#the wave of a wand verse
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@loetise: hold me. please hold me. / accepting.
she's holed up in the nurse's cabin, allie with her. annette had been ready to patch up any kids (mostly shadysiders) who'd gotten bumps or scrapes from capture the flag, but the reality of this is far worse than she could have imagined. the two small counselors are pressed against a wall under an open window, to hear if whoever is out there killing people approaches. her reluctance toward touch is trumped by both fear & allie's request, frail arms wrapping around the blonde tightly. "w-we -- we h-h-hav-ve to be ... be qu-quiet ... j-jus-st. jus' in c-case."
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#the first verse is wrong on sites its waves a magic wand according to the booklet/sheet but a staff member locked it here#anyway. i think about these bits a lot. every moment’s a little bit later
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teensy tag drop ft. verse things!!
*may be added to in the future
#( setting schematics | tag dump )#( when does a man become a | monster!verses )#( song remains the same | nonpower!verses )#( all greek to me | riordan!verses )#( turned left instead | alt. timeline!verses )#( wave of a wand | hp!verses )#( leaping forward | mutant!verses )
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TAG DROP 2.
TIFFANY. the flint in the chalk is its bones; hard as rock among the softness [ interactions ]
TIFFANY. with a hat full of sky and brown eyes that pierce through clouds [ faceclaim ]
TIFFANY. no one told her you shouldn’t read the dictionary all the way through [ character study ]
TIFFANY. i’ll be a witch & know things [ verse // witch in training ]
TIFFANY. forever say you’ve got this [ main verse // witch of the chalk ]
TIFFANY. eternity is so much less than i had thought [ verse // bbc ghosts ]
TIFFANY. being busy can be surprisingly dull [ verse // bridgerton ]
TIFFANY. a sister is missing. and my sisters are my duty [ verse // ouat ]
TIFFANY. i can’t just wave a magic wand and get things done. i have to study [ verse // modern ]
KIN. a builder of the very universe itself [ interactions ]
KIN. press your space face close to mine love [ faceclaim ]
KIN. decades lie on her shoulders like dandruff [ character study ]
KIN. let’s write the second chapter with our eyes wide open to the truth [ verse // canon ]
KIN. freak out in a moonage daydream [ verse // doctor who ]
#TIFFANY. the flint in the chalk is its bones; hard as rock among the softness [ interactions ]#TIFFANY. with a hat full of sky and brown eyes that pierce through clouds [ faceclaim ]#TIFFANY. no one told her you shouldn’t read the dictionary all the way through [ character study ]#TIFFANY. i’ll be a witch & know things [ verse // witch in training ]#TIFFANY. forever say you’ve got this [ main verse // witch of the chalk ]#TIFFANY. eternity is so much less than i had thought [ verse // bbc ghosts ]#TIFFANY. being busy can be surprisingly dull [ verse // bridgerton ]#TIFFANY. a sister is missing. and my sisters are my duty [ verse // ouat ]#TIFFANY. i can’t just wave a magic wand and get things done. i have to study [ verse // modern ]#KIN. a builder of the very universe itself [ interactions ]#KIN. press your space face close to mine love [ faceclaim ]#KIN. decades lie on her shoulders like dandruff [ character study ]#KIN. let’s write the second chapter with our eyes wide open to the truth [ verse // canon ]#KIN. freak out in a moonage daydream [ verse // doctor who ]#tag drop
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the less we know the better - wip
“Gale- stop for a second.” You noted a flash of concern in his eye, he knelt back down again, tilting his head in a silent question. Tears budded again, as you held your head in your hands. “I am ashamed. I can’t… I’m terrified of my own thoughts. Flashes I see the lord, in the way I see you now. He will not leave, be gentler- and diligent” you paused trying to think how to phrase it. “To possibly… take my mind off things.”
He hummed in acknowledgement, “perhaps we should establish something, and you’re sweet for saying that. I’m glad you felt safe enough to tell me.” He sat back on his haunches. “Perhaps… the shower will help? Ill leave you to finish undressing if you feel uncomfortable.” He squeezed your shoulders, kissing your forehead. “Ill depart for now then. Come join me when you feel ready.” His movements were fluid, hands drawing a sharp sigh from your lips. He left through the open doorway into the showers. His nails scratched against the doorway; your core ached immaculately. You finished off his work, the dark plum verses bright magenta robes draped against each other on the chair.
You felt oddly exposed without your enchanted spells guarding you, waddling into the cedar and teakwood showers you felt more at peace. Gale was nowhere to be seen, but a satisfied groan emanated from the bright hallway ahead. You settled down on the stool testing the water on your hand before handling the wand. The water smooth and warm against your skin. The soaps and skin serums to remove dirt and dead skin smelt herbal. Tonics infused with healing potions, an intriguing way to go about things. You scrubbed your skin until it was red and raw, you felt clean but not clean enough. You sat in the steam of the water for a moment, debating on continuing forward. You decided too, the warmth of the light and the pools beyond beckoning you forward.
The light was blinding once stepping out the hallway, plants and fauna lined the tiles surrounding the baths, a plush bed with towels and robes on top of it. a table next to it and a patterned robe with tassels. Candles, sherry and crystal goblets, candies and small sandwiches, a platter with fresh fruits and perfumes, and bottles that shone like gems. Gortash really pulled the full 9 yards. Towered over the bath, curiously was a statue of Mystra, her gaze focused on the bath itself, arms outstretched in a surrounding gesture, the sun perfectly framed around her head. It was almost reminiscent of a greenhouse. Gales head peaks between the waves of foam. He floated upwards, paddling to the side of the bath to grip the edge and prop his head in his arms.
“Feeling better?” he beamed, rose petals and violets clung to his hair, they floated on the surface of the foam. You walked towards the steps, dipping your toe in carefully. It was a wonderful temperature.
“a little.” You hum, lowering your weary limbs in the water. “it’s a little unnerving to have a statue of my partners ex staring at my naked form. I feel judged.”
“Often statues of Mystra are depicted with her eyes closed…” he swam closer to you, “I am... uncertain why this one is open, perhaps its just another god that looks similar.”
“Let us hope it’s just that.” You settled on a side edge seat, the sun a warm lazy glow on your skin, a warm and floral breeze churned the air. He almost seated himself in your lap, his head tucked into the alcove of your neck, his face a mottled pink from the hot water. His eyes laid shut; his breath warm against your chin. You leaned your head against the tile, allowing him the access to fully intwine with your limbs. You began to become drowsy, tapping his shoulder you escorted him to the bed, comfortably placed within a warm sunbeam.
You both curled up again like lizards on a hot rock. An overwhelming sense of contented sleepiness taking hold of you.
(wip from the most recent poll, im getting close to the smut itself, i cant decide between the actual bath or like a cozy napping bed on the side, as i know like... that concept sounds cozy. a bath then a nap in the same place? luxurious....)
#bg3#baulders gate 3#bg3 gale#bg3 durge#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#durge spoilers#durge#durgetash#the dark urge#bg3 dark urge#durge bg3#durge x gale#this is totally not my fav ship#gale x oc#baldurs gate gale#baldur's gate 3#bg3 fic#bg3 wip
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Collared - Harry Potter
SUMMARY: The war ends with a complete victory by Voldemort. Hermione is captured as a prisoner of war, and gifted to the Black sisters who were on the right side.
PAIRING: Narcissa x Hermione; Bellatrix x Hermione
GENRE: dark erotica
WARNINGS: dubcon; mind control; D/s dynamics; gratuitous use of the term mudblood; rimming; whipping
WORD COUNT: 7.4k
A/N: This is not a nice fic, please heed the tags. The Black sisters do not suddenly grow tender feelings towards Hermione, and to the extent that she consents, it's due to magical mind control.
I see this more as a verse where more exploration can be done, rather than a fixed narrative. I'll update as and when, but each part can stand alone. Kinks explored in every chapter will be listed in the chapter notes.
This is cross-posted on ao3 under the same pen name.
Hermione knelt on the cold marble floor of the drawing room in Malfoy Manor, her eyes blank and glazed over, a dead giveaway that she was under the Imperius curse. She was fully naked, her hair a mess of riotous curls that spilled over her shoulders and down her back, her arms hanging limply by her sides.
Voldemort stood next to her, his hand resting lightly on her head. He wasn’t hurting her, just… demonstrating his ownership, Hermione thought to herself in the small corner of her mind where her consciousness was tucked. She wasn’t able to control her body and actions, but enough of her remained that she could follow what was happening.
High-ranking Death Eaters were crowded into the drawing room, surrounding Voldemort and Hermione. If she were still in control, she would have shivered, drawing in on herself. But she wasn’t.
“It has been a trying year,” Voldemort crooned in that unsettling, high-pitched voice. “Yet all of you are still here, my friends. Triumphant.”
He paused, and the room filled with dutiful applause.
“All of you will be rewarded handsomely for your efforts, of course. I am a generous master.” The tension in the room could cut a knife, everyone in attendance straining to hear every word, on edge waiting for the next announcement.
“The spoils of war will be distributed, not to worry,” Voldemort continued, waving his wand hand - the hand that wasn’t currently on Hermione’s head - carelessly. “But for the fairest of trophies, Potter’s mudblood whore…” His hand tightened in her hair. Pain, flaring through the nerves in her scalp.
Hermione remained utterly still, no trace of the discomfort she felt anywhere in her body language. The Imperius curse wouldn’t allow it.
“Narcissa!” Voldemort called. She was standing near the back of the crowd, but as he said her name, the Death Eaters obscuring her from vision stepped aside and looked at her.
“Ah, sweet Narcissa. Our gracious hostess,” he purred. “You have sacrificed much to the cause.” Including her husband, who had survived the war, but was clearly not the same. Not her Lucius anymore. A shadow moved across the clear cerulean of Narcissa’s eyes, before her neutral expression returned.
“Perhaps this will provide some comfort for you.” Voldemort’s hand in Hermione’s hair loosened, and he patted her on the head. “Use her as you please, but do share her with your sister.”
Bellatrix. If it were possible, Hermione retreated even further into the tiny corner of her mind that she currently inhabited. No, God, no…
She could still hear the sound of Bellatrix’s laughter ringing in her ears, the awful, hot feeling of her body on top of her as she Crucio’d her relentlessly, writhing against the cold marble floor - this floor - and trying hopelessly to buck her off.
Even as terror rose inside her, Hermione tilted her head to observe the Black sisters, holding hands as they stepped forward into the circle. Under Voldemort’s control, her face rearranged itself into a sultry little smile, directed at her two new mistresses.
“Lovely,” Bellatrix said in a lilting tone, grinning at Hermione in a way that had Narcissa tightening her grip on her older sister’s hand. It wouldn’t do to have her sister breaking their new pet too early, after all. With Lucius gone, she needed someone to warm her bed.
“My Lord, we humbly thank you for this gift,” Narcissa said, bowing her head slightly in deference. She tugged gently on Bellatrix’s hand until her sister followed suit. Bellatrix, despite her slavish devotion to Voldemort, seemed to have forgotten the basic manners that the Black sisters had been taught as girls long ago.
“I trust you will ensure she behaves appropriately,” Voldemort said as he lifted his Imperius curse, handing her over to the sisters.
