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rocknrollbabe14 · 2 years

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Eye For An Eye (Prince Paul x Reader)

Rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

Warnings: Paul’s temper tantrums (throwing things but not at characters), cursing, mentions of adultery, reader and Paul began affair when reader was seventeen and he was eighteen (in this story it is mutual consent and unfortunately things like this happened in this time period), Venus’s honeypot = real euphemism for the female anatomy back then lol (thought it would be fun to add), unprotected sex, slight degrading kink. If you feel I left anything out, let me know.

I plan for this to be a few parts. I'll post as I'm able.

It was another cold winter’s morning in Russia, however, it was just another day for you. Every day you performed the same tasks for the same women. It was never a change of pace. Part of you liked the familiarity, one who didn’t like change. However, sometimes you wished something else would happen to add some excitement for the day. You slicked down your dress, preparing to go help the wife of Prince Paul get ready for the day, a lady in waiting is was your title. It made you sound like a little slut.

You were transitioning into your new role in the royal family. Catherine liked your mom so much that she decided she would let you be Prince Paul’s wife’s lady in waiting. It was a noble position compared to the chambermaid. It would begin full-time after Christmas.

“Get going, ladies. We don’t have all day.”

As if you needed reminding. You began walking quickly down the corridor to her majesty’s chambers. Hers were separate from Prince Paul’s. You had very minimal dealings with him since he married—he was an absolute man child. He envied his mother, craving the throne. You heard whispers and talk about what was going on behind closed doors—conspiracies. You knocked gently at the door before entering.

“Come in.”, his wife, Wilhelmina called out.

You entered, curtsying to her before beginning to help her get ready for the day.

“Purple or blue.”, she pondered, eyeing her closet.

It didn’t matter to you, frankly, you didn’t give a damn but you had to pretend you cared.

“Blue will look ravishing on you, your highness.”, you smiled as you began tightening her corset, causing her to gasp.

“Blue it is, then.”, she smiled up at you.

She wasn’t as rude and condescending as Paul’s mother, Catherine. Nor as demanding as Paul or Catherine. You had learned about this family very well. Catherine was power hungry, that much was clear. It was rumored she had a coup to have her husband killed to seize the throne. You could neither confirm nor deny this conspiracy theory and you wouldn’t comment on the matter to your co-workers or other palace personnel, scared to lose your job.

“I’m sure Prince Paul will love it.”, you commented, trying not to think about him.

“Pshht we’ll see. He’s hard to please.”, she sighed sarcastically.

You didn’t comment back on the matter as you continued to tie and tighten her corset, something you had done time and time again. It was second nature to you. You had helped his mother, Catherine, for years and she broke you in well, critiquing you the entire time you dressed her. Every morning since you were sixteen. However, near the end, she rather preferred you. Your family was far from royalty, your mother worked for the royal family for years when you were a little girl as a chambermaid. You and Paul were very close in age.

You worked in silence with the maids when Wilhelmina’s friends came in, her ignoring you and the rest of the maids as you all worked which you were fine with.

“So, seen Razumovsky today?”, she smirked at Paul’s wife.

None of the other maids appeared to be paying attention to their conversation. You weren’t intentionally trying to listen, but your ears were picking up things.

“No, not today.”, his wife giggled in response.

You tried not to cock an eyebrow or let them know you heard anything. It wasn’t your place or your business to understand. Count Razumovsky was one of Paul’s closest friends. Why was her friend asking if she had seen him today? It was early morning and she should have been asleep all night long.

“You’ll have to read the latest one.”, Wilhelmina smirked as she patted her drawer.

The one she always kept locked under key.

“Tonight after the party.”, her friend smiled.

Wilhelmina agreed.

She eyed herself in the mirror, twirling in her blue dress, admiring and doting on herself. All palace personnel did not attend parties. She had rouge on her cheeks, hair perfectly curled and up. Yours was back in a bun, trying to prevent pieces from falling down. You barely could keep eyes on her. You’d felt this way ever since she and Paul had married just months before.

“Oh Y/N, you’re dismissed.”, she eyed you.

You nodded easily before opening her door and slipping out, closing it quickly behind you. You tried to catch your breath, trying to come to terms with the information you were given. The sun shined through the big windows down the corridor, momentarily distracting you. The sky was a pale blue, snow falling lightly. You were quickly taken aback when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N.”

You shot up to find a familiar but unforgiving face staring you down. Paul. He had that obnoxious wig on along with a red and blue outfit, you were sure to compliment Wilhelmina’s dress. His brown eyes stared into yours, the slight rouge on his cheeks bringing out his eyes.

