becoming a bad habit with you..."

I freeze at the sound of the familiar voice.

No way...

The story continues in Chapter 20 - Steal Me Away

A/N: As per usual, translations below:

Nous vous tienons, Demoiselle - We got you, m'lady

At the bridal boutique:

Contessa! Contessa Maddalena! Quaggiù, per favore! - Countess! Countess! Over here, please!

Certainement. Vous allez bien? - Certainly. Are you alright?

C'est le bordel! Qu'est-ce qu'elle croyait?" - What mess! What was she thinking?

Sa mère la pute de— - Your mother is a whore of a—

Nom de dieu - Oh, my God!

Tu es une salle grace - You're a real bitch

Absolutement pas! - Absolutely not!

Je le jure - I swear

Lei è alla ricerca di alcune nuove scarpe - She is looking for some new shoes.

Out and About

Par ici - This way

Che tipo de scarpe? - What kind of shoes?

Prego - Please

Gracia - Thanks

De rien, Demoiselle - No problem, m'lady

Buon pomeriggio, signorina. Posso aiutarla a cercare? - Good afternoon, miss. Can I help you find anything?

Ah, bellissimo! Lo avvolgerò in su per voi! - Ah, lovely! I will wrap it up for you!

Por mi amore?* - For my love?

*This is a completely butchered attempt at Italian. The grammatically correct way to say it would be 'È per il mio amore'. However, Harper is improvising, so she's not going to get things completely correct 😇

Cento euro - One hundred Euros

Sì! Ovviamente! - Yes! Of course!

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bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove · 11 months ago

Text

Always There - Chapter Seventeen: S.Snape

Summary: Y/N Potter was left with a baby to care for after her brother and sister-in-law were murdered by Voldemort. One person was there for her, a person she didn’t expect but soon became her comfort person, Severus Snape. During Harry’s third year at Hogwarts and her third year as Herbology professor, a few old friends come around again. Y/N has to handle the feelings of these old friends being around again as well as handle her feelings for a certain potions master all while she tries to hide these things from her godson.

Series Masterlist

My full Masterlist

Pairings: Severus Snape x Female Professor Reader, Potter!Reader x friend!Remus, Sister!Reader x James Potter, Potter!Reader x Friend!Sirius

Chapter Warnings: Female Reader, Potter Reader(No physical description of reader) probably shitty writing, Harry growing up in a loving home, Arthur's attack, mentions of Voldemort, not proofread,

Series Warnings: Female Reader, Potter Reader (No physical description of reader) probably shitty writing, OOC Snape, Harry grows up in a loving environment, mentions of death and murder, poorly written angst, Remus is a shitty friend, poorly written pining,

Please let me know how I can improve my writing and being more inclusive to POC as I am whiter than white. Please also let me know if I have to add more to the warnings! My messages are open as well as my asks!

I am starting a taglist so leave either a comment or something in my asks if you would like to be tagged in any of my works or just this series!

Author's Note: My updates for this will be slowing down a bit during the month of December. Because I am writing 25 days of fics, the updates for this will be slower than usual. I am trying my hardest to write for both but please be patient with me.

Please let me know how I can improve or if you find any errors! Correct me, don't be afraid to! I want to improve my writing and become a better writer so any feedback or advise is welcomed!

Word Count: 1300

My asks are open for questions, suggestions and feedback!

Feedback is welcomed and encouraged!

Enjoy!

not my gif

It was approaching winter so that meant colder weather and holiday decorations going up around Hogwarts. However, one night, Y/N and Severus were woken up by frantic knocking on their door. She was discombobulated as she opened the door to reveal Minerva, who had a concerned look on her face.

“Dumbledore wishes to see you both in his office, right away. This is urgent,” She told her, Y/N was wide awake with her tone of voice, rushing to wake Severus as the three of them rushed to the headmaster’s office. Harry was there, completely spaced out.

“What’s going on? Harry, love, can you tell me what happened?” She asked her nephew. He snapped out of it looking at his aunt with a wild look in his eyes. She didn’t recognize him for a moment, his eyes seeming snake-like.

“I saw Mr. Weasley getting attacked by a snake at the ministry. It was Voldemort’s snake, what’s wrong with me?” Harry asked his aunt desperately.

“Nothing my love, nothing at all,” She reassured him before turning to Dumbledore, “do you have anyone checking on Arthur? Do we think this is a dream or if Harry actually saw this happen in real time?”

“I sent someone to check on Arthur and I’ve gotten word that he was taken to St. Mungos. Severus, the boy needs to start occlumency,” Albus explained.

“Now? Can’t it wait until morning? He’s clearly not ready to start learning something new right now, he needs to rest as do I,” Severus questioned.

“Yes, now. We don’t know if Voldemort knows about the connection he has with the boy, we need to get a headstart now before he realizes the connection.”

“The boy has a name! His name is Harry and I agree with Severus. Both of them need to rest before they start this! It’s too much for both of them just waking up!” Y/N argued with the bearded man, frustrated with how he was talking about her nephew as if he wasn’t in the room.

“They must start tonight, that is final!”

“Listen to me!” Harry screamed, everyone falling silent in shock. “I don’t know if Voldemort knows about the connection because I barely knew, I can do it tonight as long as you can Uncle Sev.”

Severus nodded and ushered the boy to the dungeons where they would begin their lessons. Y/N shook her head at the headmaster before making her way to the potions classroom where she knew Severus and Harry would be. She walked in and silently sat at the back of the room as she watched the two most important people try a new method to keep Harry safe. She knew it was starting to take a toll on both of them, both very obviously tired even though they had enough energy to argue with one another.

Y/N knew what it was like to pry into the minds of others and have her mind pried into as well. It wasn’t fun. She knew it was rough on Severus because he didn’t want to see the boy suffering with these memories he was seeing. Most of Harry’s memories were on the happier side, especially the ones with his aunt in them, but he also possessed some dark memories as well, such as watching the dark lord rise and Cedric dying in front of him.

As the two were getting tired, they called it a night, Y/N dropping a kiss on his forehead before sending him back to the Gryffindor tower. Severus walked up to her and pulled her into his arms. “A lot of his memories are of you,” He said quietly as he buried his head in her neck.

“Good ones?” She asked, resting her head on his.

