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alwaysmarveling · 3 years

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Sticks and Stones

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader

Warnings: death (it gets pretty depressing)

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: I do recommend reading Chapter 1 before this one, which you can find here.

Fair warning, I normally don’t read angst, let alone write it, so this could all be a failed attempt at a depressing storyline. But hey, I tried :) And thank you so much @vancityfire13 for helping me out with this chapter!

“Mama, I don’t want to go to school. I think I’m sick,” Igor trudged into the kitchen, his steps heavy and his brows knit together.

“You don’t feel warm, Igoryok. Why don’t you sit down and have some breakfast and then we’ll see how things go, yeah?” Igor nodded reluctantly as Natasha carded her fingers through his hair, trying to tame the bee’s nest that had formed on his head while he was asleep. When you entered the kitchen, you quickly adopted a look to match the frown on Igor’s face.

“What’s wrong, Iggy?”

“I don’t feel good.” You copied Natasha, feeling his forehead but finding it perfectly normal.

“What doesn’t feel good, Igoryok?” Your frowns only deepened when he shrugged.

“If you don’t tell us, we can’t help you.”

“I just don’t feel good, okay?” Both of you flinched slightly at his anger. Although he could get rambunctious and excited at times, Igor was generally sweet, always offering to share his toys with other kids and giving you and Nat random hugs “just because I love you.” Plus, he was four, and you weren’t expecting the attitude for another couple of years at least. After sharing a concerned glance with your wife, you knelt down and held Igor’s hand in yours, noticing his bottom lip wobbling and his eyes beginning to shine.

“Igor, sweetheart, what’s the matter? Why don’t you want to go to school?”

“It’s okay, Igoryok, you can tell us anything,” Nat reassured him when he started to cry, gently rubbing his back in an effort to soothe him.

“I don’t want to see Jackson.” You squeezed his hand, urging him to continue. You knew Jackson and his family; Jackson had even come over to play a couple of weeks ago. While you tried to keep the conversation going, you saw Natasha tense up the second Igor finished the sentence.

“Why don’t you want to see Jackson, honey? Did something happen?”

“Jackson said I’m stupid because my letters don’t look right, and he said I was a baby for having light-up sneakers. And he pulled me down when we were playing tag.”

“And your teachers didn’t say anything?” Natasha gritted out. It was obvious she was trying to stay calm for Igor’s sake, but any second now and Mount Vesuvius was about to explode, bringing all of Pompeii with it. Igor shook his head, his whole body trembling as he cried.

“They didn’t see it. He waited until recess and we were in the back of the playground behind the slides.”

“Igor, sweetie, why didn’t you tell them?” You tried wiping the tears off of his face as they fell, but they were quickly replaced by new ones.

“He said if I did he’d tell the whole class I was a weirdo because I wet the bed.” You butted in before Nat could start yelling, placing a hand on top of hers to try to remind her of the situation.

“I see. Igor, do you think any of the things he said were true?”

“No.” The muttered answer was hard to hear, but it was there.

“That’s right, they’re not. So don’t let that boy get in your head for one second, okay? For every bad thing that he says to you, I want you to remind yourself of at least one good thing about yourself, okay?”

“Okay, Mom.”

“Why don’t you start right now? Tell me three things you like about yourself.”

“Um, I draw good dinos.”

“That’s right,” you smiled. “Mama and I love when you give us dino pictures.”

“Maybe I can draw you one today in school.”

“We’d love that, Igoryok. Two more, buddy.” The redhead had relaxed slightly, her fingers beginning to comb through his hair once again.

“I’m good at soccer. And I have cool cleats.” You nodded at him, rubbing small circles over the back of his hand to encourage him to continue. By this point, his crying stopped, and he only paused every so often to let out a hiccup.

“I can read some of the big kid books in the library. Mr. Goldman says that it’s very impressive for a four-year-old.” Natasha chuckled as Igor puffed out his chest, Jackson’s insults long forgotten.

“It is very impressive. So-”

“Wait, Mama, I have one more!”

“And what would that be?” the redhead smiled.

“I have the two best mamas in the entire world. And they love me so much, and I love them so much too.” It took everything in you not to cry at that moment, and one look at Natasha’s face told you she was struggling as well.

“That’s right, Ig. Mama and I love you more than anything or anyone in the entire world, more than you could ever imagine. You never forget that, promise?”

“I promise, Mom, but don’t cry! It’s happy!”

“I’m very happy,” you whispered, giving him the tightest hug you could without crushing him.

“Igoryok, I need you to listen to me.” The four-year-old nodded as he turned to give your wife his full attention. “When Jackson says mean things to you, you tell him to stop, okay? Don’t be mean, but tell him firmly.”

“Firmly,” he repeated.

“And if he doesn’t stop, you tell your teacher. Okay?”

“Okay, Mama.”

“Miss Olivia is going to pick you up from school today, but Mom and I are going to talk to your teachers about Jackson as soon as we can, we promise.”

“Okay, Mama. Does that mean you and Mom are going to fight the bad guys again?”

“Yes, but just for a little bit. We’ll be back in time for dinner. Which means you have to be good for Miss Olivia or you can’t have any dessert,” Nat winked.

“Now, group hug and then it’s time to go to school,” you ordered, wrapping your arms around the two of them.

Igor remained mostly quiet on the car ride to school, which wasn’t unusual for him, but you and Nat found yourselves checking on him regardless.

“Mom, in school, Miss Taylor told us ‘sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me.’ Is that what she means, with Jackson?”

“Well, yes. Basically, it means that when people say mean things about us, like the things that Jackson said to you, we shouldn’t let it hurt us.”

“How do you do that?”

“You do what we did at breakfast. You know in your heart that what he says isn’t true, so you ignore it. And then you remind yourself of all the good things about yourself.”

“Okay, Mom.”

“We love you, buddy,” Natasha reminded him as she brought the car to a stop. “If anything else happens, you tell us and we’ll help you, okay?”

“Yes, Mama. I love you too.”

“Alright. Then you have the best, most amazing day at school, okay, lovebug?”

“I will, Mom. Bye bye!” With a kiss on each of your cheeks, Igor put on the Avengers backpack that was half his size and jumped out of the car to meet his teacher and friends at the front of the school. With Igor out of the car, Natasha’s anger returned ten-fold.

“‘Sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me,’ huh? That’s the best they can teach?”

“Nat-”

“You know it’s outdated, and it’s totally not true at all! Of course words can hurt, you know that, Y/N!”

“I know,” you murmured, thinking back to all the pain and chaos a bunch of reporters had caused over some rumors about the Avengers.

“And who does that kid think he is talking about Igor like that?”

“Natty, he’s four.”

“Being four doesn’t give you an excuse to be a bully!”

“You’re right, it doesn’t,” you sighed, “but being four means he has time to change. You know that at this age they usually get it from seeing other people do it.” Two minutes of driving in silence passed before Natasha spoke up again.

“You’re right,” she sighed, her shoulders slowly dropping. “It just makes me so angry that he’d do that to him. And Igor didn’t do anything about it. What if something else happens in the future and he doesn’t protect himself? Igor doesn’t even wet the bed anymore. He knows that and he still let that kid scare him. Or what if Igor doesn’t want to tell us when bad things happen?” The longer she spoke, the softer her voice became as anger dissolved into sadness and concern.

“Well,” you placed your hand over hers that rested on your thigh, “the good thing is Igor is also four. It’s good that something like this happened now rather than later because we have time to talk to him and teach him that we’ll always be there for him. Today was one step towards that. It’ll be okay, Nat. We’ll make sure it is. Especially if we’re going to have another little one on the way.” Your wife smiled at that.

“Igor’s going to be an amazing brother.”

“He really is,” you laughed as you picked up her hand and linked her fingers in yours.

“I will admit, though,” your eyes returned to your wife’s face in time to notice her quirk an eyebrow, “I thought we’d have some more time before we had to deal with the ‘sick to get out of school’ trick.”

“You and me both,” you giggled. “That kid is too smart for his own good.”

“How much do you want to bet he learned it from Tony?”

“Well, he definitely didn’t learn it from Steve.” All the remaining tension in the car dissolved as you two chuckled at the thought.

When the car became quiet once more, you brought her hand up to your lips. “I. Love. You,” you murmured, each word punctuated with a kiss to her knuckles.

“I love you more. And everything’s going to be okay,” she repeated, more so reassuring herself than you.

“It is. Now, let’s go over that mission plan one last time. We have some butts to kick.”

---

“Okay, Steve’ll meet you guys at the rendezvous point. Get in, and get out. And don’t let yourselves get caught. It’s just an info grab, but it’s an important one.”

“Got it, Hill. See you later.” After ending the call with Maria, you turned to Natasha. “You ready, hon?”

“Yeah, I just can’t help but shake this feeling. I know the mission’s short, but…” You tilted your head slightly to meet her eyes, which was a bit difficult since she’d lowered her gaze to the floor.

“No, I get it. I think it’s just the events of this morning, yeah? And it definitely doesn’t help that we can’t have outside communication.” After a recent mission gone wrong, Fury had temporarily prohibited all outside communication on missions unless absolutely necessary, meaning you and Nat would only be able to communicate with each other until Steve picked you guys up. “Let’s just finish this mission and get back to Igor. Things’ll be better after that.”

“You’re right,” the redhead agreed, giving you an uneasy smile. You rolled your neck once before giving your wife a quick peck on the cheek.

“Alright, let’s do this.”

---

“Where have you guys been? I’ve been waiting for two hours!” His check and money was lying on the table, his meal eaten long ago.

“Sorry, Rogers, a minor complication meant we had to be a bit more careful. But we got all the info, and there’s no trouble.” Natasha slid a small flash drive across the booth. He simply nodded, pocketing the device and standing up.

“Let’s go.”

“Everything okay, Steve?”

“Um, yeah. Fury asked that you guys stop by the tower first though.” You frowned, prompting Nat to slip her hand into yours.

“Is it important? We wanted to get back and see Igor. We told him we’d be back for dinner, and we’re already late.” Before Steve could respond, a waitress walked up to the table.

“Oh, hey! I see your friends are here. Do you guys want to place an order?”

“Um, actually, I’m so sorry. Something came up and we have to go. Thank you so much, though.”

“Of course, have a nice night, guys.” You flashed the waiter a smile and handed her two twenty dollar bills as an apology before following Steve out of the restaurant.

“Steve, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he responded, his voice void of emotion.

“C’mon, you know neither of us is buying that. Is everyone okay?”

“Just hurry up,” he muttered. He was walking so quickly that you and Nat were practically jogging to keep up. You shared a worried glance with Natasha, but neither of you spoke up again.

After a thirty-minute drive, you’d reached the tower, and Steve sent the two of you up to Fury’s office without another word.

“Do you think we did something wrong, Natty?”

“I don’t see what we could’ve done wrong. We’ll find out soon enough, though,” she sighed. She sent you a small smile in an effort to calm you, as she could tell you were becoming quite anxious, but she was rather nervous herself.

Fury was waiting for you guys when the elevator doors opened, which only served to make the two of you even more on edge than you were before.

“Romanoff, L/N, follow me please.” He led you to his office, his demeanor stoic and unreadable as per usual, but something was off. As you placed a hand on Nat’s lower back, you found her spine to be stiff. She must’ve sensed it too. “Sit.” The three of you sat in silence for about thirty seconds, during which you realized what was wrong. The twinkle he always had in his eyes, whether from playfulness, determination, or something in between, was missing. That realization was enough to make you crack.

“Fury. Why’d you call us in here? I hate to rush you but we’ve got a kid to go home to.” You and your wife noticed when he flinched at your last sentence.

“Right.” Both of you stared at him expectantly but quickly became agitated when he didn’t seem to make any move to continue.

“Fury. What is it.” You placed a hand on Nat’s arm before she could jump out of the chair, but if he didn’t speak in about two seconds you’d be right there with her.

“We received a call about three hours ago about a car crash. A massive pileup caused by a drunk driver during the school rush hour. Two people were seriously injured.”

“I- I don’t understand. You want us to help with a car crash?” you asked, your voice shaky but light. “Fury, with all due respect, this is ridiculous. This isn’t our area of-”

“Why are you telling us about this?” Natasha cut into your rambling.

“Romanoff… this was three hours ago. Just outside of the elementary school.”

Three hours ago. What was three hours ago? Three hours ago would’ve been when Olivia was bringing Igor back home from school. But that couldn’t be what Fury was talking about. It was a different kid, a different family, maybe even a different school; Fury hadn’t been specific. No, you and Nat would go back home and they’d both be there. They had to be there.

“By the time the ambulance got there, paramedics suspected that they were both gone. They called time of death at the hospital. I’m so sorry.” You couldn’t tell when exactly your heart stopped beating, when all the blood left your face. He couldn’t be talking about what you thought he was. He wasn’t even looking you in the eye, dammit.

“Gone? What do you mean by gone? Who’s ‘they’?” You spoke in a whisper, not able to speak any louder. With each second that passed, you could feel Nat’s forearm getting tighter as she clenched her fists harder and harder.

“Fury,” Natasha finally spoke, her voice gravelly, “If you’re telling me what I think you’re telling me, you’re going to have to be very clear with me. So what. Are. You. Saying.”

“Igor is dead. Your son is dead. I’m so-”

“Stop saying you’re sorry!” This time it was Nat’s turn to hold you back, grabbing onto your waist when you slammed your hands on Fury’s desk. “You have no reason to be sorry, he’s not- No, you’re wrong. That doesn’t make any sense. How in the hell would there be a drunk driver at 3 in the afternoon? No, you’re wrong! Nat, he’s wrong, right?” You looked at your wife, eyes shining, but her expression was unreadable. Her arms were crossed against her chest as she stood in the center of the room, and you couldn’t help but remember the last time she looked that alone—at the SHIELD party all those years ago.

---

She was standing in the corner with her back to everyone in the room. You didn’t believe it was her at first—sure, redheads weren’t that common, but how could it be her? You hadn’t seen her in months, although it wasn’t from lack of trying. Besides, this woman looked so unbelievably… small. And sad. And alone. This was a party, for heavens’ sake, and she looked like she was stuck in solitary confinement. None of those sounded anything like the woman you’d met.

But with a shake of your head, you turned back to the bar, taking a sip from your drink with the intent of clearing her from your mind. You got over her months ago, Y/N. It was literally just one date. Stop thinking about her. Besides, what are the chances she works for SHIELD anyway?

Yet, ten minutes later, the woman remained in her place and looked just as pitiful as she did when you first saw her. Your mind couldn’t stop your legs from swinging off of the chair and walking over to her.

“Um, excuse me?” Your heart stopped when you saw her face. It was her. She was glammed up for the party, but it was Nat, and she looked just as beautiful as the first time you’d seen her.

“Y/N?” Your heart caught in your throat for a second as if you hadn’t thought that it could be her, not allowing you to respond until after you’d taken another sip from your drink.

“Nat.” You didn’t know what else to say. You hadn’t really planned it out, to be honest. Your body just kind of… brought you here. The two of you just stared at each other, neither of you too sure of what to say. Suddenly, all the anger you’d had towards her over the past few months pushed its way to the surface. “Did you lose my number or something? Get a new phone?”

“Y/N, I- what are you doing here?”

“Really? We had an amazing first date, you told me you can’t wait for the next one, and then you didn’t talk to me for months? And then, when I do find you, that’s all you have to say? I mean, obviously I was the fool for believing yo-”

“Are you stalking me?” Her eyes narrowed.

“Are you serious right now? No, I’m not stalking you! I work for SHIELD now, which you would know if you didn’t freaking ghost me!”

“You- you work for SHIELD?”

“Yes, I’ve been working for SHIELD for six months.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I… I have to go.” You watched her, your eyes blazing and nostrils flaring, as she walked out of the room. She never came back that night.

---

“I have to go,” Nat interrupted the silence.

“Natasha, wait. You really shouldn’t be going anywhere like this.” Fury stood from his chair but remained behind his desk.

“I’m going home.”

“Natasha, please, just hold on a seco-” Unlike that night, you followed Nat out of the room. The two of you were out the door before Fury could stop you.

When you got home, the house was dark and Olivia’s car wasn’t there. That didn’t deter either of you, though.

“Igor! Igor! Mom’s home!”

“Igoryok, it’s Mama!” When neither of you heard a response, the two of you frantically began running through the house. You searched room after room, checking each one and the hallway closet at least three times. When your legs turned to lead and you couldn’t breathe any longer, you dropped to your knees, completely unaware of what part of the house you were in.

That’s how Natasha found you—in Igor’s room, sobbing, your knees digging deep into the hardwood floors and your head resting on his pillow right next to his stuffed pig and the green baby blanket he refused to sleep without.

“Y/N,” she murmured, her voice broken and tears trailing down her flushed cheeks. Your wife stumbled her way over to you and collapsed by your side. Wrapping an arm around your shoulder, she pulled you as close as she could, and you let her.

The two of you cried for what felt like a million lifetimes, not stopping until you physically ran out of tears, your eyes so dry that it hurt to open them. Your head leaned against Nat’s shoulder. Both of you stared at the wall ahead of you with an empty gaze, the only sound heard in the room being your shallow breaths.

“You were right,” you whispered, your throat dry.

“About what?” Nat’s voice was as quiet and hollow as yours.

“Sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me.” Miss Taylor had told your son that words could never hurt him, but she was wrong. Hearing the words that Igor was dead; that your son was gone; that you would never get to see him earn his high school diploma, or get a job that he was passionate about, or grow up to be a happy adult, or even hug him one last time; that you would never get to see him become an amazing warrior like you’d predicted just five years ago—those words caused you the most pain you’d ever felt in your entire life.

-----

Tagging: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #avengers x reader #marvel #mcu #I wrote something #alwaysmarveling #stones

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darkimaginarydesires · 4 years

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Carriage ▪︎ Severus Snape x Reader

《 harry potter fandom • the goblet of fire • severus snape x reader 》

☆ you are responsible for your media consumption. this content has extreme warnings / triggers. this content may make some people uncomfortable. please be safe and take warnings seriously. if you need help or need to talk to someone, i am available for anyone ☆

♡ warnings: just smut, nothing dark this time ♡

《 summary: a smut one shot inspired by the extended scene in the goblet of fire with igor and severus arguing outside during the yule ball 》

The stars of the dark sky glistened onto the white snow coated ground. It was an exceptionally beautiful scene, which was perfect for the special night of the Yule Ball. You trailed behind Severus and Igor as they walked through the courtyard, discussing subjects you should have cared about, but did not. You tried your best to push their negative tones from your mind and focus on enjoying yourself, but their intolerable bickering made it impossible.

Severus quickly made his way over to a carriage, pointing his wand and causing the door to swing open, revealing two disheveled students inside. They both quickly scurried away as Professor Snape announced the points that would be taken from their houses.

“It’s a sign, Severus! You know it is!” Igor exclaimed, stopping Severus from proceeding to the next carriage.

“I do not know what you’re talking about,” Severus replied coolly.

“Really?” Igor argued. “Then perhaps you wouldn’t mind rolling up your sleeve, huh?”

Igor reached out for Severus’ arm, but he jerked away roughly at the same time you pulled your wand out defensively. Igor looked between you and the aimed wand with a shocked expression. You shook your head as a warning before Severus touched your arm lightly, encouraging you to put your weapon down.

“You two don’t fool me!” Igor said. “You are scared! Admit it!”

“I have nothing to be scared of, Igor. Can you say the same?” Severus responded.

Igor stumbled backwards before retreating back towards the party. Your eyes met Severus’ for a moment, before he tore away, continuing to search through carriages like a true professor.

“Severus…” you called.

He continued searching, walking exponentially fast ahead of you.

“Severus, would you stop a moment?”

He continued, only stopping as he pulled another set of students from a carriage, yelling at them of the points to be taken. The students ran away, clearly frightened by the professor’s outburst.

“Severus, stop!” You yelled, grabbing him roughly by the shoulder and pulling him around to face you.

He looked down at you with a hard look, obviously frustrated by the events.

“Give them a break. Surely you can remember being a teenager and wanting to do some sneaking off of your own.”

Your hand trailed from his shoulder down his arm until you were holding his hand in yours. You glanced around the courtyard, making sure there was no one to observe you. He did the same, only stepping closer to you when he was confident there was no witnesses.

“As a professor, it is my responsibility to make sure no student is acting inappropriately.”

“I think you’re just jealous you’re not the one getting any action,” you whispered, closing any possible remaining space between you.

He raised an eyebrow curiously as he looked down at you. His eyes trailed to your lips for a moment before reconnecting. You could feel his chest rising heavily as he pressed against you, and you were sure he could feel you as well.

“Are you offering?” He teased.

“Yes.”

His demeanor seemed to completely change at the direct permission. He leaned down to wrap his arms around you and lift you into his hold. You legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as your lips intensely connected, tongues immediately entering into a battle. He spun you around, laying you on the seat of the carriage before climbing in and shutting the door behind him with a flick of his wand.

He towered over you, his hands finding their way down your body as his mouth found your neck. Your fingers ran through his hair, tugging sensually as you bucked your hips against him, wanting to feel his growing member.

“Sev…” you moaned softly.

He pulled away, sitting up slightly to pull his body off of yours as much as the confined space would allow. His eyes instantly softened to look into yours.

“Do you want to stop?” He asked, concerned.

You laughed, his face only showing even more confusion. You sat up and reconnected your lips onto his.

“Absolutely not.”

He smiled and kissed you again, more passionately and confidently, his hand wrapping around your neck to pull you close. Your hands fumbled to pull off his layers of clothes, which he allowed you to do before grabbing his wand and flicking his wrist to pull your long ball gown up over your head with ease. After overcoming the shock of being undressed so quickly, you maneuvered your way in the carriage so you were straddling him.