“Yes, your highness?”

He rolled his eyes incredulously. “Do you know what’s keeping my wife?”

Wife. That word stung you slightly. You did, but you couldn’t tell him so. She was too busy bragging about Razumovsky and the letter you assumed she had written him or received from him. All you could do was stare at him for a moment, his lips almost curving into a frown when you gave him no answer. The shouting and foot stomping was sure to follow.

“I’m not sure, your majesty.”, you shrugged lightly before looking back up at him.

His eyes narrowed. “Is she dressed?”

“Yes, sir.”

He rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “So, what is it then?”

“Again, I’m not sure, sir. It’s not really my business to become involved in your personal matters.”

Paul scoffed quickly before laughing sarcastically. “You didn’t mind being involved in my personal matters before I married, Y/N.”

Your eyes closed, feeling a pang in your chest. You knew exactly what he was referring to and you had tried your best to forget it—calling it off as soon as his engagement dinner was thrown. It had caught you by surprise and he gave you no indication he was to be married. It was stupid that you had even got involved with him in the first place because you knew you would not be able to marry him or have it go any further. You were not someone who would be able to be involved with the future emperor of Russia. You both were young when you became involved with one another, seventeen and eighteen. Paul was older than you just by a few months if you remember what your mom said. He was now twenty-one and you were twenty.

“Paul, please.”, you eyed up to him, pleading with your eyes.

He scoffed slightly. “I mean you didn’t mind being in my room every night—legs folded up and screaming my name as I fucked myself into you senselessly.”

You closed your eyes, his words visibly affecting you.

He eyed you, not breaking his stare. His eyes were like daggers, stabbing into you.

“Paul, that was then and this is now. You’re married now. And besides, your mother desperately is pushing you for an heir. I can’t stand in the way of that.”

He laughed again. “So what? I had no intention of breaking things off with you.”

Your heart felt a glimmer of hope, but your mind quickly shot it down.

“I just can’t be the other woman. Your mother would be furious if she found out we were sleeping together. I’d lose my job, my mother would be ashamed.”

Paul rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Ashamed her daughter was beautiful enough to catch the eye of the Prince?”

You didn’t respond, rubbing your arms nervously.

“Besides, my mother has had countless affairs.”

All you could think about was the fallout that would ensue if anyone had found out about your and Paul’s affair. You knew when his marriage was announced it was best for you to break things off. You all had never truly resolved those feelings. You preferred to ignore him, however, he was making that hard to accomplish.

“Can you not just sneak off later tonight after the party?”, he asked, visibly aggravated and clearly wanting to try and talk to you.

“I have to take care of your wife.”, you didn’t meet his glance.

“Are you denying the future emperor of Russia?”, he asked, tauntingly.

Your eyes met his. “No.”

He was joking with you, trying to lighten the mood.

“I’ll call for you.”, he offered as he grabbed your arm, meeting your glance. His touch was so foreign, unexpected.

“Yes, sir.”

He smirked before letting your arm go just in time, his wife’s chamber doors opening, her eyeing both of you.

“Y/N, I thought I dismissed you.”

“I asked her to fix my sash since you were nowhere to be found.”, Paul covered quickly, snapping at Wilhemina, causing her to leave you alone.

With that, you walked quickly away from both of them. Your stomach was doing somersaults, that being the first real encounter you had with Paul since you broke off your affair. Sure, he would steal your glances at the time, causing your stomach to twist. His wife, Wilhelmina caught him, asking him what he was staring at. It had happened several times that you were aware of.

“Tough morning?”, Maria asked, eyeing you.

You nodded. “I had the pleasure of dealing with Prince Paul briefly.”

Maria’s eyes widened, nodding. “I’d say so, then.”

Maria was around your age, two years younger than you. You yawned easily as you leaned up against the wall, making sure no one was around. You’d be reprimanded for acting lazy.

“Didn’t sleep well?”

You shook your head. Most nights you didn’t sleep well. Your mind was too busy thinking about Paul and your little love affair with him. You were sure to him it didn’t mean anything. Just a way for him to get back at his mother. If anything, you were a conquest to him. Just because you were something he couldn’t have. It was foolish of you to think you somehow meant more to him. He was good—excellent with words. Very eloquent. It was shocking Paul didn’t find a wife on his own. You were enamored with him.