“Of course, my Lord. We have just the thing.” Bellatrix actually winked at Voldemort, the demented bitch, Hermione thought a little hysterically.
Before she could do so much as take a breath by herself, Narcissa had placed a silencing charm on Hermione. It didn’t stop her from screaming, hurling abuses at the pair, at Voldemort, and everyone in the room, but thankfully, no one had to be bothered by the silly outburst.
With a nod, Voldemort dismissed them, and the sisters left the room with Hermione levitating behind them, still under the silencing charm. As she felt herself floating, the stream of empty threats and curses changed to a small scream, and then hysterical begging. God, she hated flying, and this was somehow even worse.
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The item that Narcissa was holding in her hands was a Black family heirloom, fished out of the depths of the Gringotts vault for this very purpose. It looked like a plain leather strap, but fairly hummed with powerful magic as she brought it closer to Hermione.
She’d been released from her Imperius curse but was still in a full body bind - Bellatrix’s idea, as the older woman had been keen to see the terror in her eyes, fully aware of what was going to happen to her.
“Dirty little mudblood,” Bellatrix cooed. “We’re giving you the most precious gift you’ve ever gotten.”
Narcissa smirked as she walked up to Hermione, standing next to her sister, and didn’t make any move to disagree. “A Black family heirloom,” she explained, dangling the strap in front of Hermione. “Really, we’re sullying it by putting it around your filthy neck.”
Anger at the insult flashed across Hermione’s eyes, but she wasn’t able to say anything in protest. In truth, she was slightly intimidated by the magic that emanated from the piece of leather, so powerful it seemed almost sentient. Having it so close to her made her recall those terrible months of spending hours on end with the Horcrux around her neck.
“In days long past, before house elves,” Narcissa took on an almost scholarly tone, sounding for all the world like she was a professor delivering a History of Magic lecture at Hogwarts, “it was common for lowly-born wizards and muggles to take on jobs as servants to wealthy, Pureblood families. The Black family prized ourselves on having the best, most loyal servants.”
Of course they did, Hermione thought almost hysterically. Only the best for the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, and that extended to magically bound servants. She was sure now that the collar contained black magic, intended to turn its wearer into a mindless supplicant. Don’t put that on me, she wanted to scream, but she couldn’t.
“I’m sure you’ll be interested to know how it works,” Narcissa continued, as if she were totally unaware of Hermione’s inner turmoil.
“You little swot,” Bellatrix interjected, smiling cruelly, as she took one end of the strap. Narcissa continued to hold the other. “What an opportunity this is, for you to experience firsthand what real magic, from those with pure blood, can do.”
Narcissa picked up immediately where her sister had left off, continuing her explanation. “You see, the Imperius curse is almost impossible to hold long-term, and it requires the caster to consciously nudge the person the spell is cast on to do everything. Not ideal for a servant. This collar binds the wearer to the will of the person who put it there, making them totally in tune to their master’s needs, and unable to control the urge to meet every. Need.”
For the first time in her life, Hermione wished she didn’t know something. Feeling her mind, her individuality, seep out of her soul while she was fully aware of what was happening, but utterly helpless to stop it… the alternative, she was sure, was better.
The sisters smirked, totally in sync as they reached around Hermione, wrapping the collar around her neck. The moment the ends of the leather strap touched behind the back of her neck, they fused together, and the leather got hot. Hermione would have cried out or struggled if she could have, feeling like the collar was branding the delicate skin. She was going to blister, there would be scars forever, she thought desperately, as she gritted her teeth against the pain.
And then, just as abruptly as it began, it ended, and the sisters stepped back. Instead of a plain black strap of leather, an intricately braided collar now adorned Hermione’s neck, with a pendant of the Black family crest engraved on one side, and an N and a B on the back. The pendant was comfortable against her skin, the same temperature as her body, but she could almost feel it vibrate as the spell worked to bind her to the witches who’d put the collar on her.
Already, she could feel her sense of self slipping away, as Bellatrix waved her hand in her direction, releasing the body bind spell. Even though there was nothing physically preventing her from moving anymore, she found herself totally uninterested in getting up, or even shifting to alleviate the pressure on her knees and let the blood rush back to her toes, which were completely numb by now.
Instead, as she blinked up at them, she couldn’t help but bite her lower lip as arousal curled, warm and tight, in her lower belly.
“Good night, Bellatrix, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Narcissa breathed, never once taking her eyes off Hermione.
“What? I wanted her first. I’m older,” Bellatrix whined.
“Need I remind you why the Dark Lord thought I was in need of a new companion, Bella?”
Sulking, Bellatrix exited the room, slamming it with a wordless flick of her wand to demonstrate her displeasure. Hermione flinched at the loud noise that echoed throughout the room, before returning her gaze to Narcissa.
They were alone. Seeing the heat in Narcissa’s cerulean eyes, Hermione swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry, understanding in a flash that the desire she felt coiling in her body was merely mirroring what her new mistress felt. What she wanted from her.
She wished she could say no, scream in horror and beg for mercy. But the collar was working its magic, and she found herself wanting to please Narcissa just as much as Narcissa wanted to be pleased.
“Come here,” Narcissa instructed, her voice calm and cool, and Hermione hated how affected she was. Instinctively, she shuffled over, still on her knees, not bothering to question why she didn’t get up. Of course Narcissa wanted her on her knees.
“You’re filth,” Narcissa informed her, so matter-of-factly it was like she were telling her what the weather was like right now. “Do you think you deserve to touch me?”
“No, mistress,” Hermione forced out, hanging her head in shame. It was true, she knew, what her mistress was saying. How could she, low-born with dirty blood, ever think herself worthy?
With her wand tip under Hermione’s chin, Narcissa forced her new pet to look up at her. “I’ll give you a chance to earn it,” she purred. Hope and joy sparked incandescently in Hermione, and she strained towards Narcissa almost imperceptibly.
“Yes, I will, I’ll do anything,” the words spilled from Hermione’s mouth.
“We’ll see about that.” The cruel tilt to Narcissa’s lips made Hermione’s pussy clench in on itself, slick already starting to seep out. Was that the magic collar, or was that her? The difference was already blurring.
With her empty hand, Narcissa raised her robe ever so slightly, and looked down meaningfully. Hermione’s gaze followed, landing on her beautiful ankle boots. They were impossibly expensive, Hermione was sure, probably a custom order. Dragonhide leather, the upper was Slytherin green, with a black square toe and low heel. The scalloped edge lent the boots a feminine flair, while the shiny onyx buttons added a touch of luxury.
“Kiss my boots,” she ordered, her voice low and sultry, and Hermione immediately bent to do just that, pressing light, delicate kisses along the side of her foot, and up towards her anklebone, trembling slightly.
Narcissa smirked down at Hermione. After the years spent in constant fear and worry - for herself, for her family, and for the world that she knew - the relief of knowing that the good and just had won, and that her son was safe, was heady. And here was one of the key perpetrators of the war that had wreaked such havoc on her life, a mudblood, finally acknowledging her rightful place in this world. At Narcissa’s feet, worshiping her boots.
Her elation and her arousal fed into each other, twisting into a ball of tension in her core. Her toes curled in the boots that Hermione was currently dragging her lips against.
“Enough.” Narcissa’s voice cracked like a whip in the room. She stepped away from Hermione, and went to sit on the armchair by the fireplace. “I’m ready for bed.” She reclined in the armchair, her hand pulling on her robe slightly, exposing her boots again.
She looked at Hermione expectantly, and that was all the cue Hermione needed to start moving again. The brunette crept to Narcissa’s feet again, and started undoing the many buttons on her boots, as Narcissa watched on, satisfied. There were spells she could use to instantaneously undress, she knew, or even house elves she could call on, but watching Hermione slowly, painstakingly, undo the buttons on her boots sent a shiver down her spine.
Finally done, Hermione pulled the second boot off and set it to the side, next to its sister. Without being prompted, she knew what to do next, picking up first one, then the other foot, and giving Narcissa a brief foot massage, working out the tension in her feet and the discomfort from being in the heeled boots all day.
When Narcissa decided that she��d had enough of this, she used her foot to nudge Hermione away then stood. “Undress me,” she said, and Hermione rose to her feet for the first time since all of this had started.
Because a pureblooded witch like Narcissa wouldn’t dream of putting something as Muggle as a zipper so close to her body, Hermione found herself working to unfasten what seemed like an endless row of tiny concealed buttons all down the back of her long dress.
As she worked diligently, she chewed the inside of her cheek, trying to keep her wits about her as each unfastened button revealed a little more of Narcissa’s soft, snowy white skin. She wanted to touch it, she thought, put her mouth on it and…
Catching her wandering train of thought with horror, she gritted her teeth. The magic in the collar was truly something, winding itself deep into her psyche. Soon, she knew, she wouldn’t be able to distinguish between her own thoughts and the magic.
Finally undoing the last button, she reached up and slid the robes off Narcissa’s shoulders. The rich black fabric pooled around her feet, and she stepped out of it. Hermione went to pick up the robe, but Narcissa stopped her. “Leave it,” she said, her voice commanding. “The house elves will get it later.”
Swallowing hard, Hermione nodded silently. She knew there was something there that she should object to about the elves, but the thought slid away from her stubbornly, eluding her the harder she tried to grasp it in her mind.
Despite now standing in front of Hermione in nothing but her underwear, Narcissa continued standing before her, the picture of confidence and relaxation. She was dressed in white lace lingerie that was probably from the wizarding version of La Perla, a longline bra, skimpy thong, and a garter belt that held up her sheer stockings.
Hermione slowly undid the hook fastenings on the back of Narcissa’s bra, counting at least ten, before reaching down to unfasten the garter from the stockings. The entire outfit was totally impractical, practically impossible to get in and out of by oneself. She probably needed assistance with her clothes every day - assistance that Hermione would be providing from now on, she realised.
Kneeling in front of the blonde woman, she slid the stockings off Narcissa’s legs, the feel of her knuckles sliding against bare skin sending a shiver down her spine. There was no reason why she should be feeling like this, why every bit of physical contact, no matter how unerotic, felt like foreplay. Except for, she knew, the collar, priming her to be everything her new mistresses wanted and needed. And based on how she was feeling, she was to be a sexual plaything for them.
The stockings off, Hermione reached up and hooked her fingers in the waistband of the delicate lace panties. Narcissa’s facial expression didn’t change, but she shuffled her feet slightly further apart to give her more room. Agonisingly slowly, her heart pounding so hard she was almost dizzy, Hermione drew the panties down her legs.
As the gusset was pulled away from her crotch, sticky tendrils of arousal stretched between Narcissa and the fabric, leaving Hermione staring helplessly as she forced back a whimper. When the last strand snapped, Hermione looked up at Narcissa hesitantly, only to see a completely neutral, relaxed expression on Narcissa’s face.
If she were a lover, Narcissa might have looked slightly embarrassed to be caught in this state, or might even have given her a flirtatious wink. But she wasn’t - she was barely even a person to this woman - so there was no need for any sort of response or acknowledgment that this was affecting her more than she let on.
Holding the scrap of lace in her hand, Hermione couldn’t help but stare at the thick white liquid pooling in the crotch. Her mouth watered helplessly.
Narcissa must have known, because she laughed condescendingly, staring down her nose at the brunette kneeling at her feet. “Go ahead,” she encouraged, as if she were speaking to a small child. “Have a taste. It’s as close as you’ll get.”
Even as the hurt and disappointment flooded her mind, her body couldn’t help but react, clenching on itself. “Wh- what?” she stammered. There was no reason for her to feel this way, she screamed internally. She didn’t want this. But Narcissa did, and so her mind and body leaped to obey.
“You don’t really think I’ll let you put your filthy little mouth here, do you?” Narcissa’s fingers swept through the neatly trimmed white-blonde curls at the apex of her legs, before spreading her nether lips for Hemione to take a good look. When she withdrew her fingers, they were shining with a thick layer of her arousal. The scent of her pussy filled the room, heady and strong.
Her hands trembling, Hermione brought the panties to her face, inhaling deeply as her eyes sought Narcissa’s, needing some validation or approval. A slight arch to Narcissa’s brow was all she found, but somehow it was enough.
Emboldened, she stuck her tongue out and took an exploratory swipe along the crotch of Narcissa’s ridiculously luxurious panties. The flavour burst onto her tongue, sharp, tangy, and salty, and Hermione was instantly addicted. It was the best thing she’d ever tasted, and she needed more.
All semblance of dignity abruptly vanished as she fell on the underwear like a ravenous maniac, sucking the slick out of the fabric, her tongue pressed against the spot where Narcissa’s pussy had been less than a minute ago. It was still warm, and Hermione’s eyelids fluttered shut as she moaned.
“Liked that, did you.” Narcissa’s tone was filled with cruel amusement. Having the mudblood on her knees in front of her debasing herself filled her with power. Her certainty that this was how the world should be sank into her bones.
She leaned forward and wiped her dirty fingers on Hermione’s hair, as if it were a rag, then went to stand behind the armchair, leaning forward and bracing her arms against the back of it. “I can’t stand the thought of your filthy, mudblood mouth on my cunt, but maybe we can find another use for it.”
The collar wouldn’t allow Hermione to be anything but the most dutiful servant, and it burned against her skin until she refocused her attention on Narcissa, looking regal and aristocratic despite being utterly naked, her hair pulled back into a sleek twist. “What do you mean?” she asked.
Narcissa clicked her tongue impatiently. “I’m sure you can figure it out, mudblood. Didn’t they call you the brightest witch of her age?” Her tone was derisive, and Hermione flinched.
She stared up at Narcissa from where she was crouched on the floor, the picture of round-eyed confusion, until the older woman raised a brow as she leaned forward just a tiny bit more, and realisation flooded Hermione.
“O- oh,” she said, as she scuttled behind Narcissa, sinking back down on her knees behind her pale arse. “You mean - ”
“Obviously, yes,” Narcissa snapped, sounding for all the world like she was irritated that Hermione had taken so long to grasp something so elementary. In reality, her heart was thudding in her chest, and she could barely keep her breathing steady. One of her darkest fantasies, this was something she’d never even breathed a word of to Lucius. She’d expected to go to her grave without realising this dream, and the Dark Lord had, in all his wisdom, had granted her this.
In the dimly lit room with its dark decor, Narcissa’s entire body seemed to glow like a beacon, and Hermione was entranced as she leaned forward. She placed her hands somewhat hesitantly on the globes of her mistress’ arse, spreading them slightly. She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to touch Narcissa like that, but hearing what sounded like a choked off moan instead of angry exclamations to get her mudblood hands off her, she figured she was doing okay.
The sensitive area between her arse cheeks was darker and redder than the rest of her skin, with a few sparse hairs near the rosebud. Hermione’s mouth opened against her will, and filthy words poured out that she barely registered as coming from her. “Oh, Mistress, your arse is so pretty, can I please lick it, I want to taste your perfect pureblood arsehole.”
Narcissa smirked into the darkness of the room. The magic in the collar really was something, she thought. As a teen she’d read about the effects of the collar in her ancestors’ journals, but experiencing it in person was totally different. “Well, if you insist,” she drawled, as if she was doing Hermione a favour.
With permission granted, Hermione dove in, licking a stripe between the older woman’s arse cheeks. She knew she should be revolted and appalled at what was happening, but arousal was making it difficult to think straight. Before her eyes, the rosebud clenched and then relaxed, and Narcissa leaned forward just a tad more, spreading her legs slightly wider.
She laved her tongue over her captor’s arsehole, getting it wet and shiny with her spit, before using the point of her tongue to go in little circles around the wrinkled skin. With Narcissa’s small sigh of approval, she alternated between using the flat of her tongue and the point, until she wriggled her arse just a little in her face, and the tip of her tongue dipped slightly into the furrow.
“Yes, that’s good,” Narcissa breathed, pushing her arse further back into Hermione’s face.
Catching the hint, Hermione worked her tongue into the blonde’s arsehole, just a little, and feeling it clench around the intrusion. “Yesss,” Narcissa moaned, throwing her head back as her hands tightened on the cushioned backrest of the chair. This was it, she thought a little wildly, as sweat prickled on her hairline. Her deepest, darkest, most depraved urges being fulfilled - and by a Mudblood, no less, so filthy she could barely stand it.
Overcome, she let go of the chair with one hand and reached downwards mindlessly, dipping her fingers into her dripping quim before circling her clit. Softly, gently, almost sweetly, a stark juxtaposition from the lewd, vulgar act happening just inches away.
Realising that Narcissa was touching herself, Hermione redoubled her efforts, pushing further into her arse, almost seeing stars at how tightly it clenched around her tongue, and at the bitter flavour that burst on her tongue.
“Fuck, yes,” Narcissa hissed, rubbing her clit harder. “Fuck my arse with your tongue,” she encouraged, and Hermione pulled her arse cheeks apart further, leaning up slightly to get deeper. Her own pussy dripped with arousal, but she barely registered it, so caught up in her task.
Narcissa had commanded it, and the collar made sure she delivered. She didn’t think she’d ever done anything as diligently, as devotedly as she was currently eating the pureblood witch’s arse, so deep that her nose was jammed against the crevice between the cheeks. Her tongue drilled deep, rejoicing in every breathy moan and tremble, the slick sounds of her tongue combining with the squelching noises of Narcissa frigging herself.
It didn’t take long for the pureblood witch to reach orgasm with the double stimulation to her pussy and arse, and she cried out loudly, shuddering as she clenched down on her fingers in her pussy, her thumb continuing to rub her clit, working herself through the most intense pleasure of her life.
In its wake, she slowly removed her hand from her pussy, but Hermione continued to lick her ass. Even though she’d already cum, it felt nice, so she allowed her to continue for a few more seconds before pulling away.
“You did well,” Narcissa allowed, inclining her head slightly. Even with her hair slightly messy, her face and breasts flushed, she looked like a queen. “You may have a treat, my pet.” With that, she dangled her hand in front of Hermione’s face. “Lick my hand clean.”
Obediently, Hermione did just that, sucking the two fingers she’d used to frig herself into her mouth, her eyelids fluttering closed again as she moaned, her tongue laving the soft skin and gathering the slick. When she couldn’t taste it anymore, she moved on to her thumb, pulling it into her mouth and gently sucking.
Finally, there was no more, and Hermione released Narcissa’s hand, a look of slight disappointment written all over her face.
They walked into the palatial bathroom, Hermione one step behind Narcissa, head bowed, to find that the house elves had already prepared Narcissa’s bath. Large enough to rival the one in the prefects’ bath, it was filled with warm water, steam gently rising off the top, and covered in a mountain of bubbles.
Already nude, Narcissa stepped into the bath easily, and sat down, leaning back with a blissful sigh. Slightly awkwardly, Hermione knelt beside the bath.
“What are you doing? Get in. You have to wash me,” Narcissa said with her eyes still closed, and Hermione did so, flustered. She carefully undid the twist and washed Narcissa’s hair, then her body, running her soapy hands all over. Her arms, her neck and collarbones, then her perky, pink-tipped breasts. The pureblood witch didn’t move a muscle to make things easier for her new servant, continuing to recline comfortably in the luxurious bath. As Hermione’s hands slid down her belly, Narcissa allowed her legs to fall open, giving her access between them.
Kneeling in front of the older witch and gently cleaning her quim was decidedly not what Hermione had thought would happen today, but Hermione didn’t question it.
Finally, Narcissa was clean, and she stood up and got out of the water, waiting for Hermione to dry her with large, fluffy towels that were warmed just so and placed on a stool right by the bath.
“Clean yourself,” Narcissa instructed as she left the bathroom, and Hermione hurried to do so, hopping back into the bathwater which was now slightly cooler.
When Hermione left the bathroom, she found Narcissa already sitting in the massive four-poster bed, leaning against a stack of pillows. “Come here. I don’t like sleeping alone.”
Bewildered, Hermione slid under the covers on the other side of the bed, and with a wave of her hand, Narcissa extinguished the lights.
---------
When Hermione woke up the next morning, she was alone in the bed. Feeling almost like herself, she sat up, pushed back the covers, and went to the bathroom.
After she was done, she walked around Narcissa’s huge room slightly nervously, not sure what she was supposed to do when she was alone. She didn’t have that much time to think about it, however, as the collar started to feel warm again, radiating heat insistently against her skin.
Still naked, and coming to a realisation that this would likely be a permanent state for her moving foward, Hermione peeped out the bedroom door to check if the corridor was clear. As she did so, there was a pop sound, and an elf apparated in front of her.
“Mipsy is to take the mudblood to Mistress Bellatrix,” the elf said in a squeaky voice. When Hermione nodded, Mipsy wrapped her fingers around her wrist and apparated them both to Bellatrix’s quarters.
“Mipsy has brought the mudblood,” the elf announced, before she disappeared yet again, leaving Hermione alone with the witch. Bellatrix was sitting at her desk, feet propped on it as she leaned back into the chair, holding the parchment she was reading up.
Tossing the documents she was reading carelessly back onto the desk, Bellatrix swung her feet onto the ground and stood. “Mudblood, so nice of you to join me today,” she cooed with a mocking lilt to her voice, her wand in hand.
As Bellatrix rounded the table and came closer to her, fear screamed through Hermione’s veins. The slight tilt of her head, that deranged grin, the way she held her wand up, the tip almost touching her temple. All of it brought back terrifying memories of the last time she’d been at the Manor, when Bellatrix had tortured her until she wished for death.
“I did so miss the sound of your screams,” the dark witch leaned in and whispered in her ear once she was close enough. Hermione blinked hard and swallowed dryly, trying to force back the hysteria. The collar wasn’t doing anything to adjust her mental state like it had last night. Bellatrix was enjoying her terror, feeding off it.
“And now…” the tip of her wand trailed gently along the curve of her ribs, making her grit her teeth, bracing herself for what was to come. Suddenly, Bellatrix dug her wand sharply between her ribs, and pain flared as Hermione choked on air. Panicked, her knees gave out and she collapsed on the ground, gasping.
“Not quite a scream, was it, darling,” Bellatrix sneered, and Hermione was back in that drawing room, back on the floor, crying in fear and agony. She hugged her knees, tucking her chin in and rocking back and forth.
“Ah, that’s no fun,” Bellatrix griped, reaching down and grabbing a fistful of brown curls. “Look at me while I’m talking to you, mudblood.”
Her vision blurred by tears, Hermione looked up at the witch currently pulling her head back painfully. “Filthy thing,” the older witch muttered, before drawing back and spitting on Hermione’s face. It splattered on her cheek and she flinched, but made no move to wipe it away.
“You’re mine now, mudblood. The Dark Lord gave you to me for doing such a good job crushing your kind.” She traced along Hermione’s jawline with her wand, the younger witch’s eyes trying her best to follow the wand tip.
“Now I think I want to enjoy my reward. Crucio!” Bellatrix snarled, and red and white light jetted forth from her wand.
Hermione screamed and cried, writhing on the floor as the pain seared through her body, feeling like her tendons were being pulled apart, muscle peeling from bone, and skin from muscle. This was it, she thought feebly, she’d survived the final battle only to die like this, on the floor of the Manor, where she probably should have the first time…
There was the telltale pop of apparition, and then abruptly, the pain stopped, leaving Hermione crumpled in a heap, her face turned towards the floor.
“Sister,” Bellatrix said snippily. “I don’t believe I interrupted your time with our pet.”
“Bella, are you utterly daft? You can’t Crucio her like that!” Narcissa snapped back, stalking towards Hermione, who was still lying prone, tears leaking from her eyes, which were open but unseeing.
“She is my pet, and the Dark Lord said - ”
“She is our pet, and she won’t be for much longer if you torture her until she’s a mindless vegetable like you did the Longbottoms!” Narcissa turned Hermione over with her foot, looking her over critically.
“You never could take care of your toys, Bella,” Narcissa continued reproachfully. “If you ruin this one - ”
“The Dark Lord will give me another,” Bellatrix insisted, her chin tilting up obstinately.
“He will, will he? Are there many mudbloods left to give out?” Narcissa asked drolly, and Bellatrix subsided, sulkily. As the new Director for Magical Law Enforcement, she knew very well that the number of Muggleborn witches and wizards was dwindling every day. A positive outcome, to be sure, but it did mean Hermione would be rather difficult to replace.
“No one he could give us as a replacement will be as valuable as Potter’s mudblood, and you know it,” Narcissa hissed. “For heaven’s sake, don’t do anything to incapacitate her. I always hated sharing my toys with you.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do with her, then?” Bellatrix demanded petulantly.
Narcissa raised a brow. “I’m sure you’ll manage just fine. I did, and not one Unforgivable was used.”
“Did you?” That sly tone was back in Bellatrix’s voice as she found something new to capture her interest. “You don’t mind if I have a tiny little peep at what you were up to last night, then, do you? Just to learn from the best, of course.” Before Narcissa could react, the brunette witch bent down and dragged Hermione up into a sitting position by her hair. “Legilimens,” she said, her hand tightening around her wand as she stared into Hermione’s eyes.
Hermione screamed in agony again at the intrusion into her mind. She knew that Bellatrix was a skilled legilimens, but the way she’d forced herself in betrayed none of the finesse that she should have. Bellatrix was tearing into her mind like it was so much tissue paper, and she could feel the enjoyment as she made her suffer.
It wasn’t difficult to find her memories of what happened last night - Bellatrix watched them on replay, making her relive them, the shame and embarrassment bubbling inside her anew as she watched how debased she’d been, begging on her knees and doing such depraved things. Of course, the older witch saw how she was feeling now, too, and laughed.
“My sweet, sweet, Cissy,” she breathed, when she finally left Hermione’s mind. “Who would have thought? Perfect, beautiful, ice queen Cissy.” She was clearly mocking her sister, but Narcissa just tilted her head haughtily, unwilling to be shamed, uncaring that her older sister had access to her secret kinks through their shared pet’s mind.
“Did you learn something useful, Bella?” After a lifetime of dealing with her oldest sister, Narcissa could give as good as she got.
Bellatrix sneered. “I think not. I would hardly let the mudblood put her mouth on my body.”
Narcissa wouldn’t do anything so pedestrian as shrug, but her dismissive expression demonstrated how little she cared about her sister’s criticism. “Why don’t you try something physical, rather than using your magic?” she suggested. “You might find it… quiets that mind of yours.”
With a wave of her wand, the empty wall by Bellatrix’s desk was abruptly filled with racks and shelves filled with BDSM equipment, the likes of which Hermione had only seen a few times, during her summers home when she got a little too far down the Internet rabbit hole.
A collection of floggers and whips were hung up inside an oak cabinet with a glass window in the door. Ropes and chains coiled on new shelves. Cuffs, various types of gags, dildos, and butt plugs. Intrigued, Bellatrix wandered over to the new addition to her room, while Hermione wondered how on earth someone like Narcissa had such knowledge of muggle kinks.
“Cissy,” Bellatrix said in a singsong voice, her brow raising as she opened the cabinet and took out the whip closest to her, examining it in her hands. Holding the handle in her right hand, she gave a little experimental swat on the palm of her left. The sound made Hermione jump.
As she examined the various types of equipment on display, her expression grew more and more gleeful, until she reached the dildos, vibrators and butt plugs. “I won’t need these.” She frowned at the offending toys.
Narcissa didn’t bat an eyelash, apparently anticipating such a response. “Just in case,” she explained nonchalantly, before her eyes seemed to soften. “It’s not always like that, you know,” she said in a more gentle tone. “Not- like how it was with Rodolphus.”
Bellatrix’s hand tightened on the whip, her shoulders tensing, before she forced herself to relax. “Mudblood, are you ready?” she asked in a tone of forced casualness, the languid grace with which she prowled towards Hermione slightly unnatural. It appeared that what her sister had said unnerved her. “Cissy has given us so many new toys to play with together; aren’t you going to thank her? They don’t teach mudbloods manners, do they?” she laughed.
With the collar on, Hermione was helpless to disobey a direct command like that. On cue, gratefulness immediately flooded her psyche. “Mistress Narcissa,” she said, her eyes shining soulfully, “Thank you for the gifts.”
“You’re ever so welcome, pet,” Narcissa replied condescendingly, and with a final meaningful look at Bellatrix, she apparated away with a pop, and Hermione was alone again with Bellatrix.
She eyed the whip in her hands warily. Bellatrix, seeing her expression, chuckled. “Come now, mudblood. This can’t be anything new to you. Don’t muggles adore physical violence?”
Hermione wanted to stand up and object, to explain that modern muggles did not, that society had come such a long way, and that whatever had been taught to her in the past was grossly outdated, if not plain wrong. But that wasn’t what Bellatrix was interested to hear, so the words wouldn’t form in her mouth.
Instead, Hermione whimpered and cowered. “Please,” she whispered pathetically, and watched as a deranged grin split the older witch’s face. She was really quite beautiful, she noted mechanically, with her fair skin and dark features.
“Now, now, I’m not like my sister,” Bellatrix tutted. “I have no interest in listening to you beg. I just want - ” she drew her hand back, the whip whistling through the air. “To hear you - ” she brought it down on Hermione’s back, as hard as she could. “Scream.”
As the pain of the impact flared across her skin, Hermione couldn’t help but give Bellatrix what she’d asked for. Hearing the first scream ring out throughout the room, Bellatrix tightened her grip on the whip excitedly, then drew it back again, this time for a backhanded swing.
“Yess,” Bellatrix hissed. “Filthy mudblood, how could you ever have thought you belonged among us?” She rained blows down on Hermione to punctuate her words, experimenting with her new weapon, trying different angles, holding the whip in various ways, and testing out which part of Hermione’s body was the most sensitive, made her cry out in the most satisfying way when hit.
Red, angry welts rose on Hermione’s pale skin, glowing in a way that Bellatrix found somehow entrancing. The thing about magical torture was it often didn’t leave visible marks on the skin. All that was left was the memory of the beautiful sounds that they made.
By the time Bellatrix had exhausted herself, breathless with a sore arm, Hermione had been reduced to whimpering, curled up into a ball. There were red lines cris-crossing through her whole body, on her shoulders, her breasts, her tender belly, even her thighs. On some of them, thin bright red lines of blood were welling up through the torn skin. The effect was hauntingly beautiful, Bellatrix thought. Something she’d done that was so visible, leaving a tangible mark. For the first time in her life, she thought the muggles might be on to something.
Bellatrix tossed the whip down next to Hermione, enjoying the way the sound of the handle clattering against the marble made her flinch. “Put it back in the cabinet, mudblood,” Bellatrix sneered. “Just because you’re filthy, it doesn’t mean that my quarters should be.”
Getting up was agony, the inflamed skin stretching and compressing in new ways, pain flaring all over again. Hermione picked up the whip and walked slowly to the cabinet Narcissa had earlier Transfigured, placing it back where it came from.
“Good girl,” Bellatrix said, and somehow the approval was even worse than when she was overtly cruel. It left Hermione feeling off-kilter, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When she turned back towards the room, she noticed that Bellatrix was now lounging on the sofa.
“Come here,” she beckoned, and Hermione crept closer, unsure what she wanted now. Bellatrix was always in motion, and seeing her still and relaxed like this had her coiling in tension. She knelt by the leg of the sofa, next to where Bellatrix sat.
“You worthless thing. Get on your hands and knees in front of me.” Hermione rushed to obey, and then Bellatrix rested her boots on her back, looking totally at ease.
The younger witch gritted her teeth against the discomfort. Bellatrix’s boots weren’t as soft and delicate as Narcissa’s. The Death Eater went out, did things, and needed a sturdier pair to suit her lifestyle. The leather wasn’t nearly as soft, and it scraped uncomfortably against the whip marks on her back.
It was also heavy. Bellatrix was resting the whole weight of her feet on Hermione’s body, and she was starting to sweat with the effort that it was taking to maintain her current position.
“I liked that more than I thought I would,” Bellatrix remarked, and Hermione would have made a snarky comment in response if the collar would have allowed it. The pureblood witch must have seen the mutiny on Hermione’s face, because she laughed, reveling in the control she had over the younger witch.
“Tell me, mudblood, what other sick things do mudbloods do to each other?” and Hermione thought, but didn’t say, that Bellatrix calling BDSM kinks sick after thoroughly enjoying whipping the shit out of her was some top-notch irony.
Still, the influence of the collar was as potent as Veritaserum, because the words poured obligingly out of Hermione as she recited almost word-for-word the Wiki article she’d read a few summers back.
“BDSM is a variety of often erotic practices or roleplaying involving bondage, discipline, dominance and submission, sadomasochism, and other related interpersonal dynamics. Given the wide range of practices, some of which may be engaged in by people who do not consider themselves to be practising BDSM, inclusion in the BDSM community or subculture often is said to depend on self-identification and shared experience.”
Bellatrix hummed thoughtfully. “And what I just did to you is considered a part of that?”
“It would be considered impact play, or pain play. There are other areas like restraints - tying someone up - and there are many kinks that fall under the BDSM umbrella.”
“What else?”
Hermione hesitated awkwardly. “I- I don’t really know,” she confessed. “I didn’t spend that much time researching this.” Most of her time in the past few summers had been spent either at the Burrow or Grimmauld Place, where there was no Internet, and where she had been otherwise occupied with the war efforts.
Bellatrix’s expression, which had begun to open up as Hermione had been explaining about muggle sex kinks, giving Hermione a glimpse of the beautiful woman she had been, once upon a time, abruptly turned sulky again. “You disappoint me, mudblood. You’re totally worthless. Get out of my sight.”
Picking up her wand, she slashed it down, and Hermione felt the tug in her belly that meant she was being apparated to an unknown location until her mistresses had need of her again.
#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter#narcissa x hermione#bellatrix x hermione#bellamione#cissamione#hp wlw#hp femslash#cissamione fic#bellamione fic
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Request for singlemom!reader ‘verse. Abbie believes there’s a monster under the bed so Steve goes to fight it. He wakes the Reader up and they fight the “monster” together.
This is so adorable! I totally have to use the infamous bat gif for this blurb.
Also I’ve written so much lately (and I know it’s not a big deal) but I’m losing track of what gifs I have and haven’t used as I try to make it different each time and make it fit the story lol
“Daddy, I too scawed to go to sweep,” Abbie frowned, clutching her bunny stuffie.
“Why, baby?” Steve frowned, covering his oldest daughter up.
“Dere a monster unda my bed.”
“There is? Well did you invite him out to have a tea party with you? He might be a lot nicer then, if you offered him some tea.”
Her bottom lip trembled and Steve dropped the teasing lilt to his voice, knowing that she was truly scared.
“There’s nothing under your bed, honey. I promise you’re safe.”
“Will you look?” she whimpered.
“Alright, munchkin.”
He kissed her forehead, an idea forming in his head.
“If there is a monster, would it make you feel better if daddy fought it for you?”
She nodded, clutching the sheets.
He took a peek under the bed, obviously nothing under the bed, but he knew she would feel a lot better if he did this for her.
“Ah, I see what you mean,” he said, standing again.
“It scawy,” she nodded.
“Come here. Let’s go get mommy and both of us will fight it for you.”
He picked her up out of bed, padding to the master bedroom. He woke you with a gentle shake of your shoulder.
“Y/N,” he whispered, careful not to wake the sleeping baby in the bassinet close to their bed.
“Hmm?” you opened your eyes sleepily, seeing him and Abbie.
“We have a situation,” Steve began, “There’s a monster under her bed we need to slay. Will you help me fight it?”
Sensing where this was going, you sat up, nodding.
“Let me just check on the baby and I’ll be right there.”
When you reached Abbie’s room, she stood in the corner furthest from the bed and Steve was on his knees, head under the bed.
“Think we can beat this monster, daddy?” you asked, getting on your knees next to him.
“I think so,” he nodded firmly, showing you the “weapons” he’d picked out for you.
One was a magic wand from one of her dress up sets and the other was a toy sword. Why she had that, you couldn’t remember.
“Ready, mommy?” Steve asked, handing you the wand.
“Whenever you are,” you nodded.
With a few embellished and over exaggerated swings of the sword, a few theatrical grunts from Steve and a wave of the wand from you, Steve sat back on his heels.
“The monster didn’t stand a chance,” Steve said, opening his hand to show Abbie a dust bunny from under the bed.
“I struck him down and your mommy turned him into dust. He won’t be bothering you anymore, baby.”
“Tank you daddy!” Abbie ran over, flinging her arms around his neck.
Steve smiled at you from over her shoulder.
Whatever worked to get her to sleep soundly, right?
#steve harrington#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x reader#stranger things#stranger things blurb#stranger things fic#stranger things fluff
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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐬
Summary: After the second Wizarding War, Draco’s life was left gloomy and bleak. But an unexpected encounter with a certain girl makes him believe that the sun’s beams of light are far stronger than any cloud and any storm.
Warnings: None
Pairing: Draco x Muggle!Reader
Genre: Angst | Fluff
Word count: 1.6K
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
𝐈𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐚 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠.
Draco stood still, unlike time that seemed to run a marathon. His wand lay in his hand, his fingers curled around it. Piles and piles of clothes haphazardly littered the floor, waiting for the wizard to cast a spell that will neatly place them into a trunk.
Blaise and Theo were right. Unknown wizards were indeed threatening previous Death Eaters, and if Narcissa Malfoy’s letter was any indication, then it was only getting worse.
Draco sighed deeply, recalling his mother’s letter. It was less of an order and more of a plea, but regardless, the outcome was one: he was to return to the wizarding world and be placed under the Aurors’ protection.
With a flick of his wrist, Draco’s trunk was now fully packed, but something in the wizard felt empty. He looked at his wand, examining it in his fingers. He immediately thought back about someone who valued magic a little more than he did.
Biting his lower lip, he made his decision in a split second because truly, there wasn’t much to think about.
Draco grabbed his jacket and his keys. “Apparate,” he said, waving his wand. He found himself in the alley close to the familiar café he visited every day for the past month.
With careful steps, he made sure to look over his shoulder for any sign of threat. “Homenum Revelio,” Draco cast under his breath. He exhaled once he was assured that there was no trace of anyone but him.
He walked to Chapters and Verses, ignoring the “Closed” sign. The little bell on top of the door rang, but there was no sign of Y/N anywhere.
The room was filled with opened boxes and books. With furrowed brows, Draco crouched down to take a look, the book in his hands being none other than Y/N’s favorite genre.
He let out a half-laugh just as footsteps sounded from behind him. He whirled around, his demeanor shifting as the girl in question walked in.
“I’m sorry,” she said, dusting off her hands. Her scintillating eyes were on her hands, too focused on removing the dust to pay attention to Draco. “We’re closed at the moment.”
“And here I was hoping you’d make an exception for me, darling.”
Y/N eyes shot up, a bright smile taking over her features. “Draco!” she beamed, making Draco’s mind enter a state of frenzy.
“Hi,” the wizard greeted her. He already began to miss the delicate taste of hot chocolate made by her hands and the serene melody that was her voice. “I hope you’re not too busy.”
Y/N shook her head. She pointed at the box in front of her. “Not much. I’ve received a new shipment of books, and I’m trying to sort them out.”
“Oh. I can come back tomorrow—”
“No,” Y/N interjected while shaking her hands. “I can always sort them out later.”
“Nonsense, darling. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your work.”
“Well.” Y/N lips curled into a smirk, her eyes wandering to the box next to him. “You could always lend a hand.”
Draco chuckled at her cuteness. Without hesitation, he took off his suit jacket and bent down to pick up some of the books.
With a pep in her step, Y/N grabbed some books as well and began to guide Draco through the countless shelves. The first half of the hour was spent in peaceful silence. Y/N led Draco to the right shelves and pointed out where he needed to place the books. She did the same. And whenever her height failed her, Draco gracefully lent a hand.
They smiled bashfully at each other the whole time. And Draco loved every moment of it—the magical feeling of comfort around Y/N.
“So,” Y/N began. Her back was to Draco as she placed some books in their rightful place. “What brings you here so late?”
Draco kicked an invisible pebble, biting the inside of his cheeks. He was glad that Y/N had her back turned, else he would’ve faltered in front of her lustrous eyes. “I’m leaving.”
Y/N whirled around, almost tripping. The books in her hands tumbled, but luckily for her, Draco rushed to her aid. He steadied her and the books almost the way he did exactly a month ago.
“You’re leaving?” Y/N all but whispered, her orbs losing their shine.
Draco bowed his head, his eyes wandering to his left sleeve. “I’m going back home.”
“Home?”
“Wiltshire,” he stated. Y/N pursed her lips in response. “I’m leaving in the morning. I just came to say goodbye.”
“So, your decision is final,” Y/N muttered more to herself than to Draco. She realized she was still in his embrace, so she stepped back and cleared her throat.
“I’m sorry.” Draco paused, his heart aching at the sight of the girl he fancied so hurt. But Y/N gave him her usual smile, sincerity aligning her eyes.
“It’s okay. You must really miss it there.”
Not in the slightest.
Draco nodded. Shifting in place, Y/N looked at the ground and back up to Draco. “Wait here,” she told him. Before he had the chance to ask, she disappeared into the rows of shelves.
Draco admired her silhouette, thinking back about the month he spent with her. For a muggle, Y/N was the most magical and scintillating being he had ever met. And the thought of having to leave before he had the chance to admit this to her pained him… but it was for her own safety.
A tap on his shoulder awoke him from his reverie. He turned around, finding Y/N with a copy of their favorite book.
“What’s that you got?” he asked, his brows knitting together.
Y/N only smiled, extending the book. “I want you to have it.” Her fingers touched his as electricity sparked in their blood. “To remember me by.”
“Darling, I can never forget you in the first place.”
Y/N grinned. She approached Draco and took his hand in hers, squeezing it. “I really enjoyed seeing you here every day for the past month.”
“Same here, Y/N. I’m sorry I have to go.”
“It’s okay.” Somehow, he knew it wasn’t. Y/N shrugged sheepishly, looking him in the eyes. “One last hot chocolate?”
“What about the books?”
“Oh, they can wait.”
She led Draco to a table while she prepared their drinks. He was left contemplating her, regretting everything he was taught. Because if he had known Y/N before the second wizarding war--before Hogwarts even, he knew that he would’ve never made the same choices he made because the only right choice would be her.
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taglist: @lazydreamer19@marajillana@wanniiieeee@thezodiakwitch@homepuffs @abbygraceasd@slythermuf@maylaysia109@jackiehollanderr @hhesperidess@rosaliedepp @hhesperidess @ynalouis @kat-nee @dracosbloodychicken @danoodloo @sarah0210 @msrawog @caramia-mara @tinafuentes
I hope you haven't forgotten about me, witchlings! I know it's been a while, but be patient with me. I've got great things planned for Draco as well as two supersoldiers from another marvellous universe ;)
Stay tuned! The finale will be out next week. Are you ready?
For those who want to be tagged, head over to “The Owlery” section on my profile and send me a message!
Until the next one xx
#draco malfoy x reader#draco x reader#draco x y/n#draco x you#draco malfoy fanfiction#harry potter fanfiction#draco malfoy#draco malfoy x y/n#draco malfoy x you#draco imagine#draco malfoy imagine
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Ok I know this isn't necessarily the popular take on whumpblr but I actually really do enjoy magical healing when it's done right. Like ofc it's gotta have some limits, but so does all magic, and really it's a matter of having the magical healing scaled to the same level with other magic in the setting
(Whatever that level is; from Harry Potter's waving a wand and saying magic words to D&D-style combo of enough strength/spell slots left and the necessary components and having learned the right spells in the first place; from Lackey's Valdemar-verse where Healing is one of many Gifts some people have and others don't, and there's always a question of whether there is anyone around with a Healing-Gift at all, let alone sufficiently strong Gift, to Tolkien's Middle-Earth where it's questionable whether it's magic at all or if the character is just very learned in mundane healing-skills. All of them work in their own settings, but would not work in the other settings because they'd clash with thw rest of the established magic system)
And I know that like, one style of magical healing you see sometimes is painful magical healing, stuff that hurts either whumpee or healer. And it can be great! But like honestly magic healing can be nice just as a fluffy comfort thing
Like, there's just Something about warmth spreading forth from the healer's hands and whumpee feels their pain ease and just Knows thst they are finally safe. And there's also something fun about a healer desperately throwing all the magic they have at their disposal into whumpee, screaming at them to Wake Up Already Dammit because they don't want their friend to die.
And then, of course, there's the potential for a team to end up becoming semi-dependent on magical healing; they have someone (or maybe more than one) who can do it, so they don't factor things like medical supplies and practical medical skills beyond very basic first aid into their plans and training because they're gonna have the healer to take care of things, right? And then the healer is captured, or hurt, or otherwise not there or able to help. And suddenly the team is scrambling to survive because there's no one to heal them up anymore
Like, you can do a lot of fun things with just plain ol' magical healing, it has its uses and I don't think it should be regarded as the worst sin you can commit in writing whump, y'know?
#to be fair personally i'm mostly here for the comfort aspect of magical healing. its potential angst/painful uses are kinda whatever to me#like i can always come up with reasons it's not available until i want it to be. but the fluffy comfort potential after the whump is nice#magical healing#whump#fantasy whump
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Prayers From The Heart
personal prayers from my heart
prayers to unite, not torn apart
reality prayers in the present
not the past or future sent
but situation, the current
prayers that surely last
relayed now and fast
stream of concerns
as heart discerns
the soul learns
and God hears
put aside my fear
now is in God’s hand
to heaven from my land
a wave of his magic wand
I await for peace to resume
it is unnecessary to presume
at God’s opportune time atone
bless and praise his will be done
all his people to unite, and be one
©Johnny J P Lee
11 years March 2023
5-line Gogyoshi poems merged
(aka Gogyoshiren -20 verses)
Photos: J. P. Lee
#poetryportal#writerscreeds#smittenbypoetry#writtenconsiderstions#the subservient human#inkstay#inkstainsandheartbeats#bitsofstarglow#poeticstories#poetscommunity#spilled ink#spilledwords#spilledthoughts#writeundertheinfluence#writingthestorm
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Once and Always // Avalon-verse // Chapter 1
Summary - After tragedy strikes, an unlikely young hero takes her rightful place among the Power Rangers to face off against the team's oldest arch nemesis Robo Rita and her husband Zord Zedd.
-
Prologue
One fateful day in 1993, the evil sorceress Rita Repulsa escaped her Space Dumpster prison and attacked Earth. Five teenagers with attitude had their lives changed forever when Zordon chose them to defend the planet. In the decades since, many more heroes have continued their legacy.
The people of Earth rest easy, knowing their home is protect by Power Rangers.
But in 2023, Angel Grove is rocked by the reappearance of monsters they thought were forever gone…
…
..
.
Billy Cranston gasped, forcing his tired body to push itself into a standing position. His entire body ached. Lip split at the corner and a dull ache in his jaw from the scissor kick he hadn't expected from the Putty that wiggled and wobbled in front of him.
Taunting him.
Along with the rest of the putties that converged in a group.
Billy clenched his teeth and fists, glaring at the gray mass in front of him. More, importantly, glaring at the roboticized space with that stood before him. Robo Rita. She cackled, the same cackle that used to haunt his dreams through battle after battle against the forces of evil.
"Any last words?" Robo Rita taunted. She slowly but surely spun her staff in her hands. The red gem at the top gleamed in the sunlight, making Billy wince and look away every time it waved across his face. She chuckled quietly.
"Just a few," Billy replied. He reached down and grabbed his morpher. With gusto, he thrust it forwards. "It's morphin' time! Triceratops!" In a bright blue blast of light, he morphed into the Mighty Morphin' Blue Ranger. For the first time in several years. But it was just like riding a bike, the second he felt the power of the Morphing Grid flow through him, with the suit encompassing him…he was invincible.
Rita growled. Not that she hadn't expected it; she was no stranger to seeing her nemesis in front of her. But even the mere sight of a rainbow color made her circuits fry. "Putties!" She cried. Her minions all turned to look at her. "Grind him into blue dust!"
All at once, the putties leapt forward and attacked Billy once more. He easily fended them off. Knocking them left and right as he worked to get towards the Space Witch. Once he knocked enough putties out of the way, he swung a solid punch towards Robo Rita. She deflected the attack with a swing of her staff, catching Billy on the wrist. His arm flew aside, and she struck him in the side, knocking him to his knees.
"Ugh!"
Rita jabbed him hard in the ribs with the blunt end of her staff. When she pulled her staff back, the putties converged once more, grabbing Billy and threw him to the ground. As he moved to get back to his feet, a yellow light charged around Rita's staff and she sent the energy forward, knocking him in the chest and throwing him across the grassy top of the seaside cliff.
"Why'd you lead me here?" Rita demanded. "Was your grand plan just to die outside in the fresh sea breeze?" She mockingly waved her wand as another breeze blew across them. What would've been an ominous wind if the sky was dark, combatted by the bright sunshine surrounding them.
At that moment, a cascade of light appeared between Billy and Rita. Red, Yellow, Pink, Black, White, Orange, and Purple. Jason Scott, Trini Kwan, Kimberly Hart, Zack Taylor, Tommy Oliver, and Avalon and Bailey Mitchell.
Rita scoffed when she looked at the rest of the rangers that appeared before her. A far cry from previous years where she would've started to quake at the sight of the colorful team. "Oh, you brought friends. Now, it's a reunion!" If it were possible for the already slasher-like smile on her roboticized face to grow wider, it would have.
"Got your distress call," Zack declared, reaching out to help Billy off the ground. Kimberly stood on Billy's other side, hefting him up. "And we zipped here as fast as we could."
"Thanks, Zack," Billy replied. The group turned to face Robo Rita once more.
"Man, that's Rita?" Jason asked.
"I can't believe she's back," Kimberly said.
"Neither can I," Trini said.
"The robo look's not for her," Avalon agreed.
"She'll look better on a junk heap," Bailey said.
"But we can take her!" Tommy declared. The rangers all nodded, falling into their familiar fighting stances. Waited for the first movement to be made.
"Destroy them all!" Rita screeched.
The rangers raced toward the putties and leapt into attack the putties while Billy took on Rita. Jason, Tommy, and Bailey showed off their strong martial arts skills as they fought, taking on each putty that came toward them with a strong offensive. Trini's Praying Mantis style, slightly more on the defensive, had the Putties come toward her while she took them out with ease. Kimberly flipped back and forth—literally—between putties as they tried to take her down, she was just too graceful to be grabbed. Zack slipped in and out of the wiggling putties with his Hip Hop Kido armed with his strong punches and kicks that knocked the putties into dust. Avalon, with all the strength foisted in her, used a very combative fighting style that took out the Putties left and right with ease.
Billy, on the other hand, took on Rita himself. He had never fought her one on one before, and the mechanized version of her wasn't making the fight easy. Every time he moved to make a strike against her, she would parry it. Finally, she knocked him up into the air with a swipe of his legs from her staff.
As he spun around, Billy struck out his elbow, striking her directly in the face. The shockwave of that hit, bone against metal, shot through his body. Like smacking his funny bone times ten. Crouching, Billy looked to Rita's face, which was broken at the jaw, to his elbow. Surveyed the damage. It felt like she had actually bitten him.
The irony wouldn't be lost on me, Billy thought, looking back to her once more. He slowly curled his fingers, flexed them. Hissed through his teeth in pain. Maybe that move wasn't the smartest one you've ever made, Billy.
"Oh, my face!" Rita cried. She ran her hands over her face, from the smoothness of her forehead to the jagged mess just under her nose. With a deeply guttural growl, Rita turned back to Billy, tightening her grip on her staff so hard it sounded like it cracked within her grasp. "I was having fun! But you want to get serious?" Her eyes and the red gem on her staff started to glow a hellish red. "Come on, let's get deadly serious!"
"Oh boy," Billy murmured.
"You know I loved that face. Just like I love all that power in my new robot body." The redness glowed brighter and brighter, though also held a darkish tint to it. As if dark energy was coursing through her veins and into her staff. "But I'll gladly give up some of that energy for a spell that kills!"
A devastating beam of energy erupted from her staff and shot towards Billy.
"Billy!" Trini cried.
Billy turned his head away, raising his arm to shield himself. Waited for the pain. Found it didn't come. He turned and opened his eyes, seeing the exact moment Trini was struck by the blast meant for him, that hefted her up into the air, stuck in the swirling red and black vortex.
"Trini!".
The red-black energy lifted Trini overhead, towards the cliffside before it erupted in a dramatic energy blast that pinned Billy straight to the ground.
"NO!" Jason screamed.
The resulting shockwave knocked the rangers off their feet, destroyed the Putties nearby that were too close to the shockwave. Finally, the pressure relented and the rangers, scrambling to get up, raced to Billy's side. Billy took off his helmet, kneeling down by the cliffside, eyes frantically scanning for any sign of life. Suddenly, he pitched to the side from Jason's shove, where he yanked off his helmet and took Billy's place, searching.
"No…" Kimberly fell to her knees, grasping at the ground with her gloved hands. Tommy knelt beside her, pressing one hand to her shoulder, the other clenched into a fist. Avalon and Bailey grasped at each other. Zack let out a quiet curse under his breath.
Billy lay where he landed, shoved aside, stretched out on his side, breathing heavily, staring in disbelief at nothing.
"Goodbye Trini Kwan," Rita said then teleported from sight.
#power rangers#pr#mmpr#once and always#I told you guys I would do one#I actually have four chapters up#I just haven't promoted it here#let me know what you guys think#and let me know if you want to be tagged in any updates
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Life Links
5. Badeea Ali / Believe
Summary: Badeea leads the evacuation of a group of students from Hogwarts while worrying about her husband.
⚠️Warning : Angst, Mention of injury, nothing graphic though. ⚠️
Chapter index - previous chapter (Silvanus Kettleburn)- next chapter (Tulip Karasu)
"If he was dead, I'd know,"
With her wand lit like a lighthouse, Badeea faces the darkness of the narrow tunnel leading to the Hog's Head Inn in Hogsmeade. In her other hand, she holds that of a terrified pupil connected to the next pupil, who is just as frightened. This is one of the last groups to be evacuated from the castle, the arena of the ultimate battle against You-Know-Who. Some students sob. Others weep silently, while others lock themselves in a tense silence that the warmth of a mother's embrace will only break.
On her side, Badeea thinks about her husband, who left to evaluate the enemy forces and who still hasn't returned. The witch prays in her mind that nothing untoward has happened while keeping a precious certainty. Only one certainty. Talbott is not dead. Because if her husband had died, Grim Reaper's scythe would also have struck her heart, which would have shattered like crystal.
But Death is not the only one to fear tonight. His companions, 'Pain' and 'Injury', are ahead of him. Therefore, Badeea is eager for her beloved husband, a disciplined auror with the soul of a poet who reserves the exclusive reading of his most beautiful verses for her.
He must come back to her!
Their story began with them working in tandem in their quest to find the last cursed vault. Combining their talents and their respective needs for solitude, they learned to tame and then appreciate each other.
And when one day Badeea asked him to pose for her, Talbott finally agreed, overcome by her insistence. The artist was able to capture the mysterious charm of her model, with his proud, even aristocratic, posture, and she let her emerging feelings shine through in her work.
Thus, love blossomed until that wonderful day when he proposed to her, after having watched her all afternoon painting a field of flowers with the breeze carrying away clouds of petals, a fairy-tale image the painter dreamed of immortalising.
With patience, Talbott waited for their wedding night to reverently take her virginity. A detail that probably precipitated their marriage, but Badeea never regretted it. She loves Talbott for better and for worse until death does them part, as they say in the romantic comedies her mother sometimes watches...
And Death hasn't separated them, not yet. The witch knows if it did. So Badeea prays with all her soul for an imminent reunion. She has no choice. Badeea must believe it.
The witch temporarily lets go of the hand of the child who is following her to put back the few strands of hair that have escaped from her dark hijab dotted with stars.
"Cheer up, kids! We're almost there."
At the end of the tunnel, Aberforth's great silhouette appears in the door's recess he has just opened. He holds a torch, and something lies on his forearm. With his dark face and scowl, he looks even more grumpy than usual.
"Ah, it's you... You're just in time!"
Badeea's blood freezes and her heart races. "Talbott!"
She rushes up to the old wizard and delicately grasps what is resting on his forearm, taking care not to pull at his long salt-and-pepper beard.The eagle squeaks.
"The mascot snuck in and dropped him off here," says Aberforth.
Badeea frowns, trying to remember who the wizard is calling by that name.
"Barnaby?" she asks, delicately lifting the crude bandage around the animagus to inspect his wound.
Aberforth nods.
"I almost attacked him until he waved your husband in front of me like a white flag!" The wizard glances around at the students, huddled together, and winces as he recognises a few Slytherin children of Death Eaters’ descent. "It sounds serious! Take Winger to Pomfrey's quickly. I'll take care of the kids,"
"Thank you, Aberforth, and stay safe."
"And thank you, Barnaby," she adds in her mind, a little relieved to find that their former classmate still has such a tender heart despite his current allegiance.
Without looking back, Badeea returns to the castle as fast as her legs can carry her, competing in speed with Tonks, whom she passed earlier in the same tunnel. The witch tries to chase away the spectre of Death, which hovers like a scavenger around the bird of prey.
"Death! Go away! It's not time yet!"
#Hphm#Hphm fic#badeea ali#Circle of Khanna#battle of hogwarts#LL fic#harry potter hogwarts mystery#esl writer#Talbott is back!
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Person: I don't understand why these people are doing these things!
Me: *apparently wastes a significant amount of time providing literal expert analysis from a field I am extremely versed in*
Person: I understand all that and I resent that you took the time to explain it to me! I have the right to be angry about what is happening! How DARE!
Me: cool, cool. I'll just FUCK off and die then, I guess.
and for the record, I never once said that this person didn't have the right to be angry or to grieve for their friend. they literally said, "I don't understand". apparently what they *meant* was "I don't CARE what the logic says, I want to hate everyone involved in this and you'd better understand that."
look, I get it. your friend is (probably) dead and that sucks. You get to be angry about that. But *I* get to be angry about the BULLSHIT you are saying about MY friends, who cannot affect this outcome in a positive manner, no matter how UNFAIR you think that is (and it is. it really really is... but physics is a real thing that we can't just... wave a wand and make vanish, y'know?)
i forgive them for lashing out at me, though. this whole situation is devastating and rotten... and the *uncertainty* makes it that much worse. BUT I am allowed to be hurt when my good faith attempt to assist someone is thrown back in my face like a shrapnel grenade. i forgive them. but i still think they are a bastard.
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Wacky Drabbles: FMO Keeping up with Jessica Garcia
Books: The Royal Romance Books all of them
Rating: M (18+) Sexual situation and adult themes.
Trigger Warnings in this chapter:
Pairing: Liam x Jessica Garcia (MC)
Wacky Drabble A/U: This story exists on its own and may or may not be a part of their journey together. Traits, personalities, and characters are all the same. Some canon characters may appear but in a different manifestation and by no means exist in that form in Agent Phoenix A/U this is not meant to be anything other than an A/U onto itself. Catch up with wacky drabbles here
Disclaimer
This week’s wackydrabbles dribble challenge: What wacky habit, hobby, or interest does your MC or favorite character have? You have 500 words to tell us about it!
Chapter Summary: I think the title speaks for its self but what if Liam got a little case of FOMO because his favorite duchess is hiding something from him.
A/N: time zones I was so over trying to figure it out so I'm waving the fandom magical wand on this.
A/N2: JLI short hand for Jessica and Liam in the drabble verse
Song inspiration: Lana Del Rey - Young and Beautiful
Word count: 495
Average reading time: 8 minutes
JLI Quarters
Liam woke up with his favorite duchess at his side. Her face was covered in chocolate, so were his silk bedsheets. In her hand the weapon… a melted bar of Hershey. Retirement was rough and sleep eating was something she did when she was troubled, along with talking to herself. He asked her for weeks what was troubling her and a typical response would be “Baby, you just don’t get it.” Deep down inside he was hurt this was the woman he nearly died for believed he was incapable of understanding what she was going through or worse that she couldn’t confide in him. Liam needed to know why she was always on edge on Thursday and devastated on Friday. Liam was desperate for answers and he turned to the men in her life that raised her he started off with Adam Garcia he was sympathetic but had nothing to offer other than to say “I’m not a fucken social worker ask her. I’m trying to hook up with her friend I can’t get involved brother.” Then he moved on to the man that attempted to taser him in the dick Mateo Garcia who greeted him with the usual “Que pasa Cabrón (What’s up dumbass)” and then he was offered a tip. The NYPD Captain told him it was simple to come home at 1:15 pm to see what she was up to. Liam did just that.
At 1:15 pm he abruptly entered the home they shared and saw Jessica hysterically crying into a bag of Doritos with a few empty cans of Coke Zero Cherry. He sat next to the love of his life and held her into his arms and asked “Love, is this why you’ve been so upset every week?”
“See, I told you you wouldn’t understand.”
“So explain it to me.”
“The media ruins everything. They were in love they have kids together and now she cant finish law school remember I couldn’t finish school? Remember I wanted a career but I couldn’t have one here?”
He pulled her into his arms, kissed her, and said “I see”
Jessica took a shaky breath and said, “I just want Kim to be happy she has been through so much. Kimye’s marriage was a timeless love story like ours. Look at what the tabloids did to us. They ruined everything.”
Liam sighed and said, “I know love. But out of all the love stories ever written, or produced ours is the best. We will stand the test of time. You are my happy beginning and ending. I can’t even begin to express how much you mean to me. Also, I have been following along Leo watches this and you know what I want Scott to get back with Kourtney myself.” He kissed her on the forehead and they watched the show in silence. And at the end, of the show they Kim K ugly-cried together while holding each other.
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started this last school year lamao. based on two actual real incidents that happened in my actual real classroom on the same actual day.
Double [Standard]
Throughout their drive home, Étienne noticed that Edward was tenser than usual. He let it slide for the moment and gave his partner time and space to come around with his emotions and whatever it was he was processing in his head.
He waited until they got home, waited until dinner was made and waited until they were both sitting on the sofa, before he brought up the subject. He could tell that Edward was still ruminating whatever it was that was bothering him and so, he finally decided to bring it up.
Edward looked miffed that Étienne had figured out that something was on his mind, but by now, Étienne was well versed in Edward Speak to know that his partner wasn’t actually upset with him.
“It’s such a stupid thing,” Edward started and Étienne reassured him that most things were, but clearly, this one was still relevant enough that it ought to be discussed.
“It’s just – it was so weird,” He said with a sigh as he passed a hand through his hair, “I was having a talk with the kids and it was the usual – be nice to one another, not everyone is like you, we all have our strengths, we’re all unique and such – because they’ve been such asshats to one another recently – and then – out of nowhere, Sophie raised her hand to say that she was different. So I say of course you are, just like the rest of us! But, she continues on and says that she’s different because she’s bisexual.”
Edward continued, before Étienne could react, “She even explained what it was and I was ready to intervene, should anyone pass judgement on her, but they didn’t! And for one, glorious moment, that’s all it was. A kid who decided to come out and made it look easy as all else. I was – surprised – at how easy she said it, but I think I’ll always be surprised by people who come out like it’s announcing the days weather, but – in that moment, I thought, wow, these kids are gonna be fine. They’re the ones who are gonna make the difference. That this generation got it. No big deal. People are queer. Whatever. Right?”
Étienne knew there was more to the story, based on Edward’s mood, but he nodded and let him go on. He full well remembered Edward’s coming out story he’d told him years ago now. How he’d packed a bag, in case his parents would kick him and had stashed it in the entrance closet. How, even though he didn’t have a Full Plan in case it all went to shit, he had still found a few shelters he could go to. How he’d asked a few friends if he could crash at theirs for a night – if ever. The tension and stress that had built up in him. How afraid he’d been. And such.
He was glad Sophie had felt so comfortable, obviously.
He rubbed Edward’s shoulder and gave him a moment’s breath to find the strength to go on.
“Then, after lunch, I had a video to show them on YouTube and there was that Lil Nas X Uber Eats add and – one of my boys just up and says that he doesn’t like him. Makes a comment and a grimace. I thought – he doesn’t like his music or – thought his video clips were weird, which – I could understand, because they’re not – what these kids are used to – or expect, or even, hell what this one kid particularly likes. I play along, ask him why, and – get this,” By now, Edward looked a little manic, full on gesticulating as he explained his tale and Étienne knew that this was the moment where Edward’s day had changed.
“He says it’s cause he’s gay. And – honestly, I just wanted to scream.” He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I didn’t, obviously.” He says as an afterthought, sounding completely beat up and exhausted, the fight suddenly gone from him and replaced with a deep wariness that always comes back when they spoke of such issues.
Étienne wished it wouldn’t always be like this – that he could miraculously wave some magic wand around and fix this for his boyfriend – for the world, if he really could, but unfortunately, despite his better efforts, there was little he could do other than offer support.
“Then I thought, is he going to go after Sophie? Because of what she’d said earlier? Had he already? Had anyone bothered her about it? Had they even realised what she’d said? Was it different because she was a peer and Lil Nas is an adult – who’s flamboyant? Would they come after me if they knew? Do they think we’re monsters?” Edward leaned back and looked up at the ceiling, ready to call it quits and give up for good.
“I’m tired, y’know? Tired of this same repeated attitude. I tried explaining it to him, but he didn’t get it. And he kept on repeating it. I just – wanted to tell him that he had no way of knowing whom he was hurting with his comment and I was this close – to telling him something along the lines of “well, I’m gay do you hate me?” but of course I chickened out and didn’t say anything, but Christ, I wish I had! Just to see the expression on his face! Just to make him – and whoever else realise! But then I thought – fuck, if I say anything and word gets out – the parents could complain! ‘Cause clearly, the kids get it from someone, and it’s usually their parents. They could ask for their kid to get pulled out. I could lose my job and – fucking Christ, this isn’t a way to live!” Edward slammed his fist down on the couch cushion.
There was a reason they had barely told anyone they’re together. There was a reason Edward worried every time they left work together and every morning they went in together. There was a reason they didn’t use their real names on any social media platform they were on.
Even though there were times when Étienne would like for them to be a little less cautious – would like to let loose, they would both hear of an incident that made them worry and wonder if they would ever be thrown under the proverbial bus for daring to be themselves in a school setting.
They’ve both heard the horror stories. Their caution and frustrations are well founded, but still. Edward had a point. This wasn’t sustainable, nor was it fair.
“I know chéri, I know...” Étienne gathered Edward in his arms and pulled him to his chest. He held him close and rubbed his back, while Edward furrowed his face in his partner’s chest, mumbling about the injustices of the world.
They both knew they couldn’t give up – that they had to keep trying – keep being if only for the sake of students’ like Sophie. And maybe, hopefully, with time – no, eventually, with time, the others would come around as well.
FIN
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25 - Storybrooke Isn’t HIs Kingdom
Part 26
His Golden Princess
@fanficismydrug @misskitty1912-blog @alanaangie24
Our group stands outside the vault all concerned with what Pan would do with this curse. "You must destroy the scroll. Both yours and his curses shall be ended, but know this-there will be a price; a steep one." Rumple explained moving towards Regina.
"W-what do you suggest?" She questioned him.
Rumple points to Henry in Pan's body. "Instead of going to him, bring him to us with a spell." Regina gives him a confused look when he kept going. "One that will return Pan and Henry to their own bodies."
"If I'm back in my own body, that means I'll have the scroll. I can bring it to you guys." Henry grinned.
"Exactly right, Henry." Rumple nodded.
Regina scoffed shaking her head no. "Even you aren't powerful enough to cast such a spell."
"Well, given the proper tool, I could be." Rumple shrugged his shoulders eyeing the fairy from Neverland.
Tinker Bell responded to him. "The Black Fairy's wand. One of the most powerful fairies that ever existed. Well-versed in dark magic. The Blue Fairy exiled her, but before she did, she took her wand."
"I assume our dearly departed Mother Superior has it hidden in her residence." Rumple replied with my father nodding in agreement on the plan.
Rumple grabbed his cane making our way back to his pawnshop. "Then it's settled. The rest of us should get back to my shop and prepare Henry for the spell."
Standing inside the pawnshop my sister was watching my mother who held a hand on one of the glass unicorns on the moblie. "This mobile hung above your cribs." Emma looks confused. "Uh, um, it was supposed to hang over your cribs."
"I like the unicorns." All three of us smiled.
Mom looked at the ground sadly then stared back at us. "Giving you both up when the curse hit was the hardest thing I ever had to do. Every time I look at you two, I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't had to."
"I do the same thing with Henry." My sister replied.
Mom smiled at her taking each of our hands in hers. "You were doing your best. You were giving him-"
"His best chance." Emma cut her off with a sigh. "Yeah. But still, things would have been very different I had kept him. We would have had a life together. A normal one."
Slipping my hand from our mothers I walked over to Rumple seeing him still studying a spellbook but he finally lifted his eyes up to mine when I asked. "Is there anyway I can help with..." I wave my fingers around knowing he would understand I'm talking about magic.
"There's something I need you to do. Follow me lass." We entered the back room leaving us alone where he rests his hand over my heart looking for my concent. "Once Pan is in his body he will most likely come after you. I need to remove yours to form a protection spell just in case."
Nodding my head slowly he shoved his hand inside my chest pulling it out where I gasped leaning towards him. He holds my shoulder helping me sit down before he waved his freehand over it. My heart turned gold for a second then returned to its normal color. "You're going to kill Pan though right. Or at the very least I wouldn't mind putting my sword into him." I threatened up to him.
"You needn't do that, Astrid. I don't wish for you to ever fall down the path I choose." He replied gently putting my heart back inside my chest seeing me pouting at the floor. "What's wrong love?"
Running my fingers through my hair I slumped my shoulders remembering Pan's words in Skull rock. "One follows the light and the other falls down into the darkness...Pan said that to me. I think he was talking about me..."
Rumple sits down on the cot beside me pushing hair from my face resting my cheek in the palm of his hand. "That won't happen to you, lass. You are the light in my life. You shall not fall into such things. I promise." The tarp opens and my sister enters with everyone else ready for the spell.
Rumple got to his feet and I followed watching him open a cabinet to take out a bracelet. A shiver runs down my spine recognizing that it looks exactly like the cuff Pan put on me in Neverland. "What is that?" Mom questioned seeing my state.
"This is one of the only useful things that I managed to pilfer from Greg and Tamara before they left for Neverland. It renders anyone with magic utterly powerless." Rumple eyes me with a reassuringly smile putting it on Pan's arm. "Let me see your wrist, Henry. I want to make sure when my dear old Dad awakes that he is weakened. This will lock his powers."
Henry questioned laying down on the cot. "So what happens now?"
"I enact the spell, you fall into a deep sleep and when you awake, you're back in your own body." He replied standing over his body.
Regina stared down at her son finishing the mission. "Then you hang into that scroll and come find us as fast as you can."
Neal hands the wand to his father. "Keep your eye on the wand." Henry closes his eyes as he casts the spell. Pan's body begins shaking then finally stopped meaning the spell was complete.
"Do you want me to stay or go with them?" I asked pointing my thumb over my shoulder asking Rumple who hadn't moved from his spot.
He shakes his head leaning forward giving me a kiss on the forehead. I grip his suit leaning up kissing him on the lips instead with a smile. "I'll catch up with you later, sweetheart. Go be with your family."
Exiting the shop we found Henry at the clock tower holding the scroll. Henry asked "Mom, are you going to be okay? Regina
"The important thing is you will be." Henry grabs her hand in reassurance. Suddenly, the scroll disappears from Regina's palm.
Pan suddenly appeared teleporting the scroll into his hands. "No, he won't." He raised his freehand up.
Raising my hand I created a fireball throwing it towards him when Hook warned. "He has the-" He is cut off as Pan binds everyone in place with a freezing spell.
Pan holding up scroll smirks. "Curse? That I do."
Even though I can't move Pan draws me forward about to shove his hand inside my chest until Rumple grabbed his shoulder yanking him away from me. "Stay away from them!"
"How about this? The worm has teeth. You're here to protect their "loved ones"." Pan mocked him.
Rumple bared his teeth. "I'm not gonna let you touch either one of them. "I have a job to finish, and I have to do whatever it takes. No loopholes. And what needs to be done has a price. A price I'm finally willing to pay." He looks to Neal standing beside me. "I used the curse to find you, Bae, to tell you I made a mistake. To make sure you had a chance at happiness. And that happiness is possible. Just not with me. I accept that."
"Pretty, pretty words." Pan shook his head.
Rumple never broke gazes with me or his son. "I love you, Bae. And I love you, Astrid, you made me stronger...you've shown me that love is possible. That light and darkness can exist together. That we can be together. You are my happiness.."
"Stronger, yes. But still no magic." Pan stepped closer to him.
"Oh, but I don't need it. You see, you may have lost your shadow, but there's one thing you're forgetting." Rumple gripped the dagger.
Rumple smirks raising his hand in the air before his shadow appeared holding the Dark One dagger. "So have I. I sent it away with something to hide." He takes hold of the dagger, the shadow goes back into him. Then, he forcibly holds Pan against himself.
"You see, the only way for you to die, is if we both die. And now... now, I am ready." He stabs Pan in the back with the blade.
A cloud of black smoke covers Pan, who disappears. As the smoke dissipates, his real father appears in his place. "Rumple, please. You can stop this. Remove the dagger. We can start over. We can have a happy ending."
"Oh, but I'm a villain. And villains don't get happy endings." He twists the dagger to embed deeper into both their wounds killing the both of them.
The spell broke where I gasped rushing to my father's embrace where he stumbled a little. He wrapped his arms around my sobbing form that the love of my life is gone. "No he's gone...Rumple's gone...dad what do I do!"
"W-what's the price? Gold said there is a price. What is our price?" My sister questioned in fear.
Regina dropped her gaze to the ground. "It's what I felt when I... first held it. I have to say goodbye to the thing I love most." She looked to Henry. "I can never see him again. I have no choice. I have to undo what I started."
"The curse that brought us to Storybrooke?" Mom realized resting a hand on my back as I still felt my heart being broken into a million pieces.
Regina explains holding the scroll. "That created Storybrooke. It doesn't belong here, and neither do any of us."
"Breaking the curse destroys the town." My father said rubbing my back softly.
Regina sighed explaining where we would go back to our magical birth place. "It will wink out of existence as though it were never here. And everyone will go back to where they are from. Prevented from ever returning."
Emma holds Henry against her chest. "We'll go back to the Enchanted Forest?"
"All of us. Except Henry. He will stay here because... he was born here." Regina finished her statement sadly.
Mom looked to my sister when I lifted my head up from my father's chest still sobbing. "Emma, you have to go."
My sister shakes her head looking my direction. "But we just found you.."
"And now it's time for you to leave us again. For your best chance. For his." Mom pointed to Henry lightly smiling.
"No. N-no. I'm-I'm not... done. I'm the savior, right? I'm supposed to bring back all the happy endings. That's what Henry always said." Emma shakes her head not wanting this to be real.
Mom smiled draping an arm over my shoulder when I gripped her white coat. "Happy endings aren't always what we think they will be. Look around you. You've touched the lives of everyone here."
"But we're a family." My sister shutters.
"Yes, and we always will be. You gave us that." Mom squeezes my hand in hers making me smile weakly.
"You and Henry can be a family. You can get your wish. You can be like everyone else. You can be happy." Dad stepped up holding my other hand in his taking my sister's in his other. "You and Astrid can live the life you've always wanted."
Breaking from my mother's arms I bawled my hands into fists at my sides letting tears slip down my face. "I'm not going with you, sis...I'm gonna go back with our parents. I'm going to be a princess like I was supposed to be."
"Ast...we've never been apart before. You're my sister after all." My sister stepped up grabbing my hands in hers. She released tears eyeing me up and down. "Is that really what you want...to go to the Enchanted Forest?"
Flinging my arms around her she wrapped her arms around me tightly hugging me back. She sniffled through tears until I broke the hug. "Em, since we've grown up I believed in fairytales. I know my purpose in life is to hold onto that belief. Even if we never see each other again I know you'll get your happiness. And it will be with my nephew."
Standing at the town line Henry ran forward crying into my chest where I wrapped my arms around his body. He breaks the hug crying. "I don't wanna leave you, Aunt Astrid...I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you too kid. I want you to do something for me. Hold onto your beliefs, Henry. That's the special thing about you." I sniffed before we hugged again. Regina ripped the scroll destroying the town line right before our eyes. The next time I opened my eyes I gasped seeing nothing but Forest around me. Glancing down I gasped seeing I am wearing the white dress with a golden trim and combat boots underneath. Reaching up I felt a crown on my head making me smile. "Looks like it's Princess Astrid now after all."
Comments really appreciated ❤️
#his golden princess#robert carlyle#oc : astrid swan#margot robbie#ouat rumple#ouat rumplestilskin x reader#rumple x reader#ouat rumplestilskin#rumplestilskin x reader#snow white#mary margaret blanchard#david nolan#prince charming#henry mills#emma swam x sister reader#emma stone#regina mills#the evil queen#the dark one#ouat#ouat fanfiction#ouat fic#ouat fandom#once upon a time#wattpad fanfiction#comments really appreciated#elle fanning#ask box is open for feedback#storybrooke
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