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androgynousblackbox · 5 days ago

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The Mad King of Hellaca. 1 [Appleradio, Radioapple]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62067868/chapters/158740015

600 men and women went out under the command of the latest king of Hellaca, Lucifer Morningstar.

Only one man came back.

[EPIC: The Musical AU]

Prologue The morning that they were set to sail, Lucifer hold on a little stronger to his husband's middle while they were laying in bed. They both knew that the other was awake, but neither dare to make a sound. That way it was easier to appreciate the caress of the bedsheet over their naked legs, the soft and firm embrace of their bed. The light entering through the window to draw a perfect semi circle over the wall, near the shelf full of perfumes that Alastor's mom had made for them since they married. The light reaching up the small beautiful glass bottle would shine so beautiful around itself. The gentle sway of the curtains looked so peaceful, so effortless. A sign that it was going to be a good day for navigating perhaps?

Eventually, however, Alastor had to break the silence. There was no point delaying the inevitable. It would only make it harder to let go.

"Good morning, darling" said softly, resigned.

"Mmm" Lucifer sighed over the shoulder blades of Alastor and kissed the warm skin, letting his lips stay there. A deep breath to try to contain every trace of his essence and mark it forever, even deeper that it already was. "Morning. Hungry?"

"Always" purred Alastor as the hand of Lucifer went down, stroking the curvature of his belly. The whole reason why they had to separate at all, even though they would never call it like that. As much of a surprise it was the pregnancy, as much the timing was not ideal for neither of them, it was very much still a blessing they could never regret. Especially not now that their presence was so evident, not after the irst time they felt their movement, small kicks accompanying Lucifer's singing voice. "And I guess them too," added with a light chuckle.

"Good." Lucifer yawned, nuzzling his back a moment more. "Want me to bring breakfast to bed?"

"I can move on my own, dear." As if to prove his point, Alastor lifted himself from the bed and stretched out his arms over his head. Lucifer gently scratched his lower back, admiring the long back, the long and thin scars that decorated it all over the slim muscles, signs of the many battles that body had endured. Lucifer couldn't stop himself from reaching out to kiss a deep one near Alastor's neck. A small gesture of gratitude because the wound wasn't fatal. "Darling" said the taller man and it could have been a plead to stop, to continue, to stay, to go, all at once.

Lucifer shook his head briefly. There was too many things he wanted to say and they all felt so small, so pointless.

"Come on" said, imprintig a lighter note on his voice he didn't have. He rubbed the side of Alastor before jumping out of bed. "We shouldn't keep the baby waiting."

After they were both dressed up and presentable, Lucifer walked out of their room wtih his hand on his husband's. On the hallway to their dinning room he eyed the inmense gardens where they stayed in more than one starry night.

The colorful flowers that sometimes he cut just to put on Alastor's hair were blooming so beautifully, under the tree where Lucifer liked to believe happened the conception. Alastor argued with him about it sometimes. No, it was definitely on the shores of the beach after they came back from watching a threather show. It had to be because he didn't even mind about the sand or the fishermen that constantly interrupted them yelling to each other for more net. What else could cause that miracle, if not because his body already knew that something else was going to happen to it?

Lucifer really couldn't argue with him there, it was impossible to know anyway. But he still liked to think it was under the tree. Mainly because someday he was going to make so many more memories with their child there and it sounded nicer if everything about them started right there.

"Not a single cloud on the sky" commented Alastor. Lucifer had noticed that too, but didn't want to say it. Now that he did, he had no choice but to nod.

"But the winds seems fine" added, squeezing the hand of Alastor. "Is your mother coming today?"

"You know that she would swim all the way here if she could." Alastor sighed, but a small smile still playing on his lips betrayed his true feelings. He hated being fuzzed over too much, as it was the case since the pregnancy was announced, and at the same time, he could never bring himself to hate his mom visiting. Lucifer was wise enough to not say what a relief would be to count with her, so Alastor wouldn't have to be alone with the servants and guards. "I am sure she will arrive soon. Her room is ready, right?"

"Yep! Brought the best bed and everything in the entire palace, just for her." Lucifer chuckled when Alastor just nodded solemnly. It wasn't anything less than what his own mother deserved. They both could agree on that. "The only thing I regret is that I won't be able to enjoy her meals."

"The only thing?" repeated Alastor with an arched eyebrow. He caressed his own belly pointedly. "Are you sure you can't think of anything else?"

"Mmmm. No, nothing" Lucifer grinned wide as Alastor huffed.

"Well, that works better for me then" determined the man with a smirk, a beat later. "I can finally have the real father over and stop hiding from you."

"Oh ho ho, so you admit it then?"

"Darling, please, everyone knew. You were the only one who didn't catch on."

"Ah, damn it. Well, better late than never, I guess." Lucifer chuckled as he brought a hand to wrap around Alastor's waist, bringing him closer to him. Alastor let an arm around his shoulders to stroke his cheek. "Just make sure to change the sheets before I come back at least. Also I am still giving the kid my name even if they are not mine. You know, for the kindgom's sake and all."

"Of course. How else are we supposed to still enjoy your money? The kid of a king is a lot more profitable than the kid of a travelling artist."

"Travelling artist? I knew it. Did the fumes of his paints were enough to seduce you?"

"It was mostly his height" said Alastor, patting the head of Lucifer that couldn't reach above his own chest. "So tall that his head almost touches the ceiling."

"That big? Wow. Okay, maybe I will accept him in our bed after all."

Alastor snorted, covering his mouth as the laughter scaped him without control. Lucifer squeezed him close once as they reached the dinning table. As they sat down at the head of the table, Lucifer pulled to get Alastor to sit on his lap.

On any other day, Alastor would make a show of enduring this as something inevitable that the neediness of the king was imposing on him. He would comment that other chairs were perfectly fine for the using and there was no need for such gestures. But lately Lucifer was hearing less and less such words. On that day, Alastor didn't say anything at all. Instead he rested his cheek on top of Lucifer's head, playing idle with some strands of hair between his fingers. Lucifer prefered to hear the heartbeat of Alastor through his tunic, over the long deep scar that crossed his chest. Remmanents of battles won. Reminders of what it was almost lost.

When their food came in, Alastor didn't move from his place. His feet dangled at the side of Lucifer's thighs, lovely long legs that Lucifer was happy to run his hand through while eating with the other. The extra weight did not bothered him at all. With the baby so close he could almost see himself carrying the two of them around the palace he made with his hands. Not for the first time, he was glad the baby room had been prepared already, right in front of their own to attend their every need.

That was after Lucifer had been summoned to lead his people against their enemies. All because of some woman, according to all reports. A part of Lucifer wanted to be skeptical, to even laugh at the absurdity of sending a bunch of people right to their death just because of that. But then in his head he changed the image of that Helen woman with Alastor and, well, then it made a little more sense. There was no choice in the matter either way.

It was going to be the very first battle that they were apart from each other. Without his right hand man taking care of his back and any blind spot he could have. Without taking care of each other despite everything, only to later laugh it all off under the stairs by sharing whatever drink was available for them. The memory of it was going to have to be his only fuel. The promise that he could get it back all over again if only he did his job and he did it right. Another victory to carry home, a new story to tell to their child.

Alastor's protests have been brief, at least, and therefore less painful. As unexpected as the pregnancy was, the family they wanted to form was actually happening at last and neither would ever dare to put that into jeopardy. Not for Lucifer who have lost his parents well before they died and not for Alastor, who only ever truly had his mother before his father was dealt with. They had been given an opportunity to be better, to do better, and dismiss that was never truly an option. Understand all of that, knowing all of that, did not made the wish to stay any less stronger. He could only imagine how much worst it had to be for someone for Alastor to stay home and just wait for news. All things considered, he was truly amazed at how well he was taking it. It didn't hurt either to know that he wasn't going to be alone either.

Speaking of, his mother arrived just as they were preparing to go to the port. Alastor barely had time to come out to the hallway when the loud voice of the small woman reached them. After the death of her husband, Evelyn had become the head of their perfume house, reaching more and more clients everyday, filling out places with all their fragances, but she didn't look like it at a first sight. A mistake not many got to commit a second time. But at that moment she could have been any other woman rushing down to meet Alastor and hug him as tight as her arms could. With her short stature, more pronnounced that Lucifer's, her face looked up with a splenderous smile and crinkling eyes.

Lucifer noticed a few more strands of gray hair mixing on the black curls that weren't there since the last time he saw her. Naturally, years waited for no one. But it was always a shock to be reminded of that, coming from the closest thing to a mother he also had left. When he had nothing but a title of king at a way too young age, Evelyn had receive him without question or condition as another part of the family. Well, besides the condition of never hurting her son or else she would make sure to make him pay. But Lucifer had no intention of doing that, even before they started dating, so it worked well for all of them.

"Let me look at you!" said Evelyn, holding both hands of Alastor as she scanned him all over. She got on her tip toes to brush a curl out of his face and thumb his cheek gently. "Have you been sleeping well, dearie? How about food? You know you are eating for my precious grandchild too, so you better keep their little body well fed" added, patting his stomach.

"We are both fine, mother" replied Alastor with a sigh. "No issues to report."

"Don't worry, we will keep it that way. Now I am around, you are going to get some real homemade meals on you" said Evelyn, kissing the knuckles of her son before she finally looked at Lucifer. "Well, well, well, what do we have here? Were you not planning to come greet your mother-in-law, Lucifer? The big important man has better things to do?"

"Are we talking about the same Lucifer I know?"

"Ha ha" Lucifer rolled his eyes at his husband's comment before going to kiss the hand of Evelyn. "I would never. Thank you a lot for coming."

"I wouldn't miss it for anything in the world." Evelyn smiled and it was beautiful, just like the smile of her son when it was sincere. It could be terrifying just like Alastor's. "I left everything ready at home. Take all the time that you need and we will be waiting, with a little one between us. Which reminds me, do you both have names already decided?"

"Only one name," said Lucifer, looking at Alastor who nodded. "Either a boy or a girl, we thought that Charlie would suit them."

"Charlie," Evelyn sighed, clasping her hands together. "What a lovely name. I can't wait to meet the face it belongs to."

Lucifer neither. For now, however, there was a ship that he had to be on. On the port it was a lively scene, full with all the people saying goodbye to their own families and friends or were already up their respective ships. Lucifer saw a bunch of familiar faces, some that were entirely new, but there was one in particular that was just waiting to be recognized by him. He couldn't help to laugh when the woman jumped in place, fixing her glasses as She came over with open arms.

"Uncle!" called, hugging Lucifer tight by the upper side of his back, because of course she had to surpass him in height before she was 16. At 19 years old, with a few years of training on her, she could also lifting him up easily to make him spin on her cheerfulness.

"Emily!" greeted Lucifer in return once his feet found the ground again and he patted her back. Technically speaking, he wasn't really the uncle of Emily, but she had always been a welcome presence at his home. The mother of Emily had been cousin of his mother, providing all the excuse they needed to keep on each other's lives. Even Alastor, notorious in being rather scarce about his warmth, ended up taking a liking to her and exchanged letter with her on the regular. "I was hoping to see you. Is Sera somewhere with you?"

Her older sister, Sera, wasn't as close to his side of the family. But she truly cared for Emily and that was enough reason to give her grace. When they came to know each other, Sera was just too old to fulfill the same role as Emily and had her own life to concern herself with.

"She was setting up everything on the ship already!" Emily chirped before she went to hug Alastor, who gave her a couple of pats in the head, which was more than most people ever got from him. Then she noticed Evelyn and squealed, holding out her hands for her. "Auntie, I haven't seen you in so long! How are you doing?"

"Perfectly well, dearie." Evelyn smiled as she brought her closer, for a proper hug. "Oof, I can barely wrap my arms around you. Stop growing so much or soon I won't even be able to reach you."

"I will try, but I can't make any promises." Emily laughed, kissing her two cheeks.

Evelyn sighed dramatically, holding her face between her hands. Her freckled face with darkened skin not unlike her own. They could have passed for actual mother and daughter, if it weren't because of Emily's naturally white hair. Seeing standing next to Alastor and speaking to him, Lucifer hoped that their baby could be like that. Just a bright person capable of carrying on joy wherever they landed to.

"I can't believe you are going to your first war already" sighed Emily, fixing the hair of Emily behind her ear. "You are far too beautiful for any of this, dearie."

"You never said that to me," pointed out Alastor with a mocking indignation, crossing his arms.

"As if you would have listened a word I said!" scoffed Evelyn.

It was too perfect of an opportunity. There was no way for Lucifer to not take his chance.

"I guess some faces not even a mother can love after all," commented casually with a shrug and let out a laugh when Alastor's eyes squinted with daggers to him.

"Just for that, you are not invited to share bed with me and my lover."

"What? Aw, come on, don't be like that! I though we both could hang from their arms and touch the ceiling like his head does."

"No, that will be only me and our baby, who will be tall as a tree."

"Well, I hope so! If he is going to have his way with my husband, the least he could do is leave me a tall kid. As a courtesy, you know."

Emily inclined towards Evelyn.

"I am confused. What is happening?"

"Sweetie, I stopped trying to make sense of whatever nonsense game these two have going on ages ago." Evelyn sighed, patting the arm of Alastor. "Although I warned you about making those kind of jokes before. Lucifer could get the wrong idea."

"Mother, he would need to have ideas in the first place for that to happen."

Evelyn pursed her lips at him with a frown. Lucifer laughed while wrapping an arm around Alastor's waist.

"It's okay, Evelyn, we are just joking around. I know Alastor would never do that," said and then pretended to cough into his hand, "Because nobody else can handle him."

"What was what, dear?" The smile of Alastor turned into something sharp.

"Oh, nothing, babe, just a cough."

"What a rough one you had! Maybe a splash in the water would help clear you up! You can swim back, right?" Alastor slipped an arm down his back and Lucifer knew, as much as he was sure the sun would rise the next day, that Alastor was fully capable of throwing him to the water, pregnancy or not.

But just as Lucifer was ready to retort back, a horn cut through the air. That was merely the first and from there, the rest followed. The reality of the situation suddenly came crashing down upon them like another wave. Everything was ready to sail. All the people who were left to get on their respective places started moving, hundreds of feet and arms and voices breaking any peace that was before.

"I better get going!" said Emily and hugged Evelyn again. She reached over to kiss a cheek of Alastor and rub his arms. "Tell the baby they have an cousin that will love to meet them!"

She gave Lucifer's shoulder one final squeeze before going over to the crow, getting lost on them. Lucifer stared up to Alastor, but he had already bend over to hug him first. Lucifer couldn't do anything but squeeze him back. They had never had to say goodbye like this before.

What a fool he was for ever thinking that anything could have made this less painful.

"Come back soon" whispered Alastor against his neck, leaving a single kiss over the muscle moving.

"I will" sighed Lucifer, gripping to his back. "Stay safe. Tell Charlie that their papa loves them."

"They will know." Alastor took a deep breath just above his clavicle, as if needing to register whatever Lucier smelled like right then, right at that moment. It only made sense that the son of a perfume maker would rely so much on his own nose to capture what he wanted. "Of that they won't have a single doubt."

"Good" Lucifer let his hand grab a handful of Alastor's curls, feeling them come undone and bounce against his fingers. He kissed him on the neck and tightned up his hug again before letting go. "If there is any way to send a message, I will" promised, before turning to Evelyn and hugging her as well. "Please, take care of them."

"You don't have to tell me twice, dearie." Evelyn caressed his cheek with a smile. "You just have to worry about coming home, alright?"

Lucifer nodded. He kissed her cheek and hold the hand of Alastor as long he could. It felt like an infinite second until the palm slipped out of his grasp and he had to keep going, walking up the wooden bridge to the ship. Once on top, he located his family at the port and waved at them, just like a bunch other of his soldiers, while the rope was being released from its support and the sail extended over the main mast. At his side, Emily was smiling and elevating her arm enthusiastically. Out there on the dry land, Alastor seemed so small and so big at the same time as he waved back, holding the hand of his mother.

It didn't take long for the other men to start moving across the ship, putting their things in order, getting into their positions. It was only when he saw that Alastor and Evelyn were turning to leave that Lucifer realized something.

"Fuck, I forgot" said to Emily and gave her his bag. "I will be back in a bit, have a rope out for me."

"What do you mean?" asked his niece, her confusion turning to alarm when Lucifer climbed the starboard. She didn't even had a chance to react before he jumped to the waters. "Uncle!?" she called, her voice joining to other ones calling for the captain.

Lucifer came out a second later, lifting a thumb up in the air as he made his way to the shore. The yelling eventually reached the people there. Alastor and Evelyn came back just in time to see Lucifer coming out of the water to the sand. He walked, drenched as he was, immediately up to Alastor and pulled on the front of his tunic to make their lips meet. For one glorious moment, he could feel Alastor slumping against him, all the shock washed away to be replaced by a singular contained sigh of contentment.

"I forgot to tell you I love you" said Lucifer, barely separating. "I couldn't go without telling you that."

"You absolute madman." Alastor chuckled, placing his hand on top of Lucifer's. "I know already, you idiot. I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"Just wanted to say it anyway" Lucifer nuzzled his cheek and kissed the corner of his lips. "I will think of you all the time."

"You better." Alastor hummed, his head inclined towards Lucifer's until their forehead made contact. "It wouldn't be fair I was the only one."

"Never." Lucifer kissed him again. "Do they look mad at me?"

Alastor looked over Lucifer's head towards the boat. All the faces, including Emily's, staring to them.

"Mostly confused, I think."

"I can deal with confusion." Lucifer sighed and then bended a little, kissing the belly of Alastor over the fabric that became wet because of his contact. "I love you too, little one. Be good with your dad and your grandma."

As he stand straight again, Alastor kissed his forehead.

"Come back safe" said like a spell, brushing his wet hair back. "Or I swear I will drag you back from the underworld myself, Lucifer."

"Noted," Lucifer chuckled and gave his hand a squeeze, with a bigger grin that he had before. "Now I am better. Bye!" said, unceremoniously jumping back to the waters to swim his way back to the boat.

"You better pray to the gods that he doesn't get a cold now!" yelled Evelyn from behind him and he could laugh if it wasn't asking to swallow ocean water.

Once he was near the boat, just as he indicated, Emily let out a rope that he used to climb his way back up. As he reached the top, Emily pulled him by the arm the rest of the way until his feet were back again over the wooden floors.

"Was that whole show really necessary, captain?" commented Sera with a sigh, bringing him over a towell that she quickly spread over his shoulders.

"Is he still looking?" asked Lucifer, hugging to the fabric.

"To make sure that you weren't drowning, surely" said Sera, throwing a look back. "But yes, he is."

"Then it was worth it" said Lucifer, shivering but looking totally satisfied with himself.

#appleradio #radioapple #duckiedeer #hazbin hotel au #lucifer x alastor #epic the musical au

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storiumemporium · 2 years ago

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Sliver by Sliver

Aegon II Targaryen/Reader

| Word Count - 5.1k | Angst | Hair Cuts, Mild Trauma, Self Hating, Aegon has a lot of feelings about his bodily autonomy |

It's not perfect, but I actually like this one more than I thought I would! I was just considering when it was that Aegon finally cut his hair in defiance of his family, and how that might feel.

"I can feel the road I’m on." A mourners slur crossing the threshold of a youthful Princes' mouth. You think you should clap calloused hands over exposed ears, the same way one is meant to shield their eyes from the sun. "Have you ever felt it..? The way you can look ahead and know that whatever person you are then, is looking back and wishing you were different... But you don't change it anyways?"

Feelings are a powerful thing. They can put you on top of the world, can make you feel invincible, can crush you under their bootheel, can make you gullible, vulnerable, pathetic, glorious.

Even at your poorest, fetched up longside craggled forgotten flagstones. Gray, not red. Because your ilk were met with such disdain that you weren't even allowed to tread the same brick as those who built this city astride scaled spines. You'd had moments where wealth was just another chip off your tooth. The sky could catch fire and you would have grinned up at it, thankful for the warmth on a chill day.

There have been days, at your wellest-off, that you'd been sat on a bed nicer than you'd ever touched- and all yours too, as a new servant of the Keep- and felt that even a stiff breeze could have stung out your heart and stolen your liver, so lonely were you.

Feelings are a powerful thing, and you stand aside blinking daisies off your eyelids and watch as they claim even royalty.

Prince Aemond has lost an eye while the whole world had theirs closed. The screaming loud, had been raucous and vicious and hissing even to your Flea-borne ears. And in the midst of confusion and a sort of abject befuddlement that a Prince could lose his eye beneath the noses of all these self-important people, you managed to steal away a bit of entertainment in the shapes of them. That you, a young girl, could look at the flickering shadows in the firelight and see animals instead of the pale haired divine.

The way that these people- closer to Gods than men- are just as mucusy and wet and thrashing as you are. Spitting, screechy people who make poor decisions and cut each other and cry. And then, almost as soon as the events had crested their peak, you were sent off to do your work. To make sure that Prince Aegon- somehow culpable, though you weren’t keen enough to catch where he’d gone wrong in the midst of all the angry birdsong gurgling out their necks- went back to his room instead of finding some long beach to wander down and drown himself by accident.

This was not the first time you’d been called to order for him, and it would not be the last. Servants did not come from Flea Bottom, it just did not happen. They were at the very lowest, middleborn women who were of a higher pedigree than even their own mothers, dispositions naturally so sweet and so timid that they could mouse around the shadows and get their tasks done with neither complaint nor notice.

Fleas, did not become servants. And yet here you were.

And perhaps that was the reason they chose you to deal with him. They felt less inclined to guilt, seeing a lowborn lugging this boy around. All legs and absolutely no weight, as he belched and made uncouth comments into your ear and threatened always to vomit out the contents of his wine that— for some Seven’s damnable reason they’ve elected to simply keep giving him.

Were he raised by your parents, the boy’d have been smacked so hard he’d lean into the graces of Queen Alicent’s hand.

You’d told him as such, and he’d laughed. Laughed. Somehow, grudgingly, it hadn’t felt like it was at your expense, either.

But that, you suspect is why they keep you around. Not even for the dirt beneath your fingernails or the way that they feel they do not owe you respect or decency. No, they keep you around because Aegon laughs and leans and chats and no matter how hard he tries, he does not hike your skirts up by the time the sun shutters its eye. You refuse him, and he does not hate you for it.

So now, the closest they can give you to begrudging respect for it, is to make you his handler. Sent to fetch and retrieve and leash Aegon the Second with little more than a sharp wave of Alicent’s shaking hand, head beginning to sag against the bloodied visage of a boy. Her boy.

"You... you are good with him," Queen Alicent always spoke of Aegon as if she were a fretful mother and not the Queen, you’d noted it duly. She's winding fingers about fingers until the skin might redden and turn raw with her endless worrying as she convinces herself of the words she might not truly believe. "Prince Aegon can be fickle at best to deal with, as I’ve no doubts you know yourself. Unfortunately, most of the other girls your age are… disinclined to reject him.

I would only ask that you keep an eye on him. You will be paid in kind.”

Paid to not let him do as he pleases with you, she meant of course.

Easy enough, easy. Easy.

Aegon is- startlingly- almost completely sober when you approach him. Possessed of the same air as overly intelligent livestock headed for slaughter. Eyes that are dull and near-beady, and only too aware of the butcher’s cleaver primed for its neck. Even now with the crowd funneling away to their chambers, his eyes have not found purchase anywhere else other than the high backed chair— the bowl of crimson with an eye settled at its center.

“My Prince?” You’d never been able to get the appropriate tone down, that wilty, fleeting, feathery sing-song that all the other servants would use no matter their age, batting their lashes and wielding deference like a blade to fluff up the nobles they were meant to service. No, you come out flat, and your tone down-curves instead of bubbling up, you sound almost aggressive as you take your place beside him, assessing his state like you might an unpleasant piss pot.

Not that he was unpleasant and- well, he is often foul smelling- but not this time. Now he is sea salt and cold air. Even the wine is little more than a pleasant note carried about his clothes. You know he’d been worse off than this in the hours earlier, had the eve’s events truly done so much to clear him?

Aegon startles belatedly. Disjointed and feverish when his eyes skitter through the flagstones and up, fetching sharply against you as you turn orange in the flamelight, much closer than he’d realized. Off-white linen and rugged hands and a hair bonnet and scuffed shoes and cracked lips and—

“Yes? Yes.” Aegon croaks, his voice coming out all twisted and fractured. And later he would be hurt by the mere act of your presence, because he knows that it meant his mother sent him away again.

When his brother needed him.

When it was his fault.

He knew it already, could feel it ruminating about in his bones. He’d never been able to get things right, he learned very quickly. Couldn’t have been more than ten when he pieced together that if he thought he had the right idea, it was anything but. He’d done it again, he had. Bastard boys with their soil hued hair that would never once have passed for Targaryen- he’d meant to make a friend of them, at least. Figured that it couldn’t hurt to have fun playing pranks with them, little jokes.

It was just a joke.

You’re staring at him expectantly, you’ve been saying something. Your mouth always moves in these odd shapes, it’s not the way his mother or father speaks, nor his siblings, nor anyone he’s permitted to be near. Sharper and more clipped- so that when you’re genuinely miffed with him he can hear your yellowed teeth click together. It contributes to that hammer way of speech that you’ve got. Blunt.

“Prince Aegon?” You say, a little more firmly because the entire time you’ve spoken to him he’s stared at you like he didn’t really believe you were there. You didn’t know if he was thinking about something, or simply still so beside himself that he was in shock- letting you bounce your words off his skull. “My Prince, we must go. Her Grace would like for you to return to bed.”

Only to bed, not the beach, not the cellars. Bed. Bad enough one son is maimed.

“F’course,” he says- overly squeaky and a sharp reminder that he’s not as grown as he’d like to pretend he is. Your expectancy is all he has to cling to now, the only thing to go off of following the sudden and deafening silence of everyone returning to their chambers after the sky fell down. So, Aegon lets himself be guided down halls that remain unfamiliar, decorated blue and green and ocean against the world of red from which he was nursed- and he tries to lie to himself that he’s not clinging to your skirts like he would his own mother.

A lie that is not convincing enough for even Aegon to believe, even as good as he is at it. Because the moment your blunted nails and workers’ digits fetch against salted splinters and the rough, cold grate of an iron handle, the ferryman passing him to his rest- he’s already beginning to come apart in notches.

It’s subtle, which is strange for a boy so dramatic. You’d always thought him the type to explode, to screech and wail and break things, to wax poetic- a runaway he already is, what’s destruction to go along with it? But no, Aegon breaks rather quietly. He is self deprecating in his finest moments, and the harrowing echo of the door finding its nook is a death knell. You turn to face it, teeth set sharp in expectation of anything other than what you get.

He’s crying.

No, no red faced theatrics indeed. No throwing a fit and stomping his foot and sniveling. Instead he’s rather silent, rather unforgiving. His hair falls in billows of white, a scratchy mess unkempt and sorely disliked to be touched- you’d been witness to the fights he’d had with particularly bold older servants of the Keep. It seemed as if the very thought of fingers near his hair could set him into a frenzy. He loathed every strand. As if to affirm your thoughts, Aegon finds his corner on the bed and he clings with one hand to the post so tightly that you suppress a grimace at the scratches readily forming. Not for the wood- wood means nothing to you, but to the way you know the splinters are getting beneath his fingernails and ripping him up, now. The other hand, insistent and trembling, digs into his scalp and begins to tug.

You think you might be seeing moon white rip free in his fingers. If it is, Aegon doesn’t seem to notice it.

You couldn’t honestly say you had, standing there awkwardly in the center of his room. Wasn’t it funny? To be out of place even in a castle like Driftmark, much less the Keep that you call home. You were like a novelty some Lord collected to be gossiped over, not a living creature.

Though, you suppose with a weariness unbefitting your age, that many Lords do keep living creatures as trophy. Even if they can beg otherwise.

“M’sorry, my Prince. I can’t honestly say I have.” You weren’t inclined to think of the future, because it wasn’t made for you. The only people who spent their time thinking of the days ahead had enough wealth and power to be confident they’d live to see it. “I try to live my days simply. Keeps me out of trouble, I found.”

Aegon squints around your words, eyes blurred, into the dim firelight stoked in his hearth, tries to picture himself older than he is, and finds he cannot fathom waking up that many days. Cannot imagine his flesh managing to push for so many more years.

Nevertheless, if that man exists, he knows he hates Aegon. And Aegon is sorry.

“It was just- we were just-” justifications that Aegon is too ashamed to finish. He keeps gaping like some great old fish dragged out of the water. He wants some sort of absolution that you cannot give, a random serving girl that happened to tolerate more of his shit than the rest. The sort of relief in his heart he knows he could only ever get from Alicent, from Aemond.

They will not forgive him.

Viserys creeps into his mind, the sort of moist-sweet of rot that clings to his fathers fibers. His hair falling away along with the skin that used to hold it. He can feel warmth of Viserys’ breath cascade over his nose and cheeks if he shuts his eyes too long to it, can imagine the way his eyes stung and the way he would lie and say it’s simply because of how foul the odor was. Not the words, not that Viserys had yelled into his ear. Not that they had slapped him. Not that it was his fault.

They dug at him, it’s like they knew there was a bruise, or some sort of open wound. They were crows, or vultures. Opportunistic. They kept biting at the hole in his soft belly, the one that opened and never sealed when they sliced his umbilical cord, with the removal of him from his mother. The last moments that Aegon had ever been pure, ever been good, or ever been worth anything to his family. Was there a time he was loved after the fact? Was there a moment that they fell out of love for him? When had he lost it? What had been the precise mistake he had made?

Had he been two? Five? Ten? Had it only been a year ago, when he was ten and three? It couldn’t have, because Viserys had never looked at him with anything more than the depth of the empty wine pitcher that Aegon would demand be filled over and over until he could no longer feel his own skin, much less the walls of his own heart that he kept scratching at.

Where had he gone wrong? What did he do? How does he fix it? Why can’t he fix it? Why does he keep hurting people? Why do they keep hurting him?

Ice water, your hands gently cupping around his. Suddenly he can feel the tenderness in his scalp, the searing pain. You’re looking at him with pity and he hates it, but you’re not looking at him with disgust and he loves that. He could take the humiliation and indignity of being pitiful in the eyes of a lowborn girl if it meant having someone who didn’t hate him. You’re peeling his fingers back— both hands, though the one bleeding through splinters meant less to him.

He was occupied on all the white tangled around his fingers. It looks like spidersilk, his hair. Too ratty and crinkled, though. Spidersilk was smoothness and prefection, without even the slightest crook to its threads. He knew this from the times he would swallow down rude words at the behest of his mother to play with Helaena’s… bugs. And now, for just a moment, he envied those creepy things.

Not even his hair was exempt from his flaws.

You’re still holding his hands, he finally notices. Blinks and inhales after such a long moment that you feel a shiver of relief fetch on your shoulder-blades. It seems like recognition is attempting to wade into the vacancies that Aegon had hidden inside. Fled towards.

“Ow…” He finally drawls, weak, and you don’t know if it’s him trying to recognize what he’d done to his own scalp, yanking harder and harder until you could hear the hair giving way to his fist. Or if it was some incredibly, embarrassingly weak attempt at deescalating the scene he’d created for himself.

He hates his hair, you can’t move away from that recognition. Noting it again for a second time that night, as if you were trying to figure out a riddle while illiterate.

But maybe you didn’t need to know. Maybe you just needed to act.

“Want it cut?” Short, gruff. But it has Aegon looking at you as if you’d lost your mind. His hands shiver within your grip, and then they don’t stop.

“What do you mean?”

“I think it’s easy enough, what I mean. Your hair, Prince Aegon. Never seen you like it, nor care of it much. Looks like y’put wool on your head. D’you want it cut?”

You don’t know what you’re doing to him, he’s confident of it. You can’t possibly know what you’re doing because only his mother and father had ever been capable of being so exceptionally and effectively cruel to him. You would not be, because you were a Flea and he’d learned that you brutish people didn’t like to trade in cruelties of the mouth. You preferred to beat the shit out of each other and then forgive the transgression within the same hour.

And yet you offer him something you must know he can’t accept. He can’t.

“Why not?” You answer to the refusal he whispers looking at you, as if begging you from behind violet hues to stop and to drop it. To leave it be. He can’t. He can’t. “They can’t stop you. Once it’s done what’ll they do? Can’t magically force it to grow back. It’ll be gone, least for awhile.”

And it isn’t that simple. But it is. But it’s not. But it truly is. Aegon makes it complicated. Because Viserys won’t even acknowledge he exists beyond distaste, but Alicent would be furious at him cutting away at his- his-

The clear and blatant sign that despite all his efforts to be otherwise. He is a Targaryen, in the end.

“They’d beat you, for it.” Aegon’s hands slip weakly free of your own, finding their place in his lap. “She’d have your hands caned. She’d force you from the castle. You’d lose everything you’ve gained, were I to do that.”

“Were you to let me do that, you mean.”

Aegon’s brows furrow at the correction, perplexed that this is what you would choose to focus on, in the face of your misguided kindness. “I- I guess, that’s- not the point. You can’t do it.”

“You hate it, though.” And perhaps the sentiment is so obvious that you should be embarrassed. But Aegon still fixes you with a look as if you were the first person to ever see him. “I’m right, aren’t I? S’why you fight so fuckin’ hard against the other girls when they try to clean it for you. You despise your hair.

So- so fix it. Cut it off. At least it’ll be easier to take care of that way, right? I- I mean- better clean hair that’s short’n long hair that looks like it came off a mangey dog—”

“Okay.”

Aegon cuts you down in a single word, you’d been prepared to keep pestering him. To make a real fight of it, and yet he acquiesces just like that.

“O-Okay? Okay. I- I’ll need shears, if you’ll not change your mind by the time I come back?”

Aegon didn’t think he could keep his mind in one place if he tried once upon a time, and yet you ask him in a warm brogue and he feels himself folding apart for you. He could wait, he could keep his mind focused. Just a trim, just a cut, yeah? Just little pieces fading away.

You’re slipping out of the room more effortlessly than he’s ever managed, and he’s left to the fire and his thoughts. To the way his mind begins to circle round on you. You hate it, though. The words are etched into the top of his skull, he’s sure of it. He’d ask not to be burned the day he dies, just so that a Maester could cut him open and prove it.

It’s not much, he barely knows you beyond the incessant picking he’d done from the moment he realized his mother gave him a keeper. From the moment he realized that he could push and you wouldn’t stumble. But now, waiting for you with the world growing too quiet for his sober mind— things about you start to change, to him.

He still doesn’t know you. But for the first time in Aegon thinks- perhaps- his entire life, he finds he’d like to try.

It might be fun. To know you.

It’s by sheer blind luck that the servants quarters are unoccupied as you slip into and out of them in the dark— you wouldn’t have been surprised if the older women had stayed up a few hours longer to gossip over the turn of events, over the loss of the little Prince’s eye. It would have been stifling, to fumble excuses as to why you needed hair shears when your greatest duty is simply to make sure Aegon doesn’t tumble down a flight of stairs, anymore.

But by the time you return, Aegon seems to have already taken his position. He’s on his knees, sitting back on his ankles, slouched against the side of the bed. Enough space that you could sit there with his back between your thighs and have easy access to the mountain of raggedy strands that fold one over the other over the other to form a nightmare of knots.

Fortunately, for what you were doing, you wouldn’t need to brush it out.

As you begin to gather his hair up, to lay it as flat as it could get— you’re overwhelmingly aware of what you’re doing. Your knuckles grazing against a million and one strands of violet eyed superiority, knowing that this thing that grows back is worth more than all of the parts of you that never would.

The first cut is deafening, and Aegon shudders like you tickled him. The white that falls away is nearly matted together, and the secondhand catharsis that grips your throat at the sight of it makes you fear for what state you will leave him in, when you’re done.

Snip, snip, snip. Pieces begin to fall away more and more, quicker and quicker. You’re by no means a barber, you’ve no true expertise in the hair- but you’d had plenty of experience carving away at the locks that belonged to boys you were too young to realize had fancied you. His hair isn’t much different, despite the way the color is exalted within Westeros and Kings’ Landing especially. Just hair, it’s just hair. More valuable than you’d ever be, and yet a tiresome soul crushing burden for the person whose shoulders are beginning to jump with the sobs he suppresses.

It’s the most invigorating experience of Aegon’s life. A hypnotic process follows. This sort of repetitive motion that Aegon think is closer to holy than any prayer he’s been forced to participate in. His scalp pulls taut, but no pain is found, only the strange tingling sensation as the blades grip and slide clean through. The loud noise that it emits, the way his head grows lighter and lighter. Aegon cannot tell if it is from the literal loss of weight— or if he’s getting dizzy.

So many people had touched his hair, ogled his hair. Pretty Valyrian hair. So shiny and white, such an irrevocable piece of what he is and what he’d never escape being in the eyes of those around him. People almost valued it more than him. (They did, they did value it more than him. He would accept this in the years to come). And yet the girl with the poor grammar and the clicky teeth and the flagstone voice cuts away at it and hums a soft tune as she does. He can’t recognize it, thinks it must be from where you were raised.

You hate it, though. Had anyone ever cared what Aegon hated or loved? What he liked or despised? Had you been the very first to say that? The first to notice?

It’s creeping higher and higher, and despite the flickering nervousness that he might grow to regret this and be furious with you- the inches just don’t seem to inch high enough with each and every cut. To the shoulderblades, to the tops of the shoulders, to the base of the neck, to the nape—

It takes you half an hour to meticulously carve away at all the pieces until they were something close to presentable. And by the end, deceptively curly hairs hug his jawline and duck shyly into the shells of his ears. It still needs washed, bushy and unkempt- but the thick patches of filth that’d congealed were no longer there, and the strands could all move and sway and bounce they were so light and lively.

When you look away from your work, satisfied and with a proud little smile touching at the corners of your lips, Aegon is covering his face with shame. Blotchy and red because the emotion is trying to beat him into submission. It feels good, and Aegon gasps in deep aching breaths. He can breathe. For the first time he can breathe.

Everyone loved his hair, everyone touched his hair when he didn’t want them to, everyone commented on his hair when he wished it was ignored. Now it was as close to gone as it’d ever been. When was the last time he could feel the very ends of his hair caress the sides of his face? He must have been too small to remember.

It steals the wind from your sails. The nearly smug joy that you’d done this from him is undercut by a nausea. You’re afraid of him, for him. It seems too obvious that he isn’t well. He’s heaping up hysterical gulps and whimpers, violently muffled as to not cause any more commotion within these halls than had already transpired within the hours before.

“…Aegon?” It is perhaps the first time you’d had the courage to say his name without his title attached in some way. It’s too familiar and it gives you the goosebumps, makes your tongue taste sharp. But he’s not getting better, and he’s not getting up. He might curl into a ball on the floor at any moment, and you’re not sure what you can do for him.

But Aegon is still slipped away in the soft womb of all his tragedies laid out. Of all the times he’s had noblewomen and their daughters pet and tug at his hair. All the comments of how pretty and white it’d been, how they’d slowly turned sour as he let his hair go to ruin more and more over the years. He’d enjoyed for brief moments the vindictiveness of ruining it for them. But it felt hollow when in the end he still had the hair, and in the end it still hurt to have them look at him like he was disgusting, because he didn’t want the pearly strands on his head.

Free. Free. Free.

Something shimmers, and his painfully red eyes peak between fingers to look at what it was glinting into his gaze. It makes him fetch on a gasp, to realize that you’ve crept around the room quiet like a cat, gathering up a looking glass to put in front of him.

His hair- it’s one thing to feel, and another to see.

So short, so short. Alicent would screech at him, he’s sure of it. She would hit him again, he’s sure of that too. Would curse him for making everything worse when his brother is already in pain. And it would ache, but it would be the good kind. The freeing kind. Because he would fly on Sunfyre come morning, and he would feel the wind in his short hair.

He almost… thinks he might look good like this. In spite of the discoloration of his face and the way his eyes and the surrounding are bright red. If he were to picture himself without snot and disgrace, he thinks it might be a handsome length. A defiant little trademark.

He finally unfurls then, so that his legs nearly rest atop your feet and his hands sit slack on his thighs. His mouth is working, eyes moving. Aegon forcing emotions into coherency, animalistic urges into civility. He wants to thank you properly, he wants to—

“Y’should go,” he says instead. And the little part of him he got from his mother, the part that had any sort of competency, wails with anguish. “Don’t want anyone to know what you’ve done here, tonight.”

For me. Because you noticed.

It seems almost cold, almost dismissive. But of course it was, yes? Because you were not a Princess, nor a Lady. You held no weight in his eyes and his world, and certainly not his court. You just gave him the ability to be spiteful, and the most he could do is not get you into trouble for it.

You should be thankful for that, after what you’ve done.

Rising still aches, though. To leave him here looking like a babe’s soiled toy. To leave knowing that he might very well continue on ignoring you outside of when he needs to you drag him to bed in the night. To know that he might very well change his mind and sell you out, come morning.

You don’t think he would, somehow. Insane as that is. And when you approach the door, hand tightly wound against the iron handle- his voice reaches you.

“I did hate it… Thank you.”

You do not find the courage to turn around again, that night. To look at the white hair upon the stones or the boy who lays there- discarded by his family and himself. Your fist tightening for a brief moment around the handle until your knuckles poke through angrily.

“It’s your hair, my Prince. It belongs to you, first. You shouldn’t be thankful y’got to do what you want with it.”

That wasn’t true, and he knew it wasn’t. Nothing about him belonged to him, but the sentiment still wraps around his heart fondly. Yes, he would like to know you indeed.

You slip from the room, leave him alone in the quiet. But it doesn’t feel lonely, tonight.

105 notes · View notes

braveclementine · 8 months ago

Text

Chapter 3

Warnings: None. However, future chapters will contain sexual content so readers that are under the age of 18 may have to skip those chapters (Please keep note of the warnings).

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

𝕿𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖆 knock on the door and I groaned and shouted, "Five more minutes dad!" Why the hell was he waking me up for anyways? Wasn't he supposed to be underground right now? Or teaching Trang? Come to think of it, wasn't Dumbledore supposed to be coming today?

The door opened anyways and I rolled over, aggravated, and then realized that I wasn't even home. I was at the Weasleys house. Dad wasn't even here!

Bill came in, holding a breakfast tray in one hand and his wand in the other. His hair was a bit longer than before but his fang earing was the same and so was his warm smile. I lifted the sheets up a little.

"Bill?" I said, "What are you doing here?"

"I, unlike your dad, live here." Bill said, conjuring a small table to set the tray on. I blushed.

"Sorry, I forgot where I was." I said, yawning and stretching and letting the sheets fall again. "Congratulations on your engagement, by the way."

"Ah, you heard about that already?" Bill asked.

"Nope, foresaw it." I said, picking up a fork and putting some egg in my mouth. "I think it's a lovely idea."

"Think mums trying to replace Fleur." Bill said in a hushed voice.

"Yes well that's because she's French, and vain, and a bit erm. . . full of herself?" I said lightly. "At least, that's how she appears to us women. Of course, I don't mind her as badly, though perhaps a bit jealous she got such a great catch. But men like her, much to women's' annoyance which is really the only reason Ginny and Hermione have such a problem with Fleur because Harry and Ron like her too."

"Well that explains a lot." Bill muttered and then said brightly, "So I'm a great catch then?"

I glared at him playfully. "You're engaged Bill!"

He blushed. "That's no-"

"I'm playing." I said with a roll of my eyes. "Don't worry."

"I need to get to work." Bill said, standing up. I yawned again and got out of bed and picked up my tray.

"Have fun." I said, kissing his cheek and then carried out the tray and headed to where Fred and George's room was.

"Morning." I said, walking in and sitting down on the edge of Harry's bed. I noticed he already had his tray of food too.

"Anyways." Ginny said after everyone had said morning back, "Mum's going to put a stop to it if she can, I bet you anything."

"How's she going to manage that?" Harry asked.

"She keeps trying to get Tonks round for dinner. I think she's hoping Bill will fall for Tonks instead. I hope he does, I'd much rather have her in the family." Ginny said.

I snorted and then remembered none of them knew who Tonks really loved.

"Yeah, that'll work. Listen, no bloke in his right minds' going to fancy Tonks when Fleurs' around. I mean, Tonks is okay-looking when she isn't doing stupid things to her hair and her nose, but-"

"She's a damn sight nicer than Phlegm." Ginny said.

"Why do you think she changed her hair color and looks like a middle aged woman?" I snapped. "Because she does love someone, it's not Bill, and she wants him to like her back."

"Who?" Ron asked with interest and I ignored him.

"And she's more intelligent, she's an Auror." Hermione said, ignoring me.

"Fleur's not stupid, she was good enough to enter the Triwizard Tournament." Harry said.

"Not you as well!" Hermione said bitterly.

"I like Fleur." I said, frowning. "You guys just don't like her because she's another woman and she works her veela magic on the boys."

"I'd much rather have Tonks in the family!" Ginny insisted, "At least she's a laugh."

"She hasn't been much of a laugh lately." Ron said. "Every time I've seen her she's looked more like Moaning Myrtle."

"That's not fair!" Hermione snapped. "She still hasn't got over what happened. . . you know. . . I mean, he was her cousin!"

My heart twisted and I started shoveling bacon into my mouth hoping I didn't have to speak.

"Tonks and Sirius barely knew each other!" Ron said. "Sirius was in Azkaban half her life and before that their families never met-"

"That's not the point, she thinks it was her fault he died!" Hermione said and I looked up.

"How does she work that one out?" Harry asked.

"Well, she was fighting Bellatrix Lestrange, wasn't she? I think she feels that if only she had finished her off, Bellatrix couldn't have killed Sirius." Hermione said.

"I was fighting Bellatrix too." I said softly. When the hell had Tonks fought Bellatrix? Then again, I couldn't completely remember the whole thing so I'm sure there probably was a point in time where Tonks had been fighting Bellatrix.

"That's stupid." Ron said.

"It's survivor's guilt." Hermione said. "I know Lupin's tried to talk her round, but she's still really down. She's actually having trouble with her Metamorphosing!"

"With her-?"

"She can't change her appearance like she used to. I think her powers must have been affected by shock, or something." Hermione said.

"I didn't know that could happen." Harry said.

Something fresh was rising up in me again, something like guilt. I'd survived. I'd been fighting Bellatrix. I'd taken over a second time when Tonks was down. . .I think so anyways. I was pretty sure I'd fought Bellatrix as least twice. I definitely remembered Sirius pushing me out of the way. But surely Sirius wasn't the reason Tonks was sad? Surely I was correct with my reasoning.

"Ginny." Mrs. Weasley said, popping her dead in through the door. "Come downstairs and help me with the lunch."

"I'm talking to this lot!" Ginny said.

"Now!" Mrs. Weasley said and withdrew.

"She only wants me there so she doesn't have to be alone with Phlegm!" Ginny said crossly, swinging her red hair around like Fleur and pranced across the room with her arms lifted like a ballerina.

"Wait Ginny." I said and got up from the bed, putting my tray aside. "I er- have something to tell the four of you."

They looked at me curiously and I looked around at the four of them. "Now listen. I don't want anyone to know about this, understand me? Not Bill or Fred or your parents or anyone. This stays between the five of us."

"What is it?" Ron asked in curiosity.

I hesitated and then closed my eyes and when I opened them again, I was a cat. Their mouths were dropped and then Hermione shrieked, "You're an Animagus!"

"Shh!" I said, quickly turning human. "Keep your voice down Hermione!"

"Sorry." She said, "But if the Ministry-"

"Professor McGonagall was the one who said that I shouldn't tell anyone. She said that if Voldemort was going to take over the Ministry, it would be best if there were no records that I was an Animagus. Besides, if Voldemort's after me and he just sees a cat, he's not going to be suspicious, now is he?"

"That's ingenious." Ron said with an open mouth. "Harry, you should do that!"

Harry looked positively frightened at the idea of being asked to turn into an animal and I giggled. "Ginny, I'll come down with you." I said. I nodded at Harry and then left the room with her.

"I can't believe you're an Animagus. . ." Ginny muttered under her breath. "When'd you do it?"

"I believe I got it done before the first Hogsmeade adventure when we decided to form D.A." I said. "But I'd also foreseen that Voldemort would be able to see Harry's memories and I knew it would be useless to become an animal if he picked it out of Harry's head. So I kept quiet until now. According to Dumbledore, Voldemort is closing the connection between the two of them so I thought it would be safe if I let him know now."

"You should help me-" Ginny said and cut off as we entered the kitchen. I made no promises, keeping my mouth shut.

Fleur was sitting at the kitchen table, an onslaught of words coming out of her mouth and I tuned them out.

I helped Ginny and Mrs. Weasley prepare the lunch as Fleur continued to talk and then after a few minutes, there were thundering footsteps on the stairs and Hermione came sprinting into the kitchen, skidding to a stop.

"Goodness! What happened to your eye!" Mrs. Weasley said, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel, and hurried over to Hermione.

Her eye was completely black, looking like she'd been punched. She also looked a bit like a panda.

"Ah, one of Fred and George's things punched me." Hermione said, "But never mind that! Have any owls come in yet?"

"They'll be here soon." I called over my shoulder. "But if you must know, you got ten 'Outstandings' and one 'Exceeds Expectations' in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"What are your grades?" Ginny asked with a grin, knowing perfectly well that I couldn't foresee anything about myself. I threw a towel at her.

Mrs. Weasley made Hermione sit down while I counted down the minutes until the owls arrived in a bored voice. She was trying to get the bruise to go away and after several tries, Harry and Ron entered the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley said, "It just won't budge. This has always worked before, I just can't understand it."

"It'll be Fred and George's idea of a funny joke, making sure it can't come off." Ginny said.

"But it's got to come off! I can't go around looking like this forever!" Hermione squeaked, shooting me a panicked look. I yawned.

"Four minutes."

"You won't dear, we'll find an antidote, don't' worry." Mrs. Weasley said.

"Bill told me 'ow Fred and George are very amusing!" Fleur said, smiling.

"Don't worry Hermione." I said, still in my best Professor Snape extremely bored impersonation. "Fred and George have bruise remover and they'll give it to you when we go and see them at Diagon Alley."

Hermione was pacing back and forth in the kitchen now, worried about her owls. "It's not like you failed." I said in an irritable voice.

"What happens if we fail?" Harry asked.

"You own a joke shop." I said, popping chicken into my mouth. Ginny and Ron laughed but Hermione didn't.

"We discuss our options with our Head of House, I asked Professor McGonagall at the end of last term." Hermione said.

"Don't worry Harry." I said. "You got one 'Outstanding', one 'Acceptable', five 'Exceeds Expectations', one 'Poor' and one 'Dreadful'." I rattled off. "The Poor is in divination and the dreadful is in history of magic and you didn't want to take them again anyways."

Harry looked relieved.

"What about me?" Ron asked.

I squinted my eyes and said, "I don't know the exacts but I see seven O.W.L.s for you. Also, Harry, you'll be upset about your potions score because you'll think it means that you can't take Potions and become an Auror. However, because of Professor Slughorn, you'll be able to take it because his standards are lower."

"Good to know." Harry said. Neither Ron or Hermione seemed to register my words but Ginny did, giving me a curious look.

"What d'you mean Professor Slughorn is going to be teaching potions?" She whispered in my ear.

"He's the new potions teacher." I said, shrugging my shoulders. "Dumbledore gave Snape a different position."

Suddenly Hermione screamed and I jumped, knocking over the chicken pan which Mrs. Weasley saved with a wave of her wand before it hit the ground.

"Hermione!" I complained. "I already told you what your grades are!"

But I was drowned out by her shrieking, "Oh no!" Mrs. Weasley was squeezing past her to open the kitchen window. "There's four of them!"

I rolled my eyes and waited as the owls swooped into the kitchen, landing in a neat little line on the kitchen table and all four of our owls lifted their right legs. I moved forward to one of the middle owls and detached my results smoothly and the owl flew out.

I knew I had to have at least one Outstanding, maybe more. After all, I knew for a fact my Defense Against the Dark Arts was perfect. I was pretty sure my Charms was too. I didn't think much about Astronomy because that made my stomach a bit queasy.

I opened the letter and pulled out the results.

ORDINARY WIZARIDNG LEVEL RESULTS

Pass Grades Fail Grades OUTSTANDING (O) POOR(P) EXCEEDS EXPECTATIONS (E) DREADFUL (D) ACCEPTABLE (A) TROLL (T)

Elizabeth Kane Lupin has achieved:

Ancient Runes O -----------------------------------------------------

Astronomy O ----------------------------------------------------- Care of Magical Creatures O ----------------------------------------------------- Charms O ----------------------------------------------------- Defense Against the Dark Arts O ----------------------------------------------------- Divination O ----------------------------------------------------- Herbology O ----------------------------------------------------- History of Magic O ----------------------------------------------------- Potions O ----------------------------------------------------- Theory of Magic O ----------------------------------------------------- Transfiguration O

I read the grades over again. That couldn't be possible, could it? I'd certainly made mistakes on Ancient Runes and there was no way that I could've pulled an 'Outstanding' in Astronomy. . . unless all that studying I'd done had actually paid off.

And who had put the last name Lupin after my name? I felt a bit of pleasure at that and if it weren't for the fact that my last name was really Potter, not Kane, I would've had dad legally change it to Lupin a long time ago. I wasn't complaining either. Elizabeth Lupin. It had a nice ring to it. So did Elizabeth Snape. Mrs. Snape. Ew, oh goodness.

"How'd you do Eliza?" Ginny asked nervously, "You-er- look a bit sick."

Did I?

Ron yanked the card out of my hand and said, "She got eleven 'Oustandings' and. . . she only took eleven subjects."

"I should've continued with Arithmancy and Muggle studies." I said. "Then I would've obtained thirteen O.W.L.s and gotten a perfect score."

Ron scoffed, waving my card in front of my face, "This is a perfect score Eliza!"

"Oh, right." I said.

Ginny giggled.

"Dad'll be pleased." I said, much brighter, "when did you say he and Uncle Moody are coming over Mrs. Weasley?"

"Tomorrow night for dinner." Mrs. Weasley said. "I do wish Tonks could come."

I bit my lip. Was Tonks avoiding Dad? I knew that they had been talking about Sirius before, I'd overheard it. That was when Tonks had announced her love for Dad. . . bloody hell my life was a mess. Still. . . could be worse. I could still be paralyzed.

I went upstairs to get my Firebolt and Harry, Ron, Ginny, and I played Quidditch while Hermione watched. It was a bit uneven because Harry, Ginny, and I were all extremely good and Ron was only fair.

The following day, Dad showed up with Uncle Moody for dinner. They both were very happy with my O.W.L. results, although dad was completely ecstatic. He couldn't stop grinning the entire time he was there. I knew he was proud of me and that made me twice as happy. He read the name above the grades.

"Messed your name up a bit?" He said in a not at all casual voice.

I pretended to peer at it and then said, "I don't see a mistake."

He nearly exploded with pride. I would've sent a letter to Severus with my grades except 1) he probably already knew and 2) he'd already told me not to risk sending him an owls while at the Weasleys and also not to use their floo portal to his house. We were completely cut off from each other.

Unfortunately, one could only stay happy for so long before reading the paper the next day. There were mysterious disappearances and strange accidents. Bill and Mr. Weasley also kept bringing home bad news before it even reached the papers so we often reacted to some of the things twice.

On Harry and mine sixteenth birthday, Dad dropped by again, bringing Trang with him this time. I finally noticed that his brown-red hair was now streaked with gray and that his robes were patched and more ragged than ever.

"There have been another couple of dementor attacks." He said as Mrs. Weasley gave him and Trang large pieces of birthday cake. I was scrutinizing his robes with narrow eyes, "And they've found Igor Karkaroff's body in a shack up north. The Dark Mark had been set over it- well, frankly, I'm surprised he stayed alive for even a year after deserting the Death Eaters; Sirius' brother Regulus, only managed a few days as far as I can remember." He noticed me glaring at his robes and said, "Elizabeth, I can wear whatever I want."

"You have new robes." I muttered.

He smiled and said, "How am I supposed to act like a poor werewolf if I'm wearing brand new robes?"

I sniffed and shoved cake into my mouth so I didn't have to answer.

"Did you hear about Florean Fortescue, Remus?" Bill interjected, as Fleur poured him more wine. "The man who ran-"

"-the ice-cream parlor in Diagon Alley?" Harry asked. "He used to give Liz and me free ice-creams. What's happened to him?"

"Dragged off, by the look of his place."

"Why?" Ron asked.

"Who knows? He must've upset them somehow. He was a good man, Florean." Bill said, a shrug of his shoulders. It was so strange to brush off disappearances so quickly.

"Talking of Diagon Alley, looks like Ollivander's gone too." Mr. Weasley interjected.

"The wandmaker?" Ginny asked, looking startled.

"That's the one. Shop's empty. No sign of a struggle. No one knows whether he left voluntarily or was kidnapped." Mr. Weasley added.

"Kidnapped." I muttered before sticking another piece of cake in my mouth.

"But wands- what'll people do for wands?" Ginny asked, looking disturbed.

"They'll make do with other makers." Dad said. "But Ollivander was the best, and if the other side have got him it's not so good for us."

"Voldemort doesn't want him to make wands." I said, putting my empty plate down and then walked down the lawn to stroll around the garden. Suddenly an owl fluttered down on my shoulder and I took the letter and small package and walked farther away from the Burrow and sat down on a stone.

I opened the letter. It was very short and barely said anything at all but made me smile all the same.

Happy Birthday love. Miss you. -S.S.

I put the letter in the pocket and opened the package.

"Oh!" I gasped, looking in the box. There was a ring, bracelet, necklace, and earrings in the box. All were Princess Cut and I was very sure that they were black sapphires.

Dad was walking down the slope to me. I quickly closed the box and stood up. "Are you leaving?" I asked curiously.

"Yeah." Dad said. "What's that?"

"Nosy aren't you?" I muttered. "A birthday present." My cheeks burned and dad nodded his head, a knowing look coming over his face and he set his mouth in a grimace.

"Well as long as it's an appropriate gift." Dad said, looking at the package with distaste.

There were so many jokes I could've made if it had been Trang but this was dad and the same jokes didn't apply. "It's just jewelry." I said.

Dad had a strange look on his face. He'd gotten me books again and also jewelry cleaner. At the moment, I was wearing the locket that I'd arrived to his house with. "Dad. . ." I said softly, putting the box down and wrapping my arms around him. "You can't possibly be jealous. You don't have to compete with Severus for my love."

"Of course I do." Dad said in a gruff voice, his arms tight around me, "He's trying to take my baby away from me."

I laughed lightly and kissed his cheek, "Ah, Dad, you've given me jewelry. I have the dragon ring which I wear, and you've also given me that sapphire necklace, which I wear. Besides, I've always preferred that you give me books."

"Only because you hate me spending money on you." Dad said.

"Must've gotten that trait from you because you still won't wear the robes I bought you three years ago." I said lightly.

He sighed, "Does me wearing shabby robes really bother you?"

"Well, no, not really. I kind've like it actually, it fits you. I just don't want you to degrade yourself because your a werewolf. You can dress nicely. . . for dates. . ."

"Not this Elizabeth." Dad said, withdrawing his arms and I dropped mine.

"Look." I said, taking a deep breath. "I'm not going to talk about it with either of you anymore, okay? But I think you'd be happy dad, if you had someone to take care of besides your almost adult daughter. . . and why should you deprive yourself from love? You deserve the world." I gave him a small smile, picked up the box, kissed his cheek, and headed back up the lawn. I headed back inside the house, going upstairs to Ginny's room.

Trang was in the room too, settling in.

"Hey! Happy Birthday!" She said, wrapping her arms around me and I hugged her back awkwardly. "What's that?" she asked, pointing to the box in my hands as we let go.

"Jewelry from my husband." I said smugly, throwing the words at her.

She shuddered. "I still can't believe your married! I can't believe your dad-"

"Well It's not an official marriage," I said softly. "but in our minds we're married, we just have to wait one more year."

There was no more conversation about Severus as Hermione entered the room at that moment, looking extremely annoyed, her eye still black.

The next day, our Hogwarts letters arrived and Harry got a badge saying that Harry was now the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain.

Trang was very interested in O.W.Ls and Prefects and Quidditch Captain badges. "Can I try out for the Quidditch team?" She asked me at dinner that night.

"I don't know." I said honestly. "I think so, Dumbledore's starting you at third year. Did your parents sign your Hogsmeade form?"

"Reluctantly." She said with a roll of her eyes. "Wonder if there'll even be an open position on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team."

"Oh so your going to be a Ravenclaw?" Hermione asked in interest.

"Well that's what the Sorting Hat said." Trang said, sounding a bit nervously.

"Bonkers Dumbledore let you in." Ron said and after Ginny and I stomped on his feet he defended himself by saying, "I just mean that it's weird the way she's starting out! Not that I don't want her there!"

"And what are O.W.L.s?" Trang asked, grinning about Ron's reaction.

"Those are tests you'll take in your fifth year to see what classes you'll continue in your sixth and seventh year to get a job after school." Hermione answered.

"So wait. . . the classes actually determine the job I get after school?" She asked, hesitantly.

"Yeah." Ron said.

"What if I took the wrong classes!" Trang shrieked, looking horrified. "Oh dear!"

Ron rolled his eyes and muttered, "There's another one."

"What classes are you taking?" Hermione asked quickly.

"History of magic, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, herbology, astronomy, care of magical creatures, and ancient runes." Trang recited off the top of her head.

"You'll be fine." I said calmly. "Don't worry. Just make sure you pass your classes and by fifth year, we'll make sure you pass."

Trang still looked faint with horror, but moved on with her other questions like how to become a prefect or quidditch captain.

It was decided that on Saturday, we would go to Diagon Alley in order to get our new books and other necessities and we'd also go and see Fred and George's newest joke shop.

There were seven new books that I needed:

The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6 by Miranda Goshawk Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage Confronting the faceless by Rupert Collar A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration by Emeric Switch Magical Theory 2: Delving Deep by Bernice Morton Advanced Rune Translation by Yuri Bilshen Flesh-Eating Trees of the World by Chandra Bottlebrush

Saturday morning, I went down to the kitchen and sat down next to Harry and across from Bill and Fleur who were sitting very close together. I remembered when I'd had a crush on Bill. Now, I was just glad he was happy, but also missing Severus at the same time.

Bill pushed me and Harry over bags of gold.

"Where's mine?" Ron demanded.

"That's already theirs, idiot." Bill said. "I got it out of your vaults for you guys, because it's taking five hours for the public to get their gold at the moment, the goblins have tightened security so much. Two days ago Arkie Philpott had a Probity Probe stuck up his. . . Well, trust me, this way's easier."

I grinned, tucking the gold into my pocket. "Thanks, Bill." Harry and I said together.

"'E is always so thoughtful." Fleur purred, stroking Bill's nose. I grinned, hiding it in my cornflakes. Ginny was miming vomiting and I heard Harry choke on his cornflakes.

It was a horrible day out too. The dementors were breeding, creating all this mist. At least the Muggles couldn't claim bloody global warming, whatever that was. Trang had tried explaining Global warming to me a few times. It seemed like a conspiracy theory. Freezing temperatures in July! Well, no, I supposed it was August now, wasn't it.

There was a Ministry car waiting for us and we quickly pulled on our cloaks, including Trang though she was having a difficult time getting used to wizarding attire.

"It's good Dad can get us these again." Ron said as the cars moved away, the five of us in the backseat and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in the front seat.

"Don't get used to it, it's only because of Harry and Elizabeth." Mr. Weasley said. "They've been given top-grade security status. And we'll be joining up with additional security at the Leaky Cauldron too."

"Don't worry." I said, looking at Harry's glum face. "It's just Hagrid." He brightened up considerably.

"Who's Hagrid?" Trang hissed in my ear.

"Professor for Care of Magical Creatures." I hissed back.

"Here you are then." The driver said as we pulled up in front of the Leaky Cauldron. "I'm to wait for you, any idea how long you'll be?"

"Three hours seven minutes." I said, pushing Harry gently so that he would get out of the car. The driver gave me a startled look, but I was already climbing out of the cab.

"Harry!" Hagrid boomed, sweeping Harry into a hug and then cried, "Elizabeth!" He pulled me into a hug as well, "Buckbeak- Witherwings, I mean- yeh should see him, Harry, he's so happy ter be back in the open air-"

"Glad he's pleased." Harry said, grinning.

"You're lucky." I said pleasantly, joking. "I was thinking about keeping him."

Hagrid chuckled and Harry said, "So your my 'security'?"

"I know, jus' like old times, innit? See, the Ministry wanted ter send a bunch o' Aurors, but Dumbledore said I'd do. Let's get goin' then- after yeh, Molly, Arthur-" Hagrid said proudly, putting his thumbs in his pockets.

Trang was staring at Hagrid with a bit of surprise and anxiety.

"Hagrid." I said as we walked through the Leaky Cauldron, "This is Trang Nyguen. She's going to be starting at Hogwarts this year."

"Yeh'd be teh one tha' Dumbledore let in late?" Hagrid asked curiously.

It was hard to tell because of her dark skin, but Trang blushed. "Er, yeah."

"Well if yer anythin' like Elizabeth here, yeh'll do fine even if yer late!" Hagrid said brightly.

Trang gave me a curious look and I shrugged my shoulders, "Just so you know, nicknames usually stick."

"So I'm going to be the 'late girl' am I?" she asked gloomily.

"Don't worry." I said. "Your true friends call you by your name. . . late girl."

Trang pushed my shoulder.

We entered Diagon Alley and paused, taking a look around. Trang's mouth had dropped again and she pulled her glasses off, polished them, and put them back on as though that would change the scene before us.

The windows that used to show all the lovely things they sold were covered instead with purple Ministry signs or black and white Azkaban escapees. Some of the windows, on the other hand, were boarded up like Ollivanders and the Ice-cream parlor. Small stalls had popped up on both sides of the streets.

I read a cardboard sign that read:

AMULETS Effective Against Werewolves, Dementors, and Inferi

I snarled. Despite the fact that those things probably didn't work, I still found that fact that they were being sold as a thing to ward off werewolves got my back up. There was a seedy little wizard behind the stall, holding a box of silver necklaces out to passerby's.

"One for your little girl, madam? Protect her pretty neck?" He asked as we passed. Mrs. Weasley clutched Ginny tighter, and Mr. Weasley muttered, "If I were on duty. . ."

I gave him the finger as I passed. Hermione sighed next to me and muttered, "So dramatic."

"Yes, but don't go arresting anyone now, dear, we're in a hurry." Mrs. Weasley said in a nervous voice, "I think we'd better do Madam Malkin's first, Hermione wants new dress robes, and Ron's showing much too much ankle in his school robes, and you must need new ones too, Harry, you've grown so much and Trang will need school robes- come on, everyone-"

"Molly, it doesn't make sense for all of us to go to Madam Malkin's. Why don't those four go with Hagrid, and we can go to Flourish and Blotts and get everyone's school books?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"I don't know. Hagrid, do you think-?"

"Don' fret, they'll be fine with me, Molly." Hagrid said in a soothing voice.

I turned to Mrs. Weasley and gave her some of my gold and said, "I'm going to get robes too. This is for my books."

Then I went with Hermione, Ron, Harry, Trang, and Hagrid to Madam Malkin's.

"Migh' be a bit of a squeeze in there with all of us. I'll stand guard outside, all right?" Hagrid asked.

The minute we walked in, I heard a familiar voice saying ". . . not a child, in case you haven't noticed, Mother. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping alone."

I groaned. I heard Madam Malkin's say, "Now, dear, your mother's quite right, none of us is supposed to go wandering around on our own anymore, it's nothing to do with being a child-"

"Watch where you're sticking that pin, will you?"

"Guys." I whispered, "Don't raise your wands, whatever you do, okay?"

Ron and Harry gave no sign that they had heard me.

Draco appeared from the dressing room to stride over and looked at himself in the mirror, wearing a handsome set of dark green robes. Then he caught sight of us in the mirror and said, "If you're wondering what the smell is, Mother, a Mudblood and a werewolf brat just walked in." He said.

"I don't think there's any need for language like that!" Madam Malkin said scurrying out and glanced at us and said, "And I don't want wands drawn in my shop either!"

"Put them away!" I snarled.

"Yeah, like you'd dare do magic out of school. Who blacked your eye, Granger? I want to send them flowers." Malfoy said.

"That's quite enough! Madam- please-" Madam Malkin said.

Narcissa strolled out from behind the clothes rack and said in a cold voice, "Put those away. If you attack my son again, I shall ensure that it is the last thing you ever do."

"Really? going to get a few Death Eater pals to do us in, are you?" Harry asked, taking a step forward.

"Really, you shouldn't accuse- dangerous thing to say- wands away please!" Madam Malkin squealed, clutching her heart.

"I see that being Dumbledore's favorite has given you a false sense of security, Harry Potter. But Dumbledore won't always be there to protect you." Narcissa said with a cruel smile.

Harry looked around the shop mockingly and then said, "Wow. . . look at that- he's not here now! So why not have a go? They might be able to find you a double cell in Azkaban with your loser of a husband!"

Malfoy made to move at Harry but stumbled over his robes. Ron laughed and I giggled.

"Don't you dare talk to my mother like that, Potter!" Draco said angrily.

"it's all right, Draco, I expect Potter will be reunited with dear Sirius before I am reunited with Lucius." Narcissa said.

I wanted to punch her in her face but instead, contained myself and simply said, "Actually, from what I've foreseen with Voldemort's little er- plan. . . Draco will see Sirius much sooner than Harry ever will."

A spasm of pain went over Narcissa's face and Madam Malkin gave a little scream of fear as I said Voldemort's name.

Narcissa opened and then closed her mouth, unable to find anything to say. Madam Malkin was frozen. I thought for sure that Narcissa was going to try and hex me but instead she whispered, "How did you find out?"

I wondered if she suspected Severus or the cat that had sat on his lap. With a smile, I pointed to my head and said, "There's a reason he wanted me. Of course, I haven't foreseen the entire plan but I have a good idea of what it is. What a shame." I smirked.

Harry and Ron had lowered their wands and were staring at me along with Hermione and Trang. "What are you two talking about?" Trang asked unwisely.

I simply smiled. "Oh, nothing of any importance."

"You're done!" Madam Malkin said, waving her wand so that the adjustments were made. Narcissa swept away from me, paid for the robes, and her and Draco were bustling out of the shop. I waited while the others got their robes and then we left the shop.

"Got ev'reything?" Hagrid asked brightly as we closed the shop door behind us.

"Just about. Did you see the Malfoys?" Harry asked immediately.

"Yeah, bu' they wouldn' dare make trouble in the middle o' Diagon Alley, Harry. Don' worry abou' them." Hagrid said in an unconcerned voice.

I thought about it. It wouldn't be that hard for Draco or Narcissa to summon Voldemort here. He could easily kill Hagrid, Trang, Ron, Hermione, and Harry and then take me. Or maybe since Harry'd be dead, he'd just kill me. I shuddered and wished that we were going to be leaving much earlier.

"Everyone all right?" Mrs. Weasley asked as they appeared out of the bookstore, handing us our book packages. "Got your robes? Right then, we can pop in at the Apothecary and Eeylops on the way to Fred and George's- stick close, now. . ."

"Don't get any ingredients." I muttered in Harry's ear, "Even though your taking potions, don't. Just trust me on this, and if Mrs. Weasley bought you a book, don't bring it to your first class either." Then I strode off to gather up my ingredients. Trang had never been in this store before and found everything fascinating.

"We really haven't got too long." Mrs. Weasley said as we headed up the street to find Fred and George's store. "So we'll just have a quick look around and then back to the car. We must be close, that's number ninety-two. . . ninety-four. . ."

"Whoa." Ron and Trang said together, stopping in their tracks.

Everything around us was dappled and gray, even the sky. However, Fred and George's store was bright red and orange. Passerby's were looking back over their shoulders and others had also stopped in their tracks, as though they were in the wilderness and had seen a very rare animal. The windows of the shops were filled with fireworks except the bottom right which had a gigantic poster, purple like the others but written on it in neon yellow words was the following:

WHY ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT YOU-KNOW-WHO YOU SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT U-NO-POO- THE CONSTIPATION SENSATION THAT'S GRIPPING THE NATION!

Harry, Ron, Trang, and I started laughing and I heard Mrs. Weasley behind us, moaning and said, "They'll be murdered in their beds!"

"No they won't! This is brilliant!" Ron announced.

Harry and Ron led the way into the shop, Trang and I close behind them. It was packed with customers and I couldn't get anywhere near the stores. Trang had her mouth open again, looking the way she had at the Quidditch World Cup.

I followed the others around the shop, looking at the Skiving Snackboxes, trick wands, boxes of quills, and reusable hangman.

"Patented Daydream Charms. . ." Hermione read and I got behind her shoulder to see what she was looking at. There was a colorful of a young man, young girl and a pirate ship. "'One simple incantation and you will enter a top-quality, highly realistic, thirty-minute daydream, easy to fit into the average school lesson and virtually undetectable (side effects include vacant expressions and minor drooling). Not for sale to under-sixteens.' You know, that really is extraordinary magic!" Hermione said, looking at Harry.

"For that, Hermione, you can have one for free." A voice said from behind us. I turned to see Fred standing there, wearing robes of magenta that clashed so horribly with his hair and freckles that I actually winced.

"How are you Eliza? Harry?" Fred asked, shaking hands with Harry and giving me a hug and kiss on the cheek. "And what's happened to your eye, Hermione?"

"Your punching telescope." She answered.

"Oh blimey, I forgot about those." Fred said. "Here-" He handed her a tube which she unscrewed and looked at the thick yellow paste oozing out of the hole.

"Just dab it on, that bruise'll be gone within the hour. We had to find a decent bruise remover. We're testing most of our products on ourselves."

"It is safe, isn't it?" Hermione asked.

"'Course it is. Come on Harry, Eliza, I'll give you a tour." I left Trang with Hermione and followed Fred towards the back of the shop. "Muggle magic tricks!" Fred said happily, motioning to a less touched shelf of Muggle cards and ropes. "For freaks like Dad, you know, who love Muggle stuff. It's not a big earner, but we do fairly steady business, they're great novelties. . . Oh, here's George. . ."

George shook Harry's hand energetically and gave me a hug and a kiss on the opposite cheek. Almost as though they'd planned it. Knowing them thought, it was probably coincidental.

"Giving them the tour? Come through the back, Harry, Eliza, that's where we're making the real money- pocket anything, you, and you'll pay in more than Galleons!" George said to a small boy who quickly took his hand out of a tub full of Edible Dark Marks.

"We've just developed this more serious line." Fred said. "Funny how it happened..."

I looked around the darker room with strict packaging and less crowded than the other, bright room.

"You wouldn't believe how many people, even people who work at the Ministry, can't do a decent Shield Charm. 'Course, they didn't have you teaching them, Harry." George said, continuing Fred's sentence.

"That's right... Well, we though Shield Hats were a bit of a laugh, you know, challenge your mate to jinx you while wearing it and watch his face when the jinx just bounces off. But the Ministry bought five hundred for all its support staff! And we're still getting massive orders!" Fred said now.

"So we've expanded into a range of Shield Cloaks, Shield gloves. . ." George spoke.

". . . I mean, they wouldn't help much against the Unforgivable Curse, but for minor to moderate hexes or jinxes. . ."

"And then we thought we'd get into the whole area of Defense Against the Dark Arts, because it's such a money spinner. This is cool. Look, Instant Darkness Powder, we're importing it from Peru. Handy if you want to make a quick escape." George said with much enthusiasm.

"How much is it?" I asked, going over and looking into the box with interest.

"Free." Fred said and I looked at him with a frown.

"Free?" I asked, puzzled.

"Only for you and Harry." George said, "These over here are Decoy Detonators and they are just walking off the shelves! You just drop one surreptitiously and it'll run off and make a nice loud noise out of sight, giving you a diversion if you need one."

"Handy." Harry said, impressed.

"Here." George said, throwing them to Harry.

"There's a customer out here looking for a joke cauldron, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley." A young witch also wearing magenta robes said, her head sticking through the curtains to the back room.

"Right you are, Verity, I'm coming." George said, "Harry, Eliza, you help yourself to anything you want, all right? No charge."

"We can't do that!" Harry said.

"You don't pay here." Fred said firmly, waving away Harry's gold.

"But-"

"You gave us our start-up loan." George said. "Take whatever you like, and just remember to tell people where you got it, if they ask."

He was gone and I turned to Fred, "I didn't give a start-up loan!" I said reproachfully. "And it's not like you're going to give Ron or Ginny free things!"

Fred shrugged, "Then let Harry get all your stuff, you're not paying either."

I exchanged an exasperated look with Harry before following Fred back out over to where Hermione, Ginny, and Trang were standing.

"There you go, best range of love potions you'll find anywhere."

"Do they work?" Ginny asked.

"Certainly they work, for up to twenty-four hours at a time depending on the weight of the boy in question-" Fred started.

"- and the attractiveness of the girl." George finished, reappearing. "but we're not selling them to our sister not when she's already got about five boys on the go from what we've-"

"Whatever you've heard from Ron is a big fat lie. What's this?" Ginny asked, changing the subject and pointing to a pink pot on the shelf.

"Guaranteed ten-second pimple vanisher. Excellent on everything from boils to blackheads, but don't change the subject. Are you or are you not currently going out with a boy called Dean Thomas?" Fred asked.

"Like you don't know who he is." I said with a laugh.

"Yes, I am and last time I looked, he was definitely one boy, not five. What are those?" Ginny pointed to round balls of fluff in shades of pink and purple, emitting high-pitched squeaks.

"Pygmy Puffs. Miniature puffskeins, we can't breed them fast enough. So what about Michal Corner?" George asked.

"I dumped him, he was a bad loser." Ginny said, putting a finger through the bars of the cage and I watched the adorable pygmy puffs crowd around her finger. "They're really cute!"

I had to agree and moved closer to the cages. "They're fairly cuddly, yes. But you're moving through boyfriends a bit fast, aren't you?" Fred asked in a slightly concerned voice and I hid my smile from him.

"It's none of your business. And I'll thank you, not to tell tales about me to these two!" Ginny said so I assumed that Ron had appeared.

"That's three Galleons, nine Sickles, and a Knut." Fred said behind me, "cough up."

"I'm your brother!" Ron exclaimed.

"And that's our stuff you're nicking. Three Galleons, nine Sickles, I'll knock off the Knut."

"Here." I said, thrusting Ron four Galleons.

"Thanks Eliza!" Ron said brightly. Somewhere behind me, one of the twins- probably Fred- was gritting their teeth.

"Mum, can I have a pygmy puff?" Ginny asked as Mrs. Weasley came over.

"A what?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Look, they're so sweet. . ."

"Fred?" I asked. "How do you tell which one is a boy and which one is a girl?"

"The pink ones are girls, the purple ones are boys." Fred said, coming up behind me.

"I'll take a pink one I think." I said.

"And I'll take a purple one!" Trang said enthusiastically. "They're adorable."

"Hey, ours could mate and we could get more!" I said, imaging a little pygmy puff farm. Trang giggled.

Fred took our pygmy puffs and I put mine on my shoulder and went through the store to find other things to get. I quickly got a couple patented daydream charms, Skiving Snackboxes, Extendable Ears and also the darkness powder and paid at the front counter, Verity was behind the counter.

But then George appeared and grabbed the gold and said, "I thought we said you got your stuff free?"

I glared at him. "I can spare. . . ten galleons and seven sickles George."

He sighed, shaking his head.

"What's your problem anyways?" I grumbled as Verity put my things in a bag. "Just take the damn money."

George winked at me and disappeared, not answering my question. Trang had bought many different things, her eyes bright. I wondered how much money she'd spent but didn't ask.

Mrs. Weasley was suddenly hysterical, looking through the shop and said, "Do you know where Harry, Hermione, and Ron are?"

"Oh." I said awkwardly, knowing very well that they were no longer in the shop. "Yeah, they went in the back to get some of the dark powder and dark detectors and things like that. I think Hermione was trying to find the bathroom too."

Mrs. Weasley looked relieved and went up to the counter with Ginny to buy her pygmy puff. However, after a few minutes, it was clear that Harry and Ron weren't back and Mrs. Weasley went outside to ask Hagrid if they'd gone past him and then rushed through the store, looking for them.

"Where are they?" Ginny asked in undertone.

"Stalking Draco Malfoy through Knockturn Alley." I said with a grimace. "What a waste of time too considering I could've just told them what his conversation entailed."

Mrs. Weasley went back outside to talk to Hagrid and Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned up with us, taking off the cloak. Harry stuffed it into his bag as I rolled my eyes. "I could've just told you what the conversation was about!" I grumbled.

Mrs. Weasley came back in and caught sight of us and they assured her that they'd been in the back room. We soon left the store, saying good-bye to the twins and with all our bags, it was a bit of a tighter squeeze in the car. We had been three hours and seven minutes and the car driver kept shooting me looks in the rearview mirror. I determinedly stared out the side window.

I couldn't wait to go back to Hogwarts.

⬅️➡️

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djsherriff-responses · 1 year ago

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Jokes aside a way for Jade x Sarah to actually work in some way ( Sarade? Jarah?) is them bonding over their relationships with their families in an AU where Pey’J rots in piss died instead of Jade.

Maybe Sarah just got bored with Dolph giving her the cold shoulder and Bullfrog trying and failing to lift his team’s spirits up after everything that happened, maybe Jade didn’t feel safe being the only woman in a cell full of men (god how could she when her own Uncle, the man who raised her, was someone she couldn’t even trust), but one way or another the two women chat.

It’s small talk at first, just random nonsense to pass the time, though eventually Jade tells Sarah about how her parents died in the wasteland war and how Pey’J took over to raise her.

Jade talks about her childhood, how close she and some other orphans were to Pey’J and how despite how hard living in Eden is, Pey’J made her happy…….. then Jade sobs. She sobs because now all those innocent memories are tainted, she sobs because she can’t tell when he started developing attraction to her and she sobs because Jade is scared of what she can’t remember.

Sarah can’t help but feel sick and angry at that information. She wishes she didn’t blow Pey’J’s head off at Pagan Min’s , just so she could skin him and torture him alive.

Sarah confides in Jade about her own dad and how she betrayed him, why not? Jade could die in the next mission anyways, she wouldn’t have the chance to tell anyone. Plus it’s nice , to have someone to listen to her own issues , even if the relationship Sarah has to Sam is worlds apart to what Jade had with Pey’J.

Obviously the relationship , especially if it went in a romantic direction, wouldn’t be healthy, how can it when Sarah could threaten to blow Jade’s head off whenever she wanted? That is a horrible power imbalance to have, especially for Jade whose already dealt with a horrible revelation.

Maybe Sarah starts giving Jade easier missions than the boys, maybe Sarah let’s Jade do things more her way (Dolph and Bulllfrog would complain but Sarah doesn’t care), maybe Sarah gets nicer things for Jade, maybe Jade even gets her own room?

Maybe Sarah removes the bomb in Jade’s head and lets her free?

Either way , Sarah and Jade have …. A lot of complicated feelings about each other after everything that happens

Technically you could just go a much darker direction but tbh that’s kinda ooc and could come across as edgy if you don’t know what you’re doing

#captain laserhawk #captain laserhawk spoilers #rambles #Toxic yuri #Tw incest #tw pedophila #unhealthy relationships #Tw abuse #Just realised these two could technically work for a beauty and the beast au

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booksandwords · 2 years ago

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The Boy in the Dress by Jonathan Butler

Read time: 8 Days Rating: 4/5 Stars

The Quote: You must tell Warwick's story — 'Mum' Butler (she died while Jonathan while writing this Warwick was her Uncle. If any line made me emotional it was this one, it was her death.)

Warnings: Homophobia

The first thing you need to know when reading this book is it is an investigation written from an assumption. The author, Jonathan Butler's assumption or familial belief that Warwick Meale was gay. There was no evidence. I could just as easily project my own sexuality onto him. Quite frankly that was extremely frustrating, especially because the author kept pointing out the ways ie saw himself in his great uncle. But yes this death did impact his life too. Warwick's homosexuality prevented Jonathan's mother from easy acceptance of him and his sexuality. His father's family had that generational homophobia I've honestly just come to accept. They'll all be gone soon anyway. His mother's diagnosis was hard that was just a painful disease. Jonathan does in the last chapter acknowledge some of the concerns I have with the book's premise, as does one of the interviewees. I do appreciate that he nearly acknowledged his naivete in the original now he has finished it.

This is not a bad book a does a good job to educate readers on some of the realities of queer culture in WWII but some of it was also nss (no shit sherlock). It does at times feel a little disjointed but that's kinda charming. It feels like what it is... someone's personal research project that they lost control of. There is an interesting writing style used. It is readable, with very short chapters. I think the longest I found was about 20p most would have been under 10. It combines two narrative writing styles in a single chapter. One is written almost from the prospect of being there at the time, though not 1st person. The other is J relaying the facts he discovered as they were relevant. It's quite a captivating way to read the story. Even if I did occasionally lose track of who the players were, there are a lot of them.

I like the conclusion that Jonathan comes to with the three cases he raises. They feel like almost the three options for Warwick's death. Though there uses some wriggle room on all three. Jack Lloyd's conclusion feels particularly stereotypical and disappointing for the family. His senseless death is excused because of gay panic. Even if sexual encounters at the time were slightly more fluid than people would like to think. We are talking about virile young men in their prime for the most part, what do you think was happening?

Have some comments and quotes.

I think this is book for those with an interest in queer history. But for those with an interest in military, it feels like it could add a whole other dimension, especially those younger readers.

There is a bibliography available online for those with an interest. I was entirely unsurprised to see serving is silence included and referenced in this.

Tom and Clyde and written in a way that makes you kinda what to know what happened to them, we do find out. We find out about most of the major players.

Look no further than Australia's Defence Minister Peter Dutton who, in 2021, scolded defence personnel for celebrating the International Day Against Homophobia, Biphobia, Interphobia and Transphobia. He ordered his department to stop pursuing a 'woke agenda'. — I really hate Peter Dutton. The thought that he may become our opposition leader now Scott Morrison has stepped aside distresses me greatly.

But what made the blood of many Australian men boil, more than anything else, was the Americans' relationships with Australian women. The Yanks were paid considerably more than the diggers and had nicer uniformer and a certain way with women - they knew how to dance and how to charm. — I mean can you blame them? The Americans were the peacocks with the finer plumage and women needed to make their nests somehow. Hard to do in the post war period.

History has a very real impact on people today. It's shaped how I see the world And so much our history would be lost without the nations archives. — My librarian self loves this quote. It is a joy to see someone acknowledge their societal import.

As a child I found it soothing to gaze at that image of a boy in a dress, It offered me hope that maybe I wasn't so different. The older I got, the more I struggled with an alarming feeling growing inside me, a feeling I couldn't name at the time. It was an urge to wear my sisters' clothes, play with dolls and be free of typical 'boy things': — This is the importance of Warwick to Jonothan. I think s many queer people have someone like this. But few have someone so close to them, so biologically connected.

#military #queer history #book review #lgbtq #the boy in the dress #jonathan butler #warwick meale #tw homophobia #read 2022 #ktreview #booklr

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proteuus · 3 years ago

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oh yeah another thing earlier i found out that my school keycard only works to swipe me into the women's room and not the men's. so that's cute

#you only have to swipe into the bathrooms in the residency halls #in the normal classroom buildings you can just walk in #and the only reason i know this at all is bc my girlfriend was curious and wanted to test it #the bathrooms by my room are gender neutral and i can get in fine #but one time i tried to use the men's room in her hall and i couldnt get in #i assumed i only had access to the gender neutral ones #we tested it today and no! i can get into the women's room fine!#i am choosing not to let this upset me. it does not matter.#university can have it their way. what ever. i'm going to go in there and hang out #see what they think of my keycard access then #women's rooms are way nicer than men's rooms anyway #anyway jacquelyn was Very angry about this on my behalf but i am choosing to let it go. what ever

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lilacmeadows · 4 years ago

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Made For You pt.3

I’m so sorry for the late post guys! I had the most hectic work load today. I’m taking too many goddamn classes this semester. ANYWAY here is my filthy part 3. I mean... they still haven’t fucked, but we’re getting there. I think this can be wrapped in a nice little 4 part bow, but I also kinda want 10 chapters of them together because I’m a slut for this dynamic. This is my FIRST TIME writing smut! So go easy on me. Thank you so much for reading! - Savvy

BUCKY X READER

Summary: Hydra had just finished training you to be the Winter Soldier’s perfect mate when the Avengers saved him. But what’s going to happen to you now that Hydra has deleted your old life and left you with nothing but a soldier that needs to learn to love himself before he can love someone else.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, explicit language, underage reader (nothing sexual happens underage), stockholm syndrome, mentions of family death, eventual dom/sub dynamics, mentions of captivity and kidnapping. violence- guns, mutual pining, SMUT, ORAL (m receiving), FLUFF, angst if you squint (must be 18+)

Word Count: 2300

It was a short ride to the compound, and y/n had a hard time keeping up with the fast walking team as they tried to explain little things along the way.

She hadn’t been outside in a decade. The grass was green and warm where it met her bare feet as she walked behind Sam and Steve. The rest of the team immediately left the quinjet, seeking the comfort of their showers and beds. Bucky was the last to leave, not feeling right about just disappearing from her, but keeping his distance.

Y/n was still so heartbroken. Hearing about her family’s death had really stung, and she knew if she dwelled on it, she’d cry about it for days. But all she really had time to be sad about was how cold her Soldat was towards her. It seemed very much like he didn’t want her around him.

Steve and Sam brought y/n inside the residential wing of the compound. They toured the common areas, kitchen, and showed her where everyone’s bedroom was. They finally got to a guest bedroom down the hall from Natasha, and left her to get cleaned up and comfortable.

Y/n looked around her new bedroom. It was barely decorated, but she had to admit, it was still much nicer than her room with the Men. She sat her yarn and needles down on a table and sat on the large bed. Her body instantly sank into it, the plush comforter conforming to her body in a way the single sheet never did on the twin bed she slept on.

But she couldn’t enjoy her new favorite place in the world for long because not 3 minutes later, she heard a soft knock at her door. She opened it, and much to her surprise, Bucky was standing there, with 2 pairs of sweatpants, and 3 t shirts in his arms.

“I figured you’d want some fresh clothes after you’re clean.” He said sheepishly, not making eye contact with her. “You can ask Nat about undergarments.”

That made her giggle the tiniest bit. “I’m not allowed to wear any undergarments.” But he should know that. She was trained to do things to please him, so wouldn’t he like her to not have on obstructing materials?

“Oh. Well, umm… you can now… If you want to. It’s up to you.” She could see the blush rise up his neck, coloring the bits of his face that weren’t blanketed by hair. She took in his attire. He obviously changed out of his tactical mission gear, in favor of the sweatpants he wore that looked almost identical to the ones in his arms. He also appeared to be freshly showered, his hair still damp, and if she looked close enough, she could see little wet patches on his shirt from where he didn’t dry himself completely.

“Are these your clothes?” She asked, taking the bundle from his arms and opening her door wider so he could enter her room.

“Yeah, Steve went a little overboard on the shopping when I first got here. They’ll be a little big, but the pants have a drawstring, so it should work for now. Until you get something better.” He stood awkwardly in the middle of his room.

Y/n didn’t know what possessed her to put the sweatpants up to her face and inhale deeply. She just felt a primal urge to know what he smelled like. Gunpowder, wood, and something naturally male- Bucky. She couldn’t stop the moan low in her throat.

Bucky watched her as she did that. He felt his pants tighten just at the thought of her in his clothes, and the way she just smelled his pants and let out that sound of satisfaction, made him want to take her right there.

“Thank you, sir.” Y/n replied. Fully engulfed in her embarrassment.

“Y/n, you really don’t need to call me that. I’m just Bucky.” He reminded her. Honestly, he loved when she called him Sir- the authority it gave him, but it made an unholy amount of blood flow directly to his cock and he couldn’t think as clearly. Especially when she looked up at him with those innocent eyes.

“Okay, Bucky.” She said, trying the name out on her tongue. He liked the way she said it. “If that makes you happy.” She risked a step closer to him.

“You need to do what makes you happy.” He took an equally measured step back, knowing he was close to giving in to her temptation.

“I’m working on it, Bucky. But I need your permission. I just wanna be good for you.” She said, quickly taking 3 more steps until she was about 6 inches from his face.

“This isn’t right, Y/n. You don’t know what you’re doing or why you’re doing it. Hydra wanted this. You don’t have to belong to me.” She craned her neck up to be closer to his lips, but he was determined to reason with her before he does something he can’t take back.

“But I want to belong to you. I thought about you every day for 10 years years, Bucky. And I hadn’t even seen you.” Bucky tilted his head down ever so slightly, their lips were just shy of touching. “Let me be good for you, Bucky. Let me make you happy.” She repeated.

“Okay.” Was all he said. He expected their lips to touch then, but she was already down in her knees. None of her videos showed passionate kissing. She wanted to please him in the way she read about in her studies.

On her knees, Y/n was able to see the thick outline of his erect cock very easily, and couldn’t stop the involuntary moan. Just as she did with his other sweatpants, Y/n pressed her face against the bulge and inhaled deeply. Between the smell that was just so him, and the warmth of his clothed cock rubbing on her face, she was starting to go feral for the man standing in front of her in complete shock.

Bucky hadn’t been with a woman since before the war, and they definitely weren’t like this. He watched as she was damn near purring while she rubbed her face on him. She reminded him of a kitten, the way she open-mouthed kissed the line of his cock through his sweatpants. Then she pulled them down, and he felt her wet tongue roll around the fat tip.

“Shit, Y/n, you don’t have to do this.”

“Do you want me to stop, Sir?” She said, taking another lick from base to tip.

“God no. Fuck.” he groaned as she started put his balls in her mouth and sucked, hard. “But if you keep working me like that this is definitely gonna stop.”

She moaned hearing him fall apart above him- finally fulfilling her destiny. Making her Soldat happy.

“Fuck, Babydoll, you’re so good at this. Where the fuck did you learn this?” He asked, more to himself than to her, seeing as she started bobbing and swiveling her head. He wanted to put his hands in her hair, but ultimately decided not too. If he was gonna let this happen, it had to be at her pace.

She had never seen a cock in person but she knew he must be above average, her tongue counting 3 thick veins running up the sides and bottom of it. Trying to remember everything she saw the women in the videos doing and all the descriptions she read in the erotic literature, she hollowed her mouth around him and flattened her tongue against the underside of his cock.

“Fucking hell, Babydoll you’re doing so well for me. Y/n, shit.” She felt his cock touch the back of her throat and gagged around the intrusion. Spit mixed with precum rolling down her chin. When she looked up at him, her big eyes meeting his, he lost it. She could feel his cock harden just a little bit more, and his balls tightened, right before he released his heavy load into her throat. She backed up a little so it wouldn’t go straight down, she wanted to feel him on her tongue and taste him. Once she was sure she got every drop, she sat back on her heels and looked up at him. She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue a little so he could see his cum sitting on it before she swallowed it all with a soft moan.

“Did I do good, Sir?” She said, still sitting in front of him, his cock softening in her face as she watched the anatomy work in fascination. She reached her hand out to touch it, really appreciating the feel and warmth of his skin. He groaned loudly at the overstimulation and the sound of her normally smooth voice, now rough from the number she did on him.

“Fuck, Y/n, you did so good, Babydoll. You’re such a good girl.”

And in that moment he felt like he could pass out. He wanted to vomit because he looked down at her face and saw the innocence still in her eyes. Good girl. He remembered saying those words to her before. So long ago. He saw a flash of a memory of rubbing a little girl’s head before knocking her out. Carrying her to her house and tucking her in her bed, before stroking her face one last time and leaving. He remembered how Hydra fried him so hard after that mission, they were afraid they killed him. She looked different, older, but it was the same eyes. Definitely her. And there that same girl was, on her knees for him, and just gave him the best blowjob of his life.

He tucked himself back into his sweatpants. Part of him wanted to run away. He was ashamed of himself. He knew that he should have turned her down and left before anything could happen. He took advantage of her. But he also knew that if he just left now with no explanation, he would be an even bigger asshole. Times like that made him miss the simplicity of not having control over his life.

“Y/n, you did such a good job for me.” He stood her up, pulling her in for a bone crushing hug. This confused her, because she never saw the aftermath in her videos. It was always brutal and then the woman was just left there. But he was so gentle with her as he tenderly stroked her hair and lowered his lips to hers for a kiss.

It was the absolute least he could do. He wanted to kiss her- he wanted to reciprocate and make her see stars, but his mind was racing. Debating if it was a good time to tell her about their previous encounter, wondering if she remembered him and was acting, or if she had no idea that he’s the reason she was kidnapped. And even though he didn’t kill them, the reason her family is dead. Selfishly, he decided that it would be best if he told her another time. He hadn’t experienced intimacy like this in so long, and Y/n’s lips felt amazing on his.

He finally broke the kiss to give her air, knowing she doesn’t have the lung capacity he has. “Do you want to have dinner with me?” He asked, not wanting to rush her into anything else. He knew he’d be going to hell for it, but he needed to be around her.

“I would love to, Sir.” She said with the biggest smile her face could muster. He swore he’d never get tired of seeing that smile. Feeling her tits press against his chest through the thin cotton layers of both of their clothes. Hearing how she moaned just a little when he stroked her jaw. He could feel his brain going fuzzy from just the intoxicating proximity of their embrace as they hugged, swaying slightly and exchanging sweet kisses in between longing looks.

“Call me, Bucky.” He gently reminded her. For his sake, really- his self control couldn’t handle her constant submissive nature. “I’m gonna let you take that shower, and in the meantime, I’ll go order some take out. Do you like chinese?” He asked, putting some distance between them, to prevent her from noticing how he was getting hard all over again and dropping to her knees for round two.

“Chinese people? I don’t know any, but I’m sure they’re lovely.” She replied, a little confused by his strange question.

Part of him liked that he wasn’t the most clueless person in the compound anymore. When it came to texting and pop culture, he was useless, but Y/n was held in captivity. She didn’t have takeout, or dinner dates, or freedom to shower with nobody watching her. He would be able to teach her those things, and he liked that. Someone needing him for more than violence. Someone to take care of.

“I’ll just go order the food. I’ll be back soon, Babydoll. There should be shampoo and conditioner in the shower with towels and all types of other stuff. Just look around a bit.” He said before he walked out of her room. She had never experienced moisture between her thighs like she was in that moment, so a shower was probably a good idea.

Part 4

(if you wanna join my taglist, just let me know)

@austynparksandpizza @dracris33 @crzcorgi @musicheaux @little-moonbeam-666 @andydre4m @anakinravageme @hydrasbitches @bl4ckglitt3r @wondergirl556

#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #stucky #the avengers #the avengers smut #steve rodgers smut #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #dark!bucky barnes #bucky fluff #chubby!bucky #winter soldier smut #winter solider x reader

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theravencawsatmidnight · 4 years ago

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Mine

Pt 2

Bokuto is the muscle of a mafia, he takes care of all the dirty work. Hes an Alpha but with no Omega, that is until you run face first into him during his break. His scent makes you dumb and drunk . And thats just what hes looking for.

Tags. @kittifer @galagcica

Want to see more of this? Let me know!

Everything was getting farther and farther away. The faster the car went the quicker everything you knew , loved, was out of sight. He got you in the car so easily its almost laughable. All it took was a little whisper in your ear and a “wanna come live with me Omega?”. And just like that you left your old life behind.

Bokuto was ecstatic, finally his own little Omega to do whatever he wanted. And you were so perfect. Completely in love with his scent it made you drunk and dumb. Just what he wanted. Bokuto placed his hand on your thigh enjoying the little whimper it got out of you. You grabbed his rough heavy hand lifting it to your face to rub his lovely scent all over your face. His scars and cuts scratching up your pretty cheeks.

Perfect perfect perfect.

You did not need college, Bokuto would buy you everything you needed. Family? Lets make our own. Friends? Kurro and Tsukki have Omega mates. He could not stop grinning, he was so eager to show you to his boss, he would need to set up a room for you in the Mafia house full of his scent and his things so you could start nesting and thinking about puppies. Puppies puppies puppies….

“Alpha…” your head hit the seat and your eyes rolled to where Bokuto was, dropping his hand.

“Mmm Omega?” his fingers danced all around your lap till he found the top and slipped a couple fingers in.

“How.. how far..”

“Other side of the city my love. Not far. Promise.”

It was far.. The college was on the other end of the city, you had never been to this side before. Slowly your eyes wandered from Bokuto to the windshield to the window, everything was different. The buildings were a lot fancier and nicer than what you were used to. Lots of strong looking men walking around with Omegas attached to their arms in fancy coats.

Bokuto pulled into a gated driveway tapping a button on his mirror to open up the garage and gave you a smirk.

“Ready to see your new home? My pretty?”

When you got out Bokuto was already out, and eating his sweets from before walking into the garage. In a flash you rushed over grabbing his arm following him in. all the cars were sleek and looked to be very fancy, Audis and Mercedes it looked like.

Bokuto opened the door letting you go in first and you were met with a smell of cigars and booze, you heard laughter and what sounded like poker and Blackjack along with yelling and glass shattering.

Bokuto rubbed your lower back pushing your forward gently. “All the way down this hall Pretty” he instructed you.

Each door you passed down this long hallway was open, and each one had some sort of faded light in it that shined on the floor just about reaching the hallway.

The first room had two women in it watching tv, it was a purple lit room with a lot of fancy things in it, snacks, refreshments all sat on this pretty serving table next to the sofa. They looked over watching you pass then went back to the tv.

The second room was dimly lit and had two men in it, both tall and appeared to be smoking, one had blond curly hair and the other had long black hair. They both smirked when they saw Bokuto and you.

The third room was dimly lit a nice blue and had two big beds in it along with expensive looking clothes and huge closets.

The fourth room had its door closed and the one next to it was empty with just a bed in it.

The last room was lit regularly and inside looked to be an office. A man was sitting and smoking a cigar while looking over papers, a shiny gun was sitting next to his right side shining in the light. The room was full of bookcases and a pretty dark rug sat under the desk along with two sleek black chairs facing the desk.

“Boss, i got one, my own Omega. Finally”

The man looked up placing his cigar down to see you, he had one a white button up with dress pants, shiny shoes and suspenders and white gloves. He smiled looking you up and down as he got up, adjusting his gold cufflinks on his sleeves.

“She looks lovely Bokuto-San, where did you find her?” he asked circling his desk to lightly grip your chin turning it every which way to get a good look at you.

This mans scent was stronger than Bokutos and his presence was just as big as Bokutos, it made you tingle all over and immediately submit to him, you lowered your head bowing and he laughed patting your head.

“Bumped into me while i was having a break” he petted your back and you clung to him humping slightly. “Been drunk off me since. Think its my scent, i like her Akaashi , can i keep her?”

Akaashi chuckled to himself leaning back on his desk to take in his happy muscle man. “Thats fine, ill have my men get that room all ready, but for now i need you to go back out and take care of … things. Leave her with Yuki and KiI for now, im sure Kurro and Tsukki wont mind,”

Bokuto picked you up squeezing you and giving you kisses all over your chest. “My own Omega, finally. Your never never leaving here again”

You were so in love you had not heard him, but.. Why would you want to leave anyway?

#bokuto x reader #kotaro bokuto #Alpha Bokuto

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13uswntimagines · 4 years ago

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I’m in Love With You Dumbass (Christen x reader)

Request: R are in love with Chris and she’s close with Chris and Tobin so she really think that she wont stand a chance. R is USWNTs videographer/content creator.

Authors Note: Special thanks to @literaryhedgehog cause without her this would probably still be trapped in my drafts. Also this turned into something a little silly and a little fluffy, and i really hope you enjoy it!

You blinked at your laptop, squinting as you processed the ten thousand pictures that you had taken during national team practice trying to decide which ones you wanted to put out for the fans.

It was always a balancing act, giving them little glimpses at training and not giving your major secrets away, but you had mastered it over the years.

You bit your lip as you swiped past several pictures of your best friend (who you totally didn’t have a crush on). The shot was perfect, well almost. Her green eyes were shining, and her dimples were showing. The only problem you had was that the smile was directed at one Tobin Heath instead of you.

You were so focused on picking out a picture of Christen that you didn’t notice you were no longer alone in the dining hall. Hell, you didn’t notice anything until two hands landed on your shoulders.

“Hey,” Emily yelled directly in your ear, you jolted in your seat, nearly falling as Emily and Lindsey cackled.

You held your hand over your chest, fighting a smile of your own. You might not like being scared, but at least they were having a good time.

“What are you two up to down here?”

“Trying to fight the boredom of a lazy day. What are you up to?” Lindsey laughed, settling down into the seat beside you, and leaning over to look at the photos displayed on your laptop.

“Just editing stuff for tomorrow’s release,” You shrugged, clicking so the photos advanced forward.

“that last video has the fans going crazy,” Emily mumbled, leaning over the back of the chair to get a better view of the screen, and smirking when she saw a string of pictures focused on a certain forward.

“Hmm, I’m glad, but it’s you guys who did all the work, I just shot the camera,” You hummed shaking your head. The women were so charismatic and funny that most of it took almost no artistry on your part. You just had to aim and capture. They were the ones giving you golden content.

“Don’t sell yourself short, you edited like 15 hours of footage into 8 minutes,” Lindsey snorted, and you blushed just a little. Most people didn’t realize how much time a single clip took to put together, so it was kinda nice to have the acknowledgment.

“But I have a question,” Emily said, her head popping over your shoulder as you began to edit one of the clips from today. It wasn’t anything spectacular, just Tobin threading a ball through for Christen.

“Yeah Sonnett?” You asked, tilting your head, your tongue trapped between your teeth as you decided where to cut the clip into the one before it.

“Why does Christen always get more screen time when she’s in those leggings?”

You froze, the flush moving up your cheeks all the way to your ears. You weren’t that obvious, were you? She just looked so good in those pants, you really couldn’t help yourself. It was for the fans after all…

“She doesn’t. I just pick the cool shots and stuff,” You grumbled, crossing your arms and slumping in your seat.

Lindsey’s eyes softened. “If you ever wanna talk about it, you know where to find us,”.

“There’s nothing to talk about. She’s my best friend and probably dating someone else anyway. I don’t stand a chance,” You mumbled, staring adamantly down at your twiddling fingers in your lap.

You had known Christen since college, and you had had a crush on her for almost as long. Years ago you had been poised to make your move when one Tobin Heath entered the picture. She had all but swept Christen off her feet, and you knew you didn’t have a chance with the girl. Why would she want the shy camera girl when she could have one of the best players in the league.

“Yeah, cause she totally doesn’t stare at you as much as you stare at her,” Emily snorted, patting your back.

“I don’t stare…” You grumbled, pouting.

“Whatever you say,” Lindsey cackled, a plan beginning to form.

*****

Christen was not brooding. So she happened to be sitting in a corner, sipping on her beer watching you laugh with someone near the counter across the room from under her eyelashes. But that was not glowering, or even remotely stalkerish. Okay, but who WAS that that you were talking to, and why were they making you laugh so hard you almost choked on your drink?

“Hey Chris, nice view?” Tobin said, sliding into the seat next to Christen.

“Peachy,” Christen said sarcastically, not looking away from where you were standing. Apparently, that girl you were talking to was interested in cameras, as you were currently showing her yours. Bitch.

“Hm, then why are you glaring at the nice rookie who is buying Y/n drinks?”

“She’s a lightweight. If Sophia Smith buys her another one of those Long Island Iceteas then Y/n won’t be able to drive home,” Christen grumbled, sipping her beer. If Kelley could get you drunk with three margaritas, they were definitely in for it with the 3 long islands you had consumed. If only the rookie knew what a stupid move it was.

“So she’ll order an uber.” Tobin shrugged with a smirk. Christen balked at the notion. You were a handful when drunk, and she wasn’t going to leave you alone in the hands of some poor college students.

“Uber has unethical business practices.” She dismissed Tobin’s suggestion easily.

“Maybe one of the Riveters will offer to take her then. Are you really going to sit here and pretend this has nothing to do with the fact that you’re head over heels for our favorite photographer?”

Christen rolled her eyes. There was no way in hell she was going to let you get in the car with one of your fans. No matter how supportive they were.

“Maybe.” She pouted, crossing her arms.

Tobin rolled her eyes at the reaction. God the two of you moved slower than Sloths. If you kept going at this rate you would be 70 by the time you finally got together. “So are you going to sit here and pout, or are you going to go get your girl?”

“What if she doesn’t want me?”

“Trust me, she does,” Tobin snorted. Your crush was pretty obvious to anyone with eyes, as was Christen’s on you. The team had bets about how long it would take the two of you to grow the balls to ask each other out (and who would do the asking).

Christen held Tobin’s eyes for a second. Then she set her drink down on the table and walked over to where you were standing with Smith. You turned to look at her, your eyes taking a second to refocus before you recognized her.

“PRESSIE!” You screeched, then ducked down and whispered “sorry, too loud.”

“How many of these have you had?” Christen said, casually taking the glass from your hand.

“Just two- you know that two-drink Y/n has problems with volume control!” You said, laughing at your Brooklyn 99 reference as you stole your drink back and took a big swig. “Don’t worry, I’ll switch to water next.”

“Right. So are you having fun talking to Sophie?” Christen said, not sure how to start the conversation.

“Oh, sophies nice! Like she’s so funny. She pretended to be interested in photography so I could talk about it since I didn’t know any of the television shows she was talking about. Apparently, I need to watch she-ra or something, but I just don’t have time. And I already promised to watch that thing with you. You know that period drama thing. And you’re nicer. And really pretty. And you give really good cuddles. Even if you always like the villain characters in movies best, like a weirdo.”

“Just because I said Tom Hiddleston was hot one time-”

“It’s Okay, Pressie. I acknowledge that you have a terrible taste in men, you bi disaster you, and that’s okay. I love you anyway. Boop” and with that, you tapped her on the nose.

Christen rolled her eyes, “Okay, let’s get you home before you profess the rest of your love for the team,”

“Hmm, don’t love the rest of the team. Just love you, even if you love Tobin more,” You sighed, leaning your head on her shoulder.

Christen tensed. “What?” She asked. Her and Tobin were strictly friends, and anyone with eyes knew she was hung up on you.

“I wanna date you, but you’re dating tobito. That makes me sad. She scooped you up before i could profess my undying love, ” You pouted, scrunching your eyebrows together. You meant to tell her after Standford beat North Carolina so many years ago, but they had lost and she had gone to congratulate Tobin.

Christen shook her head. “I’m in love with you dumbass, not Tobin,”

You sat up and blinked owlishly at her, suddenly more sober than you had been 20 seconds ago. “You are?”

She rolled her eyes at you, kissing your nose lightly. She wasn’t about to argue with you about who she was in love with while you were drunk off your ass. She would investigate more later, profess her love when you were both sober, and make up for all your lost time “Alright, i think you’ve had enough. Let’s get you home hot stuff,”

#uswnt imagine #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagines #literalhedgehog #christen press imagine #christen press x reader

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thxngam · 3 years ago

Note

hmm cj as president for the au headcanons!

this was a super interesting idea! I’ve literally never thought of this but it’s very compelling

- CJ does the Jackal exactly One Time. It’s like three days before inauguration for the next guy and it’s the end of an era so everyone’s feeling weird about leaving. Everyone is. Very impressed

- I have no clue who CJ is married to but whoever it is is just “THATS MY WIFE”

- actually wait no I have an idea

- Toby is CJs first campaign manager after he got her out of recruiting for EMILYs List (“you’re ten times better than any of the candidates you’re recruiting” / “I think you’re only saying this because you hate hearing the name of my organization”). It’s also the last campaign toby ever runs for her because they start dating and CJ has a lot to say about conflict of interest

- Toby has never ever liked any of CJs other campaign managers.

- Josh is CJs campaign manager after she runs the second time for the Senate and it’s true, he and Toby don’t get along at all, but they end up in a position of grudging tolerance because even Toby can see that Josh doesn’t just love Senator CJ Cregg from Ohio. he loves CJ Cregg the first woman to dunk a ball in Dayton Valley, and the same woman whose faith and love are infectious and laugh can be heard from across the room

- Toby doesn’t write CJs speeches for her (well he does, and then CJ thinks some more about conflict of interest and tabloids and that’s that) so they spend a solid couple of months in between comms directors. Of course there are people, CJs the rising star of the Democratic Party and pretty much slated to be the Democratic nominee for President somewhere down the road, but Toby had found something scathing to say about every one of them.

- Josh ends up bringing Sam Seaborn, some pretty boy (that CJs pretty sure Josh has something for) graduate from Princeton and Duke (of which he informs her proudly before critiquing her Berkeley Bears which pisses her off and endears CJ to him in equal parts) to be comms director. Toby is prepared to hate him but then Sam starts a discussion about the poetic nuances of Herbert Hoover’s inaugural speech and writes a damn good speech in the first week of his job so Toby grudgingly decides this kid is alright. Maybe.

- Donna moss is Josh’s assistant and then his deputy because CJ noticed within like a year or two that Donna has plenty of knowledge from on the job and that Josh desperately needs a deputy he can trust. Donna is, of course, highly competent. And that CJ refuses to be surrounded by this many men. There are intelligent, not shitty women in politics. CJ is gonna find them

- three senate terms in CJ runs for president. She spends one day answering questions about “a woman president” before she just starts banning shitty reporters. Josh takes gleeful pleasure from taking away people’s press badges

- Toby is…not great on the campaign trail. He’s grumpy and often scowling, but occasionally he’d say something incredibly moving that endears him enough to the public. It also helps that Joey Lucas, Donnas off-again, on-again girlfriend, is good enough with spin to make him look a lot nicer than he is. Of course, anyone near him is perfectly happy to talk about Tobys steadfast loyalty and stubborn streak and how much he loves CJ but well. They don’t.

- also I forgot to mention this but Toby proposes during CJs second term. Toby makes the mistake of mentioning it to CJs staff and with the exception of Donna, they are no help. Sam and Josh spend the entire lead up to the proposal wiggling eyebrows at Toby behind CJs back

- (CJ, of course, knows. toby is good at a lot of things but subtlety is not one of them)

- when they’re in the White House, it’s Josh as cos, Donna as dcos, Sam as comms director, Joey Lucas as press secretary

- Will becomes Sam’s deputy because the inaugural happens and then the first state of the union and Sam spends a week looking like he got hit by a truck

- CJ is FIERCELY protective of the staff

- she’d walk through fire for them and they’d walk through fire for her

- amy is Tobys cos

- (this is purely because the idea of Amy and Toby together is an…intriguing idea)

- Andy Wyatt is vice president! This is just bc I love her

- Charlie’s interview happens about the same way. He’s one of CJs closest friends within a week of his hiring

- it’s him she talks to when she disagrees with the staff and Tobys away or busy

- CJ is very stubborn about her beliefs. I’m not sure a “Let Bartlet be Bartlet” ep ever happens but I think it’s maybe the opposite? She’s gonna go after everything she wants done but setbacks and personal tragedies (Morris dying, that sailor on the ships during the Hurricane dying, etc) hit HARD

- Josh is aware of this and is guilty of trying to protect her too much sometimes

- rosslyn still happens, but it’s Josh and CJ

- CJ spends a lot of time in guilt because fuck he was HER cos so he’s HER responsibility

- as soon as Josh is aware he told her that was a crock load of shit and if they bawled like babies, nobody needs to know

- also after rosslyn CJ and Josh make a lot of getting shot puns that make EVERYBODY uncomfortable but it makes them laugh so

- CJ makes some of these jokes sometimes solely because of the face Toby would make

- also Josh is still. Him

- CJ is constantly having to be like “Josh you cannot kill Congress. Please for the love of god, be NICE” and Josh pouts like a toddler

- CJ doesn’t have MS because…no

- anyway, CJ is great and smart and competent and her faith in the country and her beliefs are palpable to even the opposing party

- she’s a damn good president

Okay this ended up being…long. Also I’ve never thought about this so thank you @quolant for helping me brainstorm and get the ball rolling on some of this!!

#ask #idk?? if this at all good??#I dunno I’m sorry #the west wing

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havenoffandoms · 4 years ago

Note

and “So why do I have to punch that guy?” if u wanna write abt it pls geralt x fem!reader

This one is longer, but it’s also angsty. I hope you enjoy it, nonnie.

Warnings: angst, canon-typical violence (someone gets punched), swearing, degrading insults (start under the cut), toxic masculine behaviour (not from Geralt), but fear not, there is a happy ending.

Prompt: 36. “So why do I have to punch that guy?”

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You have always been a little… well, you don’t like to use the term “odd”, because that implies that you’re in some way abnormal to everyone else. The entire village may think that you’re a bit strange, but that really shouldn’t colour your own perception of yourself. You’re unique, you’re one of a kind, and you’re different from all the other narrow-minded people in your village. So what? A little diversity never hurt anyone.

It turns out that your neighbours don’t like diversity. You found a way to deal with their judgement and their disapproving looks. It certainly didn’t stop you from attending the farmer’s market or visiting the local inn and at least trying to mingle. You can deal with the hushed whispers that follow you everywhere, you don’t mind the way people suddenly stop talking when you appear, and you certainly don’t pay any attention to the glares the elderly village women shot your way.

You aren’t looking for their approval, but the fact that you started, ahem, being involved with a certain witcher didn’t make things easier for you. When you first met Geralt, he was just passing through the village hoping to find a blacksmith to repair his sword. It turns out that the alderman had been looking for a witcher to get rid of the many wolf packs prowling the nearby forest, and attacking the farmers’ livestock. The entire village had been asked to pitch in to pay for the witcher’s services. You weren’t aware of the presence of a witcher that day, since you somehow managed to get lost in the woods yourself.

Geralt saved you from a very horrid death that day. You can’t imagine being mauled by a pack of wolves being all that terribly pleasant.

One thing led to another. Geralt saved you, so you welcomed him into your home, offered him a warm meal and refreshing ale, let him sleep in your guest room on a decently comfortable straw mattress. You didn’t have much to offer, but to a witcher, it was the very definition of luxury to not sleep under the stars for one night. So, you decided that Geralt could stay for as long as he needed… or wanted.

He stayed for a whole week before you two parted, and since then, he makes sure to stop by your village every year at least once.

This year, Geralt surprised you by dropping by for the second time in the span of two months. You’re happy to have him back, to the point where you simply don’t want him to leave anymore. But you know that the call of the Path will eventually take your witcher away from you. Until then, you’ll make sure to spoil him as much as you can, with good food, strong drinks, and a warm bed which you two now have taken to sharing.

Your trip to the farmer’s market is about as uneventful as it gets. You left Geralt to sleep in while you go fetch some food for breakfast. You know just how much he loves scrambled eggs in the morning, but his visit took you by surprise, and you had just freshly run out of eggs that you could use. While you’re out, you decide to buy some meat as well (the butcher’s son likes you, though, and he’s one of the rare ones not to sneer at you when you interact with him). You make sure to purchase locally grown fruit and vegetables too. It’s all shaping to be a very uneventful morning.

Until you make your way home again, and get stopped on the way by a group of men who have been following you since you left the market. You try to walk past them, but they crowd you and stare at you with lecherous sneers plastered on their faces.

“Well, well, lads,” a young man you recognise as the innkeeper’s son speaks first, “what do we have here? The witcher’s whore, completely unguarded. You know, I heard a rumour that the mutant was seen around your house late at night last night…”

“It’s none of your business just who is seen around my house, Thomas!”

You turn around, intent on getting away from these men as fast as you can, but Thomas is quicker and snatches your arm, whirling you around until you’re staring into his cruel eyes. His breath stinks of alcohol.

“Now, now. You really ought to be nicer to us, whore!”

“Let me go,” you hiss, making sure to maintain eye contact and not let Thomas see just how scared you are, “let me go, or I’ll cry for help, and I guarantee you don’t want the witcher having to come to my rescue and beat the living hell out of you!”

“Awfully bad mouth you got on ya,” Thomas’ mocking tone sends chills coursing through your body, “but that’s to be expected from a whore.”

“So why do I have to punch that guy?” a rough baritone voice suddenly echoes behind you. Relief washes over you when you recognise Geralt’s voice. Thomas’ hold on your arm tightens, and when he turns to face Geralt, he twists your arm in the process, pulling a pained yelp from you and causing you to drop your basket.

“He called me a witcher’s whore!” you cry out, your voice trembling as you fight back the tears that threaten to well up in your eyes and run down your cheeks. You see Geralt appraise the three men before him, but to your relief, he isn’t carrying his swords. You’d much rather avoid a bloodshed, not because you care about what happens to Thomas, but because you don’t want Geralt to be stoned out of the village (and out of your life).

“That’s certainly more than a good enough reason to punch him, then.”

Before Thomas’ brain can catch onto what’s happening, Geralt’s fist collides with his jaw, and a resounding crack follows where the witcher probably broke a bone. In his pain, Thomas let’s go of your hand long enough for you to run to Geralt’s side and hide behind his larger frame, a place from which you can watch as Thomas spits blood and howls in pain. Geralt is staring at the other two men, who look torn between helping their friend or running from the witcher.

“Anything else you’d like to add to that statement?” Geralt asks Thomas, taking several threatening steps forward as he does so. A pleased smirk graces your lips as you watch Thomas scramble to his feet and run, quickly followed by his friends. “No, I didn’t think so.”

“Thank you for saving me,” you throw yourself at Geralt, and in your relief, you finally let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Your hand! How’s your ha-”

“Don’t you worry about that, dove,” Geralt tells you, his voice now much softer as he cradles your cheek in both his strong hands, forcing you to look into his kind eyes. “Are you hurt?”

“He twisted my arm, but nothing major. Shaken, that’s about it.” You look forlornly at your now spoilt purchases. The eggs broke when you dropped your basket, and the meat is scattered all over the sandy path. “And there goes your breakfast and our dinner.”

“I’ll hunt us something for dinner, dove, don’t worry. In the meantime, let’s skip breakfast and get packing.”

“Packing?” you parrot back incredulously, “where are we going?”

Geralt rests his forehead against yours and huffs impatiently.

“I don’t want you to stay here a minute longer, and soon the villagers will demand that I leave anyway for hurting that boy. I’m taking you to Kaer Morhen with me.”

Kaer Morhen, the famed witcher’s keep, Geralt’s home. You’d heard stories of the place, but you never thought you’d ever get an invitation, and you certainly didn’t want to impose your presence either. But Geralt sounds so genuine, and the pleading gaze he shoots you tells you just how much he wants you to agree to this plan.

It’s not like there’s anything holding you back in this village, anyway. “We should get packing then before there’s a mob at my door.”

The next couple of months were probably the happiest of your life as you travelled the Path with Geralt, met his family and spent all winter cosied up to him in the witcher’s castle. For the first time in years, you finally feel like you belong.

#geralt #geralt z rivii #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt x you #the witcher x reader #the witcher x y/n #the witcher x you #angst #havenwrites #request

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limenysnocket · 4 years ago

Text

The Plan

Summary: It's your birthday (hooray!) and you still have to work (not so hooray). Nevertheless, you can still count on your friends to cheer you up, but not as much as your loveable boyfriend who insists you spend your birthday with him and a romantic dinner, rather than at a party your friends set up.

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, Taika (yes, he gets his own warning), some content may be explicit-ish.

Request: @whatwememeintheshadows

A/N: So people are actually planning their fics nowadays???? Did I not get the memo or something??? These come straight from my head????

THIS IS SO LATE I'M SORRY. Happy (very) belated birthday.

Tags: @honorarytenenbaum @olyvoyl

○●□○●□○●□○●□○

Okay, so maybe work was less of a bitch today, you had to admit. People were nicer to you today, you got an extra thirty minutes added on to your lunch break just because, and, of course, you got a couple of dirty birthday cards and some cash, but that really shouldn’t matter, should it? What did matter, is that you would get to have some you-time, all by yourself, with your vibrator, a couple of movies, and some nice, low calorie ice cream (that tasted like total shit). At least... That’s what you thought would happen.

“You should totally come party with us! I’ve got the booze, Jess has the men, and we’ll make a whole night out of it! Alcohol, strippers, and dancing! How does that sound?” your friend, Enid, reiterated everything for you at least one thousand times today.

“If I wanted a stripper, I’d ask Taika to dye his hair, shave himself everywhere, and oil up a little. That’s the only sight I’d be happy to see, thank you,” you huff and smile. You appreciate the effort to get you out and about, possibly be a little frisky, but your heart just wasn’t in it, and that was much to Taika’s luck.

“Oh, come on. Taika can’t have that much of a grip on you! He has a lot of ‘female friends’, so what’s wrong with you having some ‘male friends’ hm?” Jess cooed to you, but you immediately whirled around, insulted that she would even suggest that you would do such a thing. And you were sure Taika had female friends, yes, but they were just friends. Nothing else. Although, his flirtatious behavior scared you sometimes, at parties. Some of the women would just swarm him, and you feared any one of them would catch his fancy more than you did.

“No. I don’t want strippers at whatever the hell you’re planning,” you stated again, firmly this time. Your two friends whined again, Jess lowering her head in defeat.

“Fine, but can we still bring booze? Invite a few more friends to party?” Enid asked, setting a hand on your shoulder and pleading to you with large eyes.

You chew at your cheek and think for quite some time. Your friends want to throw you a genuine party, and God knows how long it’s been since you’ve hung around a group of unfamiliar faces, especially since you started to date a Hollywood writer. Maybe it was just what you needed. Taika was supposed to be busy for the night, anyway.

You succumbed to the pressure, and nodded. “Okay,” you agreed. “But if we get any noise complaints, your talking to the cops for me.”

“Hell yeah! You’re not going to regret this! Just you wait! Go home and clean your place up a little. I’ll be by in an hour or two to get things set up!” Enid clapped her hands together in mischief, and Jess suddenly looked more spry. You gave her a warning glance, and she only grinned back, before skipping away, chatting gayly with Enid at her side.

You can’t believe the shit you just got yourself into, and you still wouldn’t believe it, the moment Enid and Jess arrived with their arms full of cheap liquor, streamers, finger foods, and a bunch of colorful-looking lights that look like they just came from a Wal-Mart Christmas sale. As soon as you gave them the go-ahead, they started tearing shit open. Between setting up, your phone started to ping over and over again, as well as your friends’ phones. Apparently, just a few hours was enough time to notify everyone in LA about a party, who it was for, and where it was going to be at.

You just sat back and sipped on frozen margaritas (meant for the party, but it's your party so you didn't give two shits), until the party started and there was a heavy flow of people rushing into your home. Invited or uninvited.

When things started getting wild, that's when a pact was made. Enid and Jess would be cleaning up your house after this was over. You were already stepping over beer cans as it was.

You can't even say you were having fun there. You barely knew anyone. Most of the people there were just randoms looking for a good time, and unfortunately you saw some of them getting that good time in a dark corner. You made an excuse to run upstairs and lock all the doors of the bedrooms before anyone could think about getting there. That's what you thought, at least.

The party was getting to be too much, too quickly. In haste, you locked yourself into your bedroom, and took a step back. You could still hear the muffled voices and loud, posh laughter on the other side of the door. Those girls would pay. You rush over to your window, overlooking your backyard and see people divebombing into your pool, creating waves and getting people outside of the pool wet. People were leaving their trash everywhere, and many red, plastic cups floated in the (for now) clear waters. You didn't know how much more you could take. Maybe parties weren't your thing after all. Especially with strangers.

You sit back on your bed and you don't even bother looking out the window anymore. It was best to stay inside your room, if you didn't want to be molested or assaulted by some dumbass who thinks it's okay to anonymously grope women in crowded areas. Your face buries in your hands, griping to yourself how this would be over in a few hours. Right?

There's a subtle knock on your door, and you jump. It's in the regular, stiff-three order, so you are very hesitant about going and getting it. Then, there comes the "shave and a haircut" tune. Not a very good one, and kind of slurred, guessing by the way there was a loud thud at the very end, the person knocking was shoved against the door. Damn you and your pity.

You're quick to move, despite the strong feeling telling you not to. You just knew some poor soul was being smooshed out there. Fuck, you were nervous. This was screaming bad idea, but you were going to pull through anyway. The plan in your head seemed childish, but it should work fine if the person was desperate enough to get in. One quick swipe of the door, and you're golden! Surely...

You flick the doorknob lock and gulp, keeping a tight grip. On the count of three-- and after having to restart because another desperate knock jumbled up your thoughts-- you sent the door flying open. Sure enough, a heavy body came tumbling in with it, tripped, tried to balance, then ended up crash-landing cartoonishly into your bed, bonking their head a tad on the wooden post at the end of the frame. You hissed a little bit, then closed the door again. You rushed to their aid as the person looked up.

"I thought you liked private parties more than this," a soft, kiwi accent cooed at you, obviously through unbridled pain. This bewildered you even more.

Taika was sitting on the floor, legs extended out in front of him, making him look like a giant from your angle, and he was dressed in a blue tux, black dress shirt, and polished black shoes. Well, they seemed a little scuffed now.

"Shit, Taika-- what the fuck are you doing here?" you drop to your knees and cradle his aching head. He winced at the touch, but was too happy to see you again to deny it.

"Well, I came to take you out on a surprise birthday dinner. Maybe pick up a bottle of wine and go dancing with my favorite person, you, under moonbeams and twighlight," his head bobbled from side to side, which didn't help his animated character, "but it seems to me you have company... and a lot of it."

You sigh and brush an unkempt curl back into place while he cheekily grins at you. "This wasn't my idea," you murmur. "Friends set this up. They'll also be the ones to take it down. I didn't really want to spend my birthday with anyone this year. Makes me feel old."

"Well, you seriously should have known someone was about to stop you from taking another bite of that shitty ice cream in your freezer. They dished it out in shot glasses down there. Even a sober chick couldn't handle the taste," Taika snorted playfully and you rolled your eyes. He seemed to be taking this situation surprisingly well. It was weird. "But it was much to my misfortune that your 'friends' got to you before I could. Maybe I should have settled on a birthday lunch, but that didn't sound too appealing to me."

"Would have been much better than the chicken salad and dry-ass piece of cake I had for lunch today," you fired back. He sighed again and stood up with a groan. You followed with him.

"What now?" he mumbled, stroking the stache on his upper lip, then letting the tips of his fingers wander down to his smooth, freshly shaved cheeks.

"Well, we're both stuck here, so I suppose we settle in for the night and wait it out." You plop yourself down on your bed again and just stare up at him. He doesn't move, however. His eyes were focused on the window, more specifically the lock on it, and he was nibbling at his bottom lip. He was thinking. Some people might call it strange to watch him think sometimes. He really was like a cartoon. With one tap of his foot, he spun around on his heel and faced you.

"New plan," he clapped his hands together. "Get dressed."

You were confused for the next fifteen minutes or so. He helped you pick out a deep blue dress that would somewhat match his and black heels. He was escorting you all over the room with his hand on your lower back. He even tried to do your makeup for you, but he was so inexperienced, you had to take over. The last time he had to do someone's makeup was on the set of the original, five-minute What We Do in the Shadows film.

While you finished your makeup, he was practically smooching your window. He was staring at it like a dog asking to go outside. It made you a bit nervous, seeing the cogwheels turn in his head. He took your hand and lead you to the window, unlocking it and pushing it up.

"Want to go first?" he said behind a proud smile. When he only received silence and a pure, "what the fuck," stare back to his face, he shrugged, and stepped out the window himself. Luckily, you knew fully well he wasn't about to fall flat on his face and die on the pavement below. You had a screened back porch, with a roof over it's head as well, since the seasons tend to get very hot and sticky and mosquitoes just love to lay visits. He stepped onto the roof, trying not to bring too much attention to himself. Once he had bounced down, he brushed himself off, then looked up at you, expectantly.

"Come on, then! Don't have all night!" he hollered and waved to you. "Need me to catch you?"

You gulped, not bothering to answer him. You gently scooted your lower half out the window and taking your heels into your hand. You didn't want to break an ankle on the landing. "Lord, give me strength," you muttered, squeezed your eyes shut, then took a leap of faith. You tried not to squeal as the rushing air flew by you like sticky wind, but before you knew it, your feet touched slanted ground. You felt like you were about to tumble, but strong hands met your waist and kept you up.

"Beautiful!" Taika beamed and kissed your flushed cheek.

"I hate you sometimes," you slapped his chest and made him laugh. He took your hand and started leading you to the other side of the porch roof, and came to the end, where your driveway supposedly was. Parked dead center was Enid's big, black SUV. Tall enough to just be a little hop away from the roof.

"One more, leap, dear?" Taika was on the move again, but you grabbed his sleeve before he could actually make the jump.

"Taika, no. That's Enid's car. She already spends so much on gas, think of how pissed she'll be if she has to remove dents from her roof!" you explain, nervous from the outcome of this little plan of yours.

"Sweetheart," Taika said airily, turning his full attention to you and taking your hand again. "If she was a good friend, she would have known a massive party like this would have pissed you off. Plus, I don't think just cleaning the house is going to get even with this God awful day. So, why not put a few dusty footprints on her car, hm?" Taika was back to grinning, and before you could say anymore, he had leapt away and landed on top of the car with a large thud. He motioned to you with a swipe of his hand. You were in way too deep with him to give up on him now.

You followed through, heels swinging in one hand, and he caught you again like the perfect, Maori prince charming he was.

Car hop, after car hop, he lead the way and made sure you were okay with every stop, until you reached a small enough car to hop down, scale the lawn and make it to his jeep.

"That was," you said, breathless. You couldn't find the right words, and Taika just chuckled at you.

"Exciting?" he filled in the blank space on his own, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yeah," you laugh, fanning your chest and brushing a single strand of hair back. "That's a good word for it."

"Well, excitement doesn't stop here," he opened your door into the jeep for you, bowing respectfully and playing everything up for you, like you were royalty. "I have everything set up for you to have a great night with yours truly. As long as everything goes according to the plan this time..."

#taika waititi #fanfiction #taika waititi x reader #what we do in the shadows #taika waititi imagines #taika waititi imagine #taika waititi x you #taika waititi/you

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fandomnetworks · 4 years ago

Text

MILK RUN

PART 1

Summary: As you’re getting used to your new apartment, our favorite DEA agents are assigned to check up on you from time to time. Only, one of the DEA agents is nicer than the other.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Word Count: 2K

Carrillo knocked on the open door that led into your brother's office, the president's office. He stepped in without pausing for a reply, you lingering behind him.

Your brother sat behind his desk while two towering men hovered over him. One of them was a tall white man with a mustache, his left hand running through his air. The other man was tanner; a distinct mustache also cemented on top of his upper lip. The three seemed to be entertained with papers across the desk.

All three gazed towards the door. First, they saw Carrillo, his broad body obstructing your view. But then you pushed to the side, "Y/n!" Cesar stood up and dumped the papers that were in his hands. He passed Carrillo and gave you a lasting hug. In return, you hugged him but not as lovingly, irritated at him since he had you caged in like a bird.

Once he let go, he glanced back at both men who were staring at your interactions, "Muchahos, this is my sister, Y/n." Cesar made his way to his desk.

Both men acquainted themselves as Steve Murphy and Javier Peña. You noted that both men were handsome, but Steve had a band occupying his left ring finger.

"Hi," You timidly smiled at both men, feeling all eyes on you, "can I talk to you?" You directed Cesar, not knowing what else to say.

"First, I need to settle some things," He motioned for the four of you to take a seat in front of his desk.

Once settled, Cesar began his speech, "As we all know, Escobar's men have been abducting high ranking women for a while now. My sister is one of them." You rolled your eyes and achieved a chuckle from Murphy. "But now that Escobar is in prison, I think it time to loosen the chains."

You liked where this was going, "Wait, you're saying I ca-"

Your brother lifted his hand, trying to silence you, "I have made some arrangements, and with an empty apartment in the same building as these men. Noonan agreed that the two of you" he looked at the DEA agents, "should check up on Y/n from time to time."

His words were music to your ears.

Freedom.

Freedom to an extent, but it was still freedom.

Some rules were laid out, but it was nothing you couldn't manage. One of the main things that stuck out was that you couldn't go out in the evening unless Peña or Murphy took you or one of Carrillo's men.

Standing up, you went over to your brother's desk and hugged him, a little more festive than when you had first entered, whispering a heartfelt thank you.

In the interim, the other men stood up and discussed among themselves while you wrapped up your conversation with Cesar.

It had been a week since you relocated into the new apartment. It took approximately three full days to unpack and furnish your new home. Steve had been the only one to come check up on you every night before he went to his apartment to Connie. Connie had become a close friend of yours. Multiple times a day, you would both visit each others' apartments. The two of you would chat about life back in America, what you missed the most, and really just talking about anything. Her adoptive daughter, Olivia, had taken a liking to you as well; she'd give you her toys whenever you'd go over.

Tonight you knew for a fact that Connie and Steve were going out on a date, and Steve wouldn't be doing his daily routine to come check up on you.

You hadn't seen Peña since you last visited your brother, and you didn't expect him to be coming. You and Connie had gone earlier to get some sweet bread, but as the night rolled in, you noted there was no milk to go alongside.

No one would notice you left your house at 8, right?

You picked up your purse and keys and walked out of the building, only going to the convenience store down the store. You'd grab milk and some eggs for tomorrow's breakfast, and slip back into your apartment as if nothing happened.

You passed by a few stores and restaurants in order to reach the convenience store.

----

Javier Peña sat at a bar, drinking away his thoughts, a beautiful woman on his right. He and she knew well how the night would end. She would be in his bed by midnight and be gone before sunrise. He should be ashamed of these habits, but in reality, he found comfort when there were women in his bed. For just those few hours, there was nothing but the lucky lady and him.

Peña happened to look up towards the bar's entrance, see your face passing by, and your hair flowing behind you. He didn't think much as he stood up in a fury. He and Murphy did not just spend a whole week trying to keep you safe, only for you to break one of the only rules your brother put in place.

Peña laid some money on the bar and walked off, apologizing to the woman for the abrupt absence.

He silently followed behind you, making sure to make no noise. He noticed you were walking with a light step to your feet. The creamy silk blouse that wrapped around your back was loose as it swayed with the soft wind of the night. He was gaining ground, and now he was just a few feet behind you. You were oblivious to what was happening behind you, which only made Peña even more enraged.

He was three feet away...then two...he was just inches away now.

----

You felt someone push your body up against the brick wall, your face being slapped onto it, and your hand being twisted behind your back. A sharp yelp left your lips, and your heart didn't know how to handle the adrenaline. It was beating as fast as it ever had, and you felt like it would collapse at any minute.

"What are you doing out?" A gruff voice asked as he leaned against you. His face near your ear, giving you goosebumps. You could smell alcohol in his words.

You recognized the manly voice but from where?

"Answer." He tighten his grip on your forearm, waiting for a reply.

Then it hit you, "Peña?" You tried turning to look at his face, but only until he loosened his grip could you entirely turn and look at the man. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" You shoved his chest to try and get some space between the two of you.

He was quiet, waiting for your reply to his previous question. His nostrils flared and his eyes fixated on you/

You huffed and walked away, not wanting to deal with the DEA agent.

Peña followed you silently, not uttering another word.

You passed a few more stores before reaching the desired one and walked in, Peña a few feet away. Going straight towards the refrigerators at the end of the store, you went to open the door, but Peña beat you to it. His body was brushing up against yours as he grabbed the handle, opening it for you.

"Uh, thank you." You reached for the milk, turned behind, and realized how much closer he was then you expected.

Due to the nervousness you felt being watched by Peña so closely, you forgot about the eggs and went straight to pay. You placed the pint of milk on the counter and pulled your purse towards you in order to pay but were surprised to see Peña pull his wallet faster and handed the change to the elderly lady.

"Mira que bonita pareja! (Look, what a lovely couple!)" The lady said, handing Peña the change.

"No seño, ni me gusta. (No ma'am, I don't even like him)" You tried laughing the awkwardness off and looked at Peña to see an emotionless stare looking back at you. He picked up the carton and thanked her before walking back to the apartment.

During the walk, Peña led in front of you, waiting for you often when your short steps couldn't catch up to his long strides. The walk was so silent; you swear you could hear the faint music of a party that was going on, on the other side of town.

In a few short minutes, you were back in the building and heading up the stairs. You expected Peña to depart to his apartment next to yours or go back to whatever hellhole he climbed out of. But to your astonishment, he remained behind you as you fumbled with the keys until you obtained the right one.

Once inside, Peña set the milk on the counter and looked at you. "You went out for some fucking milk?" He bombarded, letting what he had inside out. "You risked your life for fucking milk?" His long steps reached you, where you still stood at the doorway.

"Fuck off." You stepped to the side and walked into the kitchen.

"Y/n!" He grabbed your forearm for the second time that night. You hated to admit it, but his cologne alongside the sweat he had accumulated throughout the day gave off the best odor you have ever smelled your whole life. If it weren't for how rude he was, you would have leaned in closer to get a better smell.

You took a second to question your thoughts. You just admitted to yourself you would smell Peña. What the fuck were you? A dog? Maybe you should ask Carrillo to formally invite you to work alongside the canines during a raid.

Plus, you would not be thinking about him like that.

"Are you even listening to me?" You jogged your train of thought back to the present and saw a red-faced Peña standing in front of you.

"I wanted milk, sorry." Your sarcastic tone did not help ease Peña's anger. "Why the hell do you care so much, anyway?" Going to one of the cabinet's you got a cup and filled it with the milk.

He gave a heavy sigh and began to walk towards the door, "Just don't go out again, ok?"

You offered him a tight grin and watched his body retreat towards the door.

Just as he was about to leave, a voicemail on the receiver was left,

"Listen, little girl, next time you leave me waiting like you did tonight, I will kill you. Do you understand? I will fucking kill you."

You closed your eyes shut, hoping in God's name Peña was too far to overhear it.

"Who the fuck is that?" Peña came striding into the room again, his face fixated on anger, his jaw tighten as he waited for a reply. His eyes were tired but thoroughly scanning your face for any sign of distress or upsetness.

You opened your eyes and made eye contact with Peña, but soon looked down shamefully. You twirled the cup of milk in your hands, "He's someone I used to go to school with, back in la prepa. I thought I'd give him a second chance." You went digging inside the paper bag that contained the sweet bread. "Turns out, he's still a prick." You looked up to see his eyes trained on you, hoping you'd elaborate.

For a few seconds, the two of you just stared at each other, not knowing what to say.

Breaking the silence, his first question was, "Does he know where you live?" His voice was laced with less anger this time.

"He knows where my last apartment was. I highly doubt he knows I'm here now."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" There he goes, raising his voice for the millionth time that night.

"He's a nobody, that's why. He's just doing it for attention. We met up a few days ago, but I realized he's the same guy as before. He hasn't changed. When he asked me on another date, I felt bad to say no, so I agreed. But I never planned to go." You took your bread and milk in your hands and walked towards the dining table. "I guess I pushed the wrong buttons."

PART 3

lmk if you want to be added to the list:

luvzoria

#Javier Peña x reader #Javier pena x reader #narcos #narcos imagines #Pedro pascal x reader #Pedro pascal #horacio carrillo #Horacio carrillo x reader

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