How could you be enamored with a man like Paul? He had a rough, outside shell but deep down inside, he was fragile. Paul could have been honest with you about his impending marriage. That’s what made you so frustrated and angry with him. You were hurt, wounded at the time. Part of you had realized you had no future with him. It was impossible. But part of you wanted, craved a future with him, and hoped by some miracle it would pan out. Why didn’t he tell you?

When Paul didn’t get his way, he became very furious and unable to soothe just like a child. You imagined that came from his childhood. He was eight years old when his father died. You remembered the news of Peter III’s death. Paul was too young to succeed this father at the time. So who did? His mother, Catherine, of course. She was too busy governing Russia to raise her son like a normal mother. They were not a normal family.

“Well, we get through today and we will surely rest well tonight.”, Maria smiled, her optimism shining through.

She was very optimistic—almost too much for her own good. You were once like that, however, you were foolish and naïve. After Paul married, your optimism went away for good. Your mother noticed the change in you, asking what was wrong but you denied her each time, never telling her you and Paul had anything going on. She would have been taken aback, telling you that you put your and her jobs in jeopardy.

You didn’t mind jumping in and helping as long as Wilhelmina didn’t need you directly for any personal matters.

“Breakfast service is coming up.”, Maria sighed.

You nodded. “Let’s get to it, then.”

__________________________________________________________

Breakfast went on as usual. Catherine brags about her latest plans, them falling on practically deaf ears. Paul couldn’t have acted as if he cared less. Wilhelmina stirred in her food, seeming completely distracted. Maria eyed you easily. You eyed her back, waiting for something to do. You all could feel the tension in the air. Paul asked for a refill, shaking his glass at you.

If he was pretending to be a dick, he was doing a great job.

You grabbed the pitcher easily, giving Maria a last look before walking over to the table. You smiled easily as you tipped the pitcher over, filling his glass, careful not to make a mess. His brown eyes stared into yours, causing you to gulp easily.

“Anything else I can do for you, your highness?”, you asked.

“No, thank you.”, he took a sip of his drink.

His eyes once again were on you too long for his wife’s liking.

“Paul, why are you staring at her?”, you heard her ask him in a whisper.

His mother’s eyes widened at his wife’s words, her lips curving into a smile. One you had seen quite a few times before. She often liked seeing Paul’s life be full of hardship and frustration.

“Staring at whom?”, he asked, his eyes moving back to her.

You felt your cheeks become red and you walked back to Maria, sitting the pitcher down. You wanted to crawl in a hole and disappear but you couldn’t leave until you were dismissed. You would be reprimanded and considered rude if you did. You watched Wilhelmina and Paul’s expressions. She was furrowing her brow, whispering to him hatefully. He did the same back to her, throwing his hands in the air.

Suddenly, he scooted his chair in.

“I refuse to be embarrassed by my own wife!”, he shouted, slinging his glass and breaking it against the wall behind him, eliciting a gasp from the table.

“You’re all dismissed. Get out of here!”, he shouted, eyeing all of you.

His face was blood red, the rouge disappearing. You had seen this look before. He had acted out the day after you broke off the affair. You knew why he was angry. He would give you looks that could kill, criticizing you on any task you did for him. His mom got onto him for being so rough on you, surprisingly. She asked him what problem he had with you. He just scoffed at her and stomped away after throwing a vase and breaking it, one of his many temper tantrums.

She apologized to you on her son’s behalf, stating she had no idea why he was in such a terrible mood, considering she had found him a beautiful wife. You smiled weakly, hearing the words make you realize it was all that much more real. You accepted her apology before exiting the room, going to cry privately.

You wasted no time gathering yourself and Maria and leaving the room, fleeing to the kitchen with her.

“Does he do this often?”, she asked, visibly shaken by the events at breakfast.

“Yes.”, you admitted as you put away the dishes, opening the cupboards and placing them in their correct place.

You needed a distraction, anything to keep your mind occupied. Your hands were slightly shaking.

You didn’t meet her glance. You continued to sort dishes, putting them away.

“Why?”, she asked.

You looked back at her, stopping in your tracks. “No clue, daddy issues?”, you suggested with a small giggle.

Maria giggled back, before coming closer to you.

“I saw him staring at you. You caused the fight between him and his wife at breakfast.”, she whispered.

You dropped a dish, breaking it. “Shit.”, you cursed.

This completely caught you off guard. You always hoped no one else would notice or even suspect anything Eyes were on you as you grabbed a broom and dustpan, cleaning it up. Maria was still watching you with a smirk.

“I don’t think so.”, you whispered back to her.

Maria smirked. “Really?”