You grinded against his hard on as you passionately kissed him. His hands roughly kneaded your breasts for a moment until he disconnected your lips to lean down and suck on your nipples. Your head fell backwards in pleasure, small moans escaping your mouth. His hand slowly moved from your breast as he took his two fingers and stuck them into your mouth, allowing you to suck on them for a moment before bringing it down to your folds, his wet finger circling around your clit.

“Fuck, Sev,” you moaned.

The sensitively to his touch was inescapable, with every movement of his hand you imagined him inside of you. You brought your hand down to his cock and began to stroke him.

“Please,” you begged.

His hand continued to tease you, his other hand gripping your face to look directly at him. The intensity of the eye contact only made you desire him even more.

“Please, what?” He asked.

“Please, fuck me.”

His hand left you only to grab his cock and press the tip against your entrance. You slowly lowered yourself onto him, feeling him stretch you. You both let out a loud moan as you began to ride him, beginning slowly and picking up the speed. His hands gripped your hips, helping you keep your pace. Your head fell onto his shoulder as your stomach began to burn with a familiar intensity. His fingernails dug into your skin as he moved you against him. Your nails dug into his back, leaving marks that you knew would stay.

“I’m so close, Severus,” you cried.

His hands ungripped your hips so he could wrap his arms tightly around your body, lifting your figure so he could thrust into you roughly. You screamed out in pleasure, not caring if anyone could hear you. Your arms wrapped around him, your fingers running through his hair and tugging lightly. You pressed your forehead against his, staring into his eyes as you both came, Severus thrusting roughly one final time and pressing your body down onto him until it was pleasantly painful. You could feel his come dripping out of you, but neither of you moved. You stayed wrapped around one another until you had caught your breath.

He kissed you sweetly before helping you lift off of him and into the seat next to him. He picked up his wand and dressed you both. You looked just as beautifully put together as you did before you entered the carriage, but felt completely different. You flattened out your dress and reached for the door handle. Before the door could open, Severus grabbed your face and pulled you into a kiss. You smiled as you pulled away.

“I want to do that again,” he stated, simply, trying to gauge your reaction.

“Me too.”

“Come to my chambers tonight at midnight. I want to show you how you can feel when I can take my time.”

You nodded, kissing him one more time before leaving the carriage, looking around to make sure no one had seen or heard.

#severus snape #severus snape imagine #severus snape x reader #dark severus snape #dark snape #professor snape #Harry Potter #harry potter one shot #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #fanfiction #smut #severus snape smut

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honestsycrets · 3 years

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A Distraction I: Poppy Seed | [ Hvitserk x Harem Girl!Reader, Oleg x Reader ]

❛ pairing | hvitserk x harem girl!reader, oleg the prophet x reader

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | oleg wants to keep hvitserk's lips loose and mind distracted. he thinks women, drugs, and alcohol should do the trick.

❛ tags | dub-con because inebriated hvitserk, poppy seed effects aren't exactly realistic in causing premature ejaculation, trickery, nsfw, ivar is an ass in this one.

❛ sy’s notes | It feels like its been months since I’ve written Hvitserk. Ivar doesn’t like her; not completely sure why.

The sway of the wooden door woke you. Your heart lurched into your throat as you realized that Oleg the Prophet’s booming steps were headed in your way. The candles flickered in a low burn, rivaling the hearth that warmed your nude body.

“There she is. How are you? Are you sore?” Oleg asked, narrowing his eyes on you rather than the other two women there. The others had been sent away to a party he held for his faithful men last night. He held new things in his arms. A beautiful headdress dripping temple rings, a weighted necklace, and long graceful skirt. It hadn’t escaped you that he had no top in his arms that night. “I was rough with you girls tonight. I will make it up to you. I’ve brought you gifts.”

You rolled your swollen lips in, before popping them back out. “I’ve become accustomed to the abuse.”

“Good. You are a good girl; never questioning me. That is why I have a task for you. I want you to keep him distracted.”

“Who?”

Your question resulted in a small mincing smile. You took the gold from him: whoever he meant to impress must have been important. The headdress was elaborate, dripping down your long hair in the back. It matched a necklace that served as a top and a long flowing silken skirt that was should be nothing but a laugh.

“You’ll know him when you see him,” Oleg explained, clipping in thin cloth of a veil to mimic chastity. You settled your bracelets and arm rings in their place. He took two steps around you, thumping in his boots to seize your shoulders. “He is… comparatively unimportant. Even so, I need his lips loose and loyalty swayed. Make him feel good. I know you know how to do that.”

That’s what women are good for, he whispered in your ear, distractions. As if your life on the slave trade had taught you anything but. His hand shifted up from your shoulders to your neck, resting against the mark of a slave. His thumb presses on the mark, while the other hand came hard on your bruised ass. A cry rocked up your throat that you bit back down.

He smiled deeply, “You can do that for me, can’t you?”

After four quick racing heartbeats, you nodded.

“Yes Prince Oleg.”

If it was the cripple, you weren’t sure you wanted to do this work. After all: you had seen her handmaidens shooing Ivar into a certain room with Oleg’s attention squarely on the harem girls. Katya and Ivar had sex in no low frequency. If it was him, you knew that you had nothing to offer Ivar that he did not already have.

Oleg said he was comparatively unimportant. It couldn’t be him. Ivar was important to Prince Igor. He was a witty warrior, a strategist, and a good man. You moistened your lips as you sat with poppy and long hair tumbling down your shoulders in wait. Whoever this man was: he would you hoped he was distractible. “Prince Hvitserk,” Oleg’s chest rattled into laughter. A prince? You shifted your kohl lined eyes toward the man and moistened lips painted a lascivious red. The man in question had hair that shone with blonde sheen and eyes bluer than you’ve seen amongst the harem girls of China, Persia. He’s beautiful. A Viking. You heard of them, seen them, but never this close. “Trade has given us many beautiful things. I would like to share them with you.”

Oleg’s eyes flicker over toward you. He was right. You knew it was him.

“Come! This is one of my concubines,” Oleg extended his hand out. You lifted up the end of your dress with smoked poppy in the other hand. You wish that he had chosen someone else: Liahua or Sareej: someone, anyone other than you. Hvitserk shifted his elbows off his thighs, pushing himself upright as you cut between his body and the table. You set the poppy seed down.

“She is pretty,” Hvitserk says curtly.

“Isn’t she? Feel her breasts. She’ll let you,” you sunk to your knees before him. A jingling alerted you to another woman joining the table. “Go ahead.”

“No I, I don’t--” Hvitserk stuttered, his head turning one way; then another; and eventually to where you were unlacing his trousers. Hvitserk’s hand froze when your mouth made contact with his semi-hard cock. You’ve seen the Vikings that came into Kiev and wondered how they differed from but never had this opportunity-- belonging to Oleg presented its own complications. “Hngh.”

Oleg reclined back to watch, catching Hvitserk in his panic. “Don’t tell me a Viking like you doesn’t enjoy women.”

“That’s not it. You’re--” watching.

“Relax. What is pleasure among brothers? Smell this.”

Poor Hvitserk, your tiny fist pulled his hardening cock. His hand set upon your head, stroking through your soft veil. He’s soft. “No-don’t--” it’s not you he’s talking to this time. You carry on your work. It’s not your fault he couldn’t say no but against yourself, you know it’s your fault for weakening his resolve.

“It’s poppy seed.”

His hand falters upon your head and falls away. Your lips pop off the rim of his dick, Hvitserk’s body swaying with an inarticulate complaint spilling off his lips. Oleg was staring at you with his eyebrows pushed together, a sardonic grin rupturing his features. His black eyes gleamed with excitement as he bore at Hvitserk’s throbbing pink cock. A bead of moisture formed at the head and as you stood tall, Oleg held a hand up to you.

“I’ve never seen you ride a Viking before.”

He couldn’t have conformed even if he wanted to. The scent of the drug was strong, causing Hvitserk’s shoulders to slacken hard. Your sister-concubine moved aside as you reached for a pot of warm oil, coating Hvitserk’s shaft with an obscene wet squish. You niggled your way out of the thin skirt and stepped over Hvitserk’s thighs, angling his head with your sodden hole. You sunk onto him, resisting the stretch that filled your body with pleasure that hinged on pain.

“Look at you,” Oleg prompted your attention. “So full.”

“Fuck,” Hvitserk made a noise you couldn’t understand, hazy and thick. You like to think it was pleasure as your hands settled over his shoulders for some anchorage. You couldn’t be sure, rolling your hips onto his lap to take him in and out of your body. Hair thwapping your low back, Oleg found himself laughing at the pleasure building in Hvitserk’s features. Hvitserk’s useless hands clawed for control at your hips: despite the fact that they were very, irrevocably out of control.

“He likes it,” Oleg clapped his hands together. He reclines back onto the bed and calls for another concubine. You want to ignore what is going on, forming a deathgrip on the russet cloth covering his shoulders and doing your work. Your hips fell upon Hvitserk in a constant rhythm, squeezing him for emphasis. Your body jingled with coin, a thin film of sweat coating your skin from your work taking the Viking. Distantly you heard Hvitserk grunt and felt the warmth spilling through your pussy.

“Did he come already? Inside of you?” Oleg threw his head back, seized in laughter that Hvitserk wasn’t there to hear. He was somewhere else; distracted by smokey haze and wonderful pleasure that at the least caused his hips to push up in pursuit of the last whisps of pleasure. You shrugged the scratchy veil back over your shoulder and stand, leaking his seed down your thighs. Oleg clicks his tongue, “He did! You see that Sareej? He can’t hold his seed.”

She ruptures into giggles. “I saw!”

“Take him away!”

You don’t have appropriate clothing. In Oleg’s words, it didn’t matter. Everyone knew you were a whore. You covered your breasts in a cloth that exposed your midriff and rushed to take Hvitserk to his rooms with the prayer that Ivar the Boneless would be busy with Katya as he so often happened to be. Your mind was alight as you set him in his bed with the blinding certainty that you shouldn’t be here. But if you went back to Oleg, you knew what was waiting for you and that might have been worse.

He wouldn’t remember, anyway.

He shouldn’t have taken that poppy.

He woke with memory of what had happened: the warm mouth wrapped around his cock and the light in Prince Oleg’s eyes. The excitement that sat behind his words of pleasure. How did he end up here? Perhaps it had been a guard that brought him back. He closed his eyes and dreamed of a distant home when he turned over and met the sudden reality that he wasn’t along anymore. By contrast, the warmth of your figure in his bed shook him into disquiet. Your eyes bore into him with intense expression. Hvitserk seized the knife under the blankets, drawing it to your neck in one smooth motion.

“Who are you?”

“Just a slave,” you spoke smoothly. “I brought you back from Oleg’s harem.”

“You’re that concubine from before,” Hvitserk retracted his blade and tucked it under his pillow. He smiles at you in a deprecating but knowledgeable smile. You want to speak up; tell him the truth. Except you did not care for the hard truth of telling him what you had really done in his haze. “Of course. I must have fainted. I was in the world of the gods with Idunn.”

“Idunn?”

“Our goddess of eternal youth. She was so beautiful with blonde hair like the rising sun. We had sex until the very dawn,” he set his hand to his bed sheets and propped himself up to sit on the side of the bed. He angles to look at you, flicking his tongue at his upper lip. “It was a good dream.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him the truth. A Viking like him? He didn’t need to know the whole truth of what occurred; how Oleg had used him for a show.

“What are you doing here?”

“I didn’t want to go back.” you spit out, finding the words dancing on the tip of your tongue. Hvitserk’s room was suddenly tiny and hot as if a great hearth waged within it. You couldn’t breathe, and yet your hands were clammy and wet. “Oleg is insatiable. He’ll want sex. He is… rough and I am sore.”

An awkward quietness followed. Not the dreamlike vision of Idunn and her apples but the harsh reality of a concubine’s life. Being one of Oleg’s concubines meant that you must do things. Things like what you were attempting right now. There’s a knock at the door before it pops open. You recognized that man who walked in with a stab of a creaking crutch.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stayed.” Your jewelry jingles as you moved toward the edge of the bed. Hvitserk stops you with a hand to your belly.

“No, no. Stay. There you must be tired. He is just my brother.”

Hvitserk turned toward the door, narrowing his eyes at his younger brother that came in. Ivar wrinkled his nose at the sight. It wasn’t often that you felt shame; but something in Ivar’s words settle low in your belly. “I see you’ve had your fun.”

Hvitserk looks toward you, fixing your veil and minding golden jewelry. “Oleg is treating me well.”

“I can tell,” Ivar stews on whatever harsh words he came here to spew. “Giving you whores to fuck frustrations into. It’s special treatment, Hvitserk.”

“Don’t talk about her. She is a slave,” he gestures. “She has no choice.”

You can’t handle it anymore. Not with the knowledge of what you’d done to Hvitserk under Oleg’s words or the judgement that Ivar carries: despite not knowing you at all. He had always been kind toward you. Never an awry word until today. Ivar holds onto his crutch, turning his sardonic eyes to focus upon you alone. “Then let’s talk about you.”

“Oleg must be missing me,” you gesture, setting your hand at your bare midriff and smiling at Hvitserk. He sets his fist down on the bed, pushing himself up with a word of complaint brewing on his tongue. “I told you--”

“I will see you again,” you told him. Despite his hateful words, Ivar bows at his waist in some mockery of respect. “Oleg’s whore.”

You rush out. Ivar doesn’t like you; you don’t blame him. If he knew what you’d done, you shudder to think of what his knives would have done at your throat. You don’t wait around to find out why.

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#hvitserk x reader #hvitserk/reader #vikings x reader #vikings imagines #vikings imagine #vikings/reader #hvitserk ragnarsson x reader #Hvitserk Lothbrok x Reader

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dangerouscommiesubversive · 3 years

Text

but it is sunlight

Fandom: Kamen Rider Agito, Kamen Rider Kabuto, Kamen Rider Gaim, Kamen Rider Ghost Characters: Tsugami Shouichi, Hikawa Makoto, Tendou Souji, Kagami Arata, Kazuraba Kouta, Kureshima Takatora, Tenkuuji Takeru, Fukami Makoto, Alain Song: "Sunlight," Hozier (playlist here) Warning: Mildly NSFW--not especially explicit, but people do have sex in this story

a buried and a burning flame – i

A shared day off is rare, but it does happen sometimes, and today the weather is so warm and perfect that Makoto is content to sit on the step drinking a lemonade and watching Shouichi garden.

Their garden space here isn’t as big as the one Shouichi got used to at Professor Misugi’s house, but it’s been expanded upwards with poles and frames and other contraptions that Makoto isn’t quite clear on. Really, they’re lucky to have a plot at all—the restaurant has its own rooftop space, so it’s not like Shouichi’s hurting for plant contact, but he needs it for himself as well. Makoto’s not sure he’ll ever understand the way Shouichi craves the presence of growing things. But then, he’s just happy to see Shouichi enjoying himself.

He glances around the garden briefly as Shouichi’s murmuring over a cucumber plant and frowns. “Aren’t sunflowers always supposed to face the sun?”

“Generally, sure.” Shouichi smiles but doesn’t look up from his work. “Why?”

“Well, if they don’t then doesn’t that mean they might be sick? The sun’s south of us right now, but your flowers are facing west.”

“Our.”

“Mm?”

“It’s your garden too.”

“Well, sure, but I mean it’s really—”

“Anyway, don’t worry, if they were sick I’d know. They’re probably just a little slow today.”

Makoto’s dubious, but he nods, and Shouichi beams at him for a moment and then goes back to fussing with the cucumbers. Once he finishes with them, he does something with a tomato plant nearby, and then hurries over to a small patch of green onions on the other side of the garden.

The faces of the sunflowers move to follow him as he walks. Makoto almost misses it, catches their motion out of the corner of his eye as he, too, is turning, and then freezes as they continue to shift. “Do—did you just see that?”

Shouichi frowns. “See what?”

“Ah…no, never mind.” Makoto settles forward, elbows on his knees, watching in soft fascination as Shouichi continues to work. “It’s not that important, I probably imagined it.”

---

the icarus to your certainty – i

Tendou doesn’t make demands most of the time, but he doesn’t make suggestions either. He makes statements and then continues on in the calm assumption that they’re true.

When he gets back from his trip abroad, for example, the first conversation Arata has with him ends with, “We’ll see you for dinner at six.” It’s not an invitation, or a request, or a question. It’s just a statement of fact, its truth etched into the fabric of the universe, and so Arata gets to the house at six precisely.

There are other statements that follow, of course. Like, “I’ll see you at the same time tomorrow,” and, “Other people address me by surname, not you,” and, “It’s late, you’ll stay the night.” The thing is, Arata wants to bristle at this casual certainty, but he can’t manage it, because so far Tendou—Souji—hasn’t said anything incorrect. When he makes these statements, Arata wants them to be true, and so they becometrue by default. He shows up at the same time the next day. He says, “Souji,” instead of, “Tendou,” and is shaken by the faint, surprised smile he gets in response. He stays the night.

Tonight Souji’s making some kind of crab risotto thing, and Arata is helping, which is to say making a salad. This is already strange, since it used to be that he was barely even allowed in the kitchen. Hiyori, visiting for the evening, is sitting on the couch with Juka while Juka talks about one of her classes at Jounan University. It’s very domestic.

He finishes slicing cucumbers and is reaching for the lettuce when Souji turns to him holding a small spoon and says, “Taste this.”

On automatic, and because his hands are busy, Arata just leans forward and eats the spoonful of risotto, letting it spread out creamily over his tongue. “Mm.”

Souji is looking at him expectantly. “What do you think?”

“I think—wait, you’re actually asking me for my opinion?”

“Shouldn’t I?”

“You just…don’t usually ask for opinions.”

“Not from other people, no, but other people aren’t you.”

Arata laughs in warm surprise. “Really? What makes me so different?”

He’s not really expecting an answer, but Souji looks at him for a long moment and then says, “If all of humanity were alchemically distilled into one specimen exhibiting only its finest qualities, that specimen would be you.”

Arata stares at him. “I. You. Are…is this a quotation, are you quoting something?”

Another one of the faint, surprised smiles he’s gotten to like seeing. “No. But perhaps someday, someone else will quote me, and rest assured, the recipient of the quotation will not deserve it nearly as much as you.” And, before Arata can really process that, “I would appreciate your opinion on the risotto now.”

“I…it’s really delicious, but. Maybe it could use a pinch more salt?”

Souji nods firmly. “I’d suspected as much. Thank you.”

He returns to his cooking, reaching for one of the little pots of salt next to the stove, and leaves Arata to cut up lettuce and try to figure out what just happened.

---

i had been lost to you – i

Kouta’s visits are infrequent, inconsistent, and never announced. The most warning Takatora ever gets is a sudden, powerful waft of flowers and fruit, moments before a zipper opens in the air in front of him. He’s gotten used to it, as much as one can get used to something like that.

(Kouta always comes to him. His house has more privacy than most other spots Kouta knows in Zawame, and anyway, according to him, “You’re always easy for me to find.”

Sometimes those visits are for “work,” as Kouta calls it, and he stays only for a brief moment before rushing off to whatever world-ending crisis has caught his attention. More often, though, the reason is nothing more than, “Things are aligned correctly right now, and I missed Zawame.”

He’s sitting in the park now, on a bench under a camellia tree. A casual observer wouldn’t look at him and see a god, just a smiling young man in a plaid shirt and dark jeans, shoes kicked off so that he can curl his bare toes in the grass. Maybe he’s waiting to meet a girlfriend, or a boyfriend; maybe he’s just enjoying the good weather. As Takatora watches, though, a squirrel runs down the trunk of the camellia tree and leaps onto Kouta’s shoulder, and he turns and beams at it, apparently listening intently to its chattering. A jay is perched on his knee. Two stray cats are sprawled on the grass flanking him like indolent sentries, and a dog with a collar, probably lost, is curled up against his hip on the bench.

He lifts a hand, cupped, and Takatora knows without being able to see it that his palm is filling with seeds, manifesting as if from his skin. He’s done it before. The squirrel runs downs his arm and begins to stuff itself, the jay hopping from his knee to his fingertips to do the same. With his other hand he reaches up absently to catch a gleaming red apple that drops down from the camellia tree and begins to eat. Only the plants nearby lean away from him, which seems strange until Takatora realizes that they’re not really leaning, they’re growing, extending outward from his presence like an aura, the grass increasingly tall around his ankles.

How strange to see him at peace. And what an astonishing thing, that he should turn his face even for a moment from the new world he guides and his cosmically-designated beloved to walk once more in the city that treated him so poorly.

(She doesn’t visit. She can’t set foot outside of her hallowed forest now. But Takatora did get to speak to her, once, and he knelt and begged her forgiveness for all that he allowed to happen and received in return a kiss so gentle and yet searing in its benediction that even now he can feel it on his skin, and sometimes has to look in the mirror to see if she left a mark on his forehead.)

“Hey!” Kouta is waving to him with the hand holding the apple core. “Takatora! Are you done with your meeting thing? Come on over, I want to hear everything that’s happened since the last time I was here.”

Takatora blinks and nods, shocked out of his reverie, and heads over to the camellia tree. The stray cats scatter as he approaches, but none of the other animals move, so after barely a moment’s hesitation he sits down in the grass at Kouta’s feet, unmindful of his suit, and says, “Well, reconstruction work is nearly finished, we’ve only got two or three more buildings left to repair. Did I tell you about the dance classes at the new community center?”

“The ones that Zack and Peko are running? I think you mentioned them a little last time, did those finally start?”