“Most were. Come, let’s go back to bed.” The two of them let go of their embrace, taking each other’s hand and walked back to their quarters. He was able to fall asleep rather quickly but she had a hard time trying to. She was restless, her mind racing. If Harry was aware of the connection with Voldemort, was the dark lord aware of the connection too? If the dark lord knew about the connection, would he use it to his advantage? Would he manipulate Harry into thinking that someone important to him has been attacked, has been killed?

The next morning as Severus awoke from his sleep, he reached out to her side of the bed only to find it cold and empty. He picked his head up to find her staring out of one of the few windows in their quarters, watching as the creatures swam by. He sat up and let out a yawn before getting out of bed to join her. “What’s on your mind my love?” Severus asked as he sat beside her.

“Does Voldemort have any idea that there’s a connection between him and Harry? That Harry has been seeing these things through Nagini before he even knew about a connection?” She questioned.

“I don’t know, there’s a chance he doesn’t know yet but I think he will catch on soon,” He told her with honesty, “But, there is no reason to worry about it just yet. Harry has already left for Black’s place, so let’s get ready to meet him there. I know you’re missing your friends.”

With that, the two of them got ready together, packed a bag for the break and took a portkey to 12 Grimmauld Place. She was greeted with a tight hug from Sirius who had missed her greatly over the last few months and then an equally tight hug from Remus. Severus took their bags to the guest room as Y/N caught up with her friends.

“Snivellus proposed?” Sirius asked her as he inspected her ring, his voice showing nothing but shock and surprise.

“What did I tell you about that name, Siri! Stop calling him that!” She scolded her friend. “But yes, Severus proposed. We were thinking about eloping because of the state of the wizarding world.”

“And he didn’t think to ask your two best friends for permission?”

“He asked me, maybe if you weren’t such an ass to him maybe he would’ve asked you,” Remus chimed in.

“He asked you?” Sirius and Y/N asked in unison.

“Of course I did. Remus is like a brother to her, I had to ask him,” Severus said as he descended the stairs, “And I asked Harry of course.”

“Speaking of, where is my boy? I want to make sure he’s okay,” Y/N asked after realizing she had yet to see her nephew.

“He went with the Weasley’s to visit Arthur. He’s doing better, should be home in a few days,” Remus replied, “Now I think we should leave our men alone to have a chat. We need to catch up without those two in the way.” The two walked off to the kitchen leaving Sirius and Severus alone.

“Remus was right, you know, I would’ve asked your permission if you weren’t such an asshole. Other than Harry, you were the first person I thought of to ask permission for her hand.”

“I never realized how shitty I was to you. I’m sorry, Severus. If you did ask, I would’ve said yes with no hesitation. You make her happy, you keep her sane and you’ve been there for her longer than I was able to be. Thank you for taking such good care of my sister,” Sirius apologized, his voice sincere. He meant every word he had said, knowing he wasn’t always the nicest to Severus. He wanted to make things right before the potions master became a permanent part of his life because Y/N would be a permanent part of both of theirs.

taglist

@acupnoodle @chxelsxaa @fluffyrat365 @fanficwriter5 @atanukileaf @jspidey5 @mija-novella @leo4242564 @crazyunsexycool @livillain00 @bigsimperika

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hollowed-theory-hall · 7 months ago

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Do you think Hedwig is actually a familiar? Like she doesn't behave in the way Owls are supposed to.

And then there is the fact that while the books call her 'she', the plummage and size she displays are those associated with Male Snowy Owls.

Just ... Do you get the sense that she is frightfully intelligent?

All magical owls are portrayed as more intelligent than regular owls. Hedwig happens to be a smarter magical owl, but all of them are above the intelligence of regular owls.

Errol’s legs, took off the parcel, and then carried Errol to Hedwig’s cage. Errol opened one bleary eye, gave a feeble hoot of thanks, and began to gulp some water.

(PoA, 7)

Errol is also smart enough to give a "hoot of thanks". Which supports what I wrote above.

Other magical animals, like Crookshanks, are also incredibly intelligent:

The Whomping Willow was creaking and lashing out with its lower branches; they could see themselves darting here and there, trying to reach the trunk. And then the tree froze. “That was Crookshanks pressing the knot,” said Hermione. “And there we go . . . ,” Harry muttered. “We’re in.”

(PoA, 404)

Crookshanks could press the knot on the Whomping Willow and even help Sirius order a broom for Harry. that's insanely intelligent for a cat. But Hedwig and Errol are intelligent enough to do these things too.

Additionally, all magical owls can always find their owner and know where to deliver letters and packages... like, clearly they all have some built-in GPS magic.

Basically, all magical pets are frighteningly intelligent.

But I do think Harry and Hedwig have a very close bond between wizard and pet. I don't think I'd call it a familiar bond since there doesn't seem to be magic like this in the books. Like, the idea of a spirit familiar is never really mentioned or acknowledged to exist in the Wizarding World, which leads me to believe it doesn't. I just think wizards and pets can sometimes have closer bonds than others, just like people.

I do think Harry and Hedwig have a pretty good bond. The same goes for Sirius and Crookshanks, and Sirius and Buckbeek... (Sirius is apparently really good with intelligent magical animals)

As for the description being more fitting of a male snowy owl, I didn't find any specific description of her appearance besides being a snowy owl and very distinct (which all snowy owls are) up until HBP.

He was very surprised, therefore, to see the snowy white Hedwig circling amongst all the brown and gray owls.

(HBP, 220)

While female snowy owls have more grey in their plumage, creating a salt-and-pepper look, there are real female snowy owls that look more white, so, I don't think that's too odd. Like, they won't be pure white like the older male snowy owls, but they'd definitely stick out among grey and brown owls. Also, selective breeding could cause a difference in coloring.

I don't think her size was ever specified in the books (may be wrong on that one). That being said, without seeing a male snowy owl and a female snowy owl side by side, usually, it's hard to tell there is a size difference (from what I've read)

Both of these are female Snowy Owls:

So, there's definitely variation in coloring that'll allow room for her to be called "snowy white" if she's on the whiter end of female snowy owls.

TL;DR

I think Hedwig is a very magical and smart female Snowy Owl, but I don't think there is anything magical beyond that.