“Really.”, you eyed her seriously as you tossed the broken glass away.

She smirked. “He doesn’t stare at any other woman like that. Not even his wife.”

You shushed her quietly as she continued to giggle. “Maria, don’t say that. It’s not true.”, you insisted.

You prayed you didn’t sound too eager to dismiss her assumption. You were afraid you’d give off an indication you knew it was true. You knew deep down inside her words were true, but it was surreal that someone else noticed it. Part of you had thought it was you being naïve and hopeful that he stared at you that much, that he missed what he once had. It was hard to ignore him, but you had to for the sake of your mental and emotional well-being.

However, tonight that would be all blown to smithereens. You just knew it would.

“Look, Y/N, you can’t help he stares at you like that.”, she smirked as she passed through the double doors of the kitchen, glancing back at you.

You sighed at her words, dreading facing his wife once more before the party.

______________________________________________________

When getting Wilhelmina dressed for the party, she barely spoke to you. You cleared your throat as you finished helping her get dressed, this time she was wearing a wine color. It was the big party right before Christmas. A huge social event for the royals. She dismissed you and you felt relieved as you left her chambers. It was time to help prepare for the party.

The sun went down quickly, and you and the rest of the staff lighting candles to illuminate the ballroom. It was a big ordeal and everything had to go perfectly or the Empress would be infuriated, taking it out on you all. You silently wondered where Paul got it from. The royals began to enter and the band was top volume. You saw Catherine enter with her new flavor of the month, General Potemkin.

He had come back from the war after Catherine wrote him, pleading him to come back or so you’d heard through gossip. You weren’t sure but it sounded fairly accurate. Not far behind were Paul and Wilhelmina as well as Count Razumovsky. You saw her eyes on Razumovsky, sure he said something to stifle a laugh from her. Paul looked displeased with how much attention she was paying to him as they entered the party.

Your heart skipped a beat as he entered the room, the staff bowing to him and his mother. You did the same, his glance meeting yours. He went and talked to others as you served wine and champagne to the guests. He kept glancing at you, making you feel nervous. After the party, you’d help his wife get ready for bed and then you’d be free—until you were called on. Most often, you were left alone through the night even though you weren’t able to sleep, your mind reeling.

“Um some wine please for Count Razumovsky and I?”, his wife called as she shook her empty glass at you.

Paul was busy speaking with his mother, presumably arguing with her.

You wasted no time in grabbing the bottle of wine and going over to her and Razumovsky. You smiled easily and began pouring the wine. His wife eyed you, studying you. You felt like a bug under a microscope, imagining every possible imperfection you could have had—your dress, your hair, minimal make-up. You were going to do your best to not let her see you struggling.

“Thank you. That’s all for now.”, she narrowed her eyes at you.

“Yes, your highness.”, you nodded.

You had time to really get a good look at Razumovsky and he was not at all attractive. No comparison to Paul in your opinion. You cleared your throat returning to your spot in the ballroom. Paul looked frustrated after finishing his conversation with his mother—one you sure he would recount for you later tonight. The thought gave you butterflies. It had been so long since you had spent time with Paul.

The party seemed to go well. It was nearing the end of the evening and the Empress requested a boastful, loud Russian song to be played by the band. It started slow, a true Russian waltz. You eyed the Empress, beginning to dance with Potemkin, encouraging everyone else to join in. Maria came closer to you, feeling confident they weren’t much worried about wine or food now. Potemkin took Catherine by the hand, beginning to waltz with her.

This seemed to displease most of the other men—jealousy you presumed. Your eyes immediately panned to Paul who offered for Wilhelmina’s hand to dance. Part of it infuriated you but you understood—appearances had to be kept. She took it and they began waltzing, the entire room doing it like clockwork.

“Looks fun.”, Maria eyed them.

“Mhmm.”, you agreed.

Paul eyed you each time you came into his view, you just offered him a small smile. In a few hours, you’d be in his room once again. Just like old times. You weren’t sure if you felt prepared, but you’d have to be.

______________________________________________________

The party had winded down, most everyone working together quickly to dissemble what you all had worked so hard to assemble in the first place. Your duty was to go back to Wilhelmina’s chambers and help her prepare for bed. You once again knocked on her door.

“Come in.”, she called.

You opened her door, entering the room. You curtsied to her once more before coming behind her.

“Nice party, wasn’t it?”, she asked you quietly.

You hadn’t expected her to talk to you. Especially after breakfast.

“Yes, very lovely.”, you agreed, beginning to undo her dress.