Camellias bloom out of season over their heads. “Yes, only a few weeks ago. There may be a few other Beat Riders assisting as well, possibly by running additional courses, apparently enrollment was well past what anyone had anticipated.” Takatora leans against Kouta’s shin as the grass slowly creeps up past his knees, comforted by his radiant warmth. “And Mitsuzane’s continuing to enjoy university, he’s going to be working for one of his professors next semester as a teaching assistant…”

---

love and its decisive pain – i

Being around Takeru is a strange experience now, because by simply existing he exerts a spiritual pressure unlike anything else Alain’s ever encountered. The pressure isn’t negative, but it is constant, the weight of a higher reality radiating from his skin. Or, not a higherreality—Alain isn’t sure what it is, but Takeru’s certainly of the human world.

Alain isn’t sure if people who aren’t from the Ganma World even notice it. Certainly he’s seen Javert twitch minutely when handing Takeru something, he’s seen how Igor goes tense around him, even Alia’s been known to flinch away from the intensity of his proximity. Are they unusually sensitive, or are the people of the human world just numb to it?

Perhaps it’s nothing new, and he’s just always been like that and that’s why people don’t notice. Makoto would know—he’s of the Ganma World now, even if he came to it late. “Has Takeru always had such…presence?”

Makoto glances at him, and then over at Takeru, who’s crouching to offer a rice ball to a child sniffling on the temple steps. The child takes it, hand brushing Takeru’s, and relaxes in the same way that Igor might tense at the same contact, perceptibly basking in that unseen but powerfully felt aura.

“No,” Makoto says. “No, this is new. He wasn’t like this before. Or at least he wasn’t like this when we were young.”

Somehow this answer isn’t reassuring at all. “I see. That’s…it’s a lot.”

“It is, isn’t it.”

That’s the point at which Takeru hears them and looks up, face transformed by delight at the sight of them. “Makoto! Alain! When did you get here?” Behind him, Narita comes forward to walk the sniffling child over to a quieter corner, asking her as they go whether she knows either of her parents’ phone numbers. Takeru waves goodbye to her, beaming, and then hurries across the room to crash into Makoto’s arms, and Alain can see Makoto being overtaken by that benevolent pressure. “You didn’t tell me you were coming! Nothing’s going on, right? Everything’s ok? Who’s taking care of things in the Ganma World?”

“Everything’s fine,” Makoto says into Takeru’s hair. “Alia’s got everything under control.”

“This is a social call,” Alain adds, and is favored with an embrace of his own, knees almost buckling under the warmth of Takeru’s presence. “We just missed you.”

“I missed you both too. I hope you’ll be here for a couple of days, at least?” The weight of his joyful expectation is so much that Alain can only nod. “Wonderful! Here, come on, you’re both probably hungry, let’s go get takoyaki.”

He’s human, Alain realizes as Takeru’s fingers wrap around his and he feels that shiver run through him again. That’s all it is, and also everything that it is. More than anyone else in this realm, he is human.

What an extraordinary thing.

“I’d like that,” Alain says out loud, and Takeru is already grabbing Makoto’s hand as well. “It’s been a while since we shared a meal.”

“It has, hasn’t it? Let’s go, you two can tell me all the news while we’re eating.”

---

a buried and a burning flame – ii

For the most part Shouichi doesn’t initiate. It’s not that he’s not enthusiastic about sex, he’s just an awful tease. Little gestures, bumps and brushes, obvious double entendre that he then winkingly denies; he’d rather drive Makoto to distraction and pretend innocence until Makoto finally loses patience and backs him up against the nearest wall. He even admitted to it once, in an unguarded moment of drowsiness. “I like when you do that, it’s fun. And it’s not like I can just ask you to.”

“You could, though,” Makoto had said, but Shouichi had already drifted off.

They’ve been together all day, but Makoto can barely remember any of it clearly except Shouichi. Everything else fades into the background when faced with the vividness of his smile.

Makoto’s shirt is somewhere back in the living room, he thinks maybe on the couch. They’ve been trying to get Shouichi’s shirt off, but that’s been a tougher prospect, because it’s a pullover. Finally, though, it comes off over his head and lands on the floor, and Makoto presses him to the wall again. And now, even more vivid than his smile is the feeling of his skin, burn-hot against Makoto’s lips and hands and chest, his fingers like a brand curling around the back of Makoto’s neck as Makoto kisses his throat.

They barely make it to the bedroom.

The heat of him is extraordinary, feverish, it would be frightening if Makoto wasn’t used to it. He is, though, they’ve been together for years now, so instead his own thoughts can melt away in the face of Shouichi and his pleasure, the taste of him, the sound of his breathless cries, Shouichi arching up against him. Sure, he gets off somewhere in there too, but the important thing is Shouichi, climaxing underneath him with a gasp of, “Makoto,” and a kiss that Makoto would be willing to end the world for.

Afterwards, they lie wrapped around each other in a state of abstracted bliss until Shouichi mumbles something about being thirsty, at which point Makoto extricates himself despite the attendant sleepy protests and heads to the kitchen with a blanket around his waist to get drinks. Passing the bathroom on the way back, he pauses, frowning, at the sliver of his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

It hadn’t been sunny enough today to get a real sunburn, but there’s a sunburn on the back of his neck nevertheless, bright red although not painful. He sets down one of the glasses, reaches up and covers it almost perfectly.

When he realizes what it is—although Shouichi’s palm is slightly broader than his, Shouichi’s fingers slightly shorter—he blushes and picks up the glass again, heading for the bedroom, hoping that his hair is long enough that no one at work asks about the handprint burned into his skin.

---

the icarus to your certainty – ii

It’s not always so precipitous.

Normally they have to be quiet, because normally there’s at least one other person in the house. And in any case, Souji dislikes rush—he’ll approach anything and everything with a plan in mind, sex included.

Tonight, though, after dinner finished, Juka distributed a round of cheek kisses and then gathered up her bag and headed out, to meet up with a university friend she’s doing a project with. Hiyori left shortly after that. (She rarely stays the night anyway, she doesn’t like to leave her parakeet alone.) They’re alone in the house unless the Zecters are around somewhere, and they mostly keep to themselves, they’re hardly company in the same way.

But.

Precipitous.

They do dishes together, in comfortable silence, and once that’s done and his washing gloves are off Souji turns to make one of those true statements. Except that Arata decides he doesn’t feel like hearing one right now, so before Souji’s even gotten through one word Arata takes a step forward and kisses him, bracketing him against the edge of the counter with both arms. Souji makes one of those little surprised noises and drapes his arms over Arata’s shoulders and pulls him closer, and a couple of minutes later Arata’s hands shift down to lift and Souji’s legs wrap around his waist, and.

It’s good that they have the house to themselves.

They can’t stay at the kitchen counter, because it’s a bad height and also that’s not sanitary, and the dinner table won’t support their weight, which is a lesson they learned the hard way. The couch is an option, though, and it’s not easy to get over there with another person wrapped around him, but it is doable. He sits, or more lands, with a thump, Souji in his lap, Souji’s hands on the sides of his face tilting his chin up, and for some while lets himself be overwhelmed by having all of Souji’s considerable attention focused on him.

A pause for breath, for the removal of at least some clothing (and if Souji fumbles Arata’s shirt buttons, Arata’s going to save the memory for himself and certainly never mention it), for—“Are you all right?”

For Souji looking down at him, dizzy-eyed, and saying, slowly, “Your depths are such that I think I could drown in you.”

Arata reaches up, takes hold of his wrists, thumbs rubbing gently across the pulse points. “I mean, I can’t get poetic about it like you can,” more quietly than warranted given that they’re alone, “but you’re so much that sometimes I feel I could burn up, so that seems like a fair trade.”

He’s expecting that surprised look, but it doesn’t come, because what he gets instead is a kiss that would definitely have him on his ass in seconds if he wasn’t already sitting down. “More than fair.”

---

i had been lost to you – ii

Even before his apotheosis Kouta was a man built for pleasure. It must have been a glorious accident of his birth, Takatora thinks, that on his mouth smiles are so natural, that his body responds to any rhythm with grace, that he laughs so easily. Takatora has lived his entire life on the far other end of that spectrum—at best, he might call himself austere—but he can’t bring himself to be jealous of such an infectious and in-born joy. He can only hope to increase it, in whatever way he can.

So he kneels.

It isn’t worship, because Kouta will not accept his worship. Or anyone else’s, for that matter, he may be a god but he refuses to be treated like one. But love, as a great man once said, is a sacrament best taken kneeling, and while there are many points Kouta will argue, Takatora’s esteem and affection for him are not one of them.

Really, though, Kouta isn’t saying anything especially coherent right now.

His unnecessary but habitual breathing is coming short, and his hair flickers from deep brown to unearthly gold as his concentration disintegrates. If his eyes weren’t squeezed shut, they, too, would be flickering. His fingers, curled on the edge of the bed, have flowers blooming between them. And Takatora, the indirect cause of this riotous growth and rendered speechless for more immediately physical reasons, continues until his lips are numb and Kouta is pulling him up and flattening him to the bed with a kiss.

“You don’t have to stop me, you know I wouldn’t mind if you—”

“No,” and a kiss, “no, we don’t know if it could—” and another kiss, “so no, even though you know I, you know—Takatora, I—” and the dissolution of coherence once again, now for both of them, as Takatora dizzily allows himself to be subsumed by Kouta’s passion and enthusiasm.

The first few times he was able to visit, afterglow involved actual glowing on Kouta’s part, which was the cause of some mutual hysteria—Takatora doesn’t want to call it giggling, but that’s really the accurate term. The glow’s under control now, and Kouta lies against him, asleep, and does not look more divine than any other beautiful man in repose.

There are still flowers blooming on the edge of the bed, red and orange against the plain bedspread. They’ll be scolded away later, but for the moment they are bright and strong and vivid. Takatora, drowsy himself, drifts off gazing at them, Kouta’s arms tight around his waist.

---

love and its decisive pain – ii

They are devoted partners, and thus Takeru’s anger is their anger, Takeru’s sorrow is their sorrow, Takeru’s joy is their joy, and, most crucially in this moment, with the dawn not arrived and the day yet to start and make them all busy, Takeru’s pleasure is their pleasure. And because he is who he is, because he feels everything with such strength and fervency that it radiates from him like sunlight, it is such pleasure. On his back, hands above his head, eyes bound, he has given himself over to their loving mercy and yet the weight of his existence is still enough to envelope them both.

Alain leans down to kiss the smiling mouth below the blindfold and say, softly, “Is there something you want?”

“Isn’t the point of this that you two are making the decisions?” Takeru sounds like he might laugh.

Alain glances over Takeru’s chest at Makoto, who is already looking over at him, and who raises an eyebrow before saying, “Is that a serious question or are you just being difficult?”

It’s definitely suppressed laughter. “A little of both, really. I want you to do what you want. I trust you.”

So they do what they want, which, gloriously weighed down by Takeru’s unconditional trust, is what he wants too. And what they want is to kiss, to touch, to take their pleasure in ways that render him arch-backed and breathless and crying out as they take their turns on him. They take their pleasure until he’s coming in an unexpected avalanche of laughter which, like all avalanches, overtakes them as well.

Dawn is breaking, light spilling in through the open window for Takeru to flinch against as they uncover his eyes. He buries his face against Makoto’s chest as soon as his arms are free and he can move, mumbling, “It’s too bright, I’m going back to sleep, you both have to keep me company since you’re the ones who wore me out.”

“Right,” Makoto says drily, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as Alain is draping himself over Takeru’s back, “humans need sleep, I forget that sometimes.”

He can feel Takeru’s smile like a separate presence in the room, even though he can’t see it. “Oh, like you’re so inhuman.”

Alain presses his face to the back of Takeru’s neck and finds that, at least for the moment, the pressure of his reality is not so much a weight as it is an embrace, enfolding the three of them as they lie together drowsing. “It’s not that we are less, perhaps.” A yawn against Takeru’s warm skin, occasioning a ticklish wriggle. “It’s just that you’re so much.”

#tsugami shouichi #hikawa makoto #tendou souji #kagami arata #kazuraba kouta #kureshima takatora #tenkuuji takeru #fukami makoto #ganma alain #fanfiction #30 day shuffle challenge #god this took so long

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auncyen · 3 years

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So a long time ago I wrote a start of a fic where Ryuji gets knocked out from Shido's explosion and is thrown back into the real world, unconscious. Ren brings him to Takemi's clinic and then answers Ryuji's phone when he realizes Mama Sakamoto is calling, attempting to make some kind of cover story for Ryuji not coming home or answering his phone before it becomes apparent she ID'd Ryuji from the video calling card. She's coming over to the clinic, and she wants answers.

AND THAT'S WHERE IT STALLED FOREVER. If anyone would like to take a look at what I have of part 2, where she gets to the clinic:

Ren was in the middle of sending an update to the group chat when the door to the clinic opened. The woman who walked in was short and dark-haired, and Ren had the split-second impulse to ask her if she had a real emergency--god knew he didn't want anything drawing Takemi's attention away from Ryuji right now--before her eyes landed on him with a look of such contempt that Caroline might have asked for tips.

The text for the group chat was forgotten. It would have only been to report that there was nothing to report yet. "Sakamoto-san?" he hazarded, his voice wavering.

"Where," she said flatly, "is my son."

He didn't know why it should have thrown him off so much that her hair wasn't bleached blond--of course it wasn't. But even besides that, she really didn't look like Ryuji at all. Short, somewhat stout, with a wider nose and other differences in the face...when it came to looks, Ryuji must have taken after his father's side.

Ren immediately knew he'd rather eat one of his daggers than say that to either mother or son.

"Sakamoto-san," Takemi said, emerging from the back. "Your son is in here. He suffered a concussion and Amamiya-kun brought him to me for examination." Her tone was a bit more polite than her usual, if still casual, and Ren appreciated that maybe she was trying to pull his fat from the fire.

"I want an explanation for all of this," Sakamoto-san said angrily. "...But I want to see him, first."

Ah. Now Ren saw the family resemblance, both in her expression and her protectiveness.

Takemi nodded, opening the door for Sakamoto-san to go in. Ren started to rise from his seat, wanting to see Ryuji himself, but a flat look from the doctor stopped him cold. She didn't want him following.

Logically, he knew Takemi was simply keeping things orderly and controlled. Ryuji's mother was upset, and Takemi knew she was mad at him already. Better to keep him out of the room if Sakamoto-san might take any of Takemi's news badly.

But the feeling that stirred in his gut was blame and guilt, making him cover his face with his hands after the door had closed. He felt sick.

He couldn't deny his responsibility. It had been his idea to stall in the safe room instead of immediately stealing Shido's treasure after Futaba broadcasted the calling card. If stalling had been the deciding factor in Shido being able to manipulate his own cognition and cause the violent collapse... Then it was completely his fault.

He shouldn't even care about what Ryuji's mother thought of him, anyway. That could wait until after Ryuji had woken up. But the cold way she'd looked at him hurt, pathetically enough. He'd really hoped that she would like him. Mostly because Ryuji was afraid she'd be upset when he came out to her--she'd asked a couple of times about him getting a girlfriend. Ren was hopeful, considering she'd supported her son through thick, thin, and hair bleach, and might only be asking about girlfriends because Ryuji was way more vocal about his interest in cute girls than cute guys, but he understood Ryuji's fear. There was always the chance that it would be the one thing too far. So he'd wanted to make a good impression on her when they met, hoping it'd help her accept it better whenever Ryuji was ready to come out.

But Ren had also just...selfishly wanted Ryuji's mother to like him. He'd wanted to make a good impression on her because Ryuji always lit up when he talked about her, and she sounded like a great mom, and Ren wanted someone like that to look at him and think that he could be a decent match for her son. That he was a good kid.

Well. He'd fucked that up already. He pressed his fingers against his closed eyes, forcing a deep breath as he tried to press the tears back. This wasn't the time for being weak and selfish. He had to worry about Ryuji waking up first. Then he could worry about making sure Ryuji wasn't grounded forever, and that he wasn't strangled for endangering Ryuji.

Except that still left him with nothing he could do for the time being.

He felt so useless. He wished he could have taken Ryuji to Shibuya station. If he could have just gotten him to the entrance of Mementos with Morgana, the two of them might have been able to heal Ryuji. But they hadn't been sure if cognitive healing would help when someone was plain knocked out cold in the real world; bringing him to the clinic had seemed the safer bet. But now...

Ren groaned. First he'd left Akechi behind a solid wall of metal on a ship that was now sunk. And now, Ryuji...

Takemi was speaking to Ryuji's mother in the room at length, and Ren rested his head against the wall, hoping to hear through it. Good news? Bad news? He could only hear her tone, calm and level. Takemi wasn't the type to sugarcoat, but she still highlighted better outcomes when they were possibilities to her patients. She'd said once that people often had improved outcomes if they were given attentive care and thought they should get better. She called it a placebo effect. Morgana called it the power of cognition.

But since Ryuji wasn't conscious, he didn't know he was being treated by one of the best doctors in Tokyo. That he should get better and just please wake up.

Ryuji's mother didn't seem any happier when Takemi opened the door for her to step back out into the waiting room. Ren felt his whole body stiffen when Takemi closed the door again, half-expecting to be screamed at, but Ryuji's mother just stared him down. When she spoke, her voice was tightly controlled. "So you're the leader of the Phantom Thieves. What must your parents think?"

"My parents?" he echoed.

She laughed, but it sounded more disbelieving than genuine. "You think they don't know? I recognized Ryuji plain as day under that weird skull-mask. Yours shows even more of your face. Do they actually approve of all this?"

That was a question he hadn't even considered recently, and he weighed what honest answer he could give her that didn't sound self-pitying. No, he didn't think they knew at all. They didn't have reason to look at the calling card too closely. Didn't have any suspicions about his after school activities, or any clue that he wasn't even in school for the time being. Ryuji's phone had several voicemails from his mother tonight alone. Ren's phone hadn't rang once tonight, and it had been a while since he had gotten a message from either his father or mother.

He was taking too long to answer; something in Sakamoto's expression shifted. "I don't have their approval," he said quickly, before she could get further upset. "I act for my own sense of justice."

"An' you dragged Ryuji right along into it," Sakamoto said.

That wasn't quite accurate, but Ren nodded anyway. "...Yes." It had a grain of truth to it: Igor had given the app to him. Ryuji would never have been thrown into the metaverse if he hadn't run into Ren. And it would be better to just get this over with. Take her anger and her blame. It was his fault she was upset.

Ryuji's mother took a long, deep breath. "What happened?"

"It's...hard to explain."

"Sure, you steal hearts and desires and whatnot. I still want an explanation," she pressed.

...He had no idea if she'd be patient enough for an explanation of the Metaverse. He'd bet on not. So he described the situation in broad strokes: "The group was in trouble. Ryuji took a risk to get us out safe. And he pulled it off. We could have all ended up dead if it wasn't for him." Futaba didn't know how to swim. Even for the rest of them, the waters had been turbulent enough that Ren didn't think their odds would have been good, not when they'd also had to navigate to their entrance point in the dark of night, already exhausted from a grueling fight. Perhaps some of them would have made it out...he doubted it would have been all of them. "But he got hurt. I'm--I'm sorry. It's my fault we were in that position."

"Why?"

"I...made the group wait before we changed Shido's heart. I was hoping..." Ren's voice shook, and the rest of the words failed to come.

He'd been hoping Akechi would show up. If Akechi had been alive, no matter if he was hiding somewhere in the Palace or trying to stay under the radar in Tokyo, as soon as they'd took over the airwaves with their calling card and set the Palace's security to high alert, Akechi would know. He would know they were taking Shido's heart. He would know that they would be in the Palace.

He could have joined them. So Ren had asked everyone to wait for an hour in one safe room as he warped between all of them and entrance, checking to see if Akechi would manage to drag himself in. Ann and Ryuji had both volunteered to help, and he'd been grateful, but he figured it was better if everyone else stayed together so they weren't split up between several different locations. When he hadn't spotted Akechi in the hour, he'd come back to the group and asked Futaba if she could do a scan for him--a last-ditch request, since she had every right to refuse to help.

Futaba had looked absolutely miserable. She'd already tried multiple scans. There was nothing. Ren had made everyone wait for nothing. He should have known it was too much to hope after Akechi had closed himself off behind the door. He'd only given Shido more time to counter.

"We were missing one," Ren said finally. Maybe Akechi would have objected to being counted as one of the group, but it was the simplest way to explain now. And he...wasn't going to object, anyway. "I made the group wait, but they never showed."

"They in some kind of trouble?"

The question surprised him a little, but this wasn't a subject he wanted to dwell on any longer. "Nothing I can help with," Ren said.

-and that's it so far.

And I'm just kind of......unsure where to go from there. Which makes me wonder if I should have started the dialogue differently or change something else earlier or...what.

#persona 5 #writing #I am stumped

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fanfics4all · 4 years

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Should Have Been Me

Request: Yes / No (I'm sorry to bother again but I just love your fics so much) could I request another but harry has a twin sister who is a hufflepuff but no one really knows about her she's practically Harry's shadow she was selected in the goblet of fire along with her boyfriend (Cedric) to some attention but doesn't work so when they to the cemetery before Peter kills Cedric she takes the hit know others will miss him more than her and he brings back her body Harry gets devastated for losing his sister @kiss-cult

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Cedric Diggory x Fem!Potter!Reader

Word count: 2643

Warnings: death and that should be it

Y/N: Your Name

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you!

Masterlist

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

When I first got sorted I was a little upset that I wasn’t in the same house as my brother. Harry was placed in Gryffindor and I was placed in Hufflepuff. Being new to the wizarding world I was kind of scared and nervous. Luckily an older student named Cedric helped me a lot. We became close and Cedric ended up asking me out. I of course said yes and Harry wasn’t happy about it at first. He’s always been the over protective brother, but once he saw how incredibly happy I was he accepted it.

It was the beginning of fourth year and I was sitting in the Great Hall next to Cedric. We may have seen each other over the summer recently, but it wasn’t enough.

