#as soon as she's got her feathered cap and feather boa on

[queenlua]

i hate when i realize i am in fact the best-qualified person to write the stupid lil fanfic that i want to read

#ok but picture this. #ace attorney. kentucky derby 2019. #kristoph owns Maximum Security and is trying to smugly cash in his bet #but turns out Phoenix's *other* side hustle was Becoming A Horse Racing Steward #so he gets to smile his big shit-eating grin as the chief steward slams down the banhammer while he's standing smugly to the side #also Trucy bet it all on Country House and that's what's paying her college tuition someday babey #god this is so stupid but also i would get to decide everyone's Derby Day hats. which is the opposite of stupid it's GREAT #...tbh i think Oldbags could do one hell of a glow-up on Derby Day #suddenly morphs into one of those majestic intimidating southern matriarchs Faulkner warned about #as soon as she's got her feathered cap and feather boa on #hi i have wasted my whole evening watching old horse races how are y'all

[sgtjamesrogers]

Been Too Unkind

Rated: T | roy x jamie | post episode: 0308: We'll Never Have Paris [also on ao3]

Roy’s alarm goes off at 3:40 am the Monday after their Sunday match right on schedule, and when he rolls over to his nightstand and switches it off, the next notification is a reminder from his calendar. 

After his eyes adjust he sees ‘PHOEBE DAY’ in all caps, with three swords emojis and a snake emoji after it. Roy had let her pick out the emojis. 

“Fuck.” He sits up out of bed in the dark, fiddling thick-fingered through his phone to press Jamie Tartt’s contact and then ‘call’. It occurs to him, his brain slowly waking up as he listens to the line ring, that he could have sent a text. Jamie is always awake and ready to go now when Roy shows up for training, these days. 

Too late, Jamie’s already picking up before Roy can think too hard about it. 

“...Coach?” He yawns into the phone from the other end. “You’re like, forty minutes early. And calling me. You don’t call me. Did you get hit by a car on your way? Nah, no you didn’t. You’d still show up, wouldn’t you, holding someone’s bumper and saying summat like ‘Move your ass Tartt, I have some new weight training for you to do’.” 

He sounds sleep-raspy but still manages to tip some more gravel into his voice for his Roy impression. Tragically, it’s not half bad. 

“Was that supposed to be me?”, is what Roy says out loud. “You made me sound like Eeyore.” 

“Ain’t that you?” Jamie responds breezily, the sound of a tap running water into a glass somewhere in the background. “Anyway, what’s going on? I haven’t even mixed my pre-workout yet.” 

“Oh, right,” Roy says, and then continues gruffly, “I’ve got my niece today, she’s off school. We’ll have to cut training short.” 

“Can’t you just strap her into a baby bjorn and we’ll take her with?” Jamie asks, the clatter of his blender bottle like a cup full of Yahtzee dice. “She’s like, two, isn’t she? How much could a toddler weigh? Two stone at max, I bet.” 

“No?” Roy says, making a face. “Add five years to that. She’d hate it, and her legs are too long.” He shoves his sheets off, his free hand automatically feeling out the muscles above his knee like he’s making sure he has enough gas in the tank of his car. They feel loose enough, so he hefts himself out of bed.  

There’s a long pause before Jamie smacks his lips into the phone receiver, the prick. Roy can almost smell the neon green sour whatever of his pre-workout. “Hold on, I might have something else.” 

---

Fair is fair: the pedicab driver is easier to bribe than Roy expected. 

Or perhaps ‘easy’ isn’t exactly the correct term, seeing as Jamie’s pocket ended up roughly five hundred pounds lighter by the time the driver seemed satisfied enough to hand over the cab to them, followed by a warning that he had a GPS marker tacked on, so ‘no funny business!’ 

“What funny business would we do with a cycle rickshaw anyway?” Jamie asks, turning to put his words over one shoulder.

The little shit’s not even out of breath yet; pedaling with his elbows propped lazily on the handlebars as he prepares to make a righthand turn at the next intersection. 

“Oh, I dunno, scamming tourists hundreds of pounds for fucking taxi rides while playing whatever this is—” The inlaid speakers on the passenger wagon are vibrating faintly as they play a hellacious club remix of Karma Cameleon. “—at top volume with stupid flashing lights and feather boa trim, that sounds like funny business to me, fucking HELL!” 

The wagon of the pedicab lists dangerously to the left side as Jamie takes the corner too quickly, the shiny silver Jaguar behind them honking repeatedly and at length. As soon as Roy feels like he’s not going to slide right out of the cab and go rolling across the pavement like he’s an extra in John Wick, he twists around to give the Jag’s driver the finger. 

“If you get me killed, I’m killing you next,” Roy says shortly, checking his phone. A quarter to nine. “Take a left up here.” 

Unfortunately for Roy, Phoebe is just as ecstatic as he thought she might be when they pulled up. 

“Uncle Roy! I always wanted to ride in one of these, Mum always says they’re not for us, they’re for fleecing tourists.” She hops up into the wagon of the pedicab next to Roy, bouncing a little with excitement on the seat. 

“That’s exactly what they’re for,” Roy says. “Tartt’s gonna pedal us around as part of his training, then we’ll get late breakfast at McDonald’s. Sound good?” 

Turning around on his bicycle seat, Jamie gives her a jaunty little salute and a grin. “I’ll be your driver for today, miss. Any musical requests or sights you wanna see, you just let me know.” 

Phoebe looks from Roy to Jamie skeptically and back again. Roy helplessly remembers every time he’s complained about Jamie Fucking Tartt while utilizing every curse under the sun, as well as making up some of his own curse words. Like a deranged Looney Tune. He gives her a wincing sort of smile in return. 

Roy’s niece turns primly back toward Jamie. 

“Do y’have any Little Mix or Jorja Smith?” 

---

They make it through the DNA album and get partway into Salute before Roy takes pity on Jamie and has him stop in front of the McDonald’s on Eden. It’s not quite mid-morning and there’s a shambling group of uni students already queued up inside, looking so violently hungover for a Monday at 10 am that even Roy feels a little nauseously sympathetic. 

Roy sends Jamie inside and attempts to send his card with him, but Jamie waves him off with a roll of his eyes. 

“Put that away old man, I’m good for three McMuffins,” he laughs before heading inside to join the crowd. Roy doesn’t realize until after Jamie’s walked off that he didn’t even try to fight him on it. There’s something a little discomfiting about that, but Roy can’t exactly put his finger on why. 

“Is he your new Keeley?” 

Roy whips around to look at Phoebe so quickly that he feels a crick in his neck. She’s looking up at him with a squinting expression, not quite unimpressed so much as mystified. 

“No one could replace Keeley,” he says quickly, something like a little minnow of panic swimming through his guts while he looks at her. 

Even the fucking abstract concept of Keeley brought up unexpected is calling to mind standing in the Nelson Road car park and feeling words rolling out of his mouth like vomit while he asked for details he did not need, because he’d let himself think that assuaging his own culpability was more important than her privacy. If he hadn’t deserved her before, he certainly didn’t now.  

Roy takes as deep a breath as he can, and rights himself. He looks at Phoebe sideways. She deserves to have a Keeley, even if he doesn’t. “Is that what you think I’m doing?” Just like Jamie, she rolls her eyes at him. 

“That’s not what I mean. Mum says old people don’t really use ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend’.” Her expression goes a little disapproving. “Boys can like boys, Uncle Roy. Don’t be silly on purpose.” 

Roy puts his hands up in exasperated surrender. “I know that boys can like boys. Girls can like girls, for that matter.” 

Phoebe crosses her arms. “Obviously. Keeley and Jack took me to the Science Museum last weekend. Her new Uncle Roy,” she adds, confidentially. 

Closing his eyes, Roy counts to ten. Considers praying. “You didn’t call her that, did you?” 

Worryingly, Phoebe doesn’t address that question. Instead, she looks inside the McDonald’s, and Roy follows her gaze. Jamie’s waiting for their food, and while Roy and Phoebe look on he visibly checks their order number on the ticket in his hand and compares it with the orders on the overhead screen. They watch him do it three more times in the next minute, as if he’s concerned he might have forgotten their number. 

“See! You’re smiling!” Phoebe accuses him before he can look away. He looks down at her and resists the urge to clap a hand over his own mouth. 

“I’m allowed to fucking smile,” Roy grumbles. 

She crosses her arms, her earlier prim expression returning. It reminds him of Keeley when she knows she’s one hundred percent correct and is being horribly polite about it while she waits for Roy to figure it out. 

“He’s different than you said,” she hedges. “He hasn’t been a selfish moronic cunt or a shallow fucking idiot this entire time.” She pauses. “There was one more you used to call him a lot, but I can’t remember it. It was really good, too.” 

“You should probably forget the first two as well,” Roy says ruefully with a sigh. “...alright, he is different than he used to be. I’ll give you that.” It’s something that Roy knows in an abstract sort of way, but having his niece call it to his attention brings back that discomfited feeling from earlier. 

Before he can get any more words out, Jamie’s back and distributing wrapped sandwiches. He pauses when he hands one off to Roy, tilting his head. 

“Why’re you looking at me like I just shot your dog?” He shoots a horrified look at Phoebe as soon as the words are out of his mouth. “I mean—” Jamie attempts a smile as he reaches back into the bag and offers her a bottle of Tropicana. “Orange juice?” 

“I like this one,” Phoebe says decisively to Roy, nodding at Jamie as she accepts it. 

After breakfast, they head to the park and give the pedicab a rest. Phoebe sprawls on the grass reading The Phantom Tollbooth while Roy has Jamie run drills in the springtime overcast sunlight, and Roy feels prickly with awareness in a way he hadn’t before. 