She sighed, something visibly on her mind. You weren’t going to poke or prod. Once again, it was none of your business when it came to their marriage or their extra-marital affairs—except if you became involved with Paul again. She didn’t say much more to you, just making small talk as you helped her prepare for bed. A knock came on her door. She invited the person in.

It was her same friend from earlier. You were almost done. All you had to do was organize her dresses back before you left and you’d be free for the night.

“I saw Count Razumovsky.”, her friend teased.

You pretended not to hear anything, continuing to organize her dresses and brush the fabric with your hands to make sure there were no rips or imperfections.

“Indeed, something else, isn’t he?”, Wilhelmina laughed.

“Very nice. He compliments you much more than that husband of yours.”, her friend giggled.

Your eyes widened as you organized her shoes back to how they were.

“You think so?”, you heard the smile in her voice.

Your assumption was proved almost at that moment. You finished organizing her dresses and shoes before turning around.

“You’re dismissed for the night, Y/N. Thank you.”, his wife eyed almost as if she dared you to mention this to anyone.

You nodded and bowed. “Thank you, your highness.”

You quickly grabbed the door handle.

“Now, show me the latest letter.”, her friend giggled excitedly.

You closed the door behind you, moving away from her door quickly. You looked over your shoulder, to make sure no one else was around—especially not Paul. Your chest heaved as you walked back down the corridor, dimly lit with candles. Your steps echoed down the long hallway. Snow was falling outside, Russian winters were always most brutal and unforgiving. In a month, you’d be able to visit your mom and dad. You were excited and missed them desperately.

“Miss Y/N?”, the maid’s boss, Larisa eyed you.

“Yes?”, you asked, pushing down a gulp.

“Prince Paul requests your services. He request some wine and his pillows fluffed to his liking.”

You nodded. Could he really not fluff his own damn pillows? Was he that much of a drama queen? This was the moment of truth. Maria eyed you widely and you gave her a glance, telling her not to go there. However, she still wore a smirk. You grabbed the bottle of wine and a glass from the kitchen, and Maria came over to you.

“Prince Paul wants you?”, she asked.

“I’m sure I’m the only one he’s not completely alienated or perhaps the only one not busy.”, you ignored her, gathering a serving tray.

“I’m not busy.”, Maria stated.

“You mostly help the Empress.”, you responded. “They’re breaking you in with her.”

Maria sighed. “I still think he fancies you.”

You came back up, sitting the tray on the counter before placing the bottle of Paul’s favorite wine and the single glass on the tray. “Maria, you’ve got to stop saying that.”, you shushed her.

“Just stating the obvious.”, she sighed.

“I’ll be back. Wish me luck.”, you sighed as you grabbed the tray, balancing it perfectly as you sat off down the same familiar corridor, except you took a right instead of left to go to Paul’s chambers. Your heart began to beat faster as you neared his door. The same familiar feeling coming back to you as if you had just done this yesterday. But in reality, it had been seventeen months. You kept track of such.

You took a deep breath, clearing your throat before removing one hand from underneath the tray, careful to keep the balance. Bringing your hand up to the door, the nerves really began to sit in. Your hand was shaking as you knocked on his door, almost praying there would be no answer.

“Come in.”, his voice was sharp, assertive.

You took the same shaking hand and opened the door knob, him coming into view. He was sitting on his bed, that obnoxious wig was gone and the makeup removed from his face, leaving his natural form.

“Your wine, sir.”, you eyed him as you sat it down on the table near his bed.

He nodded. “Thank you.”

You popped the cork on the wine, before grabbing his glass and pouring the wine, leaving it on the tray for him.

“Anything else, your highness?”, you eyed him.

His eyes looked up at yours as he scoffed at your words. “Did you really think I just called you in here for wine?”

“No.”

“Then why ask me that?”, he stood up, grabbing the glass, taking a swig before inching closer to you.

You shrugged easily, feeling very vulnerable. “I don’t know.”

Paul nodded, taking another drink of his wine. “Do you know how much I’ve thought about you?”

You shook your head, having trouble meeting his eyes now that you were right in front of him.

“I’ve practically driven myself mad thinking about you. I don’t like admitting that stuff you know.”, he eyed you.

You nodded sheepishly.

“Are you not going to speak to me now? Was it my little show at breakfast?”, he asked.

Now that the moment was here, you were having an issue bringing yourself to face him and face the situation. It was the first time you could ask him questions. Part of you feared some of the answers.

“No.”, you stared down at the floor.