Obviously, you can headcanon and write in fic whatever you want, these are just my thoughts.

#harry potter #hp #hp thoughts #harry potter thoughts #asks #anon asks #anonymous #hedwig

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beanghostprincess · 9 months ago

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When Robin was first introduced, she had been working with Crocodile in Alabasta for the past several years, so I could understand her skin tone being a little lighter than it used to be, but not this bad.

It's extremely fucked up. I would understand the "it was an animation error" argument if it wasn't because it happens with all the characters (not only Robin) and they're whiter and whiter each episode (even the characters that should be black).

If we follow irl reasoning as you say, then all of them should be tanned because they're pirates. They're constantly under the sun. But no, they go backward and instead, they lack melanin every episode. It was already bad, but Egghead fucked up big time.

And don't get me started on Usopp because people could use that excuse on any other character, but Usopp?? I truly, really, don't think it takes too much thinking to get that he's black and Toei just keeps making him paler than Sanji. It's ridiculous and racist and people who ignore it or say it's been talked "too much" (because people say it and apparently there's a limit for them as to how much you can complain about racism) always get on my nerves.

What Toei is doing is just disgusting and people defending it are always the ones who refuse to see any mistakes in the things they like. News flash! You can like something and admit it has mistakes.

#also people are always so violent when they use the “error” argument. okay. whatever you say. calm down. god forbid characters have melanin #usopp's thing is just fucking horrible it makes me want to throw up #he's paler than ME. and i am white. sanji skin type of white. what the fuck is toei doing #and people trying to defend it are just-- awful. jacob did not play usopp for you to deny he's black i mean-#but also it was obvious from the very beginning #usopp's character has always been treated like shit in many ways. both in the fandom and within the story (opla when i fucking catch you-)#i'd write about it because i have things to say but a lot of the stuff would be way better written obviously by somebody who isn't white #so if somebody does write an essay or a post about usopp's character and how he's treated i'd like to read it #and maybe i could help a lil bit? because i have things to say about him (<- is obsessed with analyzing characters) and also uhhh #i'm spanish and the spanish dub is fucking awful to usopp and very racist and people don't talk about it but i think i could provide info #anyway this is SO long i am so sorry fuck toei my final message hate toei #one piece #usopp #nico robin

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be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie · 1 year ago

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Locorro hunger games Au?

The way I have been letting this ask SIT, fucking m a r i n a t e, bc I am So fucking bad at Hunger Games aus. It's??? So sad??? And like I struggle to conceive any Hunger Games au in any fandom where they aren't just carbon copies of Peeta and Katniss. BUT, I think I figured it out bear with me:

-Okay so Spider is our Peeta core kid, obviously. He lives with his foster family in the nicer (whiter) part of town (sorry we also have to stick with The Hunger Games' hidden racial allegories because bOY OH BOY do they fit here). The Sully's live in the nice part too, bc our main man Jake Sully won the Hunger Games when he was younger. Jake was really injured in his games, and he can't walk and gets around in a wheelchair.

-(I cannot decide if Neytiri should also have been in the games and thats where her and Jake met, they finagled their two way victory but the cost was Jake's legs. It's so juicy cause I imagine they never knew each other before the games, but it happens almost like canon; Neytiri saves him for reasons almost unknown to her, and in response Jake is like 'oh, I Will die for this lady, cool," and they become unwilling allies until Neytiri just refuses to let him die at the end. Then he just up and goes home with her, there's nothing for him back in his district, and Mo'at just like essentially adopts him. I kinda love it but I refuse to devolve into a Jeytiri idea again in the middle of worldbuilding a headcanon unrelated to them).

-The family are honestly never at their nice big mansion, they spend ALL their time in the woods with Mo'at, learning everything they can about their indigenous culture and using their skills. Jeytiri have been training the kids since like the day they were born, just in case. That being said, the only reason they haven't fully run off to live in the woods by themselves yet is because of Jake's legs. He can't function in the forest well on wheels, and the process of making him one that moves well in the forest has been years in the making because of how secretive it is. Only the three of them and bestie Norm Spellman (their stylist, I'm sure) know.

-Spider met Kiri and Lo'ak at school, and they saw him getting picked on by one of his foster brothers, so they just like adopt him. He's been chilling in the woods with them training for almost as long.

-OH Grace was def Jake's mentor in the games. Trudy was his friend that went in with him. Neytiri def went in with Tsu'tey, who totally died dramatically for her and was thrilled to rejoin Sylwanin who died in the games like five or so years before. I'd imagine Eytukan was killed during an uprising he started while Neytiri was in the games. Jake probably volunteered for Tommy. See, we've devolved into Jeytiri again!

-Focusing up; Spider and Lo'ak have been in love forever but neither has said anything to the other, they are keeping that shit tIGHT to the vest. Or, as tight as one of those clear backpacks can be. Everyone has known this since they were like, twelve, except them. Neytiri is always a tad skeptical of Spider, he's not one of them and he hasn't proven himself like Jake. She is never hostile, just slightly cold.

-I think that Spider was chosen at the reaping, but I can totally see him volunteering for Lo'ak as well. I think whatever you like best, but the second option is brUTAL. Jeytiri and Mo'at have been planning for so long what to do if one of the kids got reaped and they had to put their escape plan into action and cut themselves off from society, but no one had really given a thought to what would happen if SPIDER was reaped. They aren't his family, and they have no chance to get to him now. They briefly consider leaving, but the kids are all beside themselves. Lo'ak is like catatonic, especially if Spider volunteered for him! Jake and Neytiri decide they might have a shot if they're his mentors, something neither of them ever do.

-But before they can try to go visit and get to Spider before he's carted off, Quaritch shows up, all big and bad Peacekeeper from the capital, and takes Spider like "I'm the only mentor you need kid, fuck those tree hugging losers, that one doesn't eve have working legs!"

-Rip Lo'ak chasing after the train like it's a romcom.

-I just think it's sO FITTING to imagine the Sully's forced to watch all of Spider's torture and suffering TELEVISED ON THEIR SCREENS after they fucked up not including him in the plan, but at the same time the canon divergence of it is how hard they are working to get in contact, be his proper mentors, and rescue him. The concept fits so well into the bare bones of Avatar 2 but with added ~spice~

-Not enough locorro, I know, but you know Spider's coming back all sorts of brain damaged and Lo'ak like, literally becomes permanently glued to him.

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mrdarcygenderenvy · 9 months ago

Text

Recent Austen adaptations yelling

Ok I DID make this blog to review historical-set Pride & Prejudice adaptations (with an exception made for iconic B&P). But for everyone who was DEFINITELY WONDERING, yes I have also been storing away a lot of opinions about other recent Austen adaptations that I Must Tell Someone.

Fire island (2022)

A modern gay party cheesy rom-com P&P that genuinely made me laugh. Having seen some other (whiter) cheesy gay romcoms that were extreeeemely PG & playing it safe, I was pleasantly surprised.

Also Bowen Yang and his story just came across really earnest in a way I was into - would watch this man cry again, 10/10.

Personally as an extremely disabled british nerd (now tragically unable to travel and/or go to the club...) this gay scene is a long way from my queer scene. But I still had emotions, you know?

Kinda wanted more of the Mary analogue and generally just normal looking people (almost everyone is so ripped) but I appreciate that's how beautiful smooth people often look in mainstream american films, we can't have everything.

DARCY WATCH: I do not want to dress like this adaptation's chinos Mr Darcy. But Conrad Ricamora was generally great and very hot and awkward and understood the assignment. Good ice cream throw.

Emma (2020)

I know I know, it's pretty... but I don't think that's enough!!!!!

Lovely production, beautiful costumes, a candy wes-anderson cinematography that really suits the story, and it's fun to notice references to actual outfits and prints from the time but lads. LADS. UNPOPULAR OPINION TIME: Where is the chemistry???

You can’t make Mr Knightley a nice sweet boy (so funny to have cast a posh folksy singing man) and leave the plot the same and expect it to work!! Also I was personally pissed off that a lot of the promo/ ads for this made it look like ~forbidden love~ when it's the 2 richest white people in town getting together?? ? There's actually not even a class difference in this one, guys.

Basically this romance was nothing to me!!! I felt nothing!!!!!!!! WHERE'S THE DEPTH

I did like the bit where he lies down though. Relatable.

Also why are you drawing so much attention to the servants when you don’t seem to have anything to say about class...? 'Wow look how many servants they had! Anyway, they don't get any speaking lines'... it's 2020 guys!!! like what are we saying here. 'isn't it cool to think about how people were rich'??

kind of the point of Emma (character) is she's pretty superficial, but the story does not, in fact, have to be

Persuasion (2022)

Weeping softly into a pillow........ did you know this version meant a version with Sarah Snook and Joel Fry got cancelled?? we could have had it all

(standing on a table yelling) THE MODERNISATION WAS NOT THE PROBLEM WITH THIS FILM!!!

Honestly I actively liked all the entire secondary cast in this. Louisa and Mary were extremely charming fun takes to watch. ('I'm an empath' IS right for the character if you're doing modern jokes!!!) And nobody can deny this was a correct and powerful use of Richard E Grant.

Henry Golding was naturally great. Apparently he got offered the lead and took the villain instead, which DOES mean the villain is super charming and fun to watch which is... hard to match and.... kind of shows up.... the main man.

It's been said before but the main two were WOEFUL imo. I have no beef with the actors I just question the DIRECTION and whether anyone making this knew (or cared) why people... enjoy things.

Book Anne is the quietest gentlest loser and I LOVE HER and so does basically every Austen nerd. Making her a quirky wine-bath girl who's honestly just cruel sometimes fully stops the main romance chemistry and plot from working.

And it means the main boy is still like 'god I'm so horny for how KIND AND CAPABLE YOU ARE' which is just 100% no longer true. You can't transplant a personality in a romance but leave the plot the exact same and expect it to work. The chemistry IS the plot in a romance..........

you can't act morally superior to your siblings and still rate people out of ten.... also so funny to me that everyone else gets period outfits and hair whereas this protagonist looks like she just glanced at a picture of any time in the past and grabbed a couple shirts from primark. it doen't even look good or build character!!!!!

Anyway, not to be an elderly man like 'ohhh why does nobody care about character these days' but the reason something like Clueless works is because it has the heart of the story right, instead of just copying the surface level stuff.

#making all of these a single post which probably means nobody will reblog it ever. OH WELL #emma 2020 #persuasion 2022 #fire island #austen adaptations #full disclosure yes I was midway through making a queer regency romance GN whose plot is partly based on emma and p&p when i saw 2020 emma #so YES.......... i have strong opinions... possibly UNPOPULAR ONES..........#anyway if you enjoy the things i'm complaining about more power to you. I'M TOO BORING tO ENJOY THEM UNFORTUNATELY

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sunnyie-eve · 1 year ago

Text

7 | Strike

Series: Significant

Paring: Colby Brock x Original female character

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.6k

| MASTERLIST |

Penelope swore if there was one more little bump in the road with Darwin she was going to break up with him so they were still together at the moment. It's been a month since he tested her and they were doing alright at the moment.

"So we're just swinging by so you can change, right?" Darwin asks as they walk to the door.

"Yes, I said you could wait in the car if you wanted." She laughs unlocking for door quietly in case one of the guys were napping.

Sadly everyone would have preferred that instead of Penelope and Darwin walking in as Sam pulled down his boxes as they were filing truth or strip.

"Dude, your ass is whiter than the rest of you!" Penelope covers her eyes as Darwin walks away to leave. "I'll give you a minute." She walks back out in the hall shutting the door. "Well, that was unexpected." She laughs while Darwin walks back.

"That's one of the fucking reasons you need your own place. How the fuck do you think I feel? Your roommate butt ass naked when we walk in." He angrily points at the door.

"To be fair it's their apartment and they share it with me so they can do whatever they want. And it's for a video. Sam doesn't just walk around naked for fun." She tells him, "And to my knowledge, you're fine with Sam because you trust him. It's not like it's Colby."

"You prefer it was Colby instead?" He gets in her face causing her to chuckle.

"No, I've seen his bare ass when we were little. Our moms have a picture of us when I de-pants him. They always have it recorded on a tape." She laughs more.

"You think this is funny?"

"Yeah, because you're insecure when you don't need to be. They aren't competing with you to win whatever race you think you three are in. I'm dating you but them." She explains to him.

"Me insecure?" He chuckles, "Says the girl who is the definition of that word. You may not always be vocal about it but it's fucking obvious. And I'm slowly getting tired of trying to baby you about it. Get over it."

Penelope just stares at him as he laughs at her, "Fuck you." She turns to go back to the apartment but he grabs her arm, "Let go of me. I'm done. we're done."

"What?"

"You heard me. I'm sick of this shit. I did nothing wrong and you try to make me feel bad about it. On top of that what you just said to me." She tugs her arm back opening the door.

"Penelope!" He gets loud so she shuts the door on him locking it.

"Fuck off!" She yells through the door then turns to face the guys, "I'm single now." She smiles going to her room.

Sam and Colby both look at each other as Darwin is still at the door knocking on it wanting in. Colby gets up going to the door, "Go home, dude. She's done with you." He opens it.

"Move out of my way." Darwin tries to get in.

"The fuck? This is my place, dude." Colby laughs stopping him, "Just go home. You messed up. The third strike, you're out my guy."

"Like you know what the fuck goes on." Darwin is yes him getting more pissed.

"Darwin, go home. We don't want any trouble." Sam says standing by the counter.

"Hate to break it to you but I do know what goes on because she talks about you. You know, I was right not to like you when we first met." Colby lets him know.

"Because you secretly have a thing for my girlfriend and want her to yourself?"

"She's not your girlfriend anymore. She literally just broke up with you so don't call her your girlfriend." Colby corrects him.

"You didn't deny what I said." Darwin laughs.

"Because it's bullshit, she's my best friend. Of course, I'm going to care about her. Normally I can see when a guy will be bad for her, so I interfere so they never get the chance to hurt her. Sadly, I never got the chance to get rid of you. Luckily, Penny is a smart girl and got rid of you herself." Colby says before Darwin punches him in the face.

Sam rushes over slamming the door, "Go before I call the cops, Darwin!" He shouts out so Penelope comes out.

"What the hell?" She goes over to see Colby's nose bleeding.

"He wouldn't leave so Colby told him to fuck off." Sam explains as she gets paper towels for Colby's nose.

"Should have ignored him." She gives Colby a look as he holds his nose. "Let me see." She moves his hand, "Well, it's not broken. Your face is still perfect so don't worry." She giggles.

"Shut up." He goes to sit down holding the paper towel to his nose.

"Shit, I gotta go." Sam looks at his phone, "Hopefully the asshole is gone. I'll swing by the store on the way back to get you stuff for all that." Sam grabs his keys.

"Be careful if he is out there still!" Penelope shouts as he leaves so she goes to take care of Colby. "Why?" She looks at him.

"Why do you think? All I did was tell him the truth."

"Have you really stopped guys from talking to me in the past? I maybe was eavesdropping." She asks him so he nods his head, "To be fair... you probably were going to be right. The past two relationships turned out not well as you said."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. I should for him punching you." She looks at his nose.

"No, you don't. I got sassy with him." He smiles, "So what was the third strike?" He asks holding his nose again.

"Besides from walking to see Sam naked and me saying he doesn't just do that for fun. He also added do I prefer if it was you. I laughed saying I've seen your ass when we were little. I also told him that he was insecure. He's not competing with y'all to win whatever race he thinks you three are in. I'm dating him but y'all. He then called me the insecure one. I may not always be vocal about it but it's fucking obvious. And he's slowly getting tired of trying to baby me about it and I need to get over it."

"What a fucking asshole! Now I wish I punched him back. How the fuck can he say that to you if he actually knows how you feel. Fuck him. It's good you're done with him." Colby says as Penny gets up to get a wet rag.

"Yeah, I think I'm just gonna stay single till I die." She laughs walking back towards him.

"Don't say that."

"Why not? You say the same thing about yourself." She moves his hand to clean up the blood that dried some.

"Because no girl will ever date me." He corrects her.

"Bullshit. There are plenty of girls who would date you." She laughs at him, "You're just a pain."

"Hey, so we don't die alone how about we just live together when we're in our old age? We know we can put up with each other." He makes her laugh more.

"And say that actually doesn't happen and one of us magically finds someone?" She leans back with a smile.

"Okay, if we're alone when we're thirty we have to marry each other." He jokes.

"Thirty? That's like ten years away, Colby. I say at least forty." She laughs going to rinse the rag.

"Deal, when we're forty." Amber follows putting a hand out so she just takes it.

"Fine." She takes his hand shaking her head. "Oh, but when we get married, it's you may hug the bride." She plays along.

"I hug the bride all the time so that's no problem." He gives her a wink as she gets him a cold rag now.

"You're ridiculous." She rolls her eyes.

"You still love me." He pats the top of her head going back to the couch. "Oh, I'm gonna order a pizza." He lets her know.

"Okay." She says not planning on eating any of it.

When the pizza is delivered Colby attacks the pizza since he was starving to death. Penelope lies saying she ate when she was out with Darwin before coming home. Sam comes home and was happy to see pizza so he eats it while tossing Colby a bag of stuff for his nose.

"Peeps, what do I use out of this stuff Sam bought me?" Colby goes into her room.

"Aren't you old enough to take care of yourself?" She shakes her head with a grin.

"Yes, but why should I do it if I have you? Also after this, eat a slice of pizza, please. I know you haven't eaten today yet. You just don't want to because of what Darwin said." He takes a seat in front of her.

She rolls her eyes, "If I don't wanna eat I'm not gonna eat."

"You will because I'll even feed you like a baby. I won't let you get to the point where you have to spend nights at the hospital again like years ago."

"Come here, let me take care of your nose then I'll eat a slice of pizza." She pats for him to move closer to her.

"That's my girl." He smiles as she takes care of him, "You'll never love yourself half as much as I love you. And you'll never treat yourself right darling, but I want you to. If I let you know, I'm here for you. Maybe you'll love yourself like I love you, oh." He sings one of the songs that reminds him of her.

"Really One Direction to make me feel better?" She giggles.

"It worked because you giggled."

#sam and colby #colby brock #sam golbach #katrina stuart #jake webber #corey scherer #elton castee #tara yummy #colby brock imagine #colby brock ff #colby brock fanfic #best friend #friends to lovers #tfil

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thedepthsoffandomminds · 1 year ago

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Deathbringer part one.

A (eventual) Aemond and Reader You are the first born daughter of Daemon Targaryon and a formiddable warrior in your own right. For many years you have been exchanging letters with your Cousin Aemond, secretly. Loyalties will be questioned - Lives will be lost and others saved. Lots of loving Daddy Daemon. Anxiety Aemond.

Master list

There was only one good thing that had come from Daemon's first marriage. His first daughter. A beautiful thing with snow white skin and perhaps whiter hair. It was already shoulder length by the time you were born. You had quickly learned the ways of the dragon and cared nothing for your mother's family and way of life. In truth even as an infant you had found the Royce family a bore. Your mother died before your first Name day celebration and because of this the Prince would take you with him on his travels.

Your own dragon, Deathringer, followed beside his Caraxes, with you sitting in your father's lap. The dragon, an ancient male, had arrived in the Vale of its own accord three days before your birth, sitting vigil on the hillside, his eyes fixed on your mother's chambers. He has not left your side since. The first time you approached him his size frightened the Royce's. Held in your father's arms he stepped up to the black beast, your tiny pale hand stretched out to tap his nose. A moment that sealed your bond, strong and pure.

It was a life you adored, even more so when you visited Kings Landing. The stark white walls of the castle were a contrast to the black walls of the sand walls your father his behind with his wife and two new daughters Beala and Rheana.

On visits to Kings Landing you had much fun playing with your cousins Aegon and Aemond. The older was all but one year your senior and the younger one year your junior. Both boys would try to tease you with their sharp wits but you had a different set of skills. Not only the love of your dragon but a blade in your hand was akin to a dragon's claw. Many of the knights of the realm would not enter a sparring ring with you even at your barely eleven years.

Over the years your cousin and heir to the throne had given you two more playmate's two more boys and you adored them. They were gentle boys with dark brown hair. Of course you all knew who had fathered the boys but Ser Leanor had claimed them both along with the one in her belly and so you loved them as fully as you would any cousin.

Your father had left you at King's landing at your request, keen to stand beside Rhaenyra as brought her new son into life. When news came that the Queen had called for her to walk the babe to her the moment it was born the cry of Deathbringer shook the walls of the dragon pit. Men, women, lords and servants jumped and scattered as you stormed through the castle halls. Not even Set Christen the Queen's sworn man tried to stop you.

"Y/n, what a surprise-" you gave her no chance to finish her sentence as you drew you Velaryon blade and held it to her throat, pushing her against the wall.

"Do you ever get tired of being an insufferable bitch?" You growl.

"Do you think yourself above the Queen that you might treat her this way?" She spits back at you.

"You are no queen, you are leech who slowly sucks the life blood from this great house."

"Y/n, it is okay." Rhaenyra's voice is weakened but you can hear the determination in her. Slowly you pull back your knife and release the queen. Moving stand beside your cousin. No one in that room would deny the dear they had of you at this age.

You chose to leave with Rhaenyra, to Dragonstone.

News came that a new sibling would be birthed within days and you made your way on Dragonback. Daemon greeted you with a strong arm around you.

"We have missed you my dear one." He smiled.

"As I have missed you all. How is my stepmother?"

"I am sorry, you did not arrive in time. Your brother would not come, Leana met a dragonriders end." His smile dropped. You throw your arms around his waist.

"Oh father! I am so sorry."

"We make for Driftmark in the morn. Your sisters are upstairs."

—--

The funeral was sad, you felt it all around you. Many houses were represented standing on the precipice in silence. Daemon squeezed your hand when the coffin was dropped into the ocean. An attempt to quell his emotions.

During the feasts afterward Aemond approached you, he had grown angry over his young years.

"You should come back to King's Landing. The training ground is boring without you." He grinned.

"Aemond, I do not think I shall be returning there for sometime." You knew forwell what your father had planned.

"Will you write to me? I would dislike losing our friendship?" The blonde boy asked. You agreed before excusing yourself for bed.

You awoke some time later with much commotion in the lord's hall. You ran down to find Aemond left eye stitched shut and the queen shouting across the room.

An accusation against Luce and Jace had been levied. Daemon took your shoulder when you attempted to step up. Looking up at him he shook his head and you waited for the argument to come to an end. Bloodshed and anger was no mix for a family you thought to yourself. Years passed you by and soon your cousin Rhaenyra became your stepmother, between she and your father you now had two small brothers uniting your two families into one. Upon arriving at the castle you were not met by any of the royal family. The slight did not pass any of you buy. You had grown to a woman of seventeen years, your white hair reached down past your rounded hips. Annoyed, you turned and remounted your dragon, taking him to the pits. You had been the only one of the family to travel dragonback that day preferring it over sitting in a carriage.

With Deathbringer nestled into his own spot you began the boring walk back to the keep. Spying your cousins standing atop a staircase you slowly approached them. You were surprised to see how grown your cousins were. Two strapping men, no not two. The eldest one Aegon, seemed preoccupied with something, filling the void with drinking. The younger, Aemond, was tall with sharp edges to his face, he wore a patch over one eye. The eye you knew hid a sapphire eye. Both saw you as you ascended the steps.

“Hello cousin.” Aegon grinned, “We are so sorry, none of us could be there to welcome you.”

“Aegon if you had been there I would have died on the spot from shock. Surely there was a wine jug that you needed to seek the bottom of.” You grinned. Aemond stifled his laugh as his brother grunted and stormed away. He held out his arm for you take you ignored it and strode past him.

“Y/n, I really wanted to be there.” He spoke quietly.

“Then you would have been.”

“It has been some time since your last letter, I wrote to you twice.” his hand fell to your lower back as you walk into the main part of the castle.

“I am aware. I have had no need to reply as yet.”

Aemond could tell you were angry but he was not sure why

“I heard about the tournet your parents held for your last name day, you were formidable I am told. Lord Stark may actually be frightened of you.” He tried to coax you into a conversation.

“Perhaps if you had accepted the invitation we publicly and privately sent, you would have seen it for yourself. Excuse me Prince Aemond.”

He watched you leave.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #daemon targaryen #daemon x rhaenyra

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mariana-oconnor · 1 year ago

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The Beryl Coronet pt 3

Come on, Mary! I believe in you.

Weird, how it's this one and The Naval Treaty that I had such strong ideas about whodunnit from the first introduction of the character and they're both about people making poor security decisions that could lead to national disaster. But on this one I'm supporting (one part of) the criminal duo, and in The Naval Treaty, I particularly disliked the culprit.

Mary is kind of horrible for not saving her cousin, though. He's willing to go to jail for her (if I'm right) and she's just telling everyone 'oh, he couldn't have done it!' and not actually coming up with a good reason. She didn't even get interviewed immediately because she 'fainted'. She had plenty of time to come up with a story. Maybe being woken up by a loud snap and then hearing Arthur moving around. But no, she's instead trying to get her maid framed for it all.

You can really go off a girl.

“I think that this should do,” said he, glancing into the glass above the fireplace. “I only wish that you could come with me, Watson, but I fear that it won't do. I may be on the trail in this matter, or I may be following a will-o'-the-wisp, but I shall soon know which it is. I hope that I may be back in a few hours.”

Oh yeah, Holmes is in disguise in some attempt to win back the beryls.

I like how he says 'I wish you could come with me, Watson' but is vague on the why not. 'It won't do' - translation: you are a terrible actor and no one alive would ever be fooled by you, also you'd blurt something out right at an important moment and ruin everything.' Let's be real. We all know.

Watson is not made for undercover work. I love him, but he would be about as useful a spy as a giant panda in an aquarium.

Or Captain America in a trenchcoat. (I love this picture).

I waited until midnight, but there was no sign of his return, so I retired to my room. It was no uncommon thing for him to be away for days and nights on end when he was hot upon a scent, so that his lateness caused me no surprise.

Firstly, Watson is definitely living in Baker St atm. Either his wife is visiting her 'mother' again, or she's thrown him out. Also, him staying up until midnight although he knows that sometimes Sherlock doesn't come home for days is sort of nice, sort of a bit excessive.

Apparently Holmes does not need sleep. This is probably because he lives on tobacco, caffeine and cocaine. The fact he isn't constantly bouncing off the walls is impressive.

It was, indeed, our friend the financier. I was shocked by the change which had come over him, for his face which was naturally of a broad and massive mould, was now pinched and fallen in, while his hair seemed to me at least a shade whiter.

That's not how white hair works, Watson. It's not that all of your hair gets lighter... that's not... Fine. I guess you're the doctor.

This is quite a transformation overnight, though. I'd suspect poison if it wasn't fairly common in these stories for people to suffer massive and immediate health conditions from sudden shock.

“I do not know what I have done to be so severely tried,” said he. “Only two days ago I was a happy and prosperous man, without a care in the world. Now I am left to a lonely and dishonoured age. One sorrow comes close upon the heels of another. My niece, Mary, has deserted me.”

What you have done is be a massive idiot who doesn't understand the meanings of the words 'secure' or 'discreet'.

I'm still kind of mad at Mary for trying to pin her crime on someone else while simultaneously not offering her cousin who saved her ass any real help. BUT, having said that...

"I had said to her last night, in sorrow and not in anger, that if she had married my boy all might have been well with him."

Wow, dick move. Blaming her. Yes, I literally believe she is guilty and it is her fault entirely but Mr Holder here still believes her a perfect little angel woman, so going 'if you'd have married him, none of this would have happened'.

My dude. I had no sympathy for you. I am now in negative sympathy for you. All my care for the victims of this situation is going to Lucy, because all Arthur has to do to give himself a chance is tell the truth. Mary, if she hadn't tried to throw Lucy under the bus, I would be supporting completely.

I'm still supporting her, like 75%. I'm glad she's out of there. I hope this is one of the stories where the culprits never get caught and she and Sir George Burnwell (who maybe is not such a cad as I presumed) go on to steal many more priceless artefacts from rich people who don't take care of them.

Her letter is so fucking funny when read from the POV of someone who thinks she's guilty.

“‘My dearest Uncle: “‘I feel that I have brought trouble upon you, and that if I had acted differently this terrible misfortune might never have occurred. I cannot, with this thought in my mind, ever again be happy under your roof, and I feel that I must leave you forever. Do not worry about my future, for that is provided for; and, above all, do not search for me, for it will be fruitless labour and an ill-service to me. In life or in death, I am ever “‘Your loving “‘Mary.’"

"Hey Unc, Whoops, my bad! If I hadn't stolen the jewels with my lover then my cousin wouldn't have been arrested for stealing the crown jewels and you wouldn't be in trouble for having lost them. I feel so guilty that I'm running off with my lover, but it's okay because we've sold the jewels so we're rich! Gonna change my name and live a life of luxury in another country. Thanks for making this so easy for me. Love, Mary xxx'

Or... at least... that's how I read it.

“No, no, nothing of the kind. It is perhaps the best possible solution."

Holmes is with me on this. Mary needed to get out of that house.

“That would be unnecessary. Three thousand will cover the matter. And there is a little reward, I fancy."

A reward for finding the beryls. Is Holmes asking for the reward here or saying that Mr Holder will get the reward? Because Mr Holder deserves 0 rewards. No rewards for him.

"Have you your check-book? Here is a pen. Better make it out for £4000.”

Ah, no. Sherlock is getting the reward. Lolol. Well yeah, you deserve that.

£4000 is the equivalent of about £414,000 today. Which is an insane amount of money to write a cheque for. And it means that Burnwell and Mary (or whoever it was...) got away with the equivalent of over £300,000 which is a nice little amount. Holmes got the equivalent of £100,000 for a few days' work. Nice.

“You have it!” he gasped. “I am saved! I am saved!”

I mean... the coronet is still damaged. The police still had to get involved. I'm pretty sure the bank knows, and HRH Bertie knows and his mum the queen knows so... are you saved? Are you really? There's no way you can get your job back after you showed how utterly terrible you are at it. You clearly cannot keep a secret to save your literal life. The heir to the throne knows exactly how incompetent you are. This feels like 'I'm probably not going to be hanged for treason' not 'everything will be sunshine and kittens'.

“No, the debt is not to me. You owe a very humble apology to that noble lad, your son, who has carried himself in this matter as I should be proud to see my own son do, should I ever chance to have one.”

Substitute 'idiot' for 'lad' please. Very noble, sure. But don't get yourself thrown in jail for something that could genuinely be considered treason just because you want to protect a girl who doesn't love you back. Don't do it. It all sounds super romantic, but it's actually just dumb.

“You are sure of it! Then let us hurry to him at once to let him know that the truth is known.” “He knows it already."

Holmes, telling people in the right order. Yeah, he went to talk to the man who was falsely imprisoned before the idiot who was sort of responsible for him being there.

"...that which it is hardest for me to say and for you to hear: there has been an understanding between Sir George Burnwell and your niece Mary. They have now fled together.”

I'm glad Sir George turned out to be a good sort in the end. I was pretty sure he'd just done a runner and left her, but no. The couple who steals together stays together, and I think that's beautiful.

"Neither you nor your son knew the true character of this man when you admitted him into your family circle. He is one of the most dangerous men in England—a ruined gambler, an absolutely desperate villain, a man without heart or conscience. Your niece knew nothing of such men. When he breathed his vows to her, as he had done to a hundred before her, she flattered herself that she alone had touched his heart. The devil knows best what he said, but at least she became his tool and was in the habit of seeing him nearly every evening."

I mean, he could have just left her behind. Could absolutely be worse. Also, way to take away Mary's agency in the matter. She absolutely knew that stealing the crown jewels was against the law. That's not exactly a difficult one to work out. She made her choices. I support them fully (apart from Lucy). She's 24 years old. Earlier you called her old and now she's too young and naive to know what was going on? A four year old knows stealing is wrong. She conspired to steal (part of) the crown jewels and run off with them. She let her cousin take the fall for her and pointed suspicion at two other innocent people. The girl was not just a victim in this mess. Don't pretend like she didn't know what she was doing or getting into. She absolutely knew it. And she did it anyway. Get your heads out of the misogyny juice and just accept a woman can commit a crime.

Honestly, men get the credit for all female accomplishments. Lolol.

"His footmarks had pressed right through the snow, so long had he stood there. She told him of the coronet. His wicked lust for gold kindled at the news, and he bent her to his will."

Did you hear this conversation? Were you there? Was it recorded? How tf do you know that it was his idea and not hers? Maybe they planned it together. Maybe she was like 'hey, my uncle's an idiot who brought a 10 million dollar crown home and stuck it in his old desk that opens if you hit it in the right place, want to do a heist?' You weren't there. You've got no clue how it went.

I want to think you're saying all of this just to make Mr Holder feel less bad about it all. Just making stuff up and making Mary seem like an innocent victim in order to soothe him a little. Because you've got no evidence she wasn't just as culpable as Sir George.

"...walking very stealthily along the passage until she disappeared into your dressing-room. [...] Presently she emerged from the room again, and in the light of the passage-lamp your son saw that she carried the precious coronet in her hands. She passed down the stairs, [...] He saw her stealthily open the window, hand out the coronet to someone in the gloom, and then closing it once more hurry back to her room..."

Yup, you're telling me she was practically blameless and only did it because she was manipulated by the terrible, evil man, and she did the actual deed single-handedly and with no sign of doubt or hesitation? The equivalent of £10 million in her hands and she just walks to the window and passes it out? Yeah, she's absolutely a helpless naive victim. I totally buy that.

Or... y'know, Sir George actually is an archfey and he enchanted her to do it.

“As long as she was on the scene he could not take any action without a horrible exposure of the woman whom he loved."

I mean... I feel like he could have revealed himself and whispered 'Hey, Mary, what are you doing with that very valuable coronet?' and made her put it back by interrupting the whole affair. Rather than, you know... just standing back and watching.

“He could not explain the true state of affairs without betraying one who certainly deserved little enough consideration at his hands. He took the more chivalrous view, however, and preserved her secret.”

"He took the more chivalrous foolish view..." <- fixed it for you.

“It is an old maxim of mine that when you have excluded the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."

Drink!

"But if it were the maids, why should your son allow himself to be accused in their place? There could be no possible reason."

"I went in the shape of a loafer to Sir George's house, managed to pick up an acquaintance with his valet, learned that his master had cut his head the night before, and, finally, at the expense of six shillings, made all sure by buying a pair of his cast-off shoes."

Who had 'to buy shoes' as the reason for the disguise? Because I definitely did not have that one. Oh, the good old days when people would turn up at your door to chat up your servants and buy your old shoes.

"It was a delicate part which I had to play then, for I saw that a prosecution must be avoided to avert scandal, and I knew that so astute a villain would see that our hands were tied in the matter."

But also, getting rid of something that identifiable would be a tricky business. They needed a buyer, you needed a secret. Mutually beneficial arrangement.

Holmes pointing guns at people off screen, why do you so rarely show us the action, ACD?

"‘Why, dash it all!’ said he, ‘I've let them go at six hundred for the three!’"

Omg. LOL. Nooooo. George. You were doing so well. You only got 600 for them? A fifth of what you could have got. My dude, my dude.

Mary, get a better guy. This one done fucked up. 600 might seem a lot for now, but it's going to disappear super quickly.

“A day which has saved England from a great public scandal,” said the banker, rising.

How? Like I said before. The police were involved. The coronet is still broken. How is this all being covered up so easily? A man has been arrested.

“I think that we may safely say,” returned Holmes, “that she is wherever Sir George Burnwell is. It is equally certain, too, that whatever her sins are, they will soon receive a more than sufficient punishment.”

...

Is this like 'she will be a ruined woman' kind of punishment, because...? Yeah, no. 'She's going to receive her karma because the guy will leave her and society is broken and punishes women for not being pure, virginal angels?' I do not like.

I reject your conjectured ending and substitute my own in which she and George (although he needs to get better at haggling, yikes) travel the continent and steal priceless artefacts together and she's the brains of the operation.

We're not going to leave it with 'despite the fact I have described this entire story as though she is the blameless, brainless puppet of an evil man, she will receive punishment for her naivete in the form of being "ruined" and all that comes with it.'

Fuck that shit. Mary has to bear some responsibility for her actions, and there's a decidedly creepy rapey sort of undertone to the implications here. Much ick. Do not like. Badass crime couple for the win.

Oh, next one is The Final Problem. I mean, of course I remember that one.

#Letters from Watson #Sherlock Holmes #The Beryl Coronet #long post

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