It’s as if his eyes are independent of his brain, and they just keep noticing. The bunch of Jamie’s shoulders. The tendons that leap out at the back of his hands as they flex. The wrinkle of his nose as he uses his shirt sleeve to wipe his face. 

Roy’s not quite angry that he’s noticing all of this, but perhaps it’s frustration that it’s happening now. He’s had all the time in the world—from their shared locker room to now—to see these things and now his brain is treating them like an I Spy sort of puzzle book. 

“Show me that one again,” Roy says after he’s sat next to Phoebe to check in on her reading, “It needs to be quicker.” 

“And I thought you weren’t even paying attention, Coach,” Jamie tosses out with a grin, but dutifully runs through it as directed. 

Roy wishes he wasn’t paying attention. 

---

“Alright, what do you say to Tartt, then?” Roy prompts as she exits the pedicab and starts hopping up Roy’s front steps. The midday sun is high overhead as the clouds part for a few minutes, and Roy figures he ought to make her lunch from home after having fast food breakfast. 

“Thank you Jamie for pedaling us around and also for the McDonald’s,” she sing songs. Her clear plastic backpack clunks against her back as she waits for him at the door, hopping on the balls of her feet. 

Jamie grins as he gives her the same cheeky salute from this morning. Roy tries not to look at him too hard where he’s sprawled across the handlebars again. “You are very welcome, a girl with good music taste is always welcome in my cab.” 

“You don’t have a cab,” Roy grouses as he follows after her. “You half-borrowed, half-stole this one.” He’s halfway up the steps and expecting a joke, a retort, even a goodbye—anything but a hand on his elbow, halting his movement. 

Roy looks back at Jamie. Down at the hand on him like it’s a wet tentacle wrapping around his arm. Back up at Jamie. 

He’s not even bothered, the fucker. He just points down at Roy’s shoes. 

“Laces are undone. You can’t afford a fall, grandad. That’s when they all start going, you know. Real dark ‘beginning of the end’ business.” Jamie lets him go, and Roy relaxes. He’s in the clear. 

Jamie takes a knee at Roy’s feet. Bending forward, he grasps Roy’s dirty shoelaces and makes them into bunny ears before he ties them neatly and double knots them. 

While he’s bent over, Roy can’t stop staring at the tiny short hairs at the back of Jamie’s neck, at the barely there tan line from a necklace, at the faded roots of his highlights where they’re grown out from the crown of his head. 

Roy’s hands flex at his sides. 

After neatly and unnecessarily retying Roy’s other shoe, he looks up at Roy with a grin that crinkles his eyes. Roy feels like only weeks ago (months ago?), the sight of it made his blood boil and made him assign Jamie adjectives like ‘conceited’ or ‘arrogant wanker’.

Now he sees it spreading over Jamie’s lips and feels like he’s missed a step walking down the stairs. 

“There, all safe now.” 

Roy has never felt less safe, somehow. 

#ted lasso #roy x jamie #royjamie #jesse writes fic #my fic #grips the sink and stares into the mirror......... Who Am I

[maladaptive---daydreamer]

Black ribbon and silver bows

The fifth of may meant that there were exactly 2 months until Draco turned 17. Draco had gone above and beyond for your birthday, spoiling you with 17 individually wrapped gifts that he sent you on a wild goose chase around the school to find. You wanted to make him equally as special as he made you feel, but what did you get the boy who could get anything he wanted?

You thought about getting him a pet, but you didn’t think his mother would appreciate a cat roaming around the halls of the Malfoy Manor. Then you thought about getting him a broom, but as usual, Draco already had the best of the best. Your mind turned to clothes, but the man only wore black shirts with tailor-made trousers. 

“Still thinking about what to get Draco?” Blaise’s voice asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Ugh yes, anything I think of, he already has”

“You’re fault for choosing rich, should have dated a Weasley, they’d be over the moon with an unworn robe” 

You smacked Blaise’s arm “Don’t be so rude, Blaise. Just because you don’t like them doesn't mean you can be a prick”

“Why don’t you make him something? I’m sure the elves would let you sneak into the kitchen to cook, you could draw something, write him a poem”

If you were a cat, your ears would have pricked at hearing the word ‘draw’, Draco was never a fan of the decorations in his room, maybe you could paint him a painting that he could hang up on his wall.

“You might have just saved Draco’s birthday”

The increase of chatter across the library hinted that your free period was over and it was now time for lunch. You and Blaise collected your things and returned the books to the returns trolley before making your way to the great hall. You bumped into Draco, Pansy and Daphne on your way there. The five of you made your way to the Slytherin table to see Crabbe and Goyle already tucking in. 

“Why am I not surprised that you two gluttons are the first on the table?” Blaise asked, throwing his school bag down and taking a seat. 

The rest of your group sat down as well, the elves had made different variations of chicken wraps for lunch today. You picked up a grilled chicken wrap and began eating it, famished after your hour of revision during your free period. You had just finished the first one when Draco said your name.

“You’ve got sauce on your mouth, darling”

You stuck your tongue out trying to lick it off but you kept missing. 

“Hold still a sec” Draco instructed. He used his thumb to wipe the spot of sauce from your mouth, licking it off his thumb once he was done. 

“Ah my saviour!” you fake swooned. 

He laughed and continued to eat his lunch. You wolfed another half of a wrap before feeling full. 

“Are we still revising for charms after dinner?” Daphne asked, looking up from her homework. 

“I’m on it, but the boys have quidditch practise until 7, so they’ll have to join in later” You replied, snapping the lid of your lip balm back on

“Actually, practice is cancelled, so Blaise and I’ll be there” Draco added, downing the rest of his pumpkin juice.

“Y/N, you alright?” 

Your head whipped around to see Neville Longbottom standing behind you.

“Are you lo-” Draco began to sneer

You pinched the outside of his thigh making him grit his teeth instead of finishing his sentence. “Neville, hi”

“I just wanted to return your charms notes, they were dead useful, thanks,” He said with a light blush, holding your pile of notes out.

“Oh, thank you. I’m so glad you found them helpful” You took the notes from him with a smile. 

“Have a nice rest of the afternoon,”

“You too Neville,”

He returned to his friends and your friends turned onto you.

“Why are you so nice to him?” Blaise demanded.

“Oh merlin, when are you guys going to get over this rivalry, he needed help, so I helped him.”

“He’s also Longbottom”

You rolled your eyes. “Anyways, does anyone want to let me copy the last two questions for the dada homework?”

Daphne slid her roll of parchment over to you and you quickly scribbled the answers. Just as you had screwed on the cap for your ink lid, the bell for your next lesson rang. Nowadays your lessons were less structured, it was two months before exam season which meant the teachers pushed to revise topics rather than introducing new ones. Some teachers preferred to let you get on in groups doing your own thing, others had a strict revision lesson planned. But one thing was for certain exams had definitely taken over your life.

After your charms revision session with your friends, you and Draco found yourselves walking up to the astronomy tower. The sun was beginning to set as you nestled yourself into his lap.

“Don’t you think it’s mad that in a couple of years we won’t be able to do this anymore?” You asked, tightening his arms around you.

“We can watch the sunset from anywhere love”

“Ha ha you know what I mean idiot”

“I’m ready to leave this place”

“Sorry Mr ‘I should have been in Durmstrang’”

“I should have, my father agreed more with their curriculum”

“Maybe cause his old death eater buddy was running it”

“He’s your father's old death eater buddy too”

“My father never thought about sending me to Durmstrang”

“That’s because it’s a boys-only school, love”

“I don’t like you”

“That’s because you love me,”

“Speaking of love, do you remember the first moment you realised you loved me?”

He paused “As a matter of fact I do”

“Do tell, Mr Malfoy”

“We were at that party at the Parkinson’s in our 3rd year. You had a silver dress on. Your mum forced you into these heels and you hated them. You wobbled over to me and clung to my arm the whole night. But as soon as we were shooed away from the adults, you took them off and practically shoved them into my hands and started walking around barefoot. Pansy’s grandmother came out of the parlour and saw you without your shoes on and went berserk, she called you a disgrace, all our mothers came out to see what was going on and I’m pretty sure your mum looked like she was going to kill you”

“I remember that! Then I transfigured her ostrich feather boa into a snake around her neck!”

“She nearly pissed her pants” He laughed, causing you to smile.

“So is that your favourite memory of us?”

“No, my favourite memory takes place in our 4th year at the Yule ball. I didn’t want to dance in front of all those idiots but you pulled me up there anyway. But as soon as you held my hand it was like they all disappeared and it was just me and you. I spun you out and when you spun back into my arms, I dipped you and you looked so beautiful. But that is fighting for the top spot from the time you sucked me off in the restricted section, and the time you floo’ed into my room last summer at 2 am and I absolutely ruined you”

“Okay okay I get the picture your favourite memories are when we have sex”

“Not all of them, just some, what’s yours?”

“5th year, Christmas break, your parents’ Christmas party, you hid my promise ring inside my dessert” you held your hand up letting your ring sparkle in the candlelight, it was simple, a small princess cut emerald on a gold band, but it was oh so precious “You kept staring at me and I was so confused, I wasn’t even looking at what I was eating until you jerked my hand back and told me to look in the spoon and there it was. You cleaned it off and slid it on my finger right in front of everyone. Or maybe it was the time you made me sit on your face when we snuck into a room at the leaky cauldron”

Draco laughed and lifted your hand up and played with the ring. “After we finish Hogwarts, I’m gonna replace this ring with a diamond one”

“You are?” 

“Why do you sound so surprised, I told you already I was going to change your last name to mine, even your parents know”

“I know but I didn’t know you wanted to do this so early"

“Of course I do, why wouldn’t I?”

“You are so whipped”

Draco shoved you off him playfully.

“But it’s okay because I’m equally as whipped” you replied sitting back in his lap.

“You’d better be, otherwise I’d-”

“You’d what? Tell your father?”

“Right, that’s it” His fingers found your sides as he began tickling you. By the time he felt as though he tortured you enough, you were both breathless. 

“I love you," He said, smoothing your shirt down.

“I love you more”

“Who’s up here?” Filch’s voice grumbled. 

You and Draco grinned at each other as you quickly threw your robes on and lifted the hoods, running straight past Filch and into the Slytherin common room. 

You had now learnt what Draco’s favourite memory of you was. All that was left was actually getting around to paint it. If you weren’t in a lesson, you were revising, usually most of the time with Draco. Even on weekends, you found yourself in in the library completing practise exam papers and testing yourself on flashcards. And any time you weren’t working, you and Draco used as an opportunity to spend time with one another without being bogged down with work. You’d already decided that the room of requirement would be the perfect place to start painting, but the issue was figuring out how you’d be able to sneak there and back without arousing suspicion. 

After much deliberation, you decided that your best option for sneaking out was on Tuesday and Wednesday nights. Every Tuesday after dinner, Draco and Blaise would go out to the quidditch pitch to blow off some steam, by the time he had finished and showered, you were almost always already in bed. On Wednesday, you decided you’d tell Draco a little white lie and say that Flitwick had asked you to tutor a struggling 5th year in Charms, it would give you a few hours to yourself to get ahead with painting. 

The upcoming Tuesday your plan was in action, you made Daphne swear she wouldn’t tell Draco where you were and you made your way to the room of requirement. It was honestly a Godsend. You stepped into a room full of different sized canvasses, there were tubes of oil paint and palettes of watercolours and squeezy bottles of acrylic. A table was full of paintbrushes of different sizes and shapes and there were an easel and chair right in the middle of the room. 

You picked out a large rectangular canvas and placed it landscape on the easel and got to sketching the outline of your painting. If all went to plan, it would be a loop of Draco’s favourite memory of the two of you at the ball, if it didn’t well, then it would be a still image and if everything went south, you’d have to somehow find a way to get some lingerie to distract him from your lack of presents. 

Painting the canvas was going to be the hard part, sketching the outline, however, was proving to be a huge nightmare already, you had drawn and redrawn Draco’s face about a hundred times, not being able to get it exactly right. You were about to kick a hole in your canvas when a small a5 picture caught your eye, stuck under the foot of the easel. You picked it up to see a photograph of the exact moment you were trying to recreate. This was why you loved this room, taking a deep breath, you redrew Draco’s face finally getting it as you liked it. By the time you had finished the full outline, it was almost two am, you knew you were going to struggle to wake up in the morning, but that was something for future you to deal with, present you had to find a way to sneak out of the room and back to your dormitory without detection. 

In order to make as little noise as possible, you took your shoes off and ran across the castle in just your socks, you were only a few steps away from the entrance to the common room before Mrs Norris came around the corner. She meowed loudly as you whisper-shouted the password, the corridor revealing itself. You ran down it and straight up the stairs into your dormitory. You tried to get into bed as quietly as possible before falling asleep. 

In hindsight, staying up sketching until 2 am was a horrible idea. It was only 1 in the afternoon and you were struggling to stay awake. 

“I don’t get why you don’t just pay someone to paint it for you,” Daphne asked, scrunching a piece of paper into a ball and throwing it in the bin beside you.

“Because then there's no sentimental value behind it” You replied, massaging your temples.

“What time did you fall asleep anyway?”

“By the time I drowned out Pansy’s snoring it was 3, I was just lucky I had a free period first so I ended up getting an hours extra sleep”

“Merlin, remind me to never fall in love”

You laughed before rubbing your eyes and returning to your work. 

It took you four weeks of staying up till 2 am to finish Draco’s painting. You had spent hours mixing the right shades of paint, at one point you ended up getting rid of the paint on the whole canvas and starting again but exactly three weeks before Draco’s birthday, you had mastered the spell to make your painted figures move and your masterpiece was complete. Your only worry was that Narcissa Malfoy would hate it and would stop her son from hanging it in his bedroom. 

In order to get the huge canvas from the room of requirement back to your dormitory, you had to ask Neville to ask Harry if you could borrow his invisibility cloak. If Draco had found out that you got Harry’s help you were 90% sure he’d be the one kicking a hole in your canvas. For now, the canvas was safely tucked under your bed. 

The next morning, you stuffed Harry’s cloak in your bag and made your way down to meet him. You had agreed the previous evening that you’d meet outside Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom before breakfast to make the exchange. As planned, he was stood with Neville right outside the entrance to the toilet. You pulled the cloak out and handed it back to Harry. 

“Thank you, I know you and Draco don’t like each other, but it means a lot that you'd go out on a limb to help me.”

“While I question your choice in men, Y/L/N, you’ve helped Neville out on more than one occasion and any friend of Neville’s is a friend of mine.”

You smiled at Harry, “I’m gonna head to breakfast before Draco gets suspicious, see you boys, later”

They waved goodbye as you made your way back to breakfast, stopping in the normal girl's toilet to sort your shirt out which you found you were wearing inside out. Your group of friends were already sat down eating, all but Draco.

“Where is he?” You asked.

“Couple third years said they had to tell him something in private, oh wait, speak of the devil” 

You turned and he did not look happy. His jaw was clenched and he was walking oddly fast, he came to you and gripped you firmly by the arm. “Can I speak to you, outside, Y/N”

You looked at him confused but followed him out. As soon as you were out of earshot from the hall he turned around to face you, he looked pissed, he kept walking forward until you were pinned between him and the wall. 

“You want to tell me why some friends in 3rd year saw you giving Potter his invisibility cloak back?”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, darling, we both know you’re not. ‘it looked like she was holding something but there wasn't anything in her hand’. Why did you have his cloak”

“I was planning on recreating that memory of yours in the restricted section for your birthday, I asked Neville if I could borrow Harry’s cloak to get us there and back but then I remembered you wouldn’t have come if we were using his cloak so I gave it back” You lied smoothly 

He swallowed and nodded, not moving back. You pushed him off and scoffed. 

“Is this what you’re doing now? Sending third years to follow me?”

“You of all people should know I have eyes and ears everywhere.”

“Those eyes and ears shouldn't be snooping on your girlfriend”

“They wouldn’t have to if you weren’t lying to me about where you were for the past month.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Helping a 5th year with Charms as per the request of Flitwick? Well not according to the professor himself”

“Dra-”

He laughed, “Can’t even cover up your lies properly. Why don't I give you a few hours to come up with a cover story, I can’t bear the sight of you right now” Draco turned and walked away, ignoring you as you called out for him. 

He acted as though you didn’t exist for all of your lessons, he didn't sit next to you, he didn't speak to you, he barely looked at you. You chose to have dinner alone in your room that night. It had occurred to you during your second period that Draco thought you were cheating on him with Harry. It made sense, you were sneaking around and you were seen giving Harry’s cloak back as if to say that you two had been meeting up in secret under it. But it also made absolutely no sense either, you and Draco had been together since the beginning of your 3rd year. Your father was a death eater for Pete’s sake, it didn’t take a genius to realise you’d be disowned if you brought home Harry fucking Potter. 

You were partway through your transfiguration homework when Daphne came bounding up into the dormitory.

“Right, what is going on with you and Draco?” She asked, throwing her bag on the floor and collapsing on her bed.

“Nothing,” You lied.

“See that is absolute bullshit because he has been a moody prick all day and you skipped dinner, so come out with it, spill”

You sighed and explained everything. 

“Why don’t you just tell him the truth then?”

“Because if I do, it’ll ruin the surprise”

“And if you don’t it’ll end your relationship, my mother is over the moon at the fact that I’ll be a bridesmaid at a Malfoy wedding, you don’t want to crush her dreams do you?”

“You’re right, do you know where he is?”

“He went straight into his dormitory”

You nodded and made your way there. He was joined by his friends.

“Rest of you out, thanks,” You said, walking in and standing in the middle of the room. 

Blaise looked at Draco and he nodded, prompting him, Theodore and Goyle to leave. He refused to look at you. You took a seat at the end of his bed and began to explain.

“I’m well aware you think I’m cheating on you with Potter, but that’s really the complete opposite of what’s happening. The truth is, for the past few weeks, I’ve been arranging your birthday present. I finished it last night and I asked for Harry’s cloak so I could bring it back to my dormitory without revealing the surprise. That’s where I’ve been sneaking off to. Not to go snog Potter under his invisibility cloak”

“Oh”

“Bet you feel really fucking stupid now don’t you,” You scoffed

“I’m sorry, darling,”

“Do you not think? Could you imagine my parents’ reaction if I brought home Potter? They’d disown me faster than you came the first time we-”

He grabbed you into a hug before you could finish your sentence.

“I am truly sorry, princess, for jumping to conclusions and for ruining my surprise.”

“Well, you haven’t totally ruined it, you don’t know what it is yet.”

“Can we come back in yet, I need to get out of this fucking uniform” Theodore shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

Draco shouted back a yeah and his friends returned. 

“See you two’ve kissed and made up, about time too, Draco’s a right git when he's moody”

Draco threw a pair of balled-up socks at Blaise’s head before you got up off the bed.

“I’ll meet you in the common room once I’ve finished my homework,” You told him before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He mumbled an okay before kissing you once more and you were on your way. 

The next morning, at breakfast, you noticed your father’s owl descend onto the table in front of you. You took the letter expecting him to fly off and return home but he waited expectantly, clearly, he was told to wait until you replied. He hopped up onto your arms as you took him to the owlery to recuperate while you read your letter and replied. 

Y/N, 

You’re hopefully aware that it is Draco’s birthday in a few weeks, I hope that you have got him an adequate gift. You know how important your 17th birthday is and as I remember, Draco spoilt you with 17 gifts. Since you are a young lady, you're not expected to gift him anything as lavish as some of the presents he gave you, but tradition dictates that you should get him something worthy of a pureblood wizard, in particular jewels. Please reply as soon as possible, only so I know that you won’t embarrass your father and I (and in the case you do, I can send you an alternative). Your brothers and your father send their regards. We miss you. 

Mother

You rolled your eyes at her need for keeping up appearances and quickly scribbled her back a reply. You wished you were at home to see her reaction to you gifting him a painting you painted yourself. Once your father’s owl had filled himself up with water and owl feed, you attached the letter to him and sent him on his way. 

Later in the evening, your mother’s owl pecked at you through the library window. You went out into the corridor and took a letter and a box off of her. Once you had freed her of her cargo, she hooted and flew off. You opened the second letter and read.

Sweetheart, I know that you are an accomplished young artist, but a painting will simply not do, especially for his 17th birthday. However, since I am your mother and I know you best, I had a feeling I would need to help you in this department. I took the liberty of going into Bourgin and Burke’s on the weekend and purchased a rare black diamond ring for Draco on your behalf. I think he will like it and I think you will too. I hope you are studying well for your exams, 

Mother

You tried to rip open the wrapping on the box but it wouldn't move. The fold at the bottom lifted itself up a bit and ran across your finger, giving you a papercut. A thin line of blood collected on its edge and the wrapping dissolved leaving you with a red ring box, she was always partial to a bit of blood magic. You lifted the lid to see a thick silver band, it looked like it was either white gold or platinum, your mother thought sterling silver was too cheap, the oval cut diamond set atop a larger oval of platinum. It wasn't too plain but it also wasn’t overly gaudy, just as Draco liked it. You returned to the library with your second gift, making a note to hide it under your bed with your painting.

The next few weeks went past in a blur of mock exams and constant revision. Your first exam wasn’t until the 10th of June, giving you plenty of time to celebrate Draco’s birthday properly. The night before his birthday, half of Slytherin house was gathered in the common room waiting for it to hit midnight. You asked the elves to bake a cake for him and smuggled it with some snacks to have a small party with your friends. 

At 11.59 you pulled a tie out from behind you and held it up.

“Gonna let me tie you up huh?” Draco asked with a smirk. 

“Nice try, Malfoy, but this is for you” You replied getting up and tying it around his eyes. 

“What are you doing, Y/L/N?” 

You pointed your wand at the wall causing birthday banners and streamers to hang. Blaise brought the cake in from the 1st year dormitory. The large grandfather clock donged deeply as it hit midnight, you pulled his blindfold down as the whole common room burst into a rendition of happy birthday. He laughed and put his arm around your waist pulling you into his side. Nott finished the song on a horrible high note as Draco blew his candles out. 

“Make a wish, Draco” Pansy shouted. 

“I don’t need to, I've got everything I could wish for right next to me.”

You smiled up at him and gave him a kiss before addressing the crowd. “Eat my friends,” You felt like Dumbledore as plates of food dotted themselves around the common room. The attention moved from Draco to the food as everyone got up and attacked. 

“Happy birthday, my love,” You said wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Thank you, princess, I wasn’t expecting this at all.”

“Only the best for my boyfriend”

You spent the next few hours playing truth or dare with your housemates, it was cut short when Snape barged into the common room, the decorations were ripped off the wall and the music from the radio stopped. 

“I am going to give you until the count of 10 to return to your dormitory, anyone I still see standing here will be spending every weekend for the rest of the year cleaning with filch”

He began to count down from 10 as everyone scrambled to run into their dorms and get into bed. 

You were so excited to surprise Draco with his presents that you skipped breakfast, instructing Daphne to tell him to meet you in the astronomy tower. You decided you were going to decorate your spot a little bit, you set up a soft blanket and some cupcakes and hung up the leftover banners and streamers from your midnight party in the common room. You had his gifts wrapped up with ribbon and some bows just to be extra, they sat in the centre of your blanket, the canvas taking up a large chunk of it. You had realised Draco would probably struggle to take the canvas back home, but that would be a problem he would have to deal with later.

 “Y/N?” His voice called out from the bottom of the stairs. 

“Up here, love” You replied, your head popping up over the bannister. 

He broke into a smile when he saw you and rushed up the stairs taking them two at a time. You sat on the edge of the blanket and waited for him.

“Happy 17th birthday, Draco” You exclaimed as he reached the top. 

His smile got even wider as he pulled you up and into a tight hug. 

“I am so in love with you, do you know that?” he mumbled into your neck.

“I hope you feel the same after you see your presents,”

“Darling, you know you didn’t have to get me anything, you’re the best gift I could have ever received”

“I didn’t have to but I wanted to, here look” 

His eyes fell onto the two wrapped gifts, he sat himself down and opened the top present. 

“How did you get your hands on this?” he pulled the ring out and examined it closely.

“RIght so backstory to this, my mum didn’t believe that my original present was traditional enough to be a ‘wizard’s 17th birthday present’ so she went out to Bourgin and Burke and got this, but I wouldn’t have given it to you had I thought you wouldn't like it, so think of this as a gift from your in-laws.”

“My father’ll be jealous, he's been wanting a black diamond in his collection for ages now” He put the ring back in the box and was about to shut it.

“Wait, let me put it on. you put my ring on, so I’ll put yours on, practise for the big day”

He smiled at you as you sat down next to him and pulled the ring back out of the box. He held his left hand out for you and you slid the ring onto his ring finger.  

“You know after this, they tend to kiss” He grinned. 

“Oh yes, of course, if we’re going to practise we should be thorough” You pulled his head down and his lips met yours for a passionate kiss. 

He pulled back after a few moments with a grin. 

“We should keep practising, just to be on the safe side”

“Enough flirting, Malfoy you have another gift to open”

He turned and picked up the canvas in his hands.

“Is this the one you were sneaking away for?”

You nodded and he began to tear off the wrapping. He got up and placed it against the wall and stood there looking at it, silently. He was silent for a while as he watched the loop of Draco spinning you out and then dipping you on your return with a kiss. Although he hadn't said anything, you got the feeling that he didn't particularly like this gift. He was probably thinking of a way to let you down easily.

“Do you not like it?” You asked quietly.

“What? No!” he turned around with a genuine smile. “I love it, darling, it's perfect. Honestly, it's beautiful.”

You physically relaxed and went to stand next to him. “You said you didn’t like the painting in your room above the fire so I thought I’d give you something to change it with, I’m just not sure if your mother would like it, since its not one of those classical masterpieces.”

“I don’t care what my mother thinks, as soon as I get home, I’m hanging this right up on my wall. I just never knew you could paint like this”

“My mum made me start painting when I was three, I stopped lessons as soon as I started Hogwarts but I kept it up on the side as a hobby and, well, I thought I’d immortalise your favourite memory of us.”

“You never cease to amaze me” He turned and pulled you into him “Thank you,”

“Don’t be silly it’s your birthday, stupid”

“Not just for this, for everything. For putting up with everything, the jealousy, the anger, the-”

“Hey, I’m not putting up with anything, I love you, Draco, all of you”

“Merlin, I can’t wait to marry you” His lips crashed into yours for a frenzied kiss, overwhelmed with emotion. “This is by far the best birthday I’ve ever had, nothing will be able to top this”

And he wasn’t lying. Whenever he was asked, by his kids, his grandkids even his great-grandkids, what his favourite birthday celebration was, his response was always the same, his 17th birthday.

#Draco Malfoy #Draco #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy reader insert #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy x you #harry potter fanfic #harry potter imagines #hogwarts imagines #hp #hp imagines #draco lucius malfoy #slytherin

[kyber-crystal]

Baby Fever

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~2.4k

Summary: Sometimes, all you need to work up your courage is a little push. And Steve receives just that. When the two of you go to babysit Morgan, he gets a little sneak peek into what a future with you could be like - and he doesn`’t want to let that thought go.

Warnings: this sucks lol, but it’s just a bunch of fluff

A/N: so a lot of my oneshots are about getting INTO relationships instead of being in one prior, but I just couldn’t resist this trope ugh. I CANT RESIST DAD! STEVE UGHHH. also i decided to start making moodboards, inspired by @marvelsswansong teehee. dedicating this to @rynhaswritersblock​ , who recently joined tumblr! I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUU 

...

“Are you guys sure about this?” Pepper looked back and forth between you and Steve as she packed up the last of her things, rolling the suitcases to the front door. "She's a lot to handle...and I know you guys already have a lot on your plate and all.."

"I'm sure," you gave her a reassuring smile, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "We're going to have fun, right, Morgan?"

"Yeah!" the little Stark giggled, raising her arms in the air, "We're gonna have so much fun together!"

"We'll be back by tomorrow night," Tony informed you, leaning down to kiss Morgan's forehead, "Bye, sweetheart. Make sure to behave for them, okay?"

"Okay!"

"I can't thank you guys enough," Pepper stated. "It's been forever since we were last able to get a break like this."

"You deserve it," you nodded, "now go! Shoo! Don't worry and just relax! That's the whole point of you going on this trip."

"Alright, alright," she chuckled, "see you soon, then!"

As soon as the door closed behind them, Morgan immediately jumped up into your arms. "Let's go play!"

"What do you want to do?" you asked.

"A tea party!"

"Well..." Steve looked down at his watch, "it's getting close to lunchtime, so how about we have something to eat first, and then we'll play, okay?"

"Yay!"

While you kept Morgan busy, Steve got set to making a simple lunch of grilled cheese for you all to eat. When he brought the plates to the living room, he saw saw you sitting in between Morgan's legs as she was plopped down on the couch, pulling your hair up into a high bun.

"Now, what's this?" Steve raised an eyebrow as he set down the food on the coffee table, ruffling Morgan's hair. "Did you bother her?"

"She didn't," you laughed lightly, "don't worry."

"Do you like it?" Morgan giggled. "I think she looks super pretty!"

"I approve," Steve nodded, giving the little girl a thumbs-up.

"So, Morgan," you cleared your throat, "Who's your favorite Avenger?"

"Daddy is!"

"Besides your dad."

"You!"

“And why is that?”

“Because you can shoot lasers out of your eyes and control the weather! And that’s really really cool!”

“I think you just hurt Steve’s feelings,” you reminded her.

“He’s my second favorite!”

“Really, kiddo?” Steve raised a brow, “after all I’ve done for you? Who took you out to ice cream after your dance recital? Who let you have dessert before dinner when your dad was too busy working? Who let you go sledding with their shield?”

“But Y/N is the cool auntie!”

"See that, Cap? She likes me more than you," you smirked, nudging Steve in the shoulder. "I'm her favorite."

Steve scoffed. “I’m right behind you. I’m her second favorite.”

"I'm better than you are, though."

After you were all done eating, Morgan grabbed Steve’s hand, then motioned for you to all follow her upstairs to her room. Within five minutes you were all dressed up with feathery boas, colorful scarves, bejeweled sunglasses, and bright pink birthday hats.

"You look ridiculous," you snorted as you adjusted Steve’s fuchsia feather boa and sunglasses. "I could just take a picture of you right now and store it for future blackmail use."

"Don't you dare," he warned.

Too late. You already had your phone out and he blinked in surprise as the flash went off. You giggled as you saw the surprise evident in his face.

"Ooh! Let's take a group selfie!" Morgan jumped up and down. Steve let out a sigh but as soon as he saw the eager look in her eyes he couldn't resist. You crowded together as you quickly took the group picture, making funny faces because she insisted on doing so.

Pepper was right in saying Morgan was a lot to handle. If being an Avenger was the most difficult thing to do, this had to be the second hardest job to take. By the time dinner rolled around, you were tired out of your mind from running around the backyard throwing a Frisbee back and forth, commentating on Barbie movies together, cartwheeling through the halls, climbing trees, and her undoing and redoing your hair.

"Why don't you take a break. I'll get dinner ready," Steve offered. "You need to rest."

"But St-" you began.

"It's fine," he waved you both off, "you deserve it."

"Thank you," you yawned, stretching your arms up in the air. As soon as you flopped down onto the couch, you drifted off.

“Auntie Y/N? Where are...oh!” Morgan hopped over and peered over the sofa, seeing that you were fast asleep. She picked up the blanket that had been strewn aside from earlier, and carefully pulled it over your body, before patting your forehead and skipping off to the kitchen to find Steve.

“Uncle Steve!” She tugged on the super-soldier’s pant leg, and he looked down from where he was chopping up cilantro at the counter. The heavenly smell of Italian spice blends began filling the air. “What are you making?”

“Garlic tomato basil chicken,” he responded with a soft smile as he set his knife down and washed his hands, crouching down to her eye level. “It’s almost ready. Is Y/N still asleep?”

“Uh huh.”

“Why don’t you wake her up for me, while I go set the table. Sounds good?”

“Yup!”

"Y/N, WAKE UP!" she began jumping up and down wildly. "Wake up wake up wake up wake up!"

You groaned and stirred awake, rubbing your eyes as you stood up. "Who woke me u- oh, hey!"

"Were you tired?"

"Yes, Morgan, very," you gave her a tired smile, "so I took a nap. Are you not tired?"

"Nope!"

“Alright,” you exhaled, picking her up. “Let’s go eat!” She instantly rested her head against your shoulder.

Steve watched you pick Morgan up and spin her around as she let out a squeal - and felt a rush of pride wash over him in seeing you being so playful with the little girl. You'd make an excellent parent to his future child, he thought to himself. All you needed now was a ring around your finger. 

He felt his heart race at the thought - since when did he start feeling this way about you?

"Dinner's ready!"

"Uncle Steve, are you one of those chef guys on TV?" Morgan's eyes widened in awe as she slid into her seat, looking down at her plate. "This looks super cool! How did you do this?"

"No, I'm not," Steve laughed, "This just takes a lot of practice."

For the majority of dinner, Morgan retold little memories along the lines of 'Remember when that one time you came over for Daddy’s birthday and then Uncle Steve came too and I went sledding with his shield? That was so fun!" 

The five year-old was definitely talkative, but nobody minded at all. She was too adorable that it didn't matter how chatty she was - even you, the tough, seemingly coldhearted Agent Y/N had warmed up to her.

After a long, jam-packed day, Morgan was completely knocked out, splayed out across the couch clutching her favorite stuffed duck. You quietly crept towards her and picked her up, carrying her upstairs to her room and gently laying her down in bed.

You lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching as her brown hair fell around her face like a little halo, her chest rising and falling with each breath she took. A small smile found its way onto your face as you stood there.

Suddenly you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind.

"Hey," Steve exhaled, resting his chin on top of your head. You could feel his warm breath against your neck as he spoke. "What're you standing here for?"

"Hmmm...just watching, making sure she's alright..." you hummed, placing your hands over his as he gently rocked you both from side to side. "Uh...what time is it?"

"10:30."

"Wow. Who knew she could tire you out so quickly," you let out a yawn. "I normally don't go to bed until 1 or 2, or at all for that matter."

"You should get ready for bed, too," he suggested, leaning down to kiss your temple. "Come on. You’re sharing the guest room with me, if you don’t mind."

"Sounds good," you yawned again as he released you from his hold, closing the door before turning around and following him down the hall.

You were too worn out to change or wash up, crawling underneath the covers and pulling them up to your chin. Steve slid into bed besides you, and within minutes you were both fast asleep.

"Yeah!" Morgan squealed, jumping up and down on the mattress. "Auntie Y/N! Uncle Steve! Stop cuddling and get up because it's time to eat!"

The two of you slowly stirred awake, then when you realized the compromising position you were in you quickly pulled apart, sitting up as you rubbed your eyes and ducked your heads slightly to hide the blush on your faces.

"Are you guys dating?"

"No, we're not!" you and Steve replied in unison. 

"Uh huh."

Much to Morgan's delight, you ended up eating Mickey Mouse-shaped pancakes for breakfast. Afterwards you took to playing Frisbee and several other games outside for a couple hours before heading back in and bingeing several episodes of Sofia the First while eating macaroni. 

Though sometimes when you glanced over at Morgan laughing and enjoying herself throughout the day, you felt a pang in your chest. You'd missed out on so many years with your parents - your early graduation from Penn State, being promoted to commander of SHIELD’s strike team at just 21, becoming an Avenger - only being able to experience a fraction of your life with them before their lives were unfairly cut short.

"Are you okay?" Steve glanced at you worriedly, placing a hand on top of yours.

"Yeah...I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Come on...what's up? Just tell me," he pleaded. "I don't like seeing you sad. It makes me sad, too."

You bit your lower lip, squeezing your eyes shut. "I miss Mom and Dad...seeing Morgan reminded me so much of what I was like as a kid...the memories came flooding back. It’s been so long since then, but..."

"I know. I miss my Ma and Dad, too," he sighed. "I know it hurts, but...don't worry. Time heals all wounds. You’ll be alright."

You lifted your head from where it was resting on his shoulder, smiling slightly at him. "You know, I think that's the wisest thing I've heard you say. Not Captain America hasn’t said a lot of wise things, though."

"You think?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm happy to help...you know I'm always here for you, right?"

"Mhm. I love you."

"I love you too."

When Tony and Pepper arrived the next day, they saw all of you sprawled out across the living room, cuddled up together amidst fluffy blankets and pillows. You were clinging to Steve like a koala, while Morgan was using his arm as a pillow as she hugged her stuffed duck close to her chest.

"They must've been exhausted," Pepper chuckled, resting a hand on her husband's shoulder.

"They're completely knocked out."

Morgan was the first to wake up. "Daddy!" she giggled, rushing forward and jumping into Tony's arms. "You're back!"

"Hi there," he ruffled her hair, "how did you like spending time with them?"

"It was awesome! They were the best!"

Tony's expression immediately softened as he glanced over at the still-dozing you and Steve. "I'm glad to hear that, sweetheart. Now. Let's wake them all up so they can head back to the compound."

"Hey, Cap? It's time to head home," Pepper gently shook Steve awake. He stirred slightly before sitting up, blinking several times in confusion before he saw her in front of him. "Hey."

"Oh, hi, Pepper..."

"It looks like Y/N isn't about to wake up anytime soon, though..." her brows furrowed together in concern. "She must've done a lot, huh."

"Yeah...she did..."

You stirred awake, sitting up and yawning loudly. “Oh. Tony, Pep...hey! Did I...”

“You knocked out completely,” Steve laughed. “I’ll drive. I know you’re tired.”

"Thanks,” you yawned again, placing a hand over your mouth. “I owe you.”

“No worries.”

He nodded, carefully scooping you up into his arms as Bucky woke up.

"Alright...let's get going. And Tony...it was great seeing you again."

"Likewise, Rogers. We still up for Barbados next month?"

"Definitely."

After a last round of goodbyes, you were on your way back to the Avengers HQs, leaning your head against the cool glass of the window as Steve drove.

"So,” he exhaled, adjusting his grip on the wheel, “you did good over there, putting up with her. She was a lot to deal with.”

“But we had fun, didn’t we?” you turned your head to the side, giving him a soft smile. “I now have a dozen new perfect blackmail photos of you to bring back with me.”

Steve just laughed and shook his head, “I have some of you too, you know.”

“Are you serious.”

"It’s nothing bad, you just fell asleep and I took a picture. You looked cute, if anything.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “Oh.”

“You’re really good with kids, Y/N.”

“...Thanks. You are, too...Morgan loves you.”

“I’d think you’d be an amazing mother to my child someday.” The words came out so swiftly, so smoothly that he didn’t realize what he’d said until he saw your reaction.

You froze in shock. “What did you...what did you just say?”

“When can we have kids?”

“Did I just...hear you correctly...”

“But if you’re not ready to start a relationship, then I understand...I’m in it if you are. When I saw you playing with Morgan...it was like getting a little glimpse to what life with you would be like in the future, of starting a family together...and I don’t want to let go of that idea.  I can't imagine doing that with anyone else other than you."

"What's with the...sudden...confession?" you spluttered, cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red.

“I love you,” he said softly, gazing at you out of the corner of his eye, “I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I know it seems early for me to be saying something like this but I couldn’t be more confident in my answer. And if you’re willing to let me in, then...I’d be more than happy to become that ideal man you’ve always wanted to have.”

“I think I’m falling in love with you, too.”

#avengers imagines #steve x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #marvel #avengers x reader #avengers #captain america #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #marvel fic #avengers fanfiction #captain america one shot #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers fic #captain america fic #mcu #chris evans x reader #chris evans #chris evans imagine

[cagestark]

Rose-Tints My World

Anon asked for Peter wearing a corset and/or ballgown. This is probably not what they meant. 

Warnings: Peter fakes an orgasm onstage lmao. Alcohol, too. Also, this probably requires a semi-decent understanding of RHPS and the characters :/

Read here on AO3.

-

“Shots!” Ned shouts from the bathroom.

MJ sighs, putting down the eyeliner she’d been using to rim Peter’s eyes dark. They are in the kitchen because the light here in better than the light in the bathroom. May came home a half hour ago, took one look at Peter and MJ’s getup before throwing up her hands and retreating to her bedroom. Peter kind of wished he could do the same, watching MJ pour each of them a shot of tequila.

“The theater has a strict no-alcohol policy,” MJ says, rolling her eyes when Peter makes a face, shot glass held between his thin fingers. “If we don’t drink now, we don’t be drunk at all. Do you want to do this sober, Parker?”

Peter takes the shot. It tastes horrible. The salt they pour into their palms directly from the shaker doesn’t help. Much. While MJ is distracted, gagging, Peter picks up the handheld mirror beside them to look at himself and fuck, he gives a long, horrified groan.

“I can’t do this,” Peter mutters. His entire face is painted white with leftover makeup from Halloween, and his eyes and lips left a vibrant red. That’s the best of the costume, he thinks. The rest is worse: the black corset they’d bought from the women’s department at a lingerie store, the black thigh high stockings, the garters. The gloves. The heels. “Look at me, MJ. I can’t go out in public like this.”

“Peter, I swear to God,” she mutters. “Everyone is going to be dressed the way you are. Trust me. I went last year—”

“What?” Peter cries. “How?”

“I was invited, okay? And—”

“Shots!” Ned cries.

They both roll their eyes, pouring more tequila. This one isn’t as bad, actually. The first two must have burned Peter’s taste buds off.

“Anyway,” MJ says. “I went last year, and everyone dresses like this. Chad from your Women’s Studies class? You remember him?”

“Can’t forget him,” Peter mutters, only a little begrudgingly. Why did all the hot guys have to be straight and fucking jerks?

“He was dressed like this—only he didn’t look half as good. You’re the fucking twinkiest twink. You don’t even have chest hair.”

“I’m a late bloomer,” says Peter, crossing his arms over his exposed chest. His head feels light from the alcohol. How he’s going to walk in the heels, he has no idea. He holds the mirror up higher so that he can see his body better, and at least he has a good physique, because most of it is on display including a two inch section of chest-to-abs visible through the laces of the corset. When he speaks next, his voice is small. “Can I—can I at least have the blue feather boa?”

She pats his head condescendingly. “If you’re a good boy.”

“Shots!” Ned shouts.

“Are you taking all these shots back there, too?” MJ bellows.

There is the rumble of feet and then Ned is in the doorway, dressed in a leather jacket, working hard to get the fake cut on his eyebrow to drip blood. “Am I supposed to be?”

-

The Uber they call knows where they’re headed without the trio of them asking. Partly because MJ had entered the address before the guy got there, but also because these screenings of Rocky Horror Picture Show are pretty fucking famous by now, and that’s the only place they could be headed dressed like alien transvestites. At least it’s a warm night, he thinks while they all pile into the back of the SUV. At least he’s not shivering with all his bits on display.

“God, tonight is going to be great,” Ned says. He’s dressed like Eddie, right down to the alto saxophone that he borrowed off of his cousin for this purpose alone—under the condition that no one play it, and he doesn’t get it wet. Not guarantee-able things, according to MJ. “Are we meeting Tony there?”

“Tony?” Peter yelps. “Tony Stark? Physics class TA, Tony? Tell me there’s another Tony.”

“I doubt there’s another Tony, kid,” the Uber driver mutters up front.

“Thanks,” Peter snaps. He turns back to MJ, who looks stunning (in a very female way) as a colored Janet, wearing the character’s signature virginal white bra, tattered shirt, and prim skirt. Debauched. “You didn’t tell me that Tony Stark would be there—that we’d be meeting up with him. I’m wearing thigh highs and panties!”

“And he’s going to love it,” she says slyly, rummaging through the large tote of prompts they brought along for the show: rice to throw at the wedding scene, water pistols to shoot during the rain, a package of uncooked hotdogs—Jesus, if they got purse-snatched, the person would probably think that they were off their rockers. “You look fucking hot. I don’t know why you’re feeling shy all the sudden. Remember last Christmas when Rihanna was on the radio and you did that dance—”

“I’ve got the video if you need your memory jogged—” Ned supplies helpfully.

“I remember,” Peter says quickly, catching the raised eyebrows of the Uber driver glancing back through the mirror. “I just—I mean, I had a lot of sangria at that Christmas party.”

“You’ve had a lot of tequila tonight,” MJ sooths. “If you aren’t feeling it yet, you will be soon. Look, I’m not saying you need to fuck him tonight. I’m just saying that if you let your guard down even the slightest bit around the guy that you’ll be leading him by the cock before sunrise. Trust me. Will you trust me? Jesus. Here, drink this.”

She passes him a water bottle, but as soon as he opens it, the stench of alcohol hits him. “Is this nail polish remover?”

MJ laughs so hard her mascara runs and she has to redo it. But after a few long sips (and he’s almost positive it’s nail polish remover), he’s feeling even looser than he was before. Too much more and he’ll get sloppy, or worse, sick. He cuts himself off, capping the water bottle and tucking it back into the bag beside yesterday’s newspaper.

The Uber drops them off a block away, and they walk the last distance. It gives Peter a chance to get used to—everything. Being so exposed, feeling so many eyes on him. Some people whistle when he goes by, and he’s glad his face is painted so that they can’t see him flush in pleasure. When someone catcalls down to them from a balcony, he shimmies the feathered boa around his shoulders, shaking his flat chest and they hoot in delight.

MJ was right, too. Everyone is dressed up: corsets and thigh highs and high heels and exposed bras. It looks like the strangest collection of fetishists coming together, and the air is full of excitement that Peter is shivering. He feels drunk with it. Or maybe that’s just the alcohol. The eyes all over him feel as good as caresses, and he feels a stirring in his groin that there is no chance his underwear will hide—and oh fucking well. Tonight is about letting loose.

Getting into the theater is an entire affair. The place is packed with lookalikes: Magentas and Riff-Raffs and Columbias and Frankenfurters. There’s a blond guy who is doing a very good portrayal of Rocky, wearing nothing but golden panties, his muscular skin oiled and gleaming under the lights. His skin beckons Peter to touch.

But then it all comes to a stop, because Tony is there. Tony Stark, the senior that Peter has been crushing on since the professor of his Physics class introduced Tony as his TA for the year: the dark, fluffy hair, the whiskey eyes, the shadow of facial hair after the weekends when he comes stumbling in wearing sunglasses to disguise his hangover. There’s nothing about Tony that doesn’t get Peter hard, and tonight is no exception. He looks incredible dressed as Eddie, tight jeans, white t-shirt, black leather jacket clinging to his biceps. It’s so carelessly greaser, and Peter wonders if Tony drove his motorcycle here—the motorcycle Peter jerks himself off imagining Tony fucking him on—because that would be the cherry on top of this sin.

Tony’s smoking inside, though on a night like this, that’s probably the theater’s least concern. His face fucking lights up when he sees MJ, Ned, and Peter—Peter, who his eyes drag up and down unabashedly. It all comes rushing back then, like a movie pressed to play. Peter is dressed like Brad during the floorshow, dressed like kinky sex itself. And he looks good. Judging by the way Tony’s eyes grow wide and then narrow, the lids heavy…Tony knows too.

“Damn it, Janet,” he says around his cigarette, grasping MJ’s hand. “Was this a fucking set-up?”

“I wouldn’t have to be nefarious if other people wouldn’t be obtuse and stubborn and—”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Peter says. “But I’m feeling a little insulted nevertheless—”

“Have we missed anything? The traffic was awful, I thought we were going to be late,” Ned chimes in.

“Nah,” Tony says. “They’re rounding up virgins.”

“Virgins?” Peter squeaks. Everyone turns to look at him. He tries not to look panicked. Surely his virginity isn’t tattooed on his forehead. Or at least, it wasn’t until he squeaked like a mouse caught between a cat’s paws. He looks around, feeling like Virgin-Police might suddenly appear with batons shaped like dildos to shame him for his chastity. “Wh-What do they want, you know, virgins for?”

“Virgins, as in, people who have never seen the show live before,” Tony says, eyes glittering brighter than the ember at the end of his cigarette. “They bring a bunch up on stage and make them fake orgasms—”

“We’ve got to get Peter up there,” MJ mutters under her breath, barely heard over the roar of the other patrons. She stands up on her toes to try to find the stage helpers who are rounding up virgins (so to speak).

“I’m sorry, I know I misheard you—"

“I’m getting you on that stage, Peter,” MJ says through her teeth. “And you’re going to fake it like that time you told me about with Flash Thompson behind the gymnasium—”

If Tony’s eyebrows climb any higher on his head, they’ll disappear into his hairline. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth to ask, “What’s all this about faking it with Flash Thompson—”

MJ snags one of the stage hands and points to Peter.

“No, no, no, no,” Peter is chanting under his breath. MJ grabs him by the feathered boa and pulls him a few feet away from where Ned and Tony are watching cautiously. She cups a hand around his ear—the closest they can get to privacy surrounded by other people—and whispers to him.

“Look over my shoulder right now. Look at Tony.” Peter does as she asks. It’s not hard. The guy is so fucking handsome, and for some reason, his eyes are glued to Peter’s legs—Peter has always had thin, shapely legs, and the hairs on his thighs are finer and blonder than they have any right to be. It almost looks like he shaves, thanks to the low lighting. “Tony can’t take his eyes off you. Look at the way he can’t stay still—you think he’s hiding a semi like you are? Don’t squawk at me, Peter, everybody can see you’re half-hard. He’s fucking thirsty for you. Get up there, pretend he’s sucking your cock, and give everybody a goddamn show. I guarantee he’ll be trying to go home with you before the night is through. Trust me, Parker. Trust me.”

She digs in her bag to hand him the water bottle. Groaning, he takes a generous sip, face scrunching. God, that’s horrible.

But it works. The alcohol, the rousing speech. That’s how he finds himself being ushered on stage with a dozen other ‘virgins’. When it’s announced that this is their first time seeing the show live, the crowd goes wild for them. Peter’s always had a bit of a thing for exhibition, for being the center of attention (Ned’s phone has a very incriminating video from last Christmas on it, after all). As soon as the lights and eyes are on him, it’s like a great sense of calm comes over him.

He tosses one end of the feathered boa over his shoulder like a brat might toss her hair, and whistles go up for him. He’s pretty sure that Tony is one of them, his figure barely visible beside Ned and MJ toward the back of the crowd.

Then they begin to go down the line, coaxing each virgin to fake an orgasm for the amusement of the room, and Peter can’t bother hiding how hard it makes him: the muscled boy dressed like Rocky gives out groans and tosses his head like he’s being given the blowjob of his life. A short, heavy-set girl dressed as Magenta makes the crowd go wild for her as she pants, palming at her breasts.

Too soon and not soon enough, it’s Peter’s turn.

-

“What are you playing at?” Tony asks MJ. He can’t stand still, chain smoking and dropping the butts in the pop cans people leave behind on the disused bar. The moment he saw Peter’s signature head of curls, he’d felt his heart drop to his shoes. His stomach tossed like a boat on the sea. He was known for his confident exterior, but no one knew about the deep-seeded anxiety he worked so hard to mask. Something about the baby-faced freshman put Tony on edge—made the blood in his brain go against the tide and head straight for his cock. “You told me it was just going to be us, that Peter was out of town visiting relatives.”

“That’s weird,” MJ mutters. The white she’s wearing emphasizes her warm, dark skin. If she weren’t so fucking sneaky and irritating, he’d probably try hard to get underneath her skirt. “That’s not true at all. Why would I say something like that?”

“You lying bitch,” Tony mutters, rolling his eyes when Leeds gasps. MJ looks pleased as a peach, regardless of his potty-mouth. “I told you to quit trying to push us together. He’s so fucking shy, you’ve probably scared him back into his shell.”

“Did you see what he’s wearing?” She asks flatly. “Parker isn’t shy. At all.”

Fuck yes, Tony had seen. It was indecent, little Peter Parker dressed as Brad. His legs were impossibly long in the black stockings and high heels (heels which actually made the kid taller than Tony, for once). The tight, satiny briefs that did nothing to disguise Peter’s package. The garters tempted Tony to run his fingers underneath them, to pull them away from the pale, hairless skin and let them snap back into place. The corset itself didn’t change Peter’s masculine figure, and the modesty panel was missing so that beneath the gaping laces was firm, pale skin. Who knew that Peter Parker had a fucking six-pack? More importantly: who knew but hadn’t told Tony?

How the hell MJ had convinced him to leave the apartment looking like sin incarnate, Tony would never know.

“Shut up,” Leeds says. “It’s Peter’s turn. Oh my god, I can’t watch this, this is like watching my brother get off or something—”

Tony turns his eyes to the stage just as the hot spotlight reaches Peter, bathing him in its glow. The kid’s eyes go half-lidded, not squinty. The crowd is shouting to goad him on, but the smile he gives is painfully patient, borderline coy. Tony swallows—his mouth is so fucking dry, but there’s nothing for him to wet it with.

Peter holds the microphone between both his palms, lovingly, like he might hold his cock. His eyes shut fully, and a sound comes out of him, picked up and amplified by the microphone, a low sound of pleasure that Tony might make when he eats one of his mom’s brownies after returning home on break. Tony watches raptly, cock hardening already and the kid hasn’t even done anything yet. Then Peter’s mouth parts in a breathy sigh, his head tilting back in the mimicry of ecstasy.

“Fuck,” Tony whispers. The whole world narrows down to that light beam on stage and the boy that’s caught in it. Peter’s breath hitches the way it might if someone was kissing at his neck and then decided to use their teeth, and a long whine comes out of him that has the auditorium howling. The kid’s chest is heaving like he’s having the fuck of his life, and then he lets loose a long, nearly pained groan that Tony can feel in his bones, he can see it all, Peter spread out beneath him, naked (okay maybe he’s still wearing those stockings), fingers gripping the sheets because Tony’s giving it to him so good—

On stage, one of Peter’s hands comes off of the microphone. He presses it against his heart like he’s trying to hold the organ still, but then his palm slips down, thumb catching on the laces of his corset, strumming them as he runs his hand lower and lower and fuck, there’s only one place it could be headed. There’s a ten in the kid’s black panties, no doubt he is at least half-hard, maybe more—and he runs his palm over his own erection. Right there on stage, with a hundred, two hundred eyes on him. With Tony’s eyes on him. The jolt it gives Tony makes him feel like it was his own cock being petted.

Peter pulls his hand back and then dips the tips of his fingers into the tops of the briefs, and the final noise he makes is somewhere between a shout and a cry, the perfect simulation of an incredible orgasm, and it makes Tony’s cock twitch in his pants.

The crowd loses its shit. Of course. And Tony, dazed as he is, barely is able to clap for the kid. MJ stands there the whole time, cell phone out and filming, shooting Tony these little fucking smug looks. His head is still spinning as the stage hands usher the virgins off stage, and Peter returns to them with damp skin, hot from the lights on stage, curls plastered to his forehead.

“How’d I do?” Peter asks, breathily.

“You melted his brain,” MJ says, face tilted toward her phone as she watches the video.

“I—she’s right.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “I—sorry. Is that a good thing?”

“It’s a very good thing,” Tony says, shifting on his feet and pulling at the crotch of his pants to adjust himself. Peter’s eyes drop to track the movement and his mouth parts a little, like the breath has been stolen from him. Tony knows then, that the image he had of innocent Peter Parker was only a misconception. This kid can handle his attention.

And if he wants it, he’s going to get it.

“You want to get out of here?” Tony asks.

Peter nods.

-

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#starker #college!au #same age!au #Rocky Horror Picture Show References #tw: alcohol #nff

[ciathyzareposts]

Eric the Unready – Fair and Fowl – Request for Assistance

Written by TBD

Eric the Unready Journal Entry #4: I found myself in a fair near a fire-breathing dragon. And the dragon’s protecting the Steak of Eternity. Seems simple enough – just need to cover myself from head to toe in fireproof armor and steal a hungry dragon’s meal. I’ve got most of it covered but I still need one more item…

One final Monty Python reference left over from the previous mission

Hi all. Sorry for the rather significant delay between posts here. As is happening to everyone in the world, current circumstances have put all our regular routines out of order. Technically I have more time at home to play and write about adventure games but somehow it feels like I have less – the human psyche is weird. Anyway, on with the show…

Day 5: Stygian Dragon – To Cover My Arse

After shooting out of a cannon in my last mission I landed on a fairground tent. Checking out my new location I find I’m at the St. Barchan’s Day fair, and there’s a herald spouting news. As usual, there’s also a newspaper here.

Good to see people learning from their experiences.

After reading the newspaper I listen to the herald’s proclamations.

Circumstances like the wet tunic contest perhaps? (Sorry – thought I was in a Spellcasting game for a moment there)

Okay, maybe the last chapter isn’t the end of the Monty Python references.

But Snorkle the Herald Angels Sing would make a great hymn.

Moving on, I find a chef roasting a boar while wearing a comedy apron with “Poke me with a fork – I think I’m done!” written on it. I think he wants some spices, but I’m not sure when the game’s giving me a hint or just attempting a joke.

I think he went to the wrong fair.

Seeing as the chef’s clothing is specifically inviting it, and I do have a pitchfork in my inventory, I do what he asks.

I’m in a fourth wall breaking comedy adventure game – if I don’t take things literally I won’t be able to solve half of the puzzles

In another part of the fair ominously named Shady Area is a three handed elf playing a shell game.

If I play, I lose. I was expecting to see some kind of animation with the shells but was disappointed when I just had to guess without having any idea. The prize is some extra minutes of life (which I assume is irrelevant to the game) and some racy woodcuts of a local dancer called Lily.

After a few turns a wandering musician strolls through. He wins the game every time, so expecting shenanigans, I talk to him.

My guess is he bought those glasses from the back of an old comic book and they let him see through the shells.

The musician is missing a reed for his instrument so I figure he’ll give me his X-Ray Specs if I find one for him.

The fair also contains a stockade with some stocks, and as I wait there a man is walked in and put in the stocks.

The prisoner has a speech impediment, which I later worked out is why he was in the stocks in the first place.

Spitting is illegal at the fair

I didn’t remember the illegality of spitting at first, but when I did work it out I felt even sorry for the poor prisoner. Anyway, even without that knowledge I immediately try to free the man, but can’t find a way to do it.

After a little while he’s freed by the authorities anyway, so I continue my explorations. There is a Fool’s Pavilion where I can audition for a job. The three fools tell me that the jester’s hat protects me from thrown objects and is fireproof, all of which will help against unamused patrons. I talk to them.

Good call – I’m sure he won’t do any damage over there.

I try a few things to amuse them or cheat.

Your loss – I was going to do something really funny with those scorecards.

Unable to amuse the fools, I leave and check out the shooting gallery, which is run by a creepy barker who keeps making comments to and about the passing ladies. If I win his game I can have one of three prizes, so I go about getting all three.

Classy!

He gives me a crossbow and I shoot at each of the three targets. I hit every time so walk away with each of the three prizes; a whooppee cushion, a noise maker, and a rubber chicken.

A rubber chicken without a pulley in it – what’s the point!

I go back to the fool judges to impress them with my new prizes – I pull out my whoopee cushion and do what the Fonz told me I should do (I sit on it.)

They look very enthusiastic about my comedy routine.

I am now a fool. I’d love to go back to the knights at home and show them of my achievements!

I try to give my cap to the man in the stocks, but he won’t take it. I was only trying to help protect him from rotten fruit. Anyway, the fair is fairly big compared to most sections of the game, so let’s keep exploring.

I go to the Amphitheatre next and check out the schedule.

I suppose I’ll need to see all three shows at some point. I remember that Lily is the person I can win woodcuts of so that’s clearly a show I’ll have to see.

There is also a Pavilion of Tomorrow – an extremely lame pavilion of tomorrow, almost as lame as Epcott Center (Sorry Disney, I wasn’t impressed.)

There are a bunch of items here:

Portable Window of the Future – a hoop with a shade so I can take my window everywhere.

Cage with a Viper in it – I don’t know if this is supposed to be part of the exhibition or someone just left a pet here but it does seem important.

Kitchen Appliance – the Crush-o-Matic – a 2500lb weight that can be dropped to crush food

Chamberpot of Tomorrow – a chamberpot that is permanently attached to your rear-end to save time going to the privy.

Signalling Device – a gong that you can bang on.

Cat-Jet III Assault Catapult – a model of a state-of-the-art catapult.

Giant Leech – in the future, medicine will improve with the larger than usual leeches.

Iron Maiden Key Ring – from the description it sounds like the kind of stretchy key ring that some security guards in movies use.

Personal Hygeine System – an aardvark. Seriously. Just an aardvark.

Flawless logic

I take a rubber band, which I assume is the Iron Maiden Key Ring. I also take the leech. I try to take other things, but they are too heavy. When I try to take the catapult, it fires.

I sense a puzzle here.

I pull the shade of the Window of the Future in order to stop the catapult from shooting the gong, then try again to get the catapult.

Ah, a babelfish puzzle. Nice.

I try anything I can think of with the snake – putting stuff in the hole or giving stuff to the snake. I try various ways to use the weight, but the game won’t let me press the lever or do anything else I try.

Out of ideas in here, I go back to the prisoner in the stocks and try to upset him with my noise maker.

It’s times like these I really wish this game had a “USE” verb option.

Out of ideas at this point, I go around insulting and mooning people at random, as well as trying to use various items with various other items and trying in vain to somehow make noise with my noise maker.

These are clearly the actions of someone without a plan.

I notice that the apron is fire-proof. I haven’t seen any fire lately, but I’m sure I will soon enough.

Wooo! Spring Break!

At some point I finally realised there was a screen I’d missed – an exit to the west at the entrance to the fairground. I take it.

I already wanted it, but now I know why I’ll need the chef’s apron.

I go to the Amphitheatre and wait for the next show, which is Lily.

After the show, an usher gives me a note.

“I saw you out fwont duwing the show. Please meet me in my dwessing woom. –Lily.”

Accepting the invitation, I go north and end up in Lily’s Dressing Room.

I wonder if she’s related to Pontious Pilate

I talk to her, and again get reminded of the quest to climb the maypole.

I look around to see what else I can do here.

Nice work changing the ‘r’s’ everywhere, game, but I really should have a wubber band in my inventory!

Wondering if there’s anything I need to do here by changing items a-la the T-remover from Leather Goddesses of Phobos, I keep the idea in mind and leave.

I wait around at the amphitheatre for the next show – the jugglers. The jugglers challenge the audience to toss them something they can’t juggle so I look in my inventory for an appropriately unjuggleable item.

Don’t challenge an adventure game protagonist – it rarely ends well.

Now that the jugglers have dropped their gloves in dismay, I take a pair and look at them – the gloves have tiny suckers on them, so I wear them and try to climb the greasy pole in the middle of the fair.

I  neglected to mention the pole earlier so I’ll do that now. There is a greased pole in the fairground with a red feather boa swinging from the top of it.

I take the boa back to Lily, who’s thwilled at my success, and tells me about the second part of my quest.

But I need that weed for the musician in order to get the X-Ray specs so I can get the woodcuts which I can use to solve a different puzzle!

I take the reed to the musician and he swaps them for his shades. As expected, the shades let me see through the shells and I can win the shell game (again, without any animation or change in the graphics to show what I see)

I know exactly what to do with those woodcuts

I take the woodcuts to the overly horny barker in the hope that I will achieve something.

I find it weird that everywhere else it’s spelled Lily but on the woodcuts it’s spelled Lilly. I suspect counterfeit woodcuts!

Having distracted the barker, he doesn’t take the crossbow off me as I leave so I have a new item in my inventory.

I go back to the Pavillion of Tomorrow to see if any of my new items will help. The viper doesn’t want the boa and when I try to shoot anything with my crossbow I miss – including the big gong at the back of the room. I try once again to make the noise maker work, but none of the verbs worked (I even resorted to going through the entire long list of verbs on the left one-by-one)

I note that if I go back to the dragon, he doesn’t always shoot fire at my chest. I’ll need to protect my whole body. So far, I have sunglasses, a boa and a fool’s cap to protect my eyes, head and neck. But I need an apron and the chamberpot of tomorrow to protect my chest and backside.

Because I had no current ideas on how to get either of the required items, I reload an old game to see the Story of the Dragon that I’d missed at the Amphitheatre as it only plays at 11am.

The story doesn’t help me solve my current dilemma, but it does give me information about how this mission will end. The dragon who used to terrorize the countryside was finally stopped – by the power of spam!

It’s obviously setting up that I’ll be the one taken this year.

Note: This game came out before the popularity of the internet, and therefore before email spam was a thing. I’m sure if this game was made now the dragon would be getting hourly invitations to meet single dragons in his area or join some kind of get-rich-quick scheme.

Continuing to explore, I finally have an idea on how to get myself arrested. I didn’t know how getting arrested would help, but I was sure it would be of some use. Listening to Harold the Herald’s proclamation again reminded me about the no spitting rule so I had the obvious next thought.

The guy in the back seems sad that I’m there – perhaps some of my spit hit him.

I insult the people jeering at me, then a man with an apple-bearing son appear. I insult the boy too.

How appropriate – you fight like a cow!

The boy responds to my insult by throwing an apple, which lands amongst my other possessions on a pile next to me.

I wait until my ten minutes in the stocks is up, then take my shiny new apple to the chef and put it in the boar’s mouth because that’s what pigs on spits always have for some reason. Pleased that his meal is now complete, the chef drops his apron and leaves with his newly appled pig.

I take the apron, and now only need the chamberpot to complete my fireproof armour.

And this is where I’m stuck.

REQUEST FOR ASSISTANCE

I tried reloading to after Lily gave me the weed and went to all locations to see if the second part of her quest is actually something I need to solve rather than giving the reed to the musician. I had no luck with that, though.

I try using my stuff on things everywhere and eventually decide to wait until nightfall in case something changes when the sun goes down.

Of course, I should have realised this would happen.

I even get desperate and ask the game for help

So I’m asking for assistance. I’m confident I’m near the end of the chapter but slightly disappointed I couldn’t continue my plan of writing a post for each chapter. Oh well, I figure next post will have to contain the conclusion of this Steak of Eternity mission as well as the next one.

Here’s what I know or suspect.

I need the chamberpot of tomorrow

It will somehow involve stopping the catapult from hitting the gong when I brush past it to get to the catapult.

It may involve the crossbow, noise maker or rubber chicken as I haven’t used them yet.

I know sure it’s not related, but I’m still going to blame the social upheaval caused by the coronavirus for my inability to solve this puzzle. Otherwise I’d have to admit my incompetence!

Session time: 2 hours 40 minutes Total time: 7 hours 50 minutes Score: 395 out of 1000, in 1063 turns Inventory: backpack, Crescent Wrench of Armageddon, Pitchfork of Damocles, crossbow, book, apron, boa, note, noise maker, bungee cord, berries, chicken, rubber band, whoopee cushion, newspaper, apple (wait – why do I still have an apple after I got the apron?), sunglasses, fool’s cap, gloves

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/eric-the-unready-fair-and-fowl-request-for-assistance/

#retro games #dos games #retro #crpg #adventure #amiga #oldcomputers #8bit #16bit #blog #repost