“Look at me, then.”, Paul grabbed your chin, tilting it to view him. Your face was just mere inches from his, his touch sending chills down your spine.

The fireplace was warm in his chambers, much warmer than your room. You took a deep sigh, looking into his brown eyes. The fire burning almost just as high as both of your desire for one another. You almost mewled under his touch but refused to be swayed so easily. He had hurt you—done damage to you and part of you wondered if he could undo it. You’d never know until you gave it a try.

“Paul, maybe this was—a mistake.”, you choked out, trying to blink back the impending tears forming in your eyes.

His eyes changed from concern and care to confusion. “A mistake?”

“I’ve just been thinking….”, you trailed off.

“About?”

“What if someone finds out about us? I saw how mad she got when you were staring at breakfast.”, you eyed him.

“Did it appear that I gave a fuck? Who would find out? We can keep a good secret.”

A secret. The word made your heart drop. It was hard loving Paul in secret. You’d done it before. Were you going to do it again? You were so unsure of yourself.

“A secret.”, you smiled, it quickly turning into a frown.

Paul sighed, visibly seeing his response was not one you wanted to hear.

“We were a secret for a long time, Paul. But I was apparently not important enough to be informed of your engagement.”, a hint of venom in your tone.

All of your emotions were finally allowed to come to a head, and you finally being able to express them to someone. You had held everything in up to this point minus the countless nights you cried alone. Paul eyed you, his eyes narrowing. He opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it, rethinking his words wisely.

“It wasn’t like that.”, he breathed.

“Really? So the first news I received of it was your engagement dinner?”, you asked, crossing your arms, turning away from him.

The tension was thick in the air. You looked out the window from his bedroom, the snow falling thicker now. You could see it beginning to lay on the ground.

“I’m sorry for that. I wasn’t sure how to tell you. It wasn’t like it was my decision to get married!”, he defended, raising his voice.

You turned to view him. “Why did you, then?”

“My mother insisted. You know how she is. In case you don’t, ask your mother.”

“So you just fucked me until you were going to decide when it was the right time to tell me of your engagement?”

Paul curved his fist, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, doing his best not to blow up. Especially at you. His entire life was frustrating and it was growing impossible to continue to deal with it. His own wife was ignoring him. His mother treated him like a child when he was clearly old enough to be on the council. He was visibly frustrated, wanting to burst at the seams.

“No, I wanted to continue things with you.”, he resolved, opening his fist and ungritting his teeth.

You sighed. “I broke it off for the both of us.”

Paul laughed sarcastically, taking another drink of his wine. “For the both of us to be miserable?”

“No, to protect your marriage and protect my parents.”, you responded.

He went over and sat down on his bed. “My marriage is a facade or so my mother tells me.”

You quietly walked over to his bed, taking a seat beside him. “Why do you say that?”

He took the last sip of his wine, sitting the glass back down on the silver tray before looking up at you. “Tell me something and be honest with me.”

You nodded, encouraging him to go on. “Yes?”

“What really kept Wilhelmina this morning? I’m sure it wasn’t because she was innocently gossiping with her friend Anastasia.”, he eyed you.

A sigh escaped you. “If she finds out I’ve told you—”

“She won’t. I promise.”, he took your hand easily.

You looked down, eyeing his hand in yours. Your watery eyes looked back up at Paul’s. You could just imagine what your mother would say about this scandalous act you were committing.

“Um, well your friend, Count Razumovsky was mentioned.”, you were easing him in.

His eyes widened. “Razumovsky?”, he repeated.

You nodded. “And there were mentions of letters….somewhere in a drawer she keeps locked. I’m not sure if she writes him or he writes her. Maybe both.”

Paul appeared to be a little genuinely surprised by the bombshell you had just dropped.

“Mother was right.”

He rubbed his face with his free hand, his jaw ticking with anger. You could just see the rage building inside of him.

“I’m sorry, Paul.”

He looked up at you before laughing hysterically. “Sorry for what? Exposing my whore of a wife, don’t worry. The only horrid thing is I owe my mother an apology.”

You both sat in silence for a moment. His other hand is still in yours.

“I know it still must be hard.”

Paul sneered easily. “No, hard was being deprived of this—of you.”

His words caused butterflies in your stomach. Your brain hardly had time to process his words before he raised your chin without warning, kissing you deeply. You had missed his touch—his kisses more than anything. You melted into the kiss with him, resting an arm back on his bed to keep yourself from falling back onto his bed, feeling weak.

