#trying a new signature style I THINK it looks pretty neat. might stick to it

[copper-skulls]

post-pacifist scenario: rare happy courier! they're smiling bcs they're about to get their arm literally smashed into pieces :) (they made a pact about that with gerson a short while after the barrier went up)

#trying a new signature style I THINK it looks pretty neat. might stick to it #ut: courier code #undertale oc #undertale #fanart #gerson #digital art #krita #rough

[nikki-writes-stuff]

Sweet As Sin (Part Two)

Summary: After losing your job and having to spend all of your savings, you find yourself completely broke as you desperately search for a job. On a whim, you join a website for sugar babies and sugar daddies can meet, and you’re surprised when you immediately make a connection with Captain America, of all people. But as you grow closer to Steve, you start to realize that there may be a dark side to America’s golden boy.

Pairing: SugarDaddy!Steve Rogers x Reader, with eventual Dark!Steve Rogers

Read part one here!

Read part three here!

You stared at the man in front of you, your eyes narrowed and your hands planted firmly on your hips. Your mouth had been opened for a few seconds now, but no words had come out of it, and you eventually let it snap shut without uttering a word.

“…I can understand if you’re upset,” Steve started. “I really do. I wanted to tell you, it’s just-“

“You,” you interrupted. “…are Captain America, correct?”

“Um…” Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean… Yes? But I don’t, you know… I don’t want you to see me like that. I’ve liked being just ‘Steve’ to you.”

You nodded your head.

“I… I’m not mad,” you assured him, and his shoulders visibly relaxed. “I just… I’m a little shocked, I suppose.”

“That’s completely understandable,” he assured you. He set his hand on your shoulder, leaning down a bit as he looked into your eyes. “How about we get some breakfast and just…talk for a little bit?”

You gave him a small smile, still reeling from the surprise, and nodded. He flashed you a small grin before leading you to the counter, keeping his hand on your shoulder the entire time. You felt your cheeks heat up, and you didn’t even notice that you were leaning into his touch.

Steve let you order first, and you got a blueberry-cinnamon bagel with your favorite warm drink. Afterwards, Steve ordered an everything bagel with a coffee for himself and paid, not even giving you an opportunity to take out your wallet.

“I could’ve-“

“Doll,” he interrupted. “I take care of you.”

Afterwards, the two of you went back to his table, and you sank down into the seat across from his. For a moment, the two of you just looked at one another, and after a beat you both looked away and chuckled.

“I… This is a very strange experience for me,” you giggled. Steve nodded and fiddled with a packet of Splenda that had been laying on the table.

“I can imagine,” he murmured. “But… I want you to know that I’m really glad you came to meet me; you’re even prettier in person.”

You shook your head and looked away.

“I…can’t believe that America’s heartthrob just called me pretty,” you joked.

“I really wouldn’t consider myself a heartthrob.”

“How about a dreamboat?”

“Ah, no.”

“…Sex symbol?”

Steve’s cheeks were bright red within seconds, and his head tilted back as he laughed.

“I mean… I wouldn’t mind if you considered me to be all of those things,” he chuckled. “But I’m still not really used to all the…fame. I guess. That sounds really self-absorbed now that I put it that way-“

“No, I don’t think so,” you assured him. “I mean, I just saw you on the news last night. Any time someone’s on the news I think they’re at least some level of famous. …It also doesn’t hurt that you have your own action figure.”

He laughed again, trying to rein in his chuckles when the waitress came back with your breakfasts. You were slowly feeling more comfortable with him – as you watched him devour at least a fourth of his bagel in one huge bite, he was becoming less and less of a world-famous hero and more and more the Steve you’d been talking to online. Down-to-earth, polite, funny. Old fashioned, of course, but now that you knew who he was and what decade he was born in, it seemed to be expected.

“So,” you said between bites, “how was Moscow? I imagine that it was hard to enjoy the culture what with the uh…bombs. And all.”

Steve smiled and sipped his coffee (black, you noticed, with no sugar) before answering.

“From what I saw, it was beautiful,” he remarked. “I’d like to go back there sometime on vacation. Whenever I’m able to snag one, at least. And the food was really good; spicier than what I’m used to, but good.”

“Do you have a favorite kind of food?” you asked, leaning your chin on your palm as you listened to him.

“Uh…” He thought for a minute. “Lasagna is pretty good. I grew up in the Depression, so I only got to eat it on special occasions. My mom used to make it for me on my birthday.”

You smiled.

“I would love to make it for you sometime.”

“If you did that, doll,” he grinned, “you’ll never get rid of me.”

“Who said I wanted to?”

He blinked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“You mean… You still wanna continue this, uh…thing we have going on? You’re not mad that I didn’t tell you who I really am?”

You took a bite of your bagel, turning over his words.

“Well, I can see where you were coming from,” you assured him. “Although… Just a tip for you, next time you meet a girl online, don’t wait to spring your real identity on her at the first date.”

“Hopefully, I won’t meet another girl online, but that’s only if the one I’ve already found sticks around.”

You grinned and sipped your drink.

“I don’t think she’s going anywhere any time soon.”

_________

You yelped as you felt hot tomato sauce hit your tongue, and you hurried to take a sip of water to soothe the burn. You blew on the spoon and tried again, and a smile stretched across your face from the taste; it was delicious.

With a grunt, you pulled the heavy lasagna out of the oven, and you smiled at the sight of the gooey mozzarella baked overtop of it. You’d been nervous about cooking for Steve at first, but now you were feeling more confident in what you’d made.

You’d spent hours at the bagel shop, just talking and laughing with one another. Before you knew it, he’d been getting a call from Tony Stark (the Tony Stark), and through the shouting on the other line you’d gathered that Steve was late for some kind of Avengers meeting.

“I’m sorry, doll,” Steve had apologized. “I didn’t even realize the time; I have to head in for a debriefing. I’m so sorry to cut this short-“

“Don’t be,” you’d interrupted. “I had…an amazing time with you, Steve. This might just be the best date I’ve ever been on.”

Steve had smiled so softly, so genuinely, at you, and you’d had to look away before you melted into a puddle at his feet.

“You really mean that, doll?” When you nodded, he’d reached across the table and let his hand rest over yours. “Then I’ll have a tough act to follow next time, won’t I?”

“We’ll have to wait and see. When can we do this again?”

That had been two days ago; Steve had informed you that he would be busy with “business” for a while, but the two of you had been texting almost constantly during the day. At night, he would call you and talk until your eyelids felt like they weighed a ton each. But you didn’t mind; the best way to fall asleep was to the sound of his voice.

Today, though, he’d called you in the morning, and when you’d picked up the phone you’d been afraid of him telling you that he’d been called out on another mission. To your elation, however, he only wanted to ask if you were free that evening.

And so now, you were standing in your kitchen in your best dress, checking once more over the food you’d prepared. A salad and some garlic bread were already resting on the table, and by the time he arrived, your lasagna would be cooled down enough to eat. Your hands fluttered up to your hair, making sure it was still pulled into the neat style you’d wrangled it into, and you fought the urge to run back into your bathroom to check yourself in the mirror again.

You felt your heartrate spike when you heard a knock at your door, and you forced yourself to take a deep, calming breath before walking over to open it.

Roses were the first thing you saw on its other side; the deep red blossoms were tied together in a beautiful bouquet, and if the sight of them wasn’t enough to make your toe curl, then the man who was holding them certainly was.

Steve’s hair was brushed into its signature neat look, and he was wearing a soft blue button up with a charcoal grey tie. His muscles bulged against the fabric, hugging him tightly as he straightened up and smiled down at you.

“Hey, doll. You look beautiful.”

Your cheeks were on fire as you ushered him into your apartment, and you took the bouquet of flowers into your arms when he held them out for you.

“Steve, these… They’re beautiful,” you gushed. “Thank you so much. God, I hope I have a vase for them…”

You scurried into the kitchen, searching through your cupboards and cabinets until you were able to locate a vessel to put the flowers in. All you had was a large pitcher that you hadn’t used since the previous summer to make lemonade in, but it was the only thing big enough to hold the huge bundle of roses.

“You have a, uh…real nice place, sweetheart.”

After placing the flowers in some water and setting them on the table, you turned to see Steve standing with his hands in his pockets, looking around at your space. It really wasn’t an impressive apartment, and you’d never deluded yourself into thinking it was, but it seemed even more drab and small with Steve standing in the middle of it.

His eyes were trailing along the ceiling, and you looked up to the various water stains dotted across it. You bit your lip and followed his gaze as it flitted over the old futon that served as your sofa, into your matchbox kitchen, and then further past the doorway to your bedroom. Your full-sized mattress took up most of the space, and you carefully positioned yourself in front of him so he couldn’t see any more of your poor furnishings.

“It’s not much,” you admitted. “But it’s enough. I’ve never been one of those people who feel like they need a big, nice house to be happy. I’m perfectly fine here.”

Steve smiled fondly and nodded, leaning down to peck your cheek.

“I know, doll. That’s one of the things that I like about you.”

You grinned and looked away bashfully, still able to feel his soft lips against your skin. You wondered what they would feel like against your own, and for a brief moment the image of Steve kissing you flooded your imagination.

“U-um… I made your favorite!” you hurried to say. “Lasagna. I hope you like it; if you don’t, we can always order pizza. Or there’s a Chinese place just-“

“Doll?” he interrupted. You paused in your ramblings and looked up to see one of his eyebrows raised in amusement. “I’m gonna like whatever you cook, ok? I’m sure its fantastic.”

You felt a fluttering in your chest, and for a moment all you could do was look into his kind eyes. He was so sweet; how had you gotten lucky enough to have someone like him interested in you?

“Well… Go ahead and have a seat,” you told him. “I thought we could start with some salad?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Steve folded his tall, broad frame into one of the two dining chairs you owned, and you reached over him to grab the empty glass resting next to his plate.

“Would you like some wine?”

“I’ll have some if you’re having it.”

You smiled and walked into the kitchen, pouring each of you a glass before coming back to him. As you leaned down to put his glass back on the table, you saw him glance at your cleavage out of the corner of your eye, and you had to bite back a satisfied grin. The neckline of your dress had been one of the reasons you’d chosen to wear it – it wasn’t deep enough to be obscene, but it gave off a classy, subtle hint of what lay beneath.

Steve’s eyes popped back up to yours sheepishly as you sat down at the chair across from him.

“See something you like, Captain?” you teased. You were just joking around, but your pulse jumped when you saw the dark look that appeared on Steve’s face.

“Maybe I do, doll,” he purred, leaning one of his elbows across the table. It swayed with the movement, and his sultry look was quickly replaced with one of surprise.

“Oh, sorry,” you chuckled, pouring dressing over your salad. “It does that. One of its legs is all wobbly, so just be careful with it.”

“I could try and fix it for you,” Steve offered. “I used to fix stuff for my mom all the time growing up. Or I could just buy a new one for you.”

“You don’t have to do that! Honestly. I make do with what I have just fine.”

“But I don’t want you to just ‘make do’, doll. I want you to be well taken care of.”

“I promise it’s fine, Steve,” you smiled. “But you’re sweet to offer. Now tell me about how work has been over the past few days. I know they’ve been keeping you pretty busy at the compound.”

After that, Steve and you talked about his job, if being an Avenger could even be called that. From what you gathered, Tony had been teasing Steve incessantly about texting you all the time; Steve had even found him trying to unlock his phone so he could see who he was talking to.

“He’s not gonna leave me alone until he meets you,” he chuckled. “Tony keeps trying to get me to introduce you to the team.”

“I mean, I definitely wouldn’t be opposed to that. I don’t think anyone would pass up an opportunity to meet the Avengers.”

“Well, you say that now, but just wait until you have to spend an evening listening to Bucky and Sam fight like an old married couple.”

“Are they really that bad?”

“Doll, name a topic, any topic, and they’ll find a way to have a disagreement about it.”

You were nervous when it came time to serve him his lasagna. You scooped out a slice at least twice as big as your own for him, and you were on pins and needles as you watched him bite into it. But you really had no need to feel worried; the moan he let out upon tasting it was borderline pornographic.

“Doll, this is… amazing.”

“You mean it? You don’t have to just say what I want to hear.”

“Baby, this might be the best lasagna I’ve ever tasted; stop doubting yourself.”

You’d been too flustered from hearing him call you ‘baby’ to say anything else for a few minutes, but you found that, when the two of you were done eating, you didn’t want him to go just yet.

“Hey, Steve?” you asked hesitantly. “Would you like to stay and watch a movie with me or something?”

He’d smiled and placed his hand over yours on the table.

“I’d love that, doll. But first let me help you clean up.”

He stood up, taking his plate into the kitchen, and you hurried to do the same.

“Oh, no! Steve, you don’t have to do that! Just leave it in the sink and I’ll take care of it later.”

He’d arched an eyebrow at you, taking your plate from your hands and setting it with his in the sink. He ignored your protests and turned the faucet on, reaching for the dish soap after rolling his shirt sleeves up.

“You were kind enough to cook for me; it’s only fair that I help clean up. How about I wash and you dry?”

You did as he said, an almost goofy smile on your face as you dried the dishes before putting them away. He was so polite; you were almost convinced that he’d been created in a computer.

“What’s that look for, doll?” he asked, handing the last glass to you.

“You’re just… I really like you, Steve.” You put the glass away and turned to him with a smile, drying your hands off on your towel. “Thank you for coming over tonight.”

He took the towel from you and dried his own hands before setting them on your hips.

“Sweetheart, there’s nowhere I would rather be,” he murmured. He leaned down, his nose almost brushing yours, and you were sure he could hear how fast your heart was beating. “I know it might be a little soon, but…can I kiss you?”

You laughed, taking hold of his tie and pulling him down, closing the gap between your lips. He kissed you gently with a smile to match your own. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your chest against his as his hands slid up your back. When his tongue darted out, seeking entry into your mouth, you gladly parted your lips for him, not able to hold back the tiny moan you made as you felt his tongue brush against yours languidly.

Both of you were breathing heavily when you pulled away, and you gasped when you felt your leg brush against his hard cock. You bit your lip as your fingers played with his hair, dragging your nails softly against his scalp.

“I… I know that it’s impolite to ask on a second date,” he murmured, “And if you don’t want to, then its completely fine. But could we-“

“Steve?” You leaned up, pressing your lips against his ear. “Please make love to me.”

You let out a squeak when you felt him pick you up, and you clung to him for dear life as he carried you into your bedroom. He was gentle when he set you down onto your feet though, and he had an almost reverent look on his face as he reached down to grab the skirt of your dress.

“Can I take this off of you?” You nodded, lifting your arms up to help him get it off. You were wearing your nicest set of lingerie, and even though you’d got it from the bargain bin at Victoria’s Secret, you felt stunning as Steve’s gaze raked over your body.

His fingertips traced the hemline of your panties, toying with the sky-blue lace before making a path up to your bra. You bit your lip as he cupped your breasts, rolling them in his palms. Meanwhile, you were undoing his tie, sliding it out of his collar and letting it fall to the floor beside your dress. As he reached behind you to unclasp your bra, you popped open his buttons, one by one, until both of your chests were bare.

“Sheesh, doll,” he breathed. “You’re so gorgeous.”

“You’re not too bad yourself, Captain.”

That same dark look from before crept into his eyes, and suddenly you were in his arms again, clinging to him as he lifted you onto the bed. Your head hit the pillow, your hair splaying out wildly as he kneeled in front of you. An impressive tent had formed in his trousers, and it took all of your concentration not to lick your lips as he started pulling them off.

When the both of you were back to just your underwear, he leaned down to kiss you again, resting his weight on his forearms on either side of your head. This time, his kiss was insistent, rough, and it sent waves of anticipation down to your core. Your lips were slick as he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting them to his until he looked down. His large hands cupped your ass, kneading the flesh before gripping the lace of your panties, and you gasped as you felt the fabric being torn away from your body. You were about to complain, but before you could, Steve leaned down, his beard tickling the insides of your thighs as he pressed a kiss to the top of your mound.

“I’ll buy you another pair just like them,” he promised, tossing the useless lace behind him.

Any words you might have spoken died on your tongue when you felt his finger brush against your slit, running up and down your entrance.

“You’re so wet, doll,” Steve sighed. “Tell me how bad you want me.”

Your fingers gripped his hair as he leaned down, tongue gently brushing against your clit. You keened, spreading your legs as wide as you could for him as his thick finger penetrated you, curling against your walls as he licked slow, delicate circles around your bud.

“I-I want you so bad, Steve,” you moaned. “Want you to make me cum…”

“I will, sweetheart. Don’t worry.” You gasped as he added another finger, hissing a bit at the sudden stretch, but his tongue once more lapped at your clit, soothing the ache in your core. “Told you I’d always take care of you, didn’t I?”

You closed your eyes, relishing the sensation of his tongue lapping at your bud. Your hips were moving of their own accord, rising and falling in time with the thrusts of his fingers. They kept brushing at that spot deep inside of you, turning all of your thoughts into white noise. The noise of the traffic outside faded away, as did the sensation of your sheets rustling against your body. There was only Steve; all you could hear were your moans and the lewd sounds of his tongue gliding against your flesh. Your pussy was clenching around his fingers, trying desperately to draw them in deeper, and you were so wet for him that there was no pain when he added a third. You just knew that you wanted more; you were so close to your peak, so desperately close.

“Steve-!” You panted, pulling his hair as your hips rolled upwards. “Captain, please, please-“

He groaned, flicking his tongue one last time over your clit, and you were gone, your back arching painfully as you found your release. You were barely aware of your own broken moans as you rode out your climax, your body slowly turning into putty as his tongue gently worked you through it. You lay limply against your mattress, only moving when your pussy became too sensitive to his touch. You tried to pull away from him, to close your legs, but he held you firmly in place, ducking down to lap at the cum leaking out of your entrance.

“Fuck, baby, I could spend an eternity between your legs,” he mumbled. “Taste so fucking good. You’re just sweet inside and out, aren’t you?”

You hummed, smiling lazily up at him as he crawled up your body. His beard and lips were slick with your juices, and you could taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you. His hands slid up your thighs, gripping and kneading at the flesh of them.

“I’ve thought about this since our first phone call, you know,” he whispered, tracing a path with his lips down the column of your throat. “It’s been a long time since I’ve like this about a dame.”

“I feel it, too, Steve.” You smiled, tightening your legs around his waist and flipping him onto his back. “It’s like we’re…”

You paused, reaching down to lace your fingers through his.

“Connected.”

He smiled, lowering his lips back to your neck, and you let out a moan as he started to suck a hickey into it. You rocked your hips, grinding your pussy against the bulge in his boxers, eliciting a choked-off moan from him.

“Please, doll,” he whispered. “I’m so hard for you – please…”

You rose up on your knees, gripping his boxers, and his hips lifted to help you tug them down. Your eyes widened at the sight of his cock – you’d never taken anything that big before, not even when you got adventurous with your toys. You gulped, looking back up to Steve, who held a small smirk on his lips.

“It’s ok, sweetheart,” he assured you. “We can go slow.”

You nodded, rising up on your knees again, gripping him in one hand and guiding him towards your entrance. You bit your lip, looking up at him one more time. He was watching you, tenderness glittering in his eyes. You took his hands, placing them on your hips, before slowly sinking down onto him.

“O-oh, my god-!” You whimpered at the feeling of him stretching you, letting your forehead rest against his. You took a deep breath, sliding down further until you felt him brush against your cervix.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured. “Just like that. Knew you would feel perfect.”

You moved your hips, wincing at the sensation, but the look on Steve’s face was enough to keep you moving. His moans sent shocks of electricity straight to your pussy, and you felt the pain start to blend beautifully with the pleasure he was bringing you.

“Steve…”

You sighed, starting to roll your hips in a fluid rhythm, bucking against him. His hands came up to cup your breasts, teasing your nipples with his thumbs.

“O-oh, baby,” he grunted, starting to rock his hips up. “Yes, fuck-“

You whimpered, moving your hands to the headboard behind him. Your arms bracketed his head as you used the leverage to keep thrusting your hips, bouncing up and down on his cock until the bed was shaking beneath you.

Suddenly, though, his hands wrapped around your hips and flipped you over, pounding into you as you yelped in surprise.

“Sorry, doll, it’s just-“ He grunted, gritting his teeth together. “Fuck, I just can’t help myself.”

You nodded, hands coming up to grip his hair. You pulled it roughly, arching your back up until his chest was pressed to yours. His thrusts were hard enough to knock the breath out of you, and the springs in the mattress screamed in protest.

After a particularly brutal thrust, you felt something underneath you give way, and you gasped as the bed slouched on one side, sliding the both of you to the left. You caught yourself against the bedsheets, looking over Steve’s shoulder; the man had broken one of the legs of your bedframe.

“I… Shit, doll, I’m sorry-“

You broke out into a fit of giggles, covering your face with both of your hands as you laughed.

“Oh my god, Steve, it’s ok. Please, don’t stop fucking me.”

He grinned, chuckling under his breath before starting to move his hips again. Your laughs soon turned into moans as he once more started hitting that spot inside of you, and you let your eyes close as you felt your pleasure starting to crest once again.

“Steve, fuck, I’m gonna cum-“

“That’s right, baby,” he groaned. “Cum for your Captain.”

You gasped, clawing down his back as you bucked against him, chasing your release desperately.

“Captain! Captain, oh my god-!”

Your lips parted in a silent wail as you came, your pussy spasming against him. You felt his breath, hot on your neck, your name falling out of his lips over and over again as he grew closer to his release.

“Come on, Captain Rogers,” you moaned, biting your lip. “Cum inside of me.”

He needed no further convincing; within a few seconds, you felt him spill his hot seed within you. His eyebrows were pinched together, his hips stuttering in their rhythm, lips parted in a long, low groan.

He was beautiful.

The two of you lay there, catching your breaths, for a long moment. Your sweaty skin stuck together, and you felt his cum leaking out of you around his cock. When he finally did pull out of you, you both let out a hiss of sensitivity.

Steve rolled over onto his back, pulling you against him with an arm around your waist. You looked up, sharing a smile with him, before you shifted your focus down to the dip in your bed.

“You…you really did break my bed, didn’t you?”

He laughed, and you could see a faint, red stain grow over his cheeks.

“Yeah… Yeah, I guess I did,” he sighed. He pressed a kiss to your temple, squeezing your hip. “I’ll buy you a new one tomorrow, I promise. And a new dining table.”

“Steve, no, I don’t need a new table.”

He looked down at you, cupping your chin and tilting it upwards to him.

“Hey, listen to me doll,” he murmured. His voice was warm, but it had an underlying stern edge that made your eyes widen. “I wanna take care of you, and you’re gonna let me, ok? Let me spoil you; even if you don’t technically need it. Understand?”

You gulped and nodded, and a pleased smile spread over his face.

“Yes, Steve.”

“Good girl.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #sugar daddy!steve #sugar daddy!steve Rogers #captain america #captain america x reader

[starlingsrps]

poppy allen character development.

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME:  poppy lieke allen

NICKNAME(S): nope.

PREFERRED NAME(S): poppy

BIRTH DATE: october 25

AGE: twenty seven

GENDER: cis female

PRONOUNS: feminine

ROMANTIC/SEXUAL ORIENTATION: heterosexual

NATIONALITY: american

ETHNICITY: american-dutch

CURRENT LOCATION: los angeles, ca

LIVING CONDITIONS: neat and tidy, well decorated. she's definitely in laurel canyon, purposefully kind of a bitch to drive to.

BACKGROUND

BIRTH PLACE: santa barbara, ca

HOMETOWN: montecito, ca

PLACES LIVED: montecito, new york, london - wherever the hell she's filming tbh. los angeles is home.

SOCIAL CLASS: upper upper. when your eighteenth birthday is a people magazine cover, you don't pretend.

EDUCATION LEVEL: high school

FATHER: bryce hawthorne, 57, movie star

MOTHER: saskia werhoff, 52, model turned lifestyle guru

SIBLING(S): marieke allen, 25; matthias allen, 20

BIRTH ORDER: poppy, marieke, matthias

CHILDREN: absolutely no.

PET(S): nope; allergic to most things with fur.

OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES: her mother's family in the netherlands, her father's in nebraska.

PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: legion and documented online.

ARRESTS?: nope.

PRISON TIME?: nope.

OCCUPATION & INCOME

PRIMARY SOURCE OF INCOME: actress

SECONDARY SOURCE OF INCOME: spokesperson

TERTIARY SOURCE(S) OF INCOME: trust fund

CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB (OR LACK THERE OF)?: like why wouldn't she be

PAST JOB(S): does she look like she's ever done intensive work?

SPENDING HABITS: poppy's version of reasonable is absolutely not the same as a normal persons. she thinks she's reasonable but that's just because she doesn't own a diamond encrusted birkin. she buys things that are high quality and doesn't really have experience with things that aren't.

MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: real estate portfolio. she owns her house and a condo in new york. both are points of pride for her.

SKILLS & ABILITIES

PHYSICAL STRENGTH: B-

OFFENSE: B

DEFENSE: B

SPEED: B

INTELLIGENCE: B

ACCURACY: B+

AGILITY: B

STAMINA: B

TEAMWORK: C+

TALENTS: poppy has an incredible work ethic and sense of loyalty. she knows she's lucky to be where she is in life but she's going to show up the same as anyone else on set and give her best every time. she knows her self worth and she does not compromise on it one single bit.

SHORTCOMINGS: that can come off as.....abrasive.

LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: english and dutch

DRIVE?: yes

JUMP-STAR A CAR?: she was definitely taught by her father but it did not stick.

CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: see above.

RIDE A BICYCLE?: yes

SWIM?: yes

PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: no

PLAY CHESS?: no

BRAID HAIR?: yes

TIE A TIE?: yes

PICK A LOCK?: no.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE & CHARACTERISTICS

FACE CLAIM: abigail cowen

EYE COLOR: blue

HAIR COLOR: red; boosted from strawberry blonde to red-red.

HAIR TYPE/STYLE: long and swishy. it's a signature at this point. that pantene hair deal did not just materialize on it's own.

GLASSES/CONTACTS?: both - a bitch is Nearsighted.

DOMINANT HAND: right

HEIGHT: 5'7

BUILD: willowy and toned, great ass.

EXERCISE HABITS: daily - she looks at it as part of her job description and between her father's biceps and her mother's devotion to yoga, she wasn't really raised with much of a choice but to use the gym.

SKIN TONE: fair, little freckled. a lot freckled if the sun has gotten to her.

TATTOOS: none

PEIRCINGS: ears

MARKS/SCARS: none

NOTABLE FEATURES: the Hair, upturned nose

USUAL EXPRESSION: attentive

CLOTHING STYLE: carefully curated. god i miss polyvore this would be so much easier. hold for pinterest board.

JEWELRY: whatever suits/is loaned for the occasion. she has a lot of small pieces that she owns for daily wear and a few really nice bits that she got from her parents as gifts.

ALLERGIES: dander, almonds.

DIET: nothing super weird/out of the ordinary, definitely erring on the trendy and consciously healthy end of things.

PHYSICAL AILMENTS: nah.

PSYCHOLOGY

ENNEAGRAM TYPE: type eight

MORAL ALIGNMENT: chaotic neutral

TEMPERAMENT: choleric

ELEMENT: water

SOCIABILITY: A - poppy is incredibly charming and social.

EMOTIONAL STABILITY: ehhhh i'll give her a B-. like she's not bad but when her temper gets triggered, hell will reign.

OBSESSION(S): nah

COMPULSION(S): nah

PHOBIA(S): failure

ADDICTION(S): nah

DRUG USE: she does smoke, she does know, she doesn't care.

ALCOHOL USE: social drinker.

PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: no (yet i think a certain someone might get something thrown at him)

MANNERISMS

SPEECH STYLE: even and cultivated. she has a pretty feminine voice and has done a little voiceover work.

ACCENT: nope.

QUIRKS: she squints a lot, even if she does have her glasses on or contacts in. this bitch is Blind.

HOBBIES: she does read a lot and she does enjoy trying new things. nothing crafty but she's pretty down for new activities.

HABITS: daily workout, twice weekly call with her Team, grooming, work. she likes to stay busy and likes to stay organized - her planner is sacred.

NERVOUS TICKS: don't fucking touch her planner.

DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: personal success. she was well known before she jumped into acting and modeling on her own by virtue of her parents but she absolutely wants to be her own person. she doesn't use her father's SAG name (legally, they're all allens rather than hawthorne but SAG), she doesn't do any mommy and me/daddy and me projects and she steers any interviews away from heavy talk about her family.

FEARS: personal failure. she knows she'll be okay no matter what - she's got the cushion of wealth and privilege - but she does not want to ever fail on her own merits.

POSITIVE TRAITS: loyal, generous, hard working, passionate, driven, fearless.

NEGATIVE TRAITS: bossy, stubborn, abrasive, no sense of limitations, single minded.

SENSE OF HUMOR: good! kind of dorky, prone to dragging the shit out of people.

DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?: ehhhhh what is often

FAVORITES

ACTIVITY: sex working, being alone. she spends so much time surrounded by people that being alone to relax is a luxury.

ANIMAL: she thinks dogs are awesome but she can't be around them without a shitload of benadryl so like, bears?

BEVERAGE: the iced coffee IS surgically attached to her hand, thanks!

BOOK:

CELEBRITY: her parents, corny as that is. least favorite is her brother, who's big on tiktok and habitually trying to use her pool for shenanigans.

COLOR: red

DESIGNER: she's a valentino bitch.

FOOD: a really, really good steak.

FLOWER: gardenias

GEM: pearls

HOLIDAY: christmas

MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: flying

MOVIE: father of the bride

MUSICAL ARTIST: kacey musgraves

SCENERY: the ocean. she's a coastal california girl and she does not like to be far from the water.

SCENT: ocean, gardenias, coffee.

SPORT: baseball

SPORTS TEAM: dodgers

TELEVISION SHOW: nothing specific but she will watch food network competition shows for hours.

WEATHER: bright and sunny

VACATION DESTINATION: exotic and warm.

ATTITUDES

GREATEST DREAM: having her career measured on its own merits; oscar. she doesn't not want a family and such outside of that but her career is her focus. she's in a good place and she doesn't want to put anything on pause.

GREATEST FEAR: poppy is alarmingly fearless. the only thing she truly fears is failing herself. nothing else really matters.

MOST AT EASE WHEN: with her family on the ranch in montecito to hang out and relax. she likes being around her sister - marieke is a classics student and has been bouncing about europe for the past seven years and they don't get to see each other very often. marieke is calm and completely removed from hollywood and she's basically the human equivelent of going to a spa.

LEAST AT EASE WHEN: not....no. poppy may be slightly uncomfortable but she is never going to let that show or acknowledge it.

WORST POSSIBLE THING THAT COULD HAPPEN: a scandal she can't recover from.

BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: her career, the first time she wasn't mentioned in conjuction with her parents in a magazine article in the first paragraph.

BIGGEST REGRET: nope.

MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT: she's sure there have been but they're all pretty buried.

BIGGEST SECRET: keiran, 100%.

TOP PRIORITIES: her career. it's a thing she can control.

#c: poppy allen

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Tempest in a Teacup: Two

Clint watched you remembering how to be alive again with a smile. You were staring at a bowl of Rice Krispies like you’d forgotten what they were for as you curled like a question mark around a cup of coffee.

“Barton, I think you can cancel the DNA test,” Bucky snorted, smacking him on the shoulder as he passed. Clint snorted, “I could never deny her, that’s for sure.”

“Thank god she doesn’t look like you, though.” Steve teased, prompting Clint to flip him off casually.  

Clint kisses the side of your head and swaps your bowl of now soggy cereal that he knows you won’t eat for French toast he knows you will eat and you look up at him and smile your thanks sleepily.

For a second, you’re five again. Five and homesick. It was almost this time of year. Right before you started kindergarten. You had a cute little liting voice. Like a little silver bell. He couldn’t cook, not really and you’d eaten nothing but sugary cereal and carrot sticks and animal cookies for a few days. It was Saturday morning and you’d been awake and scared all night. Worried about your mom. ... The french toast had been a lot less pretty but that smile was the same.

You were bigger now. Stronger. Smarter. The most beautiful thing he’d ever seen still. And sometimes, he missed your accent. He hated it after you went to school and your voice got more Americanized. But you were his girl. He chucked you under the chin and handed Nat the other plate. She was taking you shopping. You needed school clothes anyway. And, as long as she’d been around, Nat had always taken you school shopping, for which Clint was grateful. Especially when you hit your teens. He got a bit lost after boys cargo shorts and plain t-shirts weren’t your standard gear. “Nat,” Clint teased, “no more platform boots. Seriously.” Natasha winked at you, “Not unless they’re on sale.”

You pick up a fork and lean into Clint’s side for a second as he stands there sipping coffee. You missed him. Between saving the world and just living far away, there was no such thing as enough hugs. Clint draped an arm over your shoulder casually and Natasha feels her heart ache just a little.

She knew. Probably better than anyone how scared Clint was that he wasn’t the parent he should be. But she wished she could show him this. A picture didn’t do justice to just how happy you looked when he hugged you just a little tighter. Maybe he wasn’t the parent he should be. Teaching you how to do some slightly illegal things, letting an assassin take you shopping, giving you back your fake ID; but, he was exactly the parent you needed. He was unfailingly supportive. He dealt with feelings and self-doubt and little heartbreaks in stride. He knew you. And he loved you with no conditions.

Clint gave the spy a look and Natasha only shrugged. You had a style. You liked what you liked. And frankly, it was cool. Distinctive. It suited you. Natasha knew damn well that as long as you bought age-appropriate clothing and you weren’t running around half-naked or in bondage gear, he really didn’t care what you wore. You went to an Academy for artistic kids. Weird clothes were expected. Nay. Encouraged. And New York. Land of Punks and Aging club kids, was the place to go. Nat look forward to this most of the year. It was fun. You were picky but not like... annoyingly picky. It was just an “I already know what I want and this is... actually close enough” kind of picky. “Got any Art supplies you need, kid?” Natasha asked. You frown, thinking, “Depends. Do you want me to make you some new wall clutter?”

“Did I hear Wall clutter?” Tony asked strolling in for coffee. “Y/N has offered to make Wall Clutter for the cost of Art supplies,” Clint said, tugging a stray lock of hair.

"Oh!" Pepper said, stealing the coffee mug out of Tony's hand and handing him water, "Could you do something neat we can Auction off After everyone signs it? It always brings in a ton of money for the cleanup fund." You take a bite of French toast and nod, thinking, "I could probably pull something together... It depends on how big a piece you want. And what medium. And subject matter."

Clint frowned but didn't say anything. You were a good kid. He knew you'd do hours of work for free. He also knew that it gave you something to do in all the downtime. That he could pester you while you worked as easily as he could while you were bouncing around the tower at warp speed. But, it rubbed him the wrong way. And then he remembered why. You did amazing artwork for them and you had. For years. Big pieces that went for literally millions. And you never got the credit for it. Nothing but your tiny little signature in the corner most people put a potted plant in front of.  "I'll let her do it," Clint said, clearing his throat, "As long as she starts getting some form of actual recognition for it... Most people just think those things are put together by a whole ass design studio. They don't realize it's one punk kid with some chalk and some aquanet." Your artistic shit was your superpower.

It was all the attention to detail and the effort.

Pepper gasped, "Have they really never put her name anywhere?" Tony frowned, "That's unacceptable." Your cheeks color slightly, "It's not that big a deal... I mean part of the money they make is because people think it's like Banksy or some shit." You do set work. You paint sets, make costumes, and run tech. You're pretty sure no one but your dad even realizes that someone has to make it all look good. He comes to the show and has tacos and good coke, the kind in glass bottles from Mexico, sent back to the crew while everyone fusses over the actors. And he sends you purple roses for opening night. You love purple.

"It is too a big deal!" Pepper says stomping her foot, "Four years you've been making us stuff to sell off and never once gotten even a mention on the program?" You shrug, "I don't get them for the shows I do sets for either. None of the crew really gets much beyond our names in a massive list." Pepper doesn't hear the explanation, she's already on the phone. She's halfway through shouting at someone. Something about back pay and other things that hurt your head to think about. So you take your plate to the sink and start cleaning up, working around Tony where he's standing directly in your way.

"Do you think you could do Asgard? Like long ways." he asked thinking. "Panoramic?" you ask. He nods and you think, figuring out logistics. "Medium?" you ask. Tony smiles a little, "What about spray paint?" Clint smiles a little from his spot, watching goings-on and relaying information to Pepper. You're planning things out in your head. Like a goddamn chess grandmaster. He can see pieces being moved around. "Photorealistic or stylized?" you ask. Tony snorts, "Let's say stylized. Wouldn't want Thor to try and walk through it." That makes you smile a little, "I can probably do that... What do you want me to put in on?" That makes Tony stop for a second, "Let's see what people will really buy," he said mischievously, "I'll get you a sheet of drywall to play with... And all the colors of spray paint you could ever need." You nod, "I can do that but I might need some time... and a large patch of grass you don't mind getting paint on. I don't really do Spray paint inside if I can help it."

Tony nodded and raised his coffee cup in mock toast, "You might be the least temperamental Artist we ever commissioned."

That made Natasha snort, "Clearly, you've never heard her backstage during a show. "Fuck Muppet" became my new favorite epithet after the last one." Tony chokes on his coffee and Clint snorts, "That's great," he laughed, "I changed my mind. Just make a giant thing that says Fuck Muppet." Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, "Y/N please don't."

"Now I'm gonna," you say, "And I'm gonna dedicate it to you, Steve." The laughter that follows you out of the room is satisfying. You don't need to turn around to Know that Steve's face is probably snapchat worthy. Or that your dad probably looks way too proud of you for talking back to a literal National Treasure. But, he had it coming honestly. No living creature should be that fucking uptight. It wasn't healthy. You were willing to bet that if you made him swallow a piece of coal he'd shit a diamond. But there wasn't time to Dwell on that. You and Natasha had shopping to do. At least some of it.

When you come back downstairs in jeans, your boots, and a red croptop with "You inspire my inner serial killer" written on it in pretty script, Clint shakes his head, "Another Forray into fashion design?" You shake your head and stick the last bobby pin into your right space bun, "Nah. Parker made me this one." Nat smiles a little. You don't look 17. You look 21 and Clint is about 4 seconds from a heart attack. But, aside from your midriff and a belly button piercing he already knows about, there's no other skin showing. And it's summer. "Cute," Nat says, "But please. Please don't make me have to stab some stupid frat boy today."  You grin, "Nah... They're all more trouble than they're worth."

Natasha grabs you by the hand and drags you out of the room before Clint can think too hard about that last comment and he retroactively tries to ground you until you're 83.

Steve watches Natasha flounce out of the room with you and Clint pour coffee like nothing just happened, "Have fun! Don't kill anyone!" Clint shouts after you. You half turn and sign "Love you, dad" to him and he smiles, "Love you too, punk" he answers.

"You really don't have a problem with her dressed like that?" Steve asked. "Like what?" Clint counters mildly, "Like a 17-year-old girl? In this year of your lord in the 21st century when ankles aren't sexy anymore unless you're weird? No. No, I don't" Steve winced, "I just meant," he started. Clint quirked an eyebrow, "She's 17. Not 7. She's my child. Not yours. It's just a shirt. Those are just comfortable jeans. And those boots are probably just comfortable too... If the worst thing she does is dress like that, get piercings I know about, and flirt with muscle-bound idiots until she gets bored with them, all things considered, I'll take it." You're a pretty girl. Really Pretty. And men tended to stare and they had since you were 12. It was gross but Clint didn't see any point in making you dress like a Nun when it was much more satisfying to break noses. Steve stayed quiet and left shortly after that. And honestly, Clint was grateful. It wasn't the first time someone had tried to tell him how to parent you.

But, he didn't think it was that bad. You were older now than he'd been when you were born. You made good grades. You had good friends. You called to talk to him and if you didn't call you texted. Truth be told, half the time he didn't know what to do with you and the rest of the time he just did the opposite of what his parents would have done. It was still better than Reggie did. She'd just sort of left you with her mom and fucked off to go help the CIA destabilize countries. Clint considered that job security. Reggie made the Warlords and Petty Despots and Clint helped put them down. It worked.

Outside, he watched as Tony made good on his promise to set you up. Paint, Drywall, tables, Brushes, attachments. Anything you could ever want were being delivered. Stark seemed intent on making up for his oversight and Clint was happy about it. You deserved credit for the cool shit you did. Maybe it would help drown out all the comments from people that looked down their nose at you. He drifted away to get some target practice in and you and Natasha wander the city, looking for the perfect new pair of platform boots and some little pieces of flair for your school wardrobe.  

By the time you return, Clint has been doing more looking at his phone than working. Natasha sent him pictures. Lots of pictures. And he saved them all. His personal favorite was one Natasha had taken of you both. Huge sunglasses and feather boas, pouting for the camera. You looked like you were having a blast. He couldn’t wait to hear about it, even if he didn’t actually want to participate.

Pepper knocked on the doorframe and leaned on it casually, “So,” she said, holding out a check, “Since the work she did for us would have made her some money... Probably a lot of money. Tony and I agreed that it’s bullshit that she didn’t get credit.” Clint took the check and just blinked, “Holy Shit.” was all he could say and Pepper smiled a little. “We figure that doing that work for anything Stark affiliated would have made her about that much in commissions for other rich people with more money than sense.” Clint snorted, “She is really good, isn’t she.” he said with a note of pride.

“Especially for all the crazy things Tony pitches at her,” she said nodding, “I have no idea how she’s going to do Asgard in spray paint but if anyone can.” Clint nodded, “She can,” he agreed. “So why are you giving this to me?” he asked, not following. “Because,” Pepper said smiling, “No 17 year old should have that much money... I figured you’d best hang on to it for now.” Clint nodded, “Thanks, Pepper.” he said.

She squeezed his hand, “I’m sorry we didn’t realize it sooner. It feels like we were taking advantage of her... but. We’re taking care of that oversight now. We planned a full showcase of the work she did for us previously to go along with the Auction of this piece. And I’m going to see if she minds us putting some of the dress designs she’s done for Nat and I on display too.” Clint nods slowly. It sounds like a lot. Maybe even too much. You’re still in school and he desperately wants you to finish, not just rabbit off and start cranking out art until your fingers bleed. So he says as much to Pepper.

The woman thinks for a moment and nods, “We’ll stick to the previous art pieces then. Just those for now... Later I will happily wear anything her little heart designs and send work her way.” That makes Clint feel better. A lot better.

You’re a kid. A gifted, talented kid. And you’re his. It’s his job to protect you until you can protect yourself. But as Pepper walks away and he stares at the staggering sum of money on the check, he knows he’ll probably never stop.

Tags:  @lancsnerd​ @stevieang​ @golddaggers​ @blameitonthecauseway​ @qxeen-of-hearts​ @process-pending​ @xmarveled​ @beautybyfire, @etherealwaifgoddess, @mschellehitt​

#clint barton #natasha romanoff #tony stark #steve rogers #Dad!Clint #teen reader #pepper potts

[owlways-and-forever]

Summary: Lily Evans thought her life would be normal. Well, as normal as it can be for a muggle-born witch in England. But when her boyfriend turns out to be the prince of the wizarding world, and tensions begin to rise among factions of wizarding society, Lily must find her way in situations she never anticipated, and try not to lose sight of her identity. Word Count: 6,355 (27,974) Links: ao3 | FFnet | Tumblr: Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6

A/N: Okay, so first of all, sorry for missing an update and then being late for this weekend's. Life has been a little crazy and a touch stressful lately. I got a promotion at work, and even though its awesome, its been a little stressful trying to adjust to my new position, and my schedule has been thrown off. I'm still going to try to stick to every other weekend, but it may or may not happen - my sister's baby shower is in a few weeks and then it won't be long until her due date, so life is going to be pretty crazy for a while. But I'll do my best!

This is a very long chapter though, so at least you're rewarded for all your patience! It was a lot of fun writing this, and trying to envision how Hogwarts graduation might work. Full disclosure - I do not know any latin, so everything here is Google translated/from a source describing Cambridge Uni's graduations. You'll see a few names in the graduation that you might not recognize - I borrowed some of my OCs from my other Marauder's era work, just a couple that I love with all my heart and felt compelled to bring along. Plus, you know, I had to bulk up the numbers somehow - it wouldn't really be realistic to have only 8 graduates, now would it? I hope you enjoy this chapter! 

And a friendly reminder that you can follow @whitefirepalace on Instagram for some edits that follow along with the story!Enjoy and feel free to leave a comment! :D

Chapter 7

“Oh my god, will you just do as I say?” Lily hissed exasperatedly out in the hall, and James had to stifle a laugh.

Moments later Marlene was shoved unceremoniously through the doorway of the classroom, tripping a bit over her feet before steadying herself and looking around. Dorcas and Mary entered a bit more normally behind her, with Lily following after all of them and closing the door.

“What the hell is going on?” Marlene swore, glaring at James and Lily.

“There’s something that I want you to know, that I want you to hear from me,” James began nervously. Somehow, sharing his secret never got any easier. Lily laced their fingers together and he could feel warmth and reassurance flowing from her.

“Are you dying or something?” Marlene asked with narrowed eyes. “Oh my god, did you knock Lily up?”

“No!” he answered hurriedly, completely caught off guard by the suggestion. “No, I… I’ve been at school under a pseudonym, and at graduation they’ll be calling me forward as James Eideard Aneirin, Prince of Scotland. There’s more titles and technically it should be HRH, but I’ve got Dumbledore to stick to that. It’s a tiny bit less pompous I think.”

“Are you genuinely telling us that you’re Prince James?” Marlene scoffed, while Mary and Dorcas shared surprised looks behind her back.

“Yep,” James said, pulling out the signet ring he kept hidden on a chain under his clothes and tossing it to her. “Family heirloom that, so be careful.”

Marlene turned the little ring over in her fingers, examining every small detail with wide eyes. When she was satisfied, she handed it back to him, her mouth gaping in shock.

“Who else knows?” Mary asked quietly.

“Well, Lily obviously,” he replied, fingers nervously playing with his glasses. “Sirius, Remus and Peter. And all the staff. But after graduation, everyone will know, so you don’t have to keep the secret.”

“You knew this whole time!” Marlene hissed, swatting at Lily.

Lily simply shrugged. Of course she knew, and of course she’d kept his secret. That’s what partners did, after all.

“Aren’t you worried that people will tell stories to the press about what a horrible, scandalous party animal you are and stuff?” Dorcas asked.

“A bit, but to be honest, I think the people who actually know any juicy stories won’t say anything,” James answered after a moment. “I’m pretty careful about the company I keep.”

“I suppose we should feel honoured then,” Marlene quipped, with just a touch too much bite in it.

“I’m sorry if you feel like I’ve betrayed you by not telling you sooner,” he said, the picture of contrition. “I just… I always wanted to be myself, to be normal.”

“It’s alright, James, we understand,” Mary answered for the group. “Thank you for telling us.”

James nodded and turned to Lily.

“I’ll leave you guys be for a bit,” he whispered, so only she could hear. “If there’s anything you need, or if they have any questions…”

Lily smiled and pushed a lock of his hair away from his forehead.

“We’ll be fine, go find the boys.”

James ducked out of the room, leaving the four girls alone. It was silent for a few moments as Lily waited to see what her friends would say.

“How could you not tell us?” Marlene burst out at last.

“He asked me not to,” Lily said, knowing full well that it would not be a popular answer.

“And apparently he matters more than we do,” Marlene spat.

It was an unfair statement. In the beginning, of course her friends had mattered more. James had just been a boyfriend and they were her best friends. But along the way he had become so much more - her partner, her future. He wasn’t more important than her friends, but they weren’t more important than him anymore either. They both mattered to her immensely. They were equal.

“It’s his life, Marlene,” Lily replied, trying to push down the sting of Marlene’s words.

“Oh, it’s not like any of us hate the royal family and would’ve tried to off him if we knew,” Marlene huffed, starting to pace back and forth.

“I think she meant that it wasn’t hers to tell,” Mary offered helpfully, but it only made Marlene spin on her.

“And you’re not mad at Sirius for not telling you?” she asked harshly.

“No, but we’re also… we’re not James and Lily, Whatever we are will be done after graduation, or at least by the end of the summer,” Mary admitted.

“Why would you say that?” Lily asked, partly in concern for her friend, but partly trying to seize any change in the conversation.

“It’s been fun, but it just could never go anywhere,” Mary shrugged, though she seemed to be putting on a good face. She had never been the most forthcoming about her feelings. “His family and they’re… station… he could never be with a muggle-born. And besides everyone knows that Sirius and Remus are in love with each other and they just don’t know it.”

Dorcas wrapped an arm around Mary, and Lily reached out for her, but Mary just shook her head.

“No, it’s fine, really. If they ever figure it out, they’ll be happy together,” Mary pressed. “I’ll find somebody more suited for me once we’re away from school, I’m sure.”

“There’ll be so many more people,” Lily agreed.

The room grew quiet again, no one really sure what to say.

“So I guess you’re going to be a princess then,” Marlene said, a bit begrudgingly. Lily smiled. She knew it, sooner or later, Marlene’s fascination with the royal family would overpower whatever else she felt.

“Yeah,” she answered, smiling more broadly. “Not imminently or anything, but someday.”

“So you don’t want James to propose yet?” Dorcas asked, her tone a little bit doubtful.

“I’m not sure I feel any which way about it,” Lily shrugged. “I don’t know that I want to be someone’s wife yet, but I’m also pretty positive about him, so I don’t really feel like I need to wait. I guess whenever he asks, I’ll say yes.”

“So is graduation the first time you’ll meet his family?” Marlene asked, her anger dissipating with every question.

“No, I went to the Palace during the Easter holidays.” Lily began telling her friends all about seeing James as the Prince during official duties and seeing the Palace and her talk with the Queen and her freakout afterward. They listened with rapt attention, and Lily realized just how good it felt to let out this big secret.

o . o . o

James sighed as he set aside his glasses, dipping his fingers into the tub of smoothing solution and applying it generously to his hair until it lay cooperatively, looking perfectly coiffed. Over the years he’d gotten quite good at styling his hair for these appearances, always going for a signature sweepback with a clean side part. A real Christopher Reeve-Superman look. It was how Prince James was supposed to look - neat and tidy and perfect. It never felt like who he was at Hogwarts though, where he had been free to be simply James Potter.

But all that was ending. James Potter didn’t exist anymore. Today, he would step out into the Great Hall and James Potter would vanish into thin air, his privacy and his personal identity gone. It was time to assume his public face and his duties as the heir to the throne.

For all that James had told Lily that he wouldn’t change after graduation, how could he not? Sure, fundamentally he might be the same… he’d stil like the same foods and yell at Quidditch players more than he ought to during matches and he’d always love Lily. But at the same time, he would have different responsibilities and pressures every day. Instead of homework and Prefect duties it would be patronages and state visits. Diplomacy and politics and staying out of all of it while still leading the country through it. And on top of all of it, there was the war. Who would he become to deal with all of that? He didn’t know, and it terrified him.

“C’mon Your Highness,” Sirius mocked, tying his own bowtie. “You don’t want to be late for your own graduation. What on earth would people think then?”

“Maybe that I’m bloody human,” James snapped, snatching his black robe off his bed.

“Grumpy today, are we?” Sirius pushed, swatting James’ hands aside and straightening his bowtie for him.

“I just hate that everything has to change now,” James huffed. “I hate putting you all through this, and Lily. All of you are going to be under so much scrutiny now.”

“Well, lucky thing your friend is devilishly handsome then,” Sirius laughed, shrugging off James’ concerns like it was water rolling down his back.

“We all knew what we were getting into,” Remus interrupted, stepping out of the bathroom. “If any of this bothered us, we could’ve walked away a long time ago. We’re with you, we don’t mind.”

“Remus, especially for you… people will find out eventually…” James groaned, dragging his hands across his face.

“It’s okay, it was never going to stay secret outside of Hogwarts anyway,” Remus shrugged, the worry in his eyes the only betrayal of the true weight of his feelings. “It’s a lot more conspicuous when you don’t have eight teachers covering for you every month.”

“Remus is right,” Peter said quietly. “We all chose to stand by your side. You aren’t forcing any of us into anything.”

James nodded reluctantly, trying to resist the urge to run his hands through his hair even as his fingers twitched.

“Let’s go, or we really will be late,” Remus said.

The four boys nodded together and grabbed their robes, setting off through the Common Room and leaving Gryffindor Tower for the last time. They walked through the quiet halls, stopping at the Transfiguration classroom, where all the graduating Gryffindors were gathered. Professor McGonagall sat at her desk, pointedly ignoring the chattering students, not caring what they did as they waited as long as they weren’t disruptive.

It wasn’t unusual for everyone to look the same, since they had, after all, all worn the same uniform every day. But for some reason it seemed more odd today. The boys all had black pants and white shirts, with red bowties and thin red cummerbunds under their black graduation robes. The girls looked similar in black skirts with red waistbands and white dress shirts. They all held hoods in their hand that had different colored linings indicating their primary course of study. Lily’s was green, for Healing, James’ was purple for Law. Sirius had a red hood for Defense, while Remus had a blue hood for Academia and Peter had orange for Governance. James looked at the rainbow around the room, picking out the rest of his friends. Marlene wore red like Sirius, Dorcas had orange, and Mary had a double striped hood - white for Arts and green for Healing. She was one of only two students who had been allowed to do a double course.

Lily smiled at James when she saw him, and the four boys went over to join their friends. James reached out for Lily’s hand, lacing his fingers together with hers and squeezing tightly. He knew she must be as anxious as he was for the day. But she only smiled and chatted happily with their friends, hiding her nerves well.

Marlene did a double-take as James joined them, her eyes scanning over his face critically.

“It really is you,” she said, and James tried to shrug nonchalantly in response.

The minutes ticked by agonizingly slowly until finally Professor McGonagall stood from her desk, and the room immediately fell silent, fifteen pairs of eyes focused on her.

“Please line up alphabetically by last name,” she said, fixing them all with a stern look. “I trust you don’t need my assistance with that.”

There was a brief pause before they all scurried into motion, hurrying to find their spots. It didn’t take them long to get in order, especially with Professor McGonagall watching them with a stern expression. But she seemed to soften as they waited to leave.

“Before we join the other houses and make our way to the Great Hall for the ceremony, I want to tell you all what a pleasure it has been to have you in my house.” She seemed to get emotional, her eyes glistening slightly. “You are an exceptional group of young men and women, and I look forward to seeing the many wonderful things that you will accomplish in the years to come.”

“I knew you liked us!” Sirius shouted triumphantly, and the rest of the Gryffindors burst into peals of laughter.

“And despite a lovely seven years together, I greet your departure with joy - especially you, Mr. Black - and wish you the best of luck moving forward,” she replied, but the smile playing at the corner of her lips was enough to tell them all that she was teasing them. Perhaps she wouldn’t go so far as to say that she would miss them, but there was not a student in the bunch that did not fill her with a warm sense of affection and pride. They had come a long way. “Right, time to move. Follow me.”

With that, she swept from the room, the line of Gryffindors following behind her. Professor Flitwick was leading the line of Ravenclaws through the halls as well, and they all shared excited and nervous smiles with each other. Professor Sprout and Professor Slughorn arrived at the Entrance Hall with the lines of graduating Hufflepuffs and Slytherins at the same time, and they all stepped into their formation.

Music trumpeted through the Great Hall as the oak doors swung open, and a whirlpool of excitement and anticipation bubbled in James’ stomach as they all marched through together. The tables had been removed, replaced with rows upon rows of wooden chairs, each occupied by a family member. Four rows had been left empty at the front for the graduating students, and they all filed in stoically. An opera box had been added to the right, set back into the wall so that it was cleverly concealed from those sitting further back. The King and Queen sat there, looking as regal as ever in their crimson and gold robes. James wondered how such a box had even been made, but he supposed the answer was simply ‘magic’.

The music seamlessly transitioned into a fanfare, and the entire crowd stood, a hundred voices joining in a chorus of God Save the Queen. When it finished, everyone resumed their seats, and Dumbledore stepped forward to initiate the ceremony.

“It is with great joy that I am able to open this graduation. These students have completed a very challenging array of coursework, and many of them have done so while pursuing a myriad of wonderful extracurricular activities. We are all very proud of the feat that they have accomplished, and feel that each deserves immense recognition.”

Black silk banners streamed out from the tops of the windows, darkening the room.

“We must first take a moment to remember and acknowledge Davey Gudgeon, who would have been graduating today if he had not departed this world prematurely. His loss has been felt severely by many of our students, and he will always be remembered as the truly exceptional student that he was.”

Professor Dumbledore bowed his head, and everyone in the Great Hall echoed his movement. The room was silent as those that knew Davey reflected on his friendship. After a minute, Dumbledore raised his head again, and the banners covering the window rolled themselves up and then vanished with a snap .

“Now, for a more celebratory mood!” His voice had taken on a much more jovial tune, the smile reappearing on his face.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward, conjuring a scroll and unspooling it as she began to read in a booming voice.

“Dignissima domina, Archididascalum et tota Academia praesento vobis haec viros quam scio tam moribus quam doctrina esse idoneum ad gradum assequendum Academia; idque tibi fide mea praesto totique Academiae.”

All of the students who had followed the academic course stood, their blue hoods blended together like a bright summer sky.

“I formally request that the following men and women be awarded a degree in Academia,” Professor McGonagall said, in English this time, the formality of her demeanor never wavering for a second. She read through each student’s name and, and one at a time they stepped forward to become graduates.

“Remus John Lupin,” she announced, and James straightened up, watching as his friend moved forward and knelt before the Headmaster, his head bowed reverently.

“Auctoritate mihi commissa admitto te ad gradum Academia, in nomine Ministerium, Hogwarts, et Godric Gryffindor,” Dumbledore said, as his hands closed around Remus’.

Remus arose and turned around with a grin spreading from ear to ear as he returned to his seat. Once all the students from the Academic course had their degrees conferred upon them, Professor McGonagall began again.

“Dignissima domina, Archididascalum et tota Academia praesento vobis haec viros quam scio tam moribus quam doctrina esse idoneum ad gradum assequendum Artium; idque tibi fide mea praesto totique Academiae. I formally request that the following men and women be awarded a degree in Arts.”

There were only three students who stood, wearing the white hoods, the contrast against their black robes looking rather like an old-timey photograph.

“Benjamin Daniel Fenwick,” Professor McGonagall called, and Benjy stepped forward, kneeling in front of Professor Dumbledore to be granted his degree in the name of the Ministry, Hogwarts, and Godric Gryffindor.

“Mary Charlotte MacDonald,” McGonagall called next, and Mary floated forward, smiling sweetly.

As Mary knelt, she listened to Dumbledore’s words like they were breathing new life into her, as if they could transform her in some tangible way, rather than just being stuffy words dictated by a centuries-old ceremony.

“Sybill Cassandra Trelawney,” was called forward next, nearly knocking Mary over in her haste to make her way to the dais.

She blinked her large, buglike eyes at Professor Dumbledore and clung to his hands as he recited the words, “...in nomine Ministerium, Hogwarts, et Rowena Ravenclaw.”

“Dignissima domina, Archididascalum et tota Academia praesento vobis haec viros quam scio tam moribus quam doctrina esse idoneum ad gradum assequendum Curatio,” Professor McGonagall began again, calling forth the second largest course, “idque tibi fide mea praesto totique Academiae. I formally request that the following men and women be awarded a degree in Healing. Lily Jane Evans.”

James felt pride swell within him as he watched Lily move forward and kneel before Dumbledore. She bowed her head and locks of red hair fell forward over her shoulder, obscuring her face, but it didn’t matter. James knew that her expression was solemn and her eyes were probably closed as Dumbledore clasped her hands and recited the words.

“Auctoritate mihi commissa admitto te ad gradum Curatio, in nomine Ministerium, Hogwarts, et Godric Gryffindor.”

Lily stood, beaming, looking as proud as James felt of her. She had worked so hard, especially during the past year, and had excelled in all her courses. He felt a pang of regret that her degree would be for nought soon enough, forced to sit and collect dust when she became the diplomat and cultural representative that the Royal Family required. If she agreed, that was.

Mary was called forth again, as solemn the second time as she had been the first. Alice Elizabeth Matthews was next, the petite Hufflepuff nearly bouncing as she approached the Headmaster. Fabian Alphaeus Prewett followed her, and then Severus Tobias Snape. James had to resist the urge to hiss audibly as his nemesis stepped forward to receive his degree, but he reminded himself that no matter how much he despised the greasy bastard, Lily would not tolerate any hijinks from him. But it was a good thing that his wand was in his trunk anyway. Emma Grace Vanity was the last to step forward from the Healing course, ending what felt like a very long slew of students after the brevity of the previous two groups.

They were halfway through, and James could feel all kinds of emotions bubbling inside of him. He was excited for his turn to come, and nervous about what it would mean. He was bored by the ceremonial nature of all of this and impatient to get through it all, and yet he felt a thrill and a surge of pride every time one of his friends was officially declared a graduate.

“Dignissima domina, Archididascalum et tota Academia praesento vobis haec viros quam scio tam moribus quam doctrina esse idoneum ad gradum assequendum Jurisdictio; idque tibi fide mea praesto totique Academiae,” Professor McGonagall recited.

James stood along with the rest of the students in his course. He vaguely wondered if he was shaking from all the nervous energy coursing through his veins.

“I formally request that the following men and women be awarded a degree in Law.”

And so it began.

“Amelia Margaret Edith Bones,” Professor McGonagall called, once the entire group had vacated their seats and stepped into the aisle along the outer wall.

And then, in no time at all, there were no students standing in front of him.

“James Eideard Aneirin, Prince of Scotland,” Professor McGonagall called out in her commanding voice.

The Great Hall suddenly felt so silent that a pin could drop and simultaneously buzzing with shocked whispers. He felt paralyzed, unable to move forward, or move anywhere, move any part of his body at all. I told you so! he heard someone exclaim, and he felt his heart pound in his chest, beating against his ribcage like a captive phoenix trying to break free. Somewhere in his mind, James could hear the photographer hired for the graduation go crazy, the shutter clicking at warp speed. She probably saw what an opportunity she had - she would be the only photographer anywhere to have pictures of the Prince’s graduation. James felt his breathing quicken, sucking in shallow breaths, and he wondered if he was having a panic attack. It had happened in the blink of an eye, his whole world had shifted, and he felt like he had lost his footing. How was he not more prepared for this?

James’ eyes found Lily, sitting amongst the other Gryffindor students, and he tried to block out everything else, everything but her. Her green eyes focused on him, and she gave him an encouraging smile. It was all he needed. James stepped forward, walking across the empty space to the foot of the dais, where the Headmaster waited with a small smile. James knelt before him, extending his hands in a praying formation, and Dumbledore wrapped his own hands around them. James maintained eye contact, staring back into Professor Dumbledore’s icy blue gaze as he recited the words that were meant to change his life.

“Auctoritate mihi commissa admitto te ad gradum Curatio, in nomine Ministerium, Hogwarts, et Godric Gryffindor.”

Dumbledore gave him a small nod, and James stood, returning to his seat with his head held high. He had done it, finished school, earned his degree. There had been days that he doubted that he would make it, when his grades suffered from either his own shenanigans or forced absences due to his duties that set him behind. But he had the words resounding in his mind, combined with Professor Dumbledore’s proud expression, to remind him of his accomplishment.

He failed to pay attention to the rest of the students in his course, entirely in his own world as Emmeline Laurel Vance, Adrian Lee Wells, and Corban Aleris Fenton Yaxley were called forward to receive their degrees. It didn’t bother him too much though, he wasn’t particularly close to any of them. He liked Adrian and Emmeline well enough, and he was jealous that they would both be enrolling in the Auror training program. But the idea of Corban Yaxley getting a degree in Law , when he was hell-bent on seeing Voldemort take control of the entire wizarding world… it would be laughable if it weren’t so disgusting.

“Dignissima domina, Archididascalum et tota Academia praesento…”

The words sounded like a far off echo to James, and he had little interest in forcing his mind to return to the ceremony. The world of his thoughts was far more interesting.

“I formally request that the following men and women be awarded a degree in Governance.”

Those words finally brought James back to attention, his focus drifting slowly back to the events around him as he recognized that two of his friends were about to step forward. He waited impatiently as Reginald Alexander Cattermole and Mafalda Arias Hopkirk stepped forward first. Then Professor McGonagall called Dorcas Diane Meadowes forward and James straightened up a little bit to watch more closely. He could practically hear Lily grinning from ear to ear, and he knew she was applauding a little more enthusiastically as Dorcas returned to her seat, newly declared a graduate. Caius Lycaon Tryphonus Nott was next, and James had to try very hard not to heckle him as he received his degree.

“Peter Ian Pettigrew,” Professor McGonagall, and James felt like bursting with excitement. Of all his friends, Peter seemed to understand his academic reservations the most. Remus had always been scholarly, and very gifted, and he enjoyed studying and schoolwork more than anyone James had ever met before. Sirius was the opposite, lazy and laidback when it game to academics, and yet he was so naturally gifted that he didn’t need to put in any work to do respectably well. James and Peter had struggled a bit more, finding a kinship in their trials and tribulations.

“Auctoritate mihi commissa admitto te ad gradum Magisterium,” Professor Dumbledore announced, a particularly pleased smile on his face, “in nomine Ministerium, Hogwarts, et Godric Gryffindor.”

Peter stood, pride emanating from him like a radiant glow, and James led the entire crowd in a round of applause that would have made anyone think Peter had just been elected to be the Minister.

“Dignissima domina, Archididascalum et tota Academia,” Professor McGonagall began again, announcing the final course, “praesento vobis haec viros quam scio tam moribus quam doctrina esse idoneum ad gradum assequendum Praesidium; idque tibi fide mea praesto totique Academiae. I formally request that the following men and women be awarded a degree in Defense.”

The largest block of students stood, a group that radiated pride and determination. Every one of these students knew they were about to head into a war, not all of them on the same side, and they stood like soldiers ready for battle.

Bertram Conrad Aubrey was the first to step forward. Large, with thick, banded muscles, Bertram looked every bit a soldier, and he seemed imbued with a certainty that James wished he possessed.

“Sirius Orion Phinneas Black,” Professor McGonagall called, and James struggled to keep from wolf whistling. He was proud of Sirius too, he was proud of all his friends.

After having his degree conferred, Sirius turned back toward the waiting guests and flashed the most self-assured and charming smile that had ever been seen. It was no wonder half the girls in Hogwarts were in love with him. For good measure, he looked toward Marlene where she was waiting her turn and gave her a salacious wink that was not missed by anybody.

Antonin Aleksi Dolohov was next, and once more James had to suppress the hiss that rose inside him. It was well known that Dolohov had only gone with the Defense course because he felt that knowing all about defense made for the best offense.

Frank Christopher James Longbottom was called forward next, redeeming the program a bit. Frank was everything Dolohov was not. A pinnacle of light and goodness and honor. He came from an old family, not quite in the highest social class, but still James had known Frank since they were young. It made him happy to see Frank defending the people, he was real hero caliber.

After Frank, Professor McGonagall called forward Marlene Pilar McKinnon, and this time James could tell Lily was straining not to whoop with joy. The only word that James could ever think to describe Marlene was bad-ass, and graduation was no exception. She had brought her own flair to the dress code with black heels that were studded with tiny silver spikes and a set matching spiked earrings. Confidence wafted from her in waves as she strode up to the dais and knelt to receive her degree. When the conferral had been completed, she strutted back to her seat with purpose, ponytail swinging as she flashed Sirius a sinful smile.

Gideon Matteus Prewett was announced next, another credit to the program and to Gryffindor, and James looked forward to seeing the leader he was sure to become. Evan Mark Rosier stepped forward next, another Dolohov, and James rolled his eyes. The ceremony finished with Clara Jane Williams, who was a relatively positive note to end on. She gave Remus as shy smile as she returned to her seat, and James wondered - not for the first time - if there was more between them than they let on.

“It gives me great pleasure to present to all the family and friends here today the newest graduates of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!” Professor Dumbledore declared, and shouts of joy erupted from students and guests alike. “Please join us for a reception out on the grounds of the castle before your departure. And may I offer a friendly reminder that the Hogwarts Express will depart from Hogsmeade Station promptly at 6pm for all those who wish to take it. Otherwise, allow me to remind you that apparition, Floo powder, and departure by broomstick are all prohibited until you are off castle grounds. Thank you very much, and congratulations to all of our graduates and their supporters!”

The graduates filed out of the Great Hall first, not in any kind of procession, but more of a semi-organized press of people. As each of them walked through the ornate doors of the castle to the sloping lawn, a curled diploma appeared in their hands, tied with a ribbon in the colour of their course and bound with the wax seal of their house. James stared at his in amazement as Sirius and Peter chattered excitedly, enjoying the tangible evidence of his accomplishment. Lily slipped her hand into James’, startling him slightly, but he smiled when he saw her standing next to him.

“Congratulations, Miss Evans,” Queen Euphemia said, approaching the young couple. “We’re very proud of both of you.”

“Thanks, Mum,” James beamed, exchanging gleeful looks with Lily.

“I suppose you’ve made your choice then?” the Queen said to Lily, while King Fleamont gave them a curious look, completely oblivious to the conversation that had happened months earlier.

“Yeah, I have,” Lily answered, snuggling closer to James and looking up at him with such adoration.

If James and Lily heard the sound of snapping camera shutters following through the reception, they showed no sign of it. They were far too engrossed in the joy and excitement of the day. Not to mention, it was their very last day all together with their friends. Before long, they would be moving in different directions, pursuing a variety of careers and initiatives in all different places. They were all acutely aware that there was no guarantee that they would all be together like this again any time soon.

After the reception, students and families began to say their goodbyes, departing for the Hogwarts Express. James and Lily stayed the longest with their families, enjoying the relative privacy as twilight fell on the castle. It was less awkward having their families together here, in this somewhat neutral setting. Even though they were still decked out in their finery, they seemed less imposing away from the ornate halls of Whitefire Palace. And perhaps things always got easier between families as time progressed. Whatever the reason, Lily and James were both pleased to see their families melding together so well.

o . o . o

Lily was sharing a shitty flat in London with Mary, Alice, and Fabian. They were all starting the training course at St. Mungo’s, which only paid a very small stipend, and sharing a small apartment had been the only thing they could do. Lily knew that doing the course was a bit pointless, since she’d have to give it up when she married James, but she couldn’t very well just sit around and wait for a proposal.

They had a week to set up their flat and celebrate their graduation before they had to start their course. Lily took the first three days to visit with her family. She had missed them so much, realized, and she wished she could’ve gotten the whole summer to spend with them. But at least London was much closer to home, and she could apparate there in a pinch if she wanted to.

Her parents surprised her by announcing that they were getting a new couch for the sitting room, and gifting her the old one for her apartment. James insisted on getting her a proper bed (“Hey, I’ve got to sleep on this thing too!”) despite her protestations. Alice’s parents were a bit more upper class, and she was an only child, she they’d been happy to get a few things for them - mostly kitchenware, but a dining table and a little tv as well. Everything else they’d gotten second-hand as cheap as they could find, with the result being that their apartment looked like the most hideously mismatched collection of 50s decor imaginable. But it was home, at least none of them cared if some butterbeer spilled on the sofa.

Sirius came over for dinner one evening, and by the end of the night, he and Mary had gone their separate ways, just as she’d predicted. Mary didn’t seem all that cut up about it, and Lily wondered if it didn’t have something to do with Fabian. He’d become very snuggly with her, always seeking contact with his toes or his shoulder or his forehead whenever they sat down to watch the little tv. Not to mention he’d developed a habit of “forgetting” his clothes in his bedroom whenever he took a shower. Lily privately thought that it wouldn’t be too long before those two were sharing one room.

James was living in the Palace, his schedule jam packed with events and outings and meetings. He wanted the Royal Family to be more active, and to play a bigger part in the governing of the country, the way it had centuries before. People responded well to him, and he was a natural at all of it. Sometimes Lily thought it was a shame that he couldn’t get involved in politics, because he was a great diplomat. Most weekends, he stayed with her in the little flat, as long as he didn’t have an event in the morning, but occasionally she went to the Palace. The almost never went out though, since that inevitably ended up with them being photographed.

All in all, life after graduation seemed pretty good. They were all busy, and Lily felt exhausted all the time, but it was in a good way, and she felt as though she’d accomplished something at the end of every day. And yet there was a constant feeling that just as they began to settle into this new life, everything would change.

#jily #james potter #lily evans #jily au #marlene mckinnon #mary macdonald #dorcas meadowes #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #royalty au #gen writes #atttr