“Now we’re all settled in and sorted, I’d like to make an announcement. This castle will not only be your home this year, but home to some very special guests as well. You see Hogwarts had been chosen-” Dumbledore cut himself off as Filch ran up to him. He whispered something to him and ran off again.

“So Hogwarts has been chosen to host a legendary event. The Tri-Wizard Tournament.” He said and people started whispering. I furrowed my brow confused about what was going on.

“Now for those of you who do not know, the Tri-Wizard Tournament brings together three schools for a series of magical contests. From each school a single contestant is selected to compete. Now let me be clear, if chosen you stand alone. And trust me when I say these contests are not for the faint hearted, but more on that later. For now please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies of the Beauxbatons Academy of magic and their headmistress Madam Maxime.” Dumbledore said. The doors opened and a group of very pretty girls dressed in blue danced their ways up the aisle. Butterflies flew into the air and just about every boy was staring at them. They bowed and everyone applauded.

“And now our friends from the north, please greet the proud sons of Durmstrand and the high master Igor Karkaroff.” Dumbledore said. The doors opened again and some older looking boys walked up the aisles holding bo staffs. They were twirling them around and something slamming into the ground, making sparks fly. The girls were staring in awe, well I wasn't, I didn’t much care for them honestly. Once everyone was settled the feast started.

Once it was finished Dumbledore gained everyone’s attention again for another announcement.

“Your attention please! I would like to say a few words. Eternal glory, that is what awaits the student who wins the Tri-Wizard Tournament. But to do this that student must survive three tasks. Three extremely dangerous tasks. For this reason the Ministry has seen fit to impose a new rule. To explain all this we have the head of the Department of International Magic Cooperation, Mister Bartimus Crouch.” He said. Thunder roared above us and it started to rain. Students screamed as they started getting wet. Someone casted a spell at the ceiling and everyone was back to normal.

“Who is that?” I asked Cedric.

“Mad-Eye Moody. He used to be an Aura.” He explained and I nodded.

“Why is he called Mad-Eye?” I asked.

“Well, he lost his eye and leg during the war and he honestly his job just made him lose it.” He said and I frowned.

“How sad.” I said.

“After much deliberation the Ministry has concluded that for their own safety no student under the age of seventeen shall be allowed to put forth their name for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. This decision is final.” Mr. Crouch said and a bunch of students started booing.

“Silence!” Dumbledore shouted and everyone quieted down. Dumbledore casted a spell over a box and it revealed a goblet containing a blue flame.

“The goblet of fire. Anyone wishing to submit themselves for the tournament merely write their name upon a piece of parchment and throw it into the flame before this house on Thursday night. Do not do so lightly, if chosen there’s no turning back. As from this moment the Tri-Wizard Tournament has begun!” Dumbledore explained.

The whole week Cedric was talking about wanting to put his name in. I was worried about him doing so, but I couldn’t stop him if he really wanted to. Luckily he came to me before he made his final decision.

“Well, what do you think?” He asked and I sighed.

“Honestly? I think it’s too dangerous, maybe it’s because this is still kind of new to me but still, it’s really up to you.” I said.

“Do you not want me to?” He asked and I bit my lip.

“I just don’t want to see you die.” I said and he smiled.

“Don’t worry love, I promise I’ll come back to you.” He said and kissed me.

“You better.” I giggled. He quickly wrote his name down and grabbed my hand. He led me through the halls and to the goblet. He ran up and placed his name into the fire. That was it, there was no going back.

The rest of the week I was so anxious. I wasn’t going to be better until they picked names. I could only hope that Cedric wasn’t picked. Thursday came soon enough and we were all gathered in the goblet room.

“Sit down please! And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for, the champions selection!” Dumbledore said as everyone was taking their seats. Dumbledore approached the blue flame and it started glowing red. A name flew out and I felt my heart rate picked up.

“The Durmstrang champion is, Viktor Krum!” Dumbledore shouted. People cheered as another name came out.

“The champion from Beauxbatons, Fleur Delacour!” He shouted. Peopled cheered as the last name came out.

“The Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory!” He announced and my heart clenched. Cedric smiled as he ran up to the front. He grabbed his name and ran into the room with the others.

“Excellent! We now have our three champions! But in the end only one will go down in history. Only one will hoist this chalice on champions, this vessel of victory the Tri-Wizard cup!” He said. Everyone cheered, but the goblet started glowing red again. Another name flew out and Dumbledore silently reads it.

“Y/N Potter. Y/N Potter?” He called and my eyes widened. I looked over at Harry, who looked just as shocked.

“Y/N Potter!” He shouted again and I slowly got up. I walked up to him and took my name from his hands.

“She’s a cheat! She’s not even seventeen yet!” a few people shouted.

“She got Cedric to put her name in!” Someone else said, but I ignored them and walked into the room with the others. Everyone looked at me with a mix of shock and confusion.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Cedric asked.

“I-I don’t know. My-” I was cut off by the teachers bursting into the room. Dumbledore grabbed me and my eyes widened.

“Y/N! Did you put your name in the goblet of fire?” He asked.

“No sir!” I answered.

“Did you ask one of the older students to do it for you?” He asked.

“No sir!” I said.

“You’re absolutely sure?” He asked.

“Yes sir.” I answered.

“Well of course she is lying!” Madame Maxime said.

“The hell she is. The goblet of fire is an exceptionally powerful magical object, only an exceptionally powerful conjurer could have hoodwinked it. Magic way beyond the talents of a fourth year.” Mad-Eye said.

“You seem to have given this a fair bit of thought Mad-Eye.” Igor said.

“It was once my job to think as dark wizards do Karkaroff, perhaps you remember?” He said.

“That doesn’t help Alastor. Leave this to you Barty.” Dumbledore said.

“The rules are absolute, the goblet of fire constitutes a binding magical contract. Mrs. Potter has no choice, she is as of tonight… a Tri-Wizard champion.” He said and my eyes widened. Cedric and I went back to the common room and everyone was giving me a nasty glare.

“Ignore them.” Cedric whispered and took me to my room.

“Did you actually put your name in?” He asked.

“No! I’ve been so terrified for you, I would never even think about putting my name in!” I said and he nodded.

“Alright, I believe you. I just had to ask.” He said.

“I don’t want to do this Ced.” I said.

“I know, but you have to, love.” He said and kissed my head.

The first two trials weren’t the easiest. Cedric had helped me prepare, but I was alone in this. I had managed to survive until the last challenge. Everyone was gathered outside at an arena and music was playing like nothing bad was about to happen. The champions walked out, along with myself. My nerves were at an all time high.

“Earlier today Professor Moody placed the Tir-Wizard cup deep within the maze. Only he knows its exact position. Now as Mr. Diggory-” Dumbledore was cut off by people cheering.

“And Mrs. Potter tied for first position they will be the first to enter the maze. Followed by Mr. Krum and Mrs. Delacour. The first person to touch the cup will be the winner. I’ve instructed the staff to patrol the perimeter, if at any point should a contestant wish to withdraw from the task he or she need only send up red sparks with their wands. Contestants, gather round.” He said and we all walked over to him.

“In the maze you’ll find not dragons or creatures of the deep. Instead you’ll face something more challenging. You see, people change in the maze. Oh find the cup if you can, but be very weary you could just lose yours;ves along the way.” He said and I became more nervous.

“Champions! Prepare yourselves!” Mad-Eye said. Cedric hugged his Father and I hugged Harry.

“Be safe.” He said and I nodded while I bit my lip.

“I’m scared Harry.” I whispered.

“Hey, you can do this.” He said with a reassuring smile.

“Harry’s right, you’re strong.” Cedric said coming over to us.

“I’m so scared.” I said.

“Hey, you got this, love. You can win this.” He said and I smiled slightly.

“Don’t go easy on me, Ced.” I said and he smiled.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He said and pecked my lips. Harry went up went up to the stands while Cedric and I went to out starting spots.

“On the count of three… One-” Dumbledore was cut off by the cannon going off. Cedric and I entered the maze and I watched the walls close behind me.

As I was walking through everything was making me anxious. There was a heavy mist and there were noises all around me. While I was walking I noticed Fleur was on the ground unconscious. She was slowly being swallowed by the walls and I started panicking slightly. I shot up the red sparks and hoped that someone would save her. I kept walked through the maze and noticed something shining in the distance. I started towards it and someone tried to hit me with a spell.

“Get down!” Cedric shouted and I ducked. Cedric hit him with a spell and ran up to him, kicking the wand from his hands. He pointed his wand at Viktor’s body and my eyes widened.

“No stop! He’s bewitched Ced!” I said. Cedric wasn’t himself. The two of us started to struggle.

“Get off me!” He growled.

“He’s bewitched!” I said again. He pushed me off him and the two of us started running towards the cup. The undergrowth grabbed Cedric and he fell to the ground. I looked at Cedric and I froze in fear.

“Y/N!” He called. I quickly gained the courage and sent a spell to the plant that held him. I helped Cedric up and he looked at me.

“You know, for a moment there I thought you were gonna let it get me.” He said.

“Never, I was just scared.” I said.

“Some game huh?” He asked.

“Yeah…” I said with a sigh. The wind started to blow and Cedric pushed me towards the cup.

“Go! Take it, you saved me!” He said and I shook my head.

“Together, on three. One, two, three!” I said. We both ran towards the cup and grabbed it at the same time. The cup ported us somewhere and we landed on the ground.

“You okay?” He asked.

“I think so, are you?” I asked and he nodded.

“Where are we?” He asked. I looked around and noticed we were in a graveyard, it looked just like the one Harry and I have been dreaming of…

“I’ve been here before…” I whispered.

“It’s a portkey. Y/N, the cup is a portkey!” Cedric said.

“I’ve been here before in a dream. Cedric, we need to get back to the cup, now!” I said.

“What are you talking about?” He asked, grabbing me by the shoulders. I felt a sudden pain in my head and I groaned in pain as I held my scar.

“What is it?” Cedric asked, his voice filled with concern.

“Get back to the cup, please!” I begged. Wormtail walked out holding what I could only assume is what’s left of Voldemort.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Cedric asked, getting ready to protect me.

“Kill the spare.” I heard Voldemort’s voice said.

“No!” I shouted before he could cast the spell. I jumped in front of Cedric and the spell hit me.

Cedric’s POV

Y/N was dead. She took the curse that was meant for me. She sacrificed herself for me.

“You idiot!” The creepy voice hissed. The man who was holding something walked closer and he trapped me with a tombstone.

“Do it quickly.” The voice said and the man dropped something into a cauldron.

“Bones of a Father, unwillingly given.” He said. A bone hovered over to the cauldron and was dropped in.

“Flesh of the servant willingly sacrificed.” He said and cut his own arm off over the cauldron.

“Blood of the enemy forcibly taken.” He said and walked over to Y/N.

“Leave her alone!” I growled at him, but he ignored me. He took the knife and sliced down her arm. He quickly took the knife back over to the cauldron and let the drops fall in.

“The Dark Lord shall rise again!” He said. The cauldron burst into flames and Voldemort emerged.

“My wand Wormtail.” He said. My eyes widened. He was back. He looked back at me with a smirk and then over at Y/N.

“Such a shame.” He said looking at her.

“The only reason you are still alive is so you can return her to Harry Potter. Tell him I have returned and I will win.” He said and I was freed. I ran over to Y/N and grabbed the cup. We were transported back to the arena and everyone was cheering.

“Y/N?” I heard Harry asked, and I just cried. Harry ran over and kneeled next to his sister.

“What happened?” He asked with tears falling down his face.

“He’s back! Voldemort is back. It was meant for me, I was meant to die. She jumped in front of me and took it.” I tried.

“This is your fault! You killed her!” Harry cried and clung to his sister.

“I-I…” I couldn’t say anything. I felt like it was my fault. I should have been the one protecting her, not the other way around.

“I’m sorry Harry.” I cried.

“Sorry won’t bring back my sister!” He shouted. He was right. Y/N was gone and it’s all my fault…

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs @schisbro87 @lover-of-books-and-teas @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches2 @genius2050 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @in-slytherin-we-trust @accio-rogers @sambucky8

#harry potter imagine #harry potter and the goblet of fire #cedric diggory #cedric x fem!reader #cedric diggory x fem!reader #harry potter x sister!reader #cedric x potter!reader #cedric diggory x potter!reader #fanfic #request #hufflepuff #hufflepuff!reader #cedric x hufflepuff!reader #harry potter x hufflepuff!reader

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the-girl-in-the-box · 3 years

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Ghost Queen II

A/N: And here’s Part 2, finally, as promised! It’s a little more lengthy than Part 1, because I was struggling to figure out exactly how I wanted to end it, but... I eventually figured it out, and here it is! I’m actually really happy with how this turned out, and I hope all of you who read this enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Next on my posting schedule is another chapter of Not Today- still due out on Friday night/Saturday morning as always! And, until then, dear readers, thank you for indulging this idea until I got it out! Skål!

Pairings: Ivar x Katia, Ivar x Freydis

Word Count: 3,222

Summary: Ivar believed he killed Freydis in Kattegat, but fate seemed to have other plans for the Viking King and his wife. She survived, and sought refuge far in the North, where she is captured by the Kievian Rus, and offered sanctuary and a new identity- in exchange for information, and the marriage of a Norse Queen to Prince Oleg. (AU where Freydis really is Katia)

Warnings: Childbirth (not graphic), possibly the fluffiest thing I’ve ever written.

Masterlist

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Months and months passed, and Katia no longer cared if she remained disguised. She sat Igor down one day, when she was close enough to giving birth that he’d begun to visit her in her chambers so she’d not have far to go, and sighed, telling him she had to explain something to him.

Igor’s brows creased together as he prepared to listen to whatever it was Katia had to say. He’d noticed the way her hair was beginning to turn blonde from the top, how the dark black was growing out, and now started around the base of her skull. Needless to say, the boy had questions.

“Igor, come and sit,” she said gently, and patted the edge of her bed. “You know I came here after you and Ivar both had already arrived, yes? You remember?”

Igor nodded, answering, “Da, I remember.” He moved to sit beside her, and she reached an affectionate hand up to brush her fingers through his hair. He already looked so much older to her than when she’d first met him. How could that be? The smile on her face was clearly reminiscent of this time, and she sighed a little.

“I have a confession to make,” she began. “I was introduced to you, and to Ivar, as Princess Katia, but… The truth is, my name is not Katia. I am not a Rus Princess, and… clearly, you have seen over the last few months that my hair is not even black. It is blonde.”

Igor watched her with creased brows, the shock not quite registering on his face as he heard her say she wasn’t a Princess, and wasn’t even called Katia. He knew her well enough that whatever she was telling him, it was because she thought it would benefit him to know, and she wasn’t going to hurt him- no matter what she said. He didn’t believe she was a different woman than he knew her to be, just because her identity wasn’t the same as he had first thought.

“You must have heard Ivar speak of his wife, hm?” she prompted. “Freydis?” The name almost felt foreign in her mouth now, after having been Katia for so long. But when Igor again answered affirmatively, she took a deep breath. This was it. “Well…” Her voice shifted a little as she stopped speaking as a Rus Princess, returning to the natural timbre it once had, higher pitched, a little sweeter. “I am Freydis, Igor. I did not die in Kattegat.”

The shock showed on his face this time, his eyes widening entirely as he stared at her. The closeness to Ivar now made sense, he figured. The willingness to do whatever the Viking had asked. She was his wife, and obviously, she loved him. That didn’t mean everything was cleared up for the boy, however, and so he asked, “Then… Oleg? Was he never your husband?”

Katia- Freydis- grimaced slightly. “That is… no. I did not ever consider him to be my husband. I am a Viking, Igor, not Rus. The ceremony I was in that was meant to bind me to Oleg required vows to be made to the Christian God. I know those beliefs are yours, but they are not mine.”

Her hand came to cup his cheek affectionately, and she kept a warm smile on her face. This was likely to be jarring for him, and the more he considered her words, the more he began to wonder if… maybe he did have her wrong. He was safe, there was no doubt, but did this mean he had never really known her? Were there other things she had lied about and kept from him?

“I want to ask you something,” he said. Freydis recognised the more assertive way he was saying that as something Ivar must have taught him, though she also imagined Ivar would not have asked to ask anything, or even announced it. He’d have just asked. But, Igor- for all the things he’d learned from Ivar- was still Igor. She was glad for that.

“Of course,” she replied. “Ask me anything. I know I have left you with… much to consider.”

Igor nodded, and took a deep breath. “How much of… everything, was a lie? You say you did not consider yourself married to Oleg. You were married to Ivar. So you did not love who you claimed to, and loved who you claimed not to. What about…”

Freydis knew what he was asking, even as his voice drifted off, and he shifted uncomfortably. “You?” she finished, and he nodded. “Oh, Igor… Come here, my love.”

She opened her arms to him, and he shifted so she could hold him like she did so long ago at dinner with Ivar and Oleg, the night Oleg had busted up his puppet of the King. Ivar had held him the same way later that night, and with that added to how Katia- no, Freydis, he reminded himself- had held him earlier… It had cemented his view of them in his mind, as the parental figures he’d missed for so long. And though he missed Ivar, missed the man he saw as a father, Freydis’s arms around him felt the same as always. Her name was different, as was the story of her life, but the woman… she was the same.

And, as he came to this conclusion, she actually began to voice this to him. “Whatever lies I have told to save my own life, I have never once lied about my affections for you, sweet child. Not to you, nor to anyone else. You have my word, in the sight of the gods, that this is true.”

After that day, Igor had come to call her Freydis, had grown used to the Norse accent in her voice, the one that sounded so much more like Ivar’s than Oleg’s, as opposed to the Rus, and he realised the truth had not changed that he still loved her like she was his own mother. And she still played that role in his life. She cared for him more than any maid or servant in Kiev, and he liked it that way.

It could have only been made better by Ivar’s presence.

It wasn’t until a month later, so close to Freydis’s time to have the child that seemed to grow daily in her womb, that she finally came to a decision. Ivar had been gone for eight months now, and with every passing day she would look out over the horizon, picture him with some new woman- a new wife, perhaps- in Kattegat, and her heart would ache.

She missed Ivar the Boneless with her very soul, and she wanted nothing more than to have him at her side when she had their baby. So… she decided to do what she’d once believed was unthinkable.

Freydis sat down, and she wrote a long, detailed letter to Ivar. She told him everything in that letter. The truth about her identity, everything that had brought her to Kiev, and all the ways and reasons she hid her identity from him through the duration of their relationship in Rus.

She also confessed to him how she had come to love him once more, how her heart ached for him, and how she missed him so much she would often imagine him walking through the gates of Kiev, coming to find her once more.

After debating on whether or not to actually send the letter, Freydis eventually came to the decision that he did deserve to know. After all, she would be having his child so soon she could feel it. The baby was moving and kicking in her womb, and she spent long hours at night talking to the child, already telling them of their father’s adventures and triumphs. The night she sent the letter, she told the child what she’d done, and how she hoped at least that Ivar would come to meet their baby.

And hope for that she did.

Nothing came of the letter for a month at least, not until she’d even been feeling labor pains that weren’t yet signalling the baby’s arrival. In fact, nothing came of that letter until Freydis had screamed and cried for hours on end, pain ripping through her body and causing her shrieks to be so jarring that Igor, outside the room, was beginning to wonder if she would survive.

He’d never heard a woman give birth before, but he couldn’t believe what he was hearing was normal or healthy. Something had to have been going wrong. (Even after the birth, when Freydis could assure him all had gone well, and she’d endured this once before, he was convinced that she was only saying that so he wouldn’t worry.)

But he smiled as he looked at the sleeping girl she held to her chest, and eventually, he asked Freydis, “Can I hold her?”

Freydis grinned, and she nodded, handing the baby over to Igor. He was beaming as she reminded him to support the baby’s head, and hold her close, making sure not to drop any part of her. “She is perfect, is she not?” the woman asked, and Igor nodded slowly.

“I always hoped I might have a sister,” he confessed to her, and if Freydis was shocked by Igor revealing to her- entirely subconsciously- that he saw her as his mother, she didn’t show it. Instead, she simply smiled, and tucked the blanket up around the baby’s chin.

“And now you do,” she said. “The gods have been good to us all, Igor.” He smiled, and nodded his agreement.

“What will you call her?” he finally asked, and Freydis gave a small hum.

“I have not chosen, I don’t think,” she admitted. “Nothing I have thought of sounds quite right. But it will come to me, I am certain.”

Another few days passed, and as Freydis was walking through the market, cradling her newborn daughter to her chest and talking to Igor, she was beginning to feel frustrated. She had allowed Igor to help her try and think up a name, and yet nothing had really satisfied either of them. Still, nothing would come to them.

But that day, the perfect name would come.

It came in such a way that Freydis had gone white from shock, looking up at the gate that opened, seeing the man who passed through it. When Igor saw her face, he didn’t yet turn to look and see what she was seeing, instead commenting, “You look as though you have seen a ghost.”

“I have,” she answered.

His eyes finally followed her gaze as she began walking towards the gates, and they widened, before a grin broke out across his lips and he hurried to catch up with his mother- for that really was what they both knew her to be, now.

Ivar the Boneless had an easier time walking through the markets of Kiev when there was no snow on the ground, during the summer months. During his battle in Wessex, he’d thought of nothing more than wanting to live, so he could return to Kiev to Freydis, and Igor, and the- hopefully healthy- child he hoped would be there with her.

When he saw the baby in Freydis’s arms, his heart dropped into his stomach. He didn’t know if he was ready to be a father- the thought terrified him to no end- but his wife stood there, with the boy he thought of as his own son, and a new child. Whether he was ready or not, it didn’t matter. His destiny was upon him.

And his eyes began to burn as he finally came to meet her. She looked up at him with an adoring smile, her heart pounding, as she said, “Hello, Ivar.” His heart melted.

“Hello, Freydis.”

If not for the baby in her arms, Ivar would have kissed her right there in the middle of that marketplace. After all, she was his wife, wasn’t she? And he’d been away from her for nine months. The people would have had to have gotten over it.

His fingers brushed over the baby’s head slowly, as if afraid he might break her just by touching her, and when he blinked, water began to leak from his eyes. Freydis’s own eyes reflected this as she watched his face. The smile on her face had only warmed, grown softer, and she seemed to be melting inside as she watched him with the little newborn girl.

“Ivar,” she eventually said, and he gave a small, “Hm?” to show he was now listening. “Do you want to hold your daughter?”

He finally looked at Freydis again, the words sending a sort of chill down his spine.

His daughter…

“She is too perfect to be mine,” he said softly, and Freydis shook her head.

“She is yours, I assure you,” she promised. “She’s ours.”

With that, she offered the baby to Ivar, and he reached out to take her, a quiet, almost choked cry coming from the Viking as he cradled his baby girl in his arms for the first time. He had once told Freydis that he’d only ever loved her, and his mother. And though that remained true, as he also knew he loved Hvitserk, and Igor as well, he realised he’d never felt a love quite like this.

The girl’s eyes opened, and she squealed with delight as she looked at her father’s face for the first time. Right then, Ivar knew he’d bring the world to heel for her, if it were in his power. Anything she wanted, he would give her. If he had to bring the sky to the earth at her request, he would give it everything he could.

“What is her name?” he asked, his voice soft and almost cracking under the emotion he felt in his chest.

“We haven’t yet chosen,” Freydis began to explain, but he cut her off before she could finish.

“Katia,” he said. “Because that is the name of the woman who brought her mother back to me.”

Freydis smiled a little, and even Igor thought it was right as he watched her nod.

“Katia,” she agreed. “Katia Ivarsdottir.”

This brought a wide grin to Ivar’s face, and he and Freydis both laughed a little when Igor stepped up to look at his sister again, and greet her properly for the first time. “Hello, Katia,” he said. “I am Igor, your brother.”

Ivar gave Freydis a curious look when Igor called himself Katia’s brother, and she smiled. “It is true, isn’t it?” she whispered to him while the boy was occupied, and Ivar realised… it really was.

And so, he handed Katia over to Igor to hold her and fuss over her as he’d taken to doing, so he could wrap an arm around Freydis, pulling her close to himself. She smiled up at him as her hands came to rest against his chest.

“You have been very busy, my love,” he told her, and chuckled as if to himself. “I would have never imagined such mischief to be anything you were capable of.”

“It was not mischief, it was survival,” she said, teasing him with the Rus accent she had put on when disguised as Katia, and he chuckled.

“Well, there is no need for this now,” he said. “You are my wife, and your children are my children. I will guarantee your survival, along with our son’s and daughter’s. You are my family, and I will protect you all.”

Freydis smiled at him, and nodded a little. Without all the change she’d seen in him there in Kiev, she’d have doubted that statement. But now, on the other side of all they’d gone through together, she was honestly able to tell him, “I know you will.”

Ivar leaned down then to finally kiss his wife, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. Oh, this felt like the most right thing in the world to him.

He didn’t kiss her for as long as he’d have liked to, but only because he wanted now to properly greet the boy who would now be his son. So, he turned to Igor, who was now handing Katia back to Freydis, and caught the boy off guard in a tight embrace.

Igor grinned and laughed happily at the slight ambush. He was more grateful than anything for them to have all come back together, especially with the added fact that he now had a little sister. “Will you stay this time?” he questioned, looking up at Ivar even as he hadn’t let the Viking go just yet.

“Who am I to tell the gods I do not accept my fate, hm?” Ivar asked him with a playful grin. “Of course I will stay. And you have had to take care of your mother for long enough now. It’s time I finally take that responsibility from you, don’t you think?”

Igor grinned and hugged his father tightly once again. He didn’t think he’d ever be happier than he was in that moment.

The family had retreated back into their palace, and Ivar and Freydis never spoke again of what had happened between them in Kattegat. Both had changed drastically since then, and it was understood that they’d become different people entirely.

But Ivar still saw the ghost of that woman from Kattegat, whenever he saw Freydis acting as the Queen of Rus, mother to the King, and yet he saw the ghost of Princess Katia whenever the family would sit around the dinner table, and Igor would come and sit up against her.

Truly, his wife had evolved into an enigma, with two lives living in and shining through her at once, resulting in a type of… ghostly queen, almost. In fact, because of this, he took to calling her his Ghost Queen, who could be the ghost of either woman at any time, while still being fully her.

It would have been a difficult thing for him to have tried to explain, but he knew he didn’t have to. Freydis understood each time he called her that, what he meant.

Igor and Katia grew, and they weren’t the last children Freydis and Ivar had together. He was proud to say he never missed another birth, and he was proud to remain in Kiev with his family, which only ever seemed to grow.

Hvitserk came to visit often- more often than not- though he was still busy ruling Kattegat, after unseating the woman who’d claimed, as the widow of Björn Ironside, it had been her right. But his claim went undisputed by the population, when he reminded them that he was the only brother of Björn who was left to take the throne, and the only Son of Ragnar as well.

And so for many years into the future, Norway and Rus enjoyed a beneficial and prosperous relationship with each other, all because of the queen who’d vanished from thin air in Kattegat, and appeared in the same way in Kiev. Ivar’s title for her became the name history would remember her by, and just as the name Ivar the Boneless would never be forgotten, neither would the name of Freydis, the Ghost Queen.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius

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ask-ultimate-personas · 3 years

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The voice of a shadow call. It seems far fetched to some until they're called. It's a strong feeling where your shadow- or shadows in my case- end up having an extremely pull you can't break. I found myself trying to figure out where this voice is coming from for a few weeks yet no luck. Mementos has been acting strange when I'm around; shadows aren't hostile at all, some have told me to turn away from reaching where I need to go. That's really all I have still. I'll write more when any resent developments show progress.

The girl closed a writing app on her phone before looking around her. Was she losing her grasp on what world she was in? From all she can tell is the sky is red with black clouds, moths fluttering about in the blue, purple flowers if in a grass area.

"We have to go Chi chi..."

"AGAIN!?" The Shiba Inu piped up.

"I have to find the caller if not I'll decent into more madness..."

"...You know...ever since this all kicked off you've been worrying anyone who looks at you."

"I'm aware yet it's nothing I can't control so I have to do what they need."

"... I'm going with you. I don't want you to end up hurt. Not to mention how many others are running around in that world Rose."

"Alright then."

Chi chi held deep concern for Rose yet the two seem to be growing a crossroad at the moment.

@a-bouquet-of-shadows

Staria was in the velvet room after Akio wanted a little word with them for a bit. Lucian: "What do you want to know Akio since I did beat neo and Saki and your mum in shattered glass world is this important or not?" they said curiously. Akio responded with "Well you see my Father Igor wanted me to tell you about another place similar to shattered glass world called mementos …" staria cut Akio off you mean the place that Mr Joker uses ?" Akio smiled and said "Yes but you see some girl wanted some help but Joker and the rest are on a different mission so I was thinking if you go through that app and save her and I guess Joker told you about his way of doing things right?" staria responded with "Not exactly since he only came to my academy now and again." Akio: "OK I will ask Igor if I can help you and if yes meet me outside the academy and we can do this together" Staria: "OK Akio".

[At the academy}

Kiyoshi: "what shall we do about this crisis Lucian?" Maki Akira followed Kiyoshi's ask with "well then staria we are all waiting for ya" staria smiled and moved to the side to reveal Akio the velvet attendant. everyone is shocked intill Wada Minori spoke and said "Akio how are you after the whole velvet family problems?" Akio smiled and said "I am fine we managed to recover from the shock instead of Igor which explains why I am here to explain the real reason why you heroes are being called for" Akio explain the problem to the group and Tamanhara responded with "Akio do you think saki staraka or neo is doing this ?" Akio: "Don't know yet but you guys up for it here's the app on these spare phones"

the group smiled and Mizuno said "Of course we are ready us heroes is always ready for any situation" Yanagi: "Guys what shall we do since our headmaster Makoto yuki is not alliable as well as our other teachers?" Animalia: "I will stay and make sure everyone is safe while you guys go with Akio" staria: "Are you sure about this Animalia?" Animalia responded with "Yes I am sure about this go and rescue that girl. Akio press the app and the others followed suit while Animalia walks to the Year 2 classroom where the students are.

#roleplay idea / ask #a-bouquet-of-shadows #lucian hikou taikou aka staria (ultimate persona)#kiyoshi (neko persona user)#the rest of staria's team #fanmade persona 6 roleplay #akio velvet attendent #rose and chi chi (oc)

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halothenthehorns · 3 years

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TLTNL- DRACO'S DETOUR

Lily nibbled on her lip for a moment before she could get started. She couldn't help it, everything Snape and Narcissa had talked about still weighed on her mind, but so far Harry's life was going quite well for once. She forced herself to remain focused on that as she began, the smile lingering causing the same in the rest of them.

Harry remained within the confines of the Burrow's garden over the next few weeks. He spent most of his days playing two-a-side Quidditch in the Weasleys' orchard (he and Hermione against Ron and Ginny; Hermione was dreadful and Ginny good, so they were reasonably well matched)

"That doesn't sound well matched at all," James ruffled his hair in confusion. "From what I heard, three are great, and Hermione has no clue what she's doing on a broom. What's reasonably matched about that?"

"Remember how Ron tends to get nervous," Harry tried hard to repress a chuckle, and was failing at it. "Well he fumbled a lot of Hermione's throws. He claimed he was going easy on her, but ah," he trailed off with a fond shake of his head, he knew Ron's faces well, and the look he sometimes got when she was the one throwing the play made him, well, throw the play.

and his evenings eating triple helpings of everything Mrs. Weasley put in front of him.

"I can't believe you've never gotten sick, going from so little food to so much," Remus muttered, not at all finding it a bad thing.

It would have been a happy, peaceful holiday had it not been for the stones of disappearances, odd accidents, even of deaths now appearing almost daily in the Prophet.

Lily sighed that her boy was having to experience the same kind of news they were now, it really had been a blessing they'd barely been able to enjoy it took this long.

Sometimes Bill and Mr. Weasley brought home news before it even reached the paper. To Mrs. Weasley's displeasure, Harry's sixteenth birthday celebrations were marred by grisly tidings brought to the party by Remus Lupin,

She would have normally stopped anyways to smile over at Remus reappearing on Harry's birthday, but for this particular instance she frowned instead and reread that bit. Not only was this the first birthday Remus was in attendance for, Merlin Sirius had never even managed that, there was no mention of him going out of his way to talk to Harry. In fact, the opposite, bringing such news along? She suddenly couldn't help but wonder if he really would abandon himself from Harry's life again. He certainly hadn't gone out of his way to show otherwise yet.

who was looking gaunt and grim, his brown hair streaked liberally with gray, his clothes more ragged and patched than ever.

The boys, who had gone bright eyed at once for the news, looked as grim as if Sirius had been brought up again. The last thing they wanted to hear was their last remaining friend suffering even more hardships in life, yet clearly that's all he was getting.

His first announcement over birthday cake was more dementor attacks.

"Aren't you just full of fun information!" Sirius huffed.

"I'd take the cake back," James agreed.

Remus didn't even have it in him to make a face at them, they were entirely right. He wished he could put this away, tell it later when it mattered, prioritize on just having fun, but it wasn't at all hard to imagine the thought wouldn't even cross his mind at this point in the future.

Harry at least tried to offer, "maybe you were telling me then, because you knew Mrs. Weasley or anyone in the Order wouldn't let you later."

Lily still couldn't help but tisk, she didn't find it that relevant, but Remus at least looked cheered at the thought this could be put in any good light.

And they'd found Igor Karkaroff's body in a shack up north,

"I, honestly forgot about him," James blinked in surprise. Considering everything else that had gone on in Harry's fourth year, this guy seemed laughable at best looking back on him.

"How recent is this news? I'm stunned this hadn't happened already," Sirius rolled his eyes.

the Dark Mark set above his house. Lupin was honestly surprised it hadn't happened sooner than a year, Regulus Black had only lived a few days.

"Oh lookie there, were five for five! Anyone want to play some odds this'll come up every single chapter, now by Moony himself!" James mock cheered to hide his growing hysteria of that constantly being brought up.

"Technically he just mentioned Sirius' brother, not-" Harry broke himself off, he couldn't find anything good to say about that.

Sirius couldn't bring himself to say anything on the matter, that would never be something he'd have wanted to learn! He still didn't even know details of why his little brother had done it.

Mrs. Weasley tried to forcefully change the subject, but Bill only kept it rolling by informing Florean Fortescue's' shop was empty, dragged off by the look of the place.

"Bloody tragic future this is, attacking the ice cream," James tried for a smile that didn't at all work.

Ron asked why while Mrs. Weasley pointedly glared at Bill.

"I find this far more relevant than Karkaroff," Sirius sighed, though he honestly couldn't blame Molly, they heard enough about this without bringing it up themselves.

No one was sure, but he must've upset someone. Mr. Weasley added in Ollivander had vanished as well.

Harry rubbed at his temple hard, the harsh thump he felt for that couldn't be anything good, but he must be ridiculous. Why would he know anything more about this than what happened to Florean Fortescue?

Ginny was stunned, where would people go for wands now?

Lupin pointed out someone else,

"I didn't even know there were other makers in the country," Lily sighed.

"There aren't, that I know of anyways," James agreed. "People will have to travel really far for them, and that's a danger in itself in these times."

but Ollivander was the best, so it was a shame if the other side did have him.

"There's Moony, always keeping us on the important information," Sirius grumbled.

The day after this rather gloomy birthday tea, their letters and booklists arrived from Hogwarts. Harry's included a surprise: he had been made Quidditch Captain.

Lily had been reading so distracted because of all this, she almost glossed right past this detail.

James would never allow such a thing, the second that news registered he let out a great whoop of joy and jumped clean out of his seat, nearly taking Harry's head with him he'd wrapped him in such a tight hug moments before.

"Yes! This is the best news ever! I haven't been this excited since you were put on the team! I can't believe it! Yes I can, McGonagall knew there wasn't a better choice! I'm amazed you haven't had this spot since your fourth year! Oh I can't wait to hear about-"

Lily and Remus were both massaging their ears in protest as he somehow managed to shout even louder every passing moment, but he looked so jubilant it would feel cruel to tell him to stop.

Sirius wasn't acting any better, laughing so hard he seemed likely to run out of air soon and Harry looked so pleased with himself at their reactions it was like hearing about his first game all over again.

Lily waited patiently for them to run out, scratching Hickory on the chin in the meantime and trying to remember a certain Herbology plant that specialized in ear regrowth, they'd need one before all this was up for more reasons than her husbands happy shouts.

"Oh, I wish you were wearing it now, I know McGonagall had to pry mine away from me-"

"Prongs, if you don't settle down, then we'll never get to actually hear him doing anything with his captaincy. I know I'll never be able to hear properly again anyways, but still," Remus tried to patiently cut in.

"Leave him be Moony, this is the first thing he's had to celebrate in, maybe even since his first year. Since then, everything has been just as depressing as it was an accomplishment for the pup."

"Thanks Sirius," Harry told him with a torn expression of whether he was supposed to be laughing at that one.

Lily still took their momentary distraction as an opportunity to keep going, though James was still so jazzed he honestly looked like he regretted taking his seat for now.

Hermione congratulated he could now use the Prefects bathroom.

"Because that's the important takeaway from this!" Remus rolled his eyes.

Ron eyed it with worry, recalling Charlie wearing one of those. He supposed it would be cool having him as Captain, assuming of course he'd be back on the team, as he ended with a nervous laugh.

James made a sad little face this position suddenly put his son in, but even that couldn't put a damper on his delighted news and he encouraged Harry not to worry about that until he had to.

Mrs. Weasley hardly paid any attention to their chatter, sighing they couldn't put off a trip to Diagon Alley anymore, but they'd have to wait until their father was off on a Saturday to come, she wasn't going without him.

Ron laughed if his mother really thought You-Know-Who was hiding behind a bookshelf in Flourish and Blotts?

"Well after hiding out in a girls bathroom, I really wouldn't put much past him," Sirius smirked.

Mrs. Weasley, fired up at once, rounding on him and reminding Fortescue and Ollivander had gone on holiday then?

"Probably best not to be testing his mother anyways," Lily sighed with sympathy for Molly.

If he thought security was a laughing matter he could stay home!

Ron hastily reminded he wanted to see the twins shop!

"Priorities," James agreed enthusiastically, as if this could get any better!

She pointedly said he'd better watch his tone then, or she'd think he was too immature to even return to school.

Remus let out a soft whistle, unable to grasp how worried a parent must be to have that kind of threat in there.

Ron turned to stare incredulously at Harry as his mother hoisted the laundry basket and the teetering clock into her arms and stormed out of the room, muttering about how she couldn't even take a joke anymore.

"She's never struck me as the fun type to begin with, that's somehow gotten worse over the years," Sirius sighed.

"Be fair, we saw her laugh...err...back when Fred and George made a joke about the train crashing," Harry finally offered.

Lily smiled sadly for the poor stressed mother, and even more for her sons defense of the woman no matter how much it stung just a bit to hear. She was being ridiculous of course, Harry had every reason to do this as he always would.

But Ron was careful not to be flippant about Voldemort over the next few days. Saturday dawned without any more outbursts from Mrs. Weasley, though she seemed very tense at breakfast. Bill, who would be staying at home with Fleur (much to Hermione and Ginny's pleasure),

"Was I detecting a hint of sarcasm in that?" James asked innocently.

"From me? No, never dear," Lily giggled.

passed a full money bag across the table to Harry.

"Really warms my heart an employee of Gringotts got into Harry's vault so easily," Lily muttered.

"I passed him along my key, didn't think to ask why he wanted it though," Harry shrugged without concern.

Ron at once demanded where his was.

"Did he really think his older brother was just passing out bags of gold?" James looked baffled at the reaction.

"I'm sure it was an impulse kind of response, like yelling at the top of your lungs about your kid getting a badge," Remus said pointedly.

Bill told his brother he was being an idiot, that was already Harry's. Gringotts was in security overhaul as of now, they'd been sticking probes up- well, this way was easier for Harry and his parents.

"No, no, you finish those kinds of sentences!" Sirius protested. "Was it his ear? His bum? Underneath his fingernails? Oh, maybe they jammed it into his-"

"Sirius," Lily protested, squirming uncomfortably at wherever his mind had next leapt to and going on extra loud, suddenly grateful their bank had never gone to such extreme measures so far.

Fleur crooned he was always so thoughtful, while Harry watched Ginny mime vomiting into her cereal for this.

"What a perfectly good waste of cereal," James sighed. "You reserve those actions for bowls of cabbage obviously."

Harry choked over his cornflakes, and Ron thumped him on the back.

Then James snorted in surprise as he eyed his son, telling him, "was it really that funny?"

"Unexpected from the likes of Ginny," he pointed out sheepishly.

It was an overcast, murky day. One of the special Ministry of Magic cars, in which Harry had ridden once before, was awaiting them in the front yard when they emerged from the house, pulling on their cloaks.

Ron appreciated his dad had gotten cars from work again as the three of them and Ginny stretched out in the backseat, while the rest piled upfront except Bill and Fleur who were staying behind.

"Practice having the house to themselves before the honeymoon," Remus muttered under his breath, casing Sirius to both snicker and scowl at his mate at the same time, him constantly interrupting his own jokes when he made cracks like that just didn't seem fair.

Mr. Weasley warned over his shoulder not to get used to it, it was only because of Harry.

"Well that was just rude," Lily huffed. "I'm sure Arthur could get them for his own family if he requested it."

"I wouldn't hold my breath," James sighed.

He'd been given top level security, and they would be meeting with additional security at the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry groaned and heavily rolled his eyes, but when he saw the others actually looked a touch relieved at the news he restrained the rest of his mutters about paranoia. Honestly, where was Ron when he needed him.

Harry said nothing; he did not much fancy doing his shopping while surrounded by a battalion of Aurors.

"I quite like the idea," Sirius smirked. "Get them to do the shopping for you, I bet you could even get some to carry you."

"And drop you on your fat head while they're at it," Lily rolled her eyes.

James couldn't help laughing just a bit at the mental image anyways, picturing his sons thin arm reaching for a book while the massive bodies kept him blocked from sight.

He had stowed his Invisibility Cloak in his backpack and felt that, if that was good enough for Dumbledore, it ought to be good enough for the Ministry, though now he came to think of it, he was not sure the Ministry knew about his cloak.

"Certainly not yours specifically," James agreed.

When they arrived the driver told he was going to wait for them, and asked about how long they'd be.

Mr. Weasley warned a few hours.

"Least he's honest," Remus chuckled.

Harry peered through the window and his heart leapt. There were no Aurors waiting outside the inn, but instead the gigantic, black-bearded form of Rubeus Hagrid,

"Hagrid's back!" Sirius whooped, and Harry felt like joining in this time.

"He never went anywhere you daft idiot," Remus scowled at this again being shouted right in his ear.

"He wasn't on my mind for a moment, it was horrible!" Sirius insisted, while Remus shoved his face away and pleaded Lily to go on.

the Hogwarts gamekeeper, wearing a long beaverskin coat, beaming at the sight of Harry's face and oblivious to the startled stares of passing Muggles.

The moment he stepped out of the car Harry was swept into a bone-crushing hug. Hagrid babbling in his ear about Buckbeak- Witherwings of course- was so happy to be back in some open air!

Lily started giggling this was of course the first thing Hagrid would talk about. It really was nice to hear about him again.

Harry was just as glad he was pleased while rubbing his ribs, then told Hagrid he was pleased he was the extra security.

Hagrid agreed just like old times, Dumbledore had said he was up for the job and the Ministry agreed.

"Nothing new there," James beamed in agreement, he wouldn't let his cheerful mood be soured by once again remembering everything Hagrid was there for. It was of some consolation Harry hadn't run up and shared his news of Quidditch Captain with him.

The Leaky Cauldron was, for the first time in Harry's memory, completely empty. Only Tom the landlord, wizened and toothless, remained of the old crowd. He looked up hopefully as they entered, but before he could speak, Hagrid said importantly they were just passing through.

Tom nodded gloomily and returned to wiping glasses;

Lily couldn't help her lip puckering a bit with sympathy, knowing his wasn't the only business suffering during this time.

Harry, Hermione, Hagrid, and the Weasleys walked through the bar and out into the chilly little courtyard at the back where the dustbins stood. Hagrid raised his pink umbrella and rapped a certain brick in the wall, which opened at once to form an archway onto a winding cobbled street. They stepped through the entrance and paused, looking around.

Diagon Alley had changed. The colorful, glittering window displays of spellbooks, potion ingredients, and cauldrons were lost to view, hidden behind the large Ministry of Magic posters that had been pasted over them. Most of these somber purple posters carried blown-up versions of the security advice on the Ministry pamphlets that had been sent out over the summer, but others bore moving black-and-white photographs of Death Eaters known to be on the loose. Bellatrix Lestrange was sneering from the front of the nearest apothecary. A few windows were boarded up, including those of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. On the other hand, a number of shabby-looking stalls had sprung up along the street.

Harry shifted a bit anxiously at this, not at all liking how the place seemed almost shrouded from its once glory. It was all the more depressing to look around and see no one really surprised, he was sure this was much more the Diagon Alley they were used to than the bright one from his memories.

The nearest one, which had been erected outside Flourish and Blotts, under a striped, stained awning, had a cardboard sign pinned to its front:

AMULETS

Effective Against Werewolves, Dementors, and Inferi!

Sirius grumbled uneasily about what he'd like to do to that man, while Remus couldn't help a bitter scoff people would even delude themselves into thinking those would work.

A seedy-looking little wizard was rattling armfuls of silver symbols on chains at passersby. Trying to haggle to Molly as she passed to get one for Ginny's pretty neck.

Harry scowled, hand twitching for his wand, though soothed just a bit by the fierce expression he remembered on Ginny's face, making it clear she didn't need an amulet to protect her from anything.

Mr. Weasley was glaring angrily at the amulet seller for this, muttering if only he were on duty.

"Don't see why that would stop you from toppling the lot over," James snapped.

Mrs. Weasley reminded he wasn't, and they didn't need to be arresting anyone right now. She decided they should all go to Madam Malkin's first, they all needed their robes fixed, and then they could head to Flourish and Blotts-

Arthur corrected they didn't have to stay together, it would be faster if Hagrid went with the trio and Ginny came along with them.

Mrs. Weasley seemed anxious, clearly torn between a desire to finish the shopping quickly and the wish to stick together in a pack.

Lily already longed for the cheerful passages about the kids wandering off all on their own to get ice cream and catch each other up on their holidays, rather than completely understanding both sides to those fears.

Hagrid agreed at once, though Molly hardly looked convinced,

"Paranoid mother," Sirius shook his head indulgently.

Harry bit his tongue hard to fight back the compulsion to remind Sirius he'd been accused of much the same, but even if he could have spoken the words, it would only be more of a constant reminder who was missing. The glowering posters of the one who'd taken him away standing out in his mind more than ever making it hard to focus at all.

but allowed the separation, scurrying off toward Flourish and Blotts with her husband and Ginny while Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid set off for Madam Malkin's.

Harry noticed that many of the people who passed them had the same harried, anxious look as Mrs. Weasley, and that nobody was stopping to talk anymore;

James ruffled his hair in unease, not having to think hard for the dead silence of a crowded place, how everything sounded like no more than a hiss of air and yet every noise was deafening for none of it was done on purpose as if that would save their souls.

the shoppers stayed together in their own tightly knit groups, moving intently about their business. Nobody seemed to be shopping alone.

"Nobody usually does, it's just something you realize once you're looking for it," Remus sighed.

Hagrid offered to wait outside instead of squeezing inside the shop, so Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the little shop together. It appeared, at first glance, to be empty, but no sooner had the door swung shut behind them than they heard a familiar voice issuing from behind a rack of dress robes,

"Good familiar, or bad familiar?" Lily asked curiously.

Harry's troubled face wasn't much of an answer, he had a lot of mixed emotions about Malfoy right now both because of what he'd witnessed his mother doing through this book, and this year in general made him feel Malfoy wasn't just going to be some annoyance in his background for once.

going on about not being a child and able to do this alone!

There was a tutting noise and a voice Harry recognized as that of Madam Malkin, the owner, said his mother was right to be worried, no one was out alone these days, it had nothing to do with being a child-

The first voice snapped back careful where she stuck those pins!

A teenage boy with a pale, pointed face and white-blond hair appeared from behind the rack,

"Malfoy?" They all muttered with some general confusion more than anything. They'd thought him a dead kid because of that earlier bit, now to hear of Narcissa and him in fact just going about their business was as odd a concept as Harry choosing to go into Borgin and Burkes.

They couldn't even throw any general insults at him, for once they were actually worried this little Malfoy would just drop dead right in front of Harry more than they were worried about what snide comment he had today.

wearing a set of dark green robes that glittered with pins around the hem and the edges of the sleeves.

He strode to the mirror and examined himself; it was a few moments before he noticed Harry, Ron, and Hermione reflected over his shoulder. His light gray eyes narrowed, and Draco's voice was as malicious as always as he announced the presence of a Mudblood.

Sympathy gone. James hitched a ferocious expression onto his face, willing to curse that brats teeth out one by one for referring to anyone like that! He would still do anything he could to help Narcissa save that life, but it didn't mean he'd have to do it happily!

Madam Malkin scolded there was no need for that language, or wands, she had to hurriedly add as both Ron and Harry took theirs out and pointed them at Malfoy.

"The proper response," Sirius agreed, "if you'd shot a hex already I'd even say you've improved!"

Hermione, who was standing slightly behind them, whispered at them not to as well, it wasn't worth it.

Lily brushed at her hair for a moment before nodding a bit, it should be up to Hermione to decide how much he deserved for that. She was the one being insulted.

Malfoy sneered who'd given her that black eye? He wanted to send flowers.

"A joke telescope has done more to their lives than you've ever impacted it," Remus sniffed.

Narcissa Malfoy strolled out from behind the clothes rack and snapped at them to put those away. If they attacked her son again,

"I like that she says again, as in she's well aware who's been leaving her kid on the train with decorations," James smirked.

she would insure it was the last thing they'd ever do.

Lily scowled heavily, wanting to give anything to step in and defend her child like Narcissa still had the privilege of doing thanks to something Severus was helping with. Where was the justice in that?

Harry merely took another step forward, asking if she was going to get a few Death Eater pals to help with that again?

Madam Malkin squealed and clutched at her heart. Telling him he shouldn't be throwing accusations like that around!

Harry did not lower his wand. Narcissa Malfoy smiled unpleasantly.

She told that being Dumbledore's favorite might have given him a false sense of security, but Dumbledore wouldn't be around forever to protect him.

"Harry hasn't needed Dumbledore to do much of anything, or anyone for that matter," Sirius snarled at the slight, all of them missing Harry's troubled little frown.

Harry looked mockingly all around the shop before pointedly saying there was no Dumbledore here now.

"I really can't decide if he should be scolded, or praised for this," Remus muttered.

"Sassing a Death Eater is never a good idea, unless you have backup, and since he does, I'm all for it," Sirius huffed.

Have a go then! Maybe she'd get a double cell with her husband!

Malfoy made an angry movement toward Harry, but stumbled over his overlong robe. Ron laughed loudly.

Narcissa grasped his shoulder before he could do anything else, almost purring to her child that she'd be reunited with Lucius properly by the time Potter again saw her dear cousin Sirius Black.

James lurched hard in his seat, like he was fighting back the urge to curse something into dust that wasn't in the room. What he would give to make it so no one could ever say that about his family again!

Harry raised his wand higher.

Hermione grabbed his arm, pleading with him it wasn't worth it, he'd be in such trouble!

"Sometimes it's worth it," James said through gritted teeth. Lily bit hard at her tongue to stop herself agreeing with him, she honestly couldn't say she'd be acting any better, having already wished to hex the both of them long before they'd crossed that line.

Madam Malkin dithered for a moment on the spot, then seemed to decide to act as though nothing was happening in the hope that it wouldn't.

"That is a terrible method!" Lily snapped. "It's what caused most of this problem with Fudge around!"

She bent toward Malfoy, who was still glaring at Harry and tried to hem his sleeve up a bit more, but he again snapped at her to watch it with the pins! Then he pulled the robes over his head and threw them onto the floor at Madam Malkin's feet.

All five of them scoffed in disgust for this little brat, it was already a miracle they'd felt anything for him other than wanting to drown the whelp.

Narcissa decided it was time they take their business elsewhere.

"Good riddance," Lily sniffed.

And with that, the pair of them strode out of the shop, Malfoy taking care to bang as hard as he could into Ron on the way out.

Madam Malkin was left to snatch up the fallen robes and move the tip of her wand over them like a vacuum cleaner, so that it removed all the dust.

She was distracted all through the fitting of Ron's and Harry's new robes, tried to sell Hermione wizard dress robes instead of witch's,

"I don't see the problem with that, could have made a statement she could," Sirius chuckled.

and when she finally bowed them out of the shop it was with an air of being glad to see the back of them.

Hagrid pleasantly greeted them back outside, and Harry asked if he'd seen the Malfoy pass by.

Hagrid agreed he had, but they wouldn't be making trouble in Diagon Alley, no need to worry about them.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged looks, but before they could disabuse Hagrid of this comfortable notion,

"Honestly, what's there more to say?" James sighed, desperately reaching for that good mood once more. "Let's get back to some shopping, we still haven't got to hear about the twins shop that's been teased for ages!"

Harry gave a light laugh of agreement.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny appeared, all clutching heavy packages of books and continuing the rest of the list together.

Neither Harry nor Ron bought any ingredients at the Apothecary, seeing that they were no longer studying Potions, but both bought large boxes of owl nuts for Hedwig and Pigwidgeon at Eeylops Owl Emporium. Then, with Mrs. Weasley checking her watch every minute or so, they headed farther along the street in search of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, the joke shop run by Fred and George.

Mrs. Weasley was still anxiously checking her watch and store numbers, muttering about how they hadn't much time but to look around at the twins things and then get going-

Then Ron stopped in his tracks and uttered 'woah.'

"A wonderful first impression then!" Sirius all but squealed, unable to believe Lily had gotten this one!

Set against the dull, poster-muffled shop fronts around them, Fred and George's windows hit the eye like a firework display.

"What I'll remember them most vividly for," Remus whispered in anticipation.

Casual passersby were looking back over their shoulders at the windows, and a few rather stunned-looking people had actually come to a halt, transfixed.

James knew he would have been the same way, it was almost cruel just having to imagine such a sight in such a dismal place!

The left-hand window was dazzlingly full of an assortment of goods that revolved, popped, flashed, bounced, and shrieked; Harry's eyes began to water just looking at it. The right-hand window was covered with a gigantic poster, purple like those of the Ministry, but emblazoned with flashing yellow letters:

WHY ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT

YOU-KNOW-WHO?

YOU SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT

U-NO-POO-

THE CONSTIPATION SENSATION

THAT'S GRIPPING THE NATION!

Lily couldn't help it, she laughed out of pure shock, the boys already dissolving into tears of mirth. It was by far the most hysterical thing anyone had ever called Voldemort, including using just the name Riddle instead!

Harry started to laugh. He heard a weak sort of moan beside him and looked around to see Mrs. Weasley gazing, dumbfounded, at the poster. Her lips moved silently, mouthing the name "U-No-Poo."

She at once whispered they'd be murdered in their beds.

"Even Voldemort would stop to laugh at that, no matter how human he isn't!" Sirius insisted.

Ron brushed off it was brilliant, as he and Harry led the way into the shop. It was packed with customers; Harry could not get near the shelves. He stared around, looking up at the boxes piled to the ceiling: Here were the Skiving Snackboxes that the twins had perfected during their last, unfinished year at Hogwarts; Harry noticed that the Nosebleed Nougat was most popular, with only one battered box left on the shelf. There were bins full of trick wands, the cheapest merely turning into rubber chickens or pairs of briefs when waved, the most expensive beating the unwary user around the head and neck, and boxes of quills, which came in Self-Inking, Spell-Checking, and Smart-Answer varieties. A space cleared in the crowd, and Harry pushed his way toward the counter, where a gaggle of delighted ten- year-olds was watching a tiny little wooden man slowly ascending the steps to a real set of gallows, both perched on a box that read: reusable hangman 'spell it or he'll swing!

"Well that one got morally disturbing," Lily finished the first round of products with more indulgence than anything.

"I want more details," James all but whined, his hand still twitching to snag the book away from Lily, who smiled at him and merely held it closer before continuing.

Hermione had found Patented Daydream Charms in a large display near the counter and was reading the information on the back of a box bearing a highly colored picture of a handsome youth and a swooning girl who were standing on the deck of a pirate ship.

She exclaimed it as extraordinary magic for something so lifelike.

"She sounds so surprised," Sirius still managed a pout on the twins behalf.

A voice behind them said she could have one for free for that.

"I personally would have reminded her of the time they turned Neville into a canary instead, but I suppose that's good business," James hadn't stopped grinning for pages now, it was fantastic!

A beaming Fred stood before them, wearing a set of magenta robes that clashed magnificently with his flaming hair.

"I'm sure that's why they wear it," Lily agreed.

He shook hands with Harry at once before asking what had happened to Hermione's eye.

She ruefully reminded him of his telescope.

Fred said in surprise he'd forgotten about that thing before handing her a tube from his pocket.

"Should I be worried he keeps something on him to get rid of that?" Remus asked around twitching lips.

"Nah," his two friends said at once.

She unscrewed it gingerly to reveal a thick yellow paste.

Fred explained just dab it on and the bruise would be gone within the hour. Decent to have around, since they were still testing most of their products on themselves.

"Still? Would have thought they'd be able to pay someone even better than first years by now," James chuckled.

Hermione looked nervous, asking if it was safe.

Fred said of course it was at once, while leading Harry off to give him a tour.

Harry left Hermione dabbing her black eye with paste and followed Fred toward the back of the shop, where he saw a stand of card and rope tricks.

Fred explained that was for nuts like his dad who enjoyed Muggle tricks, they weren't a big seller, but cute novelty items.

Then George appeared. Fred's twin shook Harry's hand energetically.

He offered Harry to see the back where they made their real money. On the way he warned a kid with his hand in a barrel that stealing something would cost him more than Galleons. The kid at once backed away.

"I'm sure they have all kinds of anti-thieving spells around," Lily agreed.

"Wonder what they prefer to do with those getting caught? Cutting off limbs, or simply using them as test dummies for a few products?" Sirius snickered.

George pushed back a curtain beside the Muggle tricks and Harry saw a darker, less crowded room. The packaging on the products lining these shelves was more subdued.

Fred began they'd just developed this more serious line,

"Aw, I'm honored," Sirius pressed his hand to his heart, then scowled at once at his two friends who didn't even have the energy to smack him for the dower joke.

while George explained it was unbelievable how many Ministry employees couldn't do a simple Shield Charm.

"That is the most depressing news I've heard all day, and that's saying a lot!" Sirius insisted still in his jesting tone. At least James almost cracked a smile for that one.

Course they didn't have Harry for a teacher, Fred amended.

"I really doubt I did that much," Harry said a little dumbfounded, "I mean, they were two years above me! Surely a previous teacher-"

"I wouldn't count on it Harry," Remus corrected. "A different teacher every year, that's going to produce shotty results even if every one of them were steller, and from your track record alone you know that wasn't always the case."

Harry still looked rather blushy and baffled over the whole thing.

So they'd initially created Shield Hats, you know, challenge someone to a duel while wearing the funny looking thing. Then the Ministry bought their whole supplies for a year.

Which lead them into a whole range of Defense Dark Arts products. Of course it only worked against minor hexes and jinxes.

"This, is, brilliant!" James squealed. He couldn't see much of a use for those himself, but he'd certainly fix every one of those and some boots if they had them to his infant for the next year or more, he couldn't be the only parent seeing a practical use for these things! They certainly needed to be invented right along with those canary creams as soon as possible!

There was also their supply of Instant Darkness Powder, imported from Peru, handy for a get away.

Remus let out a surprised whistle, that stuff was expensive, he was more surprised the twins weren't trying to recreate their own instead.

Plus their Decoy Detonators, which were walking off the shelves, literally. Even as Harry watched some were scurrying around. Fred explained you just drop one on the ground and they'd create a racket for a diversion.

"Love it," Lily giggled, any number of helpful times that could be used coming to mind, and she was sure even unhelpful times if those boys smiles meant anything.

Harry took a liking to those, so George tossed him some at once. Then a young witch poked her head in, wearing their uniform and telling both Mr. Weasley's there was a customer looking for a joke cauldron.

"That's got to get confusing. As if they weren't switched around enough, now they go by the same name," Sirius chuckled.

Harry found it very odd to hear Fred and George called 'Mr. Weasley,'

"I'm honestly more surprised they're not already trying to tell McGonagall they didn't do it," Remus snickered.

but they took it in their stride.

George left with Verity to see to the customer, while Fred told Harry there was no charge in this store, as Harry had just reached for his money bag for the Decoy Detonators.

Harry tried to protest he couldn't do that,

"I believe you can," James reminded Harry with a fond grin. "You are the one, and only person, who invested in this, I think that entitles you to a few free things every now and again."

"You basically paid for everything in that shop," Sirius agreed.

"No I didn't, they'd been making things well before I gave them all that gold," Harry protested, "and they were doing fine getting it off the ground before Bagman caused so much trouble."

"The truth still stands I honestly doubt they would have gotten this far this fast without you, have fun with that, and please tell me you brought me a Decoy Detonator!" James finished pleadingly.

Harry still shook his head, but stopped arguing the point. Lily was honestly proud of both sides and just kept going beaming.

Fred was being firm about this though, saying they'd hadn't forgotten their start up loan. Harry didn't pay here.

Harry reluctantly put his money away as they found they found Hermione and Ginny, Fred deciding to lead them over to the WonderWitch products. A range of bottles from love potions to helpful things to do with your appearance.

Ginny asked curiously how well they worked, and George popped back up to give a few details, before Fred scolded they wouldn't be selling them to their sister though.

"Then why did he lead her over there?" Remus snorted.

"Showing off, obviously," James rolled his eyes.

Not that she seemed to need help, from what Ron had said she had five at once nowadays-

Ginny cut in whatever Ron said was a big fat lie, then asked what this small bottle did.

Fred explained it was a ten second pimple vanisher, before also telling her not to change the subject.

"I like that he answers first and then continues interrogating her, that's proper management," Sirius approved.

Was she, or was she not, currently dating Dean Thomas?

"Suddenly immensely glad none of us had sisters," James muttered, this already sounded like a nightmare, he could only imagine if Lily did have a girl anytime soon he'd be just as bad.

Ginny cooley agreed she was, but last she'd checked he was one boy, not five.

"Clearly she's not practiced enough duplication charms on him then," Sirius smirked.

Then she noticed a cage of differently colored balls of fluff all rolling around.

Fred briefly explained them as Pygmy Puffs, but insisted his sister was going through boyfriends a bit fast.

"And we have entered, none of their business territory," Lily huffed, completely on Ginny's side. She'd only had two in the last year, that really wasn't so bad, and honestly still trying to repress laughter all of the boys in the room looked more likely to drink one of those love potions than offer anything for this conversation.

Ginny turned to look at him, her hands on her hips. There was such a Mrs. Weasley-ish glare on her face that Harry was surprised Fred didn't recoil.

"That is a terrifying thought in itself," Remus agreed.

She firmly pointed out it was none of their business, and she'd thank Ronald not spreading stories about her to these two, as he chose that moment to appear laden with merchandise.

Fred tactifully managed not to answer by telling his kid brother that would be three Galleons, nine Sickles, and a Knut.

"Ah changing the subject, life's great gift!" Sirius cheered at once.

"I do love he knows all that just by glancing at the boxes," James snickered.

"Even with a family discount," Remus agreed.

Ron at once protested he was their brother!

Fred decided he'd knock off the Knut then.

"Never mind then," Remus agreed as his friends roared further with laughter. Lily couldn't help frowning just a bit, hoping Harry kept it to himself the twins had in fact done the opposite to someone not their brother. That wouldn't help Ron any with a problem he'd had feeling so overlooked, now possibly even replaced in his own family.

Ron protested he didn't have that much, and was then kindly told to put the boxes back where he'd found them.

Ron dropped several boxes, swore, and made a rude hand gesture at Fred that was unfortunately spotted by Mrs. Weasley, who had chosen that moment to appear.

"Mother's gift," Lily agreed fondly while the boys only subsided into further snickering.

She threatened if she saw him doing that again she'd jinx his fingers together, before Ginny swooped in and asked for a Pygmy Puff.

"Ginny is a great sister! Constantly keeping on the right track this one," James smirked.

Harry agreed at once, a fond smile on his face of how well Ginny knew how to deal with every person in her family.

Mrs. Weasley moved aside to look at the Pygmy Puffs, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione momentarily had an unimpeded view out of the window. Draco Malfoy was hurrying up the street alone.

"Honestly not surprised he ditched mummy," James snapped at once, not at all forgetting of those Malfoy's comments anytime soon.

"Surprised she let him stop holding her hand, as worried as she was about him," Lily muttered with far less venom. She vividly remembered Narcissa saying Draco had been eager to help Voldemort with something, and this setup was as forbidding as it got.

As he passed Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, he glanced over his shoulder. Seconds later, he moved beyond the scope of the window and they lost sight of him.

Harry at once asked where his mummy had got to.

Ron agreed he'd given her the slip.

Hermione asked why he would?

Harry said nothing; he was thinking too hard. Narcissa Malfoy would not have let her precious son out of her sight willingly;

"That's a little presumptuous on your part," Remus frowned at him. "What's there for her to fear really? The Death Eaters are practically the boogeyman of the time right now, no one would dare hurt one of their kids."

Harry tried to explain his reasoning, "I'd never seen him away from his parents before, and Narcissa had certainly made a show of being worried about Malfoy there in the shop, stepping in like she did."

Malfoy must have made a real effort to free himself from her clutches.

Harry, knowing and loathing Malfoy, was sure the reason could not be innocent.

He glanced around. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were bending over the Pygmy Puffs. was delightedly examining a pack of Muggle marked playing cards. Fred and George were both helping customers. On the other side of the glass, Hagrid was standing

with his back to them, looking up and down the street.

"Oh, you're not," Lily sighed in resignation already.

"Oh, he is," James agreed, a torn expression on his face. He almost agreed with Lily, this was his son just looking for trouble, but at the same time, he couldn't claim to be doing any better at that age, or honestly even now.

In a snap decision he pulled his cloak out and hissed at his two friends to hurry up while everyone was distracted. Hermione hesitated for a moment while Ron ducked in at once.

"I could have quoted that with you what their responses would be," Sirius said with a proud little smirk.

She hesitated for a second longer, then ducked under the cloak with them. Nobody noticed them vanish; they were all too interested in Fred and George's products.

"A marketing slogan I'm sure they'd be proud of, further helping you to get around trouble," Remus muttered.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione squeezed their way out of the door as quickly as they could, but by the time they gained the street, Malfoy had disappeared just as successfully as they had.

Harry quietly murmured which direction he'd gone, leading them carefully past Hagrid. They spotted him ahead turning left, as Ron whispered what a big surprised it was, right into Knockturn Alley.

"Yeah, no, got to disagree with Ron, I'm not surprised at all," Sirius stated in the such the same sarcastic tone his best friend had once done, Harry found it a bit eerie.

Harry insisted they speed up to him, while Hermione cautioned their feet would be showing. It was an issue hiding the three of them under the cloak nowadays,

"Not to mention you hardly ever practice," James huffed.

but Harry impatiently said it didn't matter, there was no one around.

Knockturn Alley, the side street devoted to the Dark Arts, looked completely deserted. They peered into windows as they passed, but none of the shops seemed to have any customers at all. Harry supposed it was a bit of a giveaway in these dangerous and suspicious times to buy Dark artifacts, or at least, to be seen buying them.

"There it is," Remus agreed, having fixing to correct Harry on that detail.

Hermione gave his arm a hard pinch.

He yelped ouch, but she quickly shushed him.

"Maybe if you want him to be quiet, don't pinch him to get his attention," Lily couldn't help but giggle. "Honestly, all three of you, you seem lacking in the ability to wave a hand around, gets the job done less painfully."

Harry chose not to answer that while still rubbing the spot.

They had drawn level with the only shop in Knockturn Alley that Harry had ever visited, Borgin and Burkes,

"That would have given me heart failure if I hadn't known the circumstances of it," James muttered.

which sold a wide variety of sinister objects. There in the midst of the cases full of skulls and old bottles stood Draco Malfoy with his back to them, just visible beyond the very same large black cabinet in which Harry had once hidden to avoid Malfoy and his father.

Harry couldn't help but shift uncomfortably, a great buzzing flowing across his mind telling him to pay attention now, as if he weren't doing that already.

Judging by the movements of Malfoy's hands, he was talking animatedly. The proprietor of the shop, Mr. Borgin, an oily-haired, stooping man, stood facing Malfoy. He was wearing a curious expression of mingled resentment and fear.

Hermione groaned they couldn't hear what was being said, but Ron then produced from the boxes he was still holding

"Ron certainly has his priorities in order," Sirius couldn't help bursting out laughing he'd kept hold of those all this time.

"I'm hoping whatever prevents one from stealing traced to blood, otherwise the whole store would realize you three are missing," James pointed out.

"We weren't tackled by Hagrid, so I think we're in the clear," Harry brushed off, still trying to lean in eagerly for what Malfoy was up to, an honest first since his second year.

some Extendable Ears.

"And my assertion those are needed for all occasions finally gets its first validation," James nodded along.

Ron quickly fed one into the door and they could at once hear Malfoy's voice asking for something to be fixed.

Harry felt like he'd just slammed his skull as hard into Hogwarts castle as he could already, that simpel word meant something dire! He kept his breath carefully neutral though, sadly still very clearly giving away something as they all glanced anxiously at him, but knew Malfoy was the only one who could give answers right now, as grating as that could get.

Borgin seemed reluctant to help, saying it would be easier if it could be brought in-

Malfoy snapped it couldn't, it had to stay where it was.

Borgin insisted without seeing it-

Malfoy stepped forward, out of their range of sight, and said perhaps this would give him confidence.

They shuffled sideways to try and keep him in sight, but all they could see was Borgin, looking very frightened. Malfoy continued if Borgin told anyone of this conversation he'd get a visit from Fenrir Greyback, an old family friend. He'd be dropping by anyways to make sure this matter was given the full attention.

"Why would he use him as a reference," Remus demanded so horsley, only Sirius had heard.

"It's a big name in the Death Eater community Moony, don't freak yourself out over details," Sirius quietly soothed so as not to distract Lily.

Borgin tried to say there was no need for that, but Malfoy snapped he'd be deciding what was needed. Then he gestured to be sure to keep that one safe, he'd be needing it.

Borgin offered him to take it now, and Malfoy called him an idiot, he couldn't carry that down the street.

"No more like a fool than usual, in fact whatever it is might even deter from that mug!" James tried in vain for a light joke, but even he didn't care about it, far more invested in whatever this was going on. It did not feel like a coincidence at all they'd been told Malfoy was given a task, and the next time they saw him, he was looking for help from Borgin.

Borgin made a bow as deep as the one Harry had once seen him give Lucius as Draco made to leave, again saying not to tell anyone about this, especially his mother.

"Why not? She clearly knows about everything else going on," Harry muttered in surprise, desperate to get any answer right now that didn't make his head feel as if that slamming was being repeated.

"She's clearly not approving of it love, and I'm sure she's made that known to him," Lily calmly explained, fighting back the urge to run her hand through his hair to sooth that agitated face. None of them were surprised this wasn't as informative as they'd have liked.

Borgin agreed at once.

Next moment, the bell over the door tinkled loudly as Malfoy stalked out of the shop looking very pleased with himself. He passed so close to Harry, Ron, and Hermione that they felt the cloak flutter around their knees again. Inside the shop, Borgin remained frozen; his unctuous smile had vanished; he looked worried.

Ron at once wondered what that could have been about, and all Harry could repeat was he wanted something fixed, and something reserved.

"Glad to know we gleaned as much as you, oh almighty Noticer," Sirius sighed.

"As if I need another title," Harry grumbled.

Without waiting for another response, Hermione ducked out from under the cloak. She checked her hair in the reflection in the glass, then marched into the shop, setting the bell tinkling again.

"What is she up to?" Remus demanded, looking worried for her safety at once.

"She clearly thinks she can get more out of this, and I can almost see her point," Lily had a critical eye in place. "Obviously neither of the boys could do it, they're too well noticed on sight, but if she plays this right and says the right thing, she very well could."

"She doesn't have a spotless track record for that," Remus still looked worried, remembering occasions where she'd still frozen on the spot or come up with some very lame excuses.

"On the other hand, she gets better with practice," Sirius tried to offer hopefully, at least what she'd done to Umbridge and Marietta last year proved she had a streak not to be messed with, hopefully that shone through right now.

The boys at once leaned back in to the Extendable Ear to hear Hermione greet him with a horrible morning in a bright voice.

"Well she's off to a terrible start," James moaned, already fighting back the impulse to bury his face in his fingers.

Borgin did not answer, but cast her a suspicious look. She cheerily hummed, passing a few display cases, and pausing at a necklace to ask how much it was.

One and a half thousand Galleons apparently, while Hermione disappointedly said she hadn't quite that much.

Then she asked for the price of a skull, and when he said sixteen Galleons, she asked if anything in here was being kept for anyone.

"Nope, she's already blown it," Sirius sighed in disappointment.

"Apparently she only does well under pressure, I'm sure if someone was threatening to curse her she'd have come up with a much better on the spot lie," James sighed.

Mr. Borgin squinted at her. Harry had the nasty feeling he knew exactly what Hermione was up to. Apparently Hermione felt she had been rumbled too because she suddenly threw caution to the winds. Falsifying the boy who'd just been in here was a friend,

"There's something I never thought I'd hear in any context," Harry crinkled up his nose.

And she was looking for a present for him, but obviously if he'd already reserved something she shouldn't bother to get the same thing.

"Credit for trying," Lily offered a weak little grin. "It took something for her to go in there and come up with anything as fast as she did."

"It would have done them better to actually come up with a plan, even to wait a few moments, rather than coming in right after he'd left," James sighed. Hermione had unintentionally ruined something that could have been quite valuable.

It was a pretty lame story in Harry's opinion, and apparently Borgin thought so too. He at once snapped at her to get out of his shop.

Hermione did not wait to be asked twice, but hurried to the door with Borgin at her heels. As the bell tinkled again, Borgin slammed the door behind her and put up the closed sign.

Ron offered it had been worth a try while throwing the cloak back over her, though noted she'd been pretty obvious.

She at once snapped back he could show her how it was done next time.

"Can't say Ron would have done any better," Sirius shrugged, "honestly of the lot of you, you all can't really lie to save your life."

"Thank you Sirius," Harry said blandly, though his heart wasn't at all in it. Finally he was fully and thoroughly distracted from his godfather, and was not at all pleased what his mind had settled on. Whatever Malfoy was up to, it somehow wasn't going to lead to anything better than dwelling on the death of him.

Ron and Hermione bickered all the way back to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, where they were forced to stop so that they could dodge undetected around a very anxious-looking Mrs. Weasley and Hagrid, who had clearly noticed their absence. Once in the shop, Harry whipped off the Invisibility Cloak, hid it in his bag, and joined in with the other two when they insisted, in answer to Mrs. Weasley's accusations, that they had been in the back room all along, and that she could not have looked properly.

"You only prove my point," Sirius couldn't help but insist, and refused to stop smirking at Harry until he offered an uneasy smile back.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #HP #HBP #The Life That Never Lived #Marauders #Jilly #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Potter

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sorry-i-spaced · 3 years

Text

Issues

Hawkeye is seen in the show as being a ladies man and quite the player. We know his mom died when he was just 10 and we know Caryle and Trapper both left without saying bye to Hawkeye. So I decided to play with the idea that he has abandonment and commitment issues because of this. I borrowed some of the dialogue from the episode “The More I see of You” in the beginning.

“If you’d gone into medicine with the same lack of conviction as marriage”

“Your work is always going to be the single most important thing in your life”

“Maybe you would have needed me a little more”

“Doug was able to commit”

“Commit”

Lack of conviction”

“Work….important...lack of conviction”

“Commit”

“Hawk? Hawkeye? Earth to Hawkeye! Anybody up there?” waved a concerned BJ.

“Huh? Oh,yeah, what?” shook Hawkeye as he came back to reality.

“Did you say something?” asked Hawkeye realizing he had zoned out big time.

“Yea, I was asking if you wanted to get dinner. I heard Igor was sick of all the grief we gave him so he made an upside down dinner in retaliation.”

Hawkeye sat there contemplating whether food was more important than wallowing in self pity for the way he let things get between Carlye and him.

“Nah, I think I’m just going to nap. We are supposed to get a heavy influx of wounded by dawn and I want to catch up on sleep.” And with that BJ got up to leave and Hawkeye laid down in his army issued mess of a cot and shut his eyes.

“Incoming wounded! All Medical and Surgical staff report for triage! Looks like it will a doozy” barked the PA system.

Opening his eyes Hawkeye threw his pillow in the direction of Beej.

“Get up” he yelled.

The red haired man rose (wait that’s not right Beej has blonde hair)

“Did you dye your hair and forget to tell me?” asked the raven haired man confused.

“Not that I’m aware of” called back the other man as he was putting on his shoes.

The two quickly ran out the door.

In triage Hawk got right to work.

“This one has a chest wound. Get some blood in him and get him prepped”

“This one can wait”

Hawkeye barked orders to the nurses. He got up and made a run for the O.R.

“Hawkeye! How goes it?” asked Klinger, who was running in the same direction as him.

Boom!

“Ahh!” yelped Klinger as he threw his head forcefully into the dirt.

Hawkeye stopped dead in his tracks and looked at the man. Cocking his head to the side he says, “ Klinger, a landmine went off. You’re fine. Get your head out of the dirt this instant. Anybody looking on would think you're bucking for a section 8 again. By reason of ostrich.

“I’m not acting sir” deadpanned Klinger as he lifted his head, shaking the dirt out of his hair.

Hawkeye blinked and shook his head. Klinger was right, he was an ostrich through and through.

“When did this happen?” he asked.

“I’ve always been one sir. You just couldn’t tell since I spend so much of my time in dresses confident I can get out of the Army. But to be honest I’m scared as shit. Scared of dying and scared I won’t ever return to Toledo the same as I left.”

The two were now in the scrub room. Hawkeye was washing up.

“So Beej dyes his hair and forgets to tell me and you're an ostrich?What else will happen today.”

“Beej didn’t dye his hair. He is a robin.”

“A robin? As in the bird?” questioned Hawkeye as he patted his hands dry.

“He is a songbird. Yes. If you don’t believe me just look at him yourself.”

The two had somehow ended up in the O.R and Hawkeye was at a table picking apart peacock feathers. Hawkeye looked up and to his surprise Beej was in fact a big fat plump red robin - complete with wings and a beak.

Looking at Klinger Hawkeye was left to wonder, “why?”

“He left his baby girl very early on in her life.”

Again Hawkeye had moved from the O.R back into the scrub room. These abrupt scene changes were getting awfully annoying.

“We all left family to be dragged to this God Forsaken Hell Hole. Why should he be so special.”

“Well for much of the same reason that I’m scared he feels guilty about leaving during such a crucial part of his little girl's life.”

“My mom left me early on in life, I turned out fine.” Hawkeye spat back.

Hawkeye who realized he was sitting on the bench leaned back against the wall and shut his eyes. Pursing his lips together he began to ask more questions trying not to dwell on the fact his mom left him.

“So Beej is guilty and you're scared. Is there anyone else I should know about?”

Silence. Klinger was trying to figure out what to say. This was all coming out too fast. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. His job was to help propel the story along and these observations were supposed to happen naturally. Well as naturally as having birds operate on patients who just see the shell of the person not the bird. But no this man was too smart for even his unconsciousness. Finally he began to speak, slowly hoping he wouldn’t reveal too much.

“Our fearless leader Potter is a bald eagle because he is insecure in his talents. He is a career man - as I’m sure you’re aware of. But he lacks the knowledge of all these fancy techniques you young doctors seem to pick up so easily. Margaret is a puffin because all she wants to do is be accepted by everyone. Frank is a hummingbird because he is annoying as all shit and is very insecure due to it. Oh and you’re a peacock.”

That got Pierce to shoot up like a bean pole.

“Wait! Aren’t you going to tell me why I’m a peacock?” his voice raised and wavered a bit.

“Sorry sir, you’ll have to figure that one out on your own.

“What why? Klinger, you gotta tell me! Come on we know everyone else’s insecurities, why can’t I know my own?”

Klinger didn’t know how to respond. He knew he had 3 sets of 10 minutes and 1 set of an hour of time to try and get Hawkeye to learn why he is a peacock. But he also knew it was up to his subconscious to interact with his unconscious to help move the narrative.

“Ow!” yelped Hawkeye breaking the silence.

“What the hell was that?”

Not even Klinger had an explanation.

All of sudden a flying pillow came out of nowhere.

Klinger now understood what was happening. Someone was trying to wake Hawkeye. There little mental party would be ending soon.

“Hawk” echoed a ghostly sound.

“Why are you calling me a Hawk, I thought you said I was a peac-”

His eyes shot open! Looking down at him were a pair of blue eyes. Beej

“What? What happened?” Hawkeye asked as he began to get up.

“Wounded” called Beej as he put on his converse.

“Suction! So yea, don’t know what any of that means but thought I’d share my dream with the rest of the class,” said Pierce as he tried to stop a bleeder his patient had come in with.

“That’s scary accurate. Especially my fear. How did you pin us all down like that?” called BJ concentrating on his own bleeder.

“Pierce, are you good with birds? Seems like you pinned us to an appropriate matching bird” called Potter.

Hawkeye was now working on closing up the patient, “I’ve gone bird watching with my dad back in Maine. One time when I was a kid, right when mom died, he decided to get his mind off her death he was going to do a Big Year. I would come along on bird watching expeditions during school breaks and weekends. But I still would like to know why I’m a peacock. Of all the birds to be.” called Hawkeye.

“If it bugs you that much, why don’t you ask Sidney the next time he comes up for Poker.” said BJ when they were back in the Swamp.

They were finally out of surgery and the two swamp rats were playing tennis with a blown up surgical glove they took from the scrub room.

A week later, before Poker was supposed to take place, Sidney was set up in the VIP tent chatting with Hawkeye.

“So you dreamt about everyone’s fears personifying and taking the form of birds? What do you think it means?” lead the Psychiatrist.

“I don’t know Sidney, you tell me, you’re the expert on these types of things.” pleaded Hawkeye, who had taken up pacing around the tent.

“Hawk, I want you to get to that conclusion yourself. It won’t be helpful if I do it for you.”

Hawkeye stopped pacing and sat down on the edge of the bed. “What do you want to hear. I want to be as helpful as possible. In my dream Klinger said basically the same thing.”

“Humor me and tell me about your childhood, that’s always a good place to start when talking about fears and issues,” claimed Sidney.

“My childhood. What do you wanna know” asked Hawkeye.

“How was your relationship with your mom?”

“Nonexistent. I’ve told you before she died when I was 10. Just been dad and I since then.” replied Hawkeye flatley.

“Do you have any resentment towards her dying?” pried Sidney.

“You know dad didn’t even tell me she was sick? He waited until she passed to come clean and tell me. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I was angry for years. At her for getting sick and at dad for not having the decency to tell me she was sick. But I got over it. No hard feelings”

Rambled Hawk.

“Ok, so issues from mom, how about dad?”

“Dad? Oh he was great! After mom died we became thick as thieves. He was the one who inspired me to go into medicine. He wasn’t too happy about it to be honest.” gleaned Hawk.

“I remember you telling me last time I was here that there was a nurse here that you had an old fling with. How did that end?”

“Caryle. I really don’t know what happened. We were living together during residency you know.”

Raising an eyebrow Sidney interjected, “ So you guys were serious?”

“That’s what I thought.” continued Hawkeye. “But just like mom and just like Trapper did 6 months ago, she up and left. I didn’t get to say bye or anything. She just one day decided she had enough of me, packed her bags and was out of the apartment before I even had time to get home and try and stop her. I thought Trapper would have at least left something. But I guess not. I guess I’m just not worth the hassle to say bye too. God. Why did dad not let me tell mom bye. Her own son was in the dark. I get Caryle and Trapper. It was bound to happen. Unhappy relationship and discharge but God, mom? Really? I hated her for it you know. I just wish once someone would leave and tell me about it first. Why do I always have to be the last to know. I bet the thing I got going on with Beej will end just as abruptly as it did with Trapper.” rambled on Hawkeye.

“Hawkeye, stop a minute, let’s process all that you said.” steered Sidney realizing he was losing his patient rapidly.

Hawkeye shut up and listened.

“You mention over and over that you never got to say goodbye to all these people. You also mention being the last to hear of relationships ending.”

“Yea, so?” sighed Hawkeye.

“Let’s go back to the dream. In the dream you describe each of your friends as birds relating to their fears and issues. Beej - your best friend is a robin because he is guilty for leaving his baby girl. Klinger is an ostrich - which I never would have pegged him as so thank you for that lovely image - because he is scared and fearful he won’t return home and if he does he will be completely different. Potter is a bald eagle because he is insecure in his abilities despite being a career man in the army. Margaret is a Puffin because she has the fear that she will never fit in anywhere so she forces herself to. And Frank is a hummingbird because he is insecure in his own way and -”

“ - a peacock for commitment issues” finished Hawkeye.

“Precisely. It seems like you are scared to trust people because everyone seems to leave you at some point. Starting way back when your mom left you abruptly. Oh also in my own professional diagnosis I would also tack on abandonment issues” added Sidney.

“What gives Sid, I thought you were going to let me come to the conclusion on my own accord.” whimpered Hawkeye.

“Eh, I see how hard you’re trying to figure this all out, so I decided to give you a freebie” laughed Sidney.

“Well in true Freud fashion, my issues really do stem from my mother,” laughed Hawkeye sadly.

The two sat for another hour trying to brainstorm ways Hawkeye could push past these thoughts of abandonment and commitment issues and how he could overcome them.

The End!

#mash #fanfic #birds #freud #hawkeye pierce #klinger #sidney freedman #fears #issues

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csykora · 3 years

Text

After ‘84, Igor felt the pieces were beginning to fall off the Red Machine.

He hated being called a robot as much as he hated being called a soldier. He didn’t know what the world wanted the Green Unit to do on the ice or off it, how they had to behave, before someone would believe they had feelings. On the worst days they were too tired and numb to feel anything else.

When he’d met Bobby Clarke, who he thought looked like a hockey angel with a blond halo and no teeth, Bobby commented about the Soviet presence in Afghanistan. Igor didn’t know how to say that he’d definitely never been allowed to go to Afghanistan, and under the uniform he didn’t deserve to be a soldier, for good or bad. The national team was a tool of the Soviet government: at the same time it was a comfort for ordinary people in cold little apartments in mining towns where the players grew up and also a prop in the illusions that kept everything how it was.

The illusion went skin deep: every time they left Russia, Igor was issued a snappy winter coat and brand-name Western clothes, so no one would think the Soviets looked poor.

[A black and white photo of the Green Unit posing, smiling except for Igor, in matching windbreakers with saddle shoulders and bold stripes. This was a hot look, about 10 years before the Soviet Union Costuming Department thought it was a hot look]

Underneath the coat or the beautiful red sweater, everything was a mess. At one point, at a tournament in Canada, a Canadian player would hit Igor from behind. It wouldn’t have been so bad, except the Soviet management hadn’t provided enough hockey pads. Igor was wearing a partial set he’d borrowed from a high school team that played in the host arena earlier that day. (Across Europe and Canada I bet there are grown men, still hockey fans now, who have no idea they once owned game-worn gear from the world’s top scorers. To Igor’s fans those pieces might be worth as much as he ever earned in his CSKA career.) He would play the rest of that tournament with broken ribs.

The only outsider he’d met who seemed to understand, however briefly, was their friend Vanya. Asked what it was like playing against those Russian robots, Wayne said,

“Robots don’t hurt when they lose.”

By June 1985, Slava was recovering from that knee injury that had sidelined him for half the last season. He and his little brother Tolya, now a CSKA rookie, drove back for the start of training. Their car was hit, and Tolya was killed. Slava thought about leaving that season, but their parents told him to keep going, and just try to live for two people.

In November, the players at Arkhangel heard a rumor: someone had written an article, in a Soviet paper, that criticized the hockey program. Anything that wasn’t awe was criticism. Someone got their hands on a copy, and Igor, Vova, Sergei, and Slava huddled around their usual table that evening, hiding each other as they read it in turns. Igor reread it twice. He’d read Canadian and American papers that dragged the Soviet system, but never something like this, that got it--almost--right. It didn’t have all the details to understand the illusion--how they trained, how Tikhonov acted behind Arkhangel’s walls--but it guessed some.

Glasnost was beginning, a long rustling cracking thaw opening new streams of information and communication like Igor had dreamed. The Canucks drafted him that year, and then Vova. The Devils had dibsed Slava and Lyosha a few years before, and the Flames wanted Sergei. There was a place for them, waiting, if they could ever get to the NHL. But there wouldn’t be any thaw in Arkhangel as long as Tikhonov ruled it.

The ’85 World Championships were held in Prague, and ’86 in Moscow. Igor played both, and nothing else. For two years, no one saw him outside the Soviet Union.

In December of ‘85, CSKA was supposed to tour North America. Igor was dressed and ready. Then he heard his passport, which he had used a hundred times before, had run into problems. Coach told him not to worry, but to stay behind in Russia and--how convenient--keep training for the championships in Moscow. Igor woke up at three in the morning to watch the games he was supposed to be playing. He learned that Canadian journalists were asking about him: apparently, he had tonsillitis. Igor wasn’t entirely sure where his tonsils were.

Two months later CSKA played in Sweden. Strange, how his tonsils still weren’t better, and his passport was still missing. Two nights before they were set to leave Tikhonov called him into the office, in front of the team, and told him so. But the next evening Tretiak, now a more senior officer, came out to visit the barracks. He hugged Igor and promised him he would do what he could to get the passport by the time they were supposed to leave the next morning. Igor went to bed hoping. At 4:30 AM the coaches woke him just to tell him the passport wasn’t there yet, so the team really would be leaving without him.

The third time it happened, he was told to go back to the passport office to file everything all over again--maybe he had fucked up his passport. He didn’t bother. Taking away travel had been one thing. But doing it in front of the team, in front of the Green Unit, so that he knew that they knew that he had let them down somehow, broke his heart.

He was still allowed to play inside the Soviet Union. As long as he was with CSKA, the other Greens treated him the same as always. If they had known how bad things were going to get, Igor thought they would have done more sooner, but he knew that they didn’t understand what was happening. In between games, he spent his days in office buildings, being grilled about suspicious activities like listening to rock music, calling his mom too often, or kissing Canadians.

“I was at fault all around. That I gladly gave interviews to journalists. That I liked the NHL...that I like rock music. That the living standard there impressed me. All this was raked up into a pile. I was the enemy. Because, you see, if I liked the American way of life, then in general I was an American by heart. All of this they said about me.

By nature, I am clearly a Russian. I do not like everything in America. It cannot be that somewhere is as in a fairytale, and somewhere else is total darkness.

Particularly, it seemed, my [friendliness] offended the preservers of government secrets….I also knew a little English. Therefore I had the possibility to rub elbows with whomever I might come in contact: hockey players, journalists and even immigrants. And, they assumed, to each of them I could give important information--everyone getting an equal share, no doubt, in order to be fair.”

He couldn’t talk to his friends from other countries, or his Russian friends either when they traveled without him. On the street outside between the rink and the party offices, none of his former fans would speak to him, except to ask or tell him their opinion if he really was a traitor.

He was wanted everywhere but home. Obviously, no other country believed that a 25 year-old athlete who had been the best in the world six months before had been brought down by tonsillitis multiple times in a row. There’s only so many tonsils a person can have. Obviously, every other country thought Igor must want to defect, the one thing he did not want and couldn’t convince anyone of. So each host on the international hockey circuit was bouncing on their toes, first Canada, then Sweden and so on, thinking maybe the Soviet Union would slip up and let him come to their tournament, he'd defect, and then they’d get to keep him. Obviously, the Soviets noticed that, and squeezed tighter.

Each time the team left on tour, he was told to spend his time alone training harder and hope. If he was good enough, maybe he’d make the next tournament. His body, always a battle-ground with Coach Tikhonov, became a hostage situation. The more Tikhonov told him to train, the less he ate. Eventually he was eating mostly fruit, and restricting his water intake.

He stopped pretending to defer to anyone. He used to be the sober one between his hot-head wingers, and now he egged every fight on. Sometimes he faked an American accent, calling Coach “Tikhonoff” the way American broadcasters had at the '81 Olympics.

One day at the rink he bumped into figure skater Lena Batanova, who “knew nothing about hockey and could not have cared less.” She had been through worse training than he had growing up, only to win two World Championships, and then be slighted from a third. They understood each other without having to say anything.

[Igor washing dishes in their Moscow apartment, turning to glance at Lena pressing up him.]

That summer he stayed up late talking with his friends, and realized he wanted to marry Lena. He asked her the next morning, and she said yes. Behind Igor’s back, Slava, Vova, Sergei, and Lyosha went to Coach Tikhonov’s office, and told him that they would play every other day of the year if they had to, but they would be going to Igor’s wedding. Coach wouldn’t allow the three days for a traditional Russian wedding, but he had to give Igor one.

Waking up the morning after the wedding, Igor checked the mail and found a summons to appear before the Central Committee of the Communist Party. His friends, who I imagine lying hungover on his and Lena’s new couch and floor, rushed for their unused books to help him study up on Communist doctrine, in case he got quizzed. This is presumably when Lena woke up, realized she’d married a whole line of hockey players for their one communal brain cell, and rolled back over. Igor reported the next morning, probably with flashcards Vova had made for him in his pocket.

The Party officials congratulated him on getting married and gave him the wedding gift they were sure no one else would have gotten: his passport. We have to guess the logic here, if there was one. It’s possible the Party thought he wouldn’t risk his wife, or that two years had just been enough to realize the team wasn’t working without him.

But he was allowed to go to Canada for the Calgary Cup before the end of ‘86, and everyone had questions about his two years of tonsillitis. Igor, for the first time in his life, didn’t talk. But that just left the hockey world to gossip. Two months later it was announced he’d be in Quebec City for another tournament, and right before they arrived a Quebec newspaper printed a version of the night out with Gretzky--with quotes, they claimed, from Wayne. This time the tournament organizers called someone from every team up for a pregame presser. I imagine Igor shrugging at his KGB handlers and sliding away to the stage: nothing could stop him talking now.

Except the Canadian journalists. They wanted to interview Team Canada first. Igor stewed, and then looked up to see an oncoming Wayne. Someone had asked him about the alleged quotes in the article, which Igor had snagged a copy of to read the second they let him loose in Canada. Apparently Wayne hadn’t.

“‘Believe me, Igor,’” Igor remembers Wayne blurting out. “‘I didn’t say what was printed in the paper. I’ll tell them it didn’t happen! But what is your position now?’”

“‘Do not worry,” Igor promised him. “‘Now, everything is okay.’”

“Oh, awesome,” (I’m assuming again) Wayne said. “So do you want to come over later and hang out in my mom’s basement?!”

“If the KGB pulls a gun, then call me.” --Wayne Gretzky

Weirdly, I’ve never seen this inspirational quote cross-stitched on someone’s wall.

The next Canada Cup was held in August ‘87 in Hamilton, Ontario, which is like, basically next door to Wayne’s parents’ house. So the afternoon before the first game, Wayne sent his dad Walter to the hotel where the Soviet team was staying. Walter asked in Ukrainian if he could chat with Igor, who had to come down to the hotel lobby to meet him, since visitors were absolutely not allowed to wander up to players’ rooms. Walter invited his son’s friend over for dinner. Igor cut eyes at the KGB agent in the corner, and said he had to go upstairs and ask Coach. Tikhonov said no before Igor started talking.

Igor came back downstairs and apologized to Walter, who thought hard for a minute. He told Igor to ask what if the whole Green Unit went to Wayne’s house for team bonding? Coach Tikhonov considered, and said no, and Igor went back to Walter.

Walter hitched up his suspenders, and announced to the KGB that he would talk go to Coach Tikhonov now.

He told Tikhonov he would be honored if Coach came to dinner at his house that evening, and if Coach felt like it, he might bring the boys over too. Tikhonov said he’d love to.

Tikhonov, Igor, Vova, Sergei, Slava, Lyosha, and a KGB operative spent a delightful half hour packed in a car together driving to the Gretzkys' house, where Walter and Phyllis were throwing a cookout. Walter and some of his local buddies had barbecue and corn on the cob on the grill, and Phyllis had quizzed her son about his Moscow trip before throwing up her hands in despair and making a big batch of her mother’s Polish dumplings and sausage.

Nothing makes me happier than the image of Wayne Gretzky, beaming from ear to ear, handing famously fussy little Igor Larionov a piece of barbecued corn on the cob. Igor had to explain that yes, they had corn in Russia, but they ate it on a plate and not like squirrels. Walter offered him a beer, and Igor looked to Coach Tikhonov before saying no. Tikhonov allowed the players to have a soda.

Wayne started asking him how everything had been since the last time they hung out, and didn’t get why his friend wouldn’t talk to him at first. Igor might answer one question, and then act like he didn’t understand. Sergei and Vova really didn’t speak English, and kept elbowing Igor to explain what was going on and why Wayne was smiling at them like that, but Igor was still pretending he only spoke Russian and hesitated to translate for them. Finally Wayne realized Igor was clamming up every time Tikhonov got within earshot.

Wayne went to Walter to change the game plan. Walter would use his Ukrainian to ask Coach Tikhonov about his many amazing accomplishments, while Wayne told the whole party he wanted to show the other boys his medals, which were all down in the basement. Unfortunately the Gretzky family’s basement was very small, and housed Wayne’s many, many medals, so only two people could possibly fit down there at a time: one Gretzky, and one Russian. Tikhonov thought about it, decided he didn’t care about someone else’s medals, and gave the okay.

Just in case, Wayne deputized his dad’s buddy Charlie, who did not speak Russian or anything like it but was somebody’s dad from suburban Ontario, to chat up the KGB agent.

So Wayne began to escort the Green Unit, one by one, down to his family’s basement. At the bottom of the stairs, he handed them a beer. The two of them chugged their beers together, trying not to take suspiciously long or laugh too loud, and then ran back up to change out for the next boy.

Nothing happened that night. It didn’t change anything, except that Tikhonov never found out. The Greens had been able to get one over on him, because they didn’t have to do it alone.

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#green unit #igor larionov #wayne gretzky #slava fetisov #sergei makarov #vladimir krutov

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imagine-loki · 4 years

Text

Pride and Prejudice

TITLE: Pride and Prejudice CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 48 AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki was raised on Jotunheim as Laufey’s son after the war, but an agreement was then made that he would wed Odin’s daughter so Odin could secure the alliance of Jotunheim through the marriage. Loki, in turn, was raised to be king of Jotunheim, but how he views Asgard is far different from how Odin’s daughter is raised leading to a clash of cultures as well as uncertainty between the pair of betrothed youths. RATING: Mature NOTES/WARNINGS: Forced Marriage, not all fun and games. My first real step back into the Loki scene in over a year.

I literally have this written with over a week and just as a tab on my computer but I suffer from ITS, Idiotic Thoughts Syndrome which makes me really mentally weird and my mind tells me no one likes my stuff, I just had a few people message me over the last day about this telling me they love it which forced me to feel like I am letting them down if I don't post it which, by the way, is sometimes the best way to motivate my shitty ass, so yeah, it needs saying, if you like this, please let me know, it actually gets me to upload new chapters. I have some written, so...yeah.

Tags - @skulliebythesea @asimovethroughthisworld @blackcherry26-blog @we-shadowhunter2901

As expected, no sooner was it announced that Laufey would not die as king, there was a multitude of reactions, not all positive. Many saw it as merely making official what had been occurring for some time. Loki had been the one to deal with the majority of court matters, so it made sense for him to simply rise to the task officially. Others felt it went against tradition, and that was not something they could accept. Ella heard the word tradition so many times, it stopped being more than sounds after a while. She commented into Loki’s ear something that made him chuckle causing the room to focus on him.

“Does something amuse you, Prince Loki?” Igor was a cantankerous old Jotunn at the best of times but the flaunting of such a tradition irked him all the more.

“Yes, actually it does. My mate made a funny comment on this matter.” He answered honestly.

“And what did she say that has you seeing fit to laugh at me?” The Jotnar glared at Ella, who smirked back.

Loki looked down at her, still smiling himself and asked her silently which of them would answer, seeing her smirk grow slightly, he looked forward again to see Igor’s reaction as her statement became known.

“I stated that tradition when used simply to continue impractical practices, is merely aggressive guilt into coercion via the deceased.” Her words were clear and concise.

“I think it an accurate yet amusing statement, don’t you?” Loki chuckled to Igor.

“Coming from an Aesir, whose traditions are beyond rigid and deemed of importance…”

“I do not recall bringing any such traditions with me, have I? And do you not think that if such a statement were to be true, then surely I would be the best placed to say such with validity, no?” Ella asked, her voice calm and light.

Igor silenced, knowing there was no adequate response to such a statement. It was becoming increasingly clear to the court and all those in it that Loki’s mate was not some mindless silent demure Aesir princess with no opinions or mind to voice them but an able wordsmith who tied up far better speakers and minds than him so he silenced rather than make a fool of himself.

“Whether or not the court agrees, it is occurring, I am too old, too weak. The realm needs a fresh face and mind as we welcome in our new era of prosperity,” Laufey declared. “So this coming full moon, my son will take my place on the throne.”

Both Loki and Ella were slightly startled by that statement, neither had expected it to be so soon. Loki because he did not think he would have so little time to mentally prepare, while Ella wondered how the realm would prepare for such an occasion in so little time. She was unsure how they would do so.

Her first decision was to send a seidr message to her mother. They conversed at length regarding the matter. She altered her appearance so that her mother could not tell she was carrying a child. Though Frigga disliked the cold of Jotunheim, even with her seidr, she immediately began readying for the journey there. Ella felt as though it would be best to tell her parents face to face about her impending parenthood so she said nothing of the matter. She knew they would come for such an event, not only because of her father’s role as Allfather but as a manner of publicly showing support for the marriage he placed his daughter in.

When she had finished speaking with her mother, she paced slightly, something she often did when anxious and this caused her to feel incredibly so. She never tried to show her concerns, she learnt from a young age to never let anyone see her in such a manner. Frigga and Odin were masters of such also, never letting anyone see you fret or worry but as easy as it had become to mask such expressions outside, they still turmoiled within her. She toyed with her hands also, something her father long noted she had inherited from her mother, his comments to his wife to cease it before one of their children picked up the habit long being joined by ones to Ella to cease also.

“What are you doing?”

The sound of another joining her caused Ella to yelp slightly and turn around. Seeing Loki looking at her curiously, she shook her head. “What?”

“I asked what are you doing?”

“Doing?”

“You are like a caged beast, pacing and all but frantic, looking to escape. You also yelped in shock, nothing seems to sneak up on you.”

“I’m not…”

“You are. Is something the matter?”

“Of course n...” He raised a brow. Ella sighed, remembering her promise to remain honest, regardless of anything else. “I informed my parents informally about what is occurring. I know that they will be given the news officially in the near future but…”

“How did you do that?” Loki had not heard the Bifrost blast through the quiet realm.

“I explained that in the throne room before, via seidr.” She explained. “I use mine, my mother uses hers and the Bifrost guardian, Heimdall, makes it so we can connect them, even through the realms.”

“So the Guardian can hear what you speak of?”

“Heimdall sees everything, there is little point in trying to hide from him.”

“Then why did he not tell the Allfather about when you were ill?” Loki asked, wondering why the guardian had not alerted anyone on either realm as to Ella’s condition.

“I did not let him see me, what he saw was what I wished for him to see, I suspect he was able to see me when I fell unconscious, I don’t know, I never asked him.”

“But you said…” Loki ceased speaking as soon as he noted the ever so slight smirk on Ella’s face. “I give up.” He raised his hands like one that was defeated causing Ella to look at him curiously. “You...you come across as this outwardly perfectly unassuming, dare I say it, boring princess who does nothing untoward. When you came here I genuinely thought you to be an idiot or dim at the very least, truly I did. I thought you to be someone who could not fathom ever even considering breaking the rules but instead, you are tricking the All-Seeing Guardian, even when you do nothing of note.”

“I do not like the idea of someone watching me all the time. How was I supposed to sneak out of the palace if I could be reported to my father?”

“You...” Loki shook his head again. “Of course, you did. I have a miscreant for a mate. That child will do nothing but guarantee I am balder than any Jotnar of full blood with the stress of his actions,” Loki growled.

Ella found herself snorting slightly at his exasperation. “If you must know, I have something of a reputation as a trickster on my old realm. My parents used to get very irked.”

“I do not doubt it.” Ella grinned at him causing him to shake his head slightly. “I fear what sort of terror we have put in you.” Loki eyed her stomach warily causing Ella to laugh.

“You had begun to realise who I am before you willingly did that.”

“First and foremost, you did not tell me how great a delinquent you were in advance,” He pointed out. “Secondly, I alone did not create the situation by which you came to carry our son, you were very much an active part of the process.” Ella beamed proudly at him. “You are not the same creature brought here to be my mate,” He declared. “You sent a copy, didn’t you? Then you wandered along when you felt like it and released your true self on the realm.”

Ella shook her head slightly as she chuckled. “No, that genuinely was me, just recall that you did not wish to speak with me and I could not simply walk up to the Jotnar that clearly loathed me beyond words and introduce myself as the Trickster Princess, could I?”

“It would have been interesting if you had.”

Ella laughed slightly before her face turned into a frown and she placed a hand to her side.

Loki immediately ceased his jestful behaviour and rushed over to her worriedly. “Are you alright?”

Ella took his hand and placed it to where she had her own a moment before.

Loki had been expecting perhaps to feel the child move, he was not prepared firstly for her touch to be colder than his but also to feel a slight pulse of something go through his hand. “What is that?”

“He is unconsciously using his seidr.”

“What?”

“I think he thinks me to be too warm and his seidr is attempting to cool his environs to something more to his liking.” She frowned as she looked down before her own seidr glowed slightly. “That should keep him satisfied for now.” She paused for a moment, waiting to see if there would be any other form of reaction from within her but there was nothing more, satisfied, she gave a nod.

Loki’s had yet to remove his hand from her stomach. He had been about to do so when he felt a little nudge against it. He chuckled slightly. “What have we created? He has your demeanour.”

“Then we can rest assured that Jotunheim will have two great kings to come, starting on the next full moon.” Ella looked him in the eye as she spoke, hoping to convey her sincerity as she did so. Loki swallowed. “Why in the realms are you nervous? You were made for this.”

“I do not wish to leave him down. To not be everything everyone expects. What if I fail?”

“Loki, you are an incredible being. You will be a truly great king and will not repeat our fathers’ mistakes. Your reign will be a glorious one. You are benevolent and fair and Jotunheim will prosper like never before under your rule.” She held her hands against his face, forcing him to look at her. “You will not fail.” She stated. “And if you are at risk of it, I will be there to make sure you do not. I’ll keep you on the path.” He chuckled slightly leaning down to have their noses touch as he had them do before, his eyes closed and a content sigh as he did so, his hand still on her stomach where his son moved. Ella, since the last time he had done so, had come to learn from Greta that it was the closest form of Jotnar contact to a loving embrace. Hearing that had caused her to question why Loki would do such a thing with her. She came to the conclusion that the relief in the coming of an heir had made him do it, with this second time, she was not so certain.

#loki #others #submission #imagine #wolfpawn #chapter 48 #Pride and Prejudice

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