“Paul-”, you interjected through a kiss.

“Hm?”, he hummed in your mouth.

“Should-we-really-do-this—again?”, you asked in-between kisses.

“An eye for an eye seems fair to me.”, he spoke before his lips met yours again.

Your arm finally gave out, Paul noticing and seizing the opportunity. Your kiss was broken, falling back onto his bed—the softest sheets you’d ever felt in your entire life. Paul climbed on top of you, towering over you. You felt his breath on your face as he began placing kisses on your cheeks, trailing down your chin and neck before reaching your chest. You had missed this so badly.

Even though the room was warm and toasty, goosebumps still appeared on your delicate, sensitive skin.

“Let’s get you out of this dress, yes?”, he whispered against your skin before he placed a kiss, sending chills up your spine.

You nodded as you sat back up, Paul beginning to unbutton the back of your dress, revealing your corset. You reached behind your back easily, loosening the ribbon holding it together, keeping eye contact with him, a smirk playing off your lips. He smirked back, realizing you wanted this as much if not more than he did. Your dress and corset fell to the floor, leaving you exposed. You took your hair down easily. Paul’s eyes widened.

“I think your breasts have gotten fuller.”, he commented.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Well, perhaps. It’s only been seventeen months. Maybe you’ve just forgotten them.”

He smirked, coming over to you, cupping one of your breasts in his hands, causing a slight moan out of you. “Believe me, I’ve not forgotten.”

His words caused a smile to spread across your lips. He took his fingers, dragging them across your nipple, and began to twist it, causing you to mewl under his touch with a moan. A smirk spread across his lips. He knew then and there that he still had you under his spell to a degree. You closed your eyes, letting out a soft exhale. He looked down at you, smirking. It made your stomach turn, a hot feeling pooling deep down inside.

“Paul….”, you sighed.

“Tired of being teased? Beg the future Emperor of Russia to fuck you.”

Desire burned in his dark, brown eyes. You swallowed a gulp, looking up at him. He didn’t break his stare. It ignited something in you—you all in this compromising position.

“Your majesty, please fuck me.”

Majesty would be how Paul would be referred to once he ascended to the throne, becoming the Emperor of Russia. You could tell this stroked his ego.

The words rolled off your tongue like honey. Paul smiled, shedding the minimal amount of clothes he was wearing, clearly preparing for bed. You bit your lip as you watched his member spring free. He was fully nude standing in front of you. He smiled smugly as he took his cock in his hands, beginning to stroke it, clearly teasing you. Your had your legs pulled up, waiting for him to do what you were begging him to do.

His eyes rolled back into his head as he stroked himself a few times, letting out a few moans.

“You—know—still—doesn’t feel as good as when I’m inside of you.”, he commented, clearly struggling to maintain his composure.

“Really?”, you asked sheepishly.

He nodded before easily gripping your thighs, parting them, preparing you for him. “Yes.”

You felt him brush his member against your entrance, running it up and down your aching clit.

“Paul.”

“Ask correctly.”, Paul commanded before lifting his hand up before it made a sharp, stinging contact with your hip, causing you to yelp.

“Your majesty, please fuck me.”, you begged, your breathing hitched.

He smirked. “Do you know what an honor it is to have the future Emperor of Russia fuck you?”

You nodded. “Yes, your majesty.”

He hummed in satisfaction as he ran his cock against your clit once more, causing you to mewl under his touch. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“My mother would fall over dead if she heard you say that.”

You smirked easily, holding your breath slightly, waiting for him to give in and fuck you. He teased you two more times before finally granting your wish—what you had been begging him for. He took himself in his hands, giving his cock a final stroke before shoving himself deep inside of you. You moaned loudly in response, missing this feeling of being full with him.

“Did you miss it?”, he smirked.

You nodded. “Yes.”

He began thrusting himself into you, his pace nice and steady. He steadied himself, sinking his fingertips in the skin on your thigh. You wrapped your legs lazily around his waist, him working himself deep inside of you, managing to hit the right places, gaining moans from you with each thrust. Paul could see your face becoming flushed.

“Paul…..”

“Yes?”

“I’m getting—close.”, you moaned, closing your eyes,

You just knew this was stroking his ego. “Cum for me. Cum for the future Emperor of Russia.”, he groaned, continuing to fuck himself into you.

You felt yourself reaching your climax, the feeling pooling in the pit of your stomach. It was an ache you would never forget. Your toes began to curl a tail-tale sign your impending orgasm was near.

“Paul—”

“Cum for me.”, he growled.

That final sentence was all it took to send you over the edge.

“I’m cum-cumming now.”, you hiccuped, gripping his bedsheets.

He smirked as your Venus’s honeypot tightened around him, the walls squeezing his cock. Your legs tightened around him, a final moan escaping your lips. He groaned, closing his eyes but he continued to fuck himself into you.

“My turn.”, he groaned.

You lay on his bed, hair sprawled out on his sheets, feeling your eyes growing heavy. He could see you were already fucked out and he loved it—it gave him a sense of power. His thrusts became faster and deeper, more sensitive than before since you reached your climax. You gave small whimpers with each thrust. His breathing was hitching with each thrust, a sign he was coming close to a release. You both knew each other all too well.

“I’m gonna cum—are you ready?”, he asked, groaning.

You nodded. “Yes.”

“Yes what?”, he groaned.

“Yes, your majesty.”

Those words must have sent him over the edge. His hips stuttered, ceasing his thrusts immediately. His chest was heaving as you felt his cock pump his release into you. He stayed like that until he was satisfied he was finished before pulling out of you, causing a whimper to escape your lips at the loss of contact. He sighed as he fell on the bed beside you.

“Did you enjoy that?”, he asked looking at you.

You nodded. “Yes.”

He smiled as he took you into his arms. The contact shocked you but you allowed him to do it, realizing you were becoming wrapped back into this affair with him. You watched Paul’s expression easily, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Paul, I’ve got to go.”, you sat up easily.

“You can’t stay for a little while? Take a small nap with me?”, he sighed, visibly annoyed at the loss of you in his arms.

“Morning will be here soon. And I absolutely can’t be caught in your chambers.”

He sighed as he watched you stand up, visibly weak in the knees and trying to grab your clothes. You made quick work of it, getting them back on almost as fast as Paul took them off. He pulled his sheets around him before he sat up in the bed, watching you.

“Tomorrow night?”, he asked.

You looked back at him, smirking. “Tomorrow.”

#prince paul #prince paul x reader #catherine the great #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn #stranger things #joseph x reader #joseph quinn character #prince paul x fem reader

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duckprintspress · 4 months

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32 of Our Favorite Sci-Fi Reads for National Science Fiction Day

Duck Prints Press LOVES kicking off the new year with one of our favorite annual recommendation lists: science fiction stories (ideally queer, but it wasn’t required) to celebrate National Science Fiction Day! For this year, 14 Duck Prints Press contributors suggested a whopping 32 awesome science fiction books. Note that there’s no overlap with last year (by design) so make sure you also check out Our Ten Favorite Science Fiction Reads of 2022 for some more titles to add to your 2024 TBR.

Our 2024 Science Fiction Recs:

The Kaiju Preservation Society by John Scalzi

Hench by Natalie Zina Walschots

Little Mushroom by Shisi

Always Human by Ari North

More Than We Deserve by Nicola Kapron

Sorcerer to the Crown by Zen Cho

Ocean’s Echo by Everina Maxwell

Aurora Rising by Amie Kaufman

Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao

CrashCourse by Wilhelmina Baird

Light from Uncommon Stars by Ryka Aoki

We Have Always Been Here by Lena Nguyen

Emergent Properties by Aimee Ogden

Victories Greater than Death by Charlie Jane Anders

Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir

The Fever King by Victoria Lee

All Systems Red by Martha Wells

Infomocracy by Malka Older

Zero Sum Game by S. L. Huang

Binti by Nnedi Okorafor

Unconquerable Sun by Kate Elliott

Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers

This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar & Max Gladstone

Trigun and Trigun Maximum by Yasuhiro Nightow

Legend of the Galactic Heroes by Yoshiki Tanaka & Katsumi Michihara

In the Lives of Puppets by T. J. Klune

Mega Man by Ian Flynn & Pat Spaz Spaziante

Mega Man Megamix by Hitoshi Ariga

Ghost in the Shell by Masamune Shirow

Once & Future by A. R. Capetta & Cory McCarthy

Five-Twelfths of Heaven by Melissa Scott

The Big Sigma by Joseph R. Lallo

Want to come read some of these books with us? Join our 2024 Queer Book Challenge on Storygraph! One of our challenges there is to read a queer science fiction book, and there’s a lot on this list that’d count!

You can check out all our sci-fi recs on this Goodreads shelf.

Wish you could contribute to these lists? Back our Patreon, join our Discord, and you can!

#duck prints press #national science fiction day #book recs #queer book recs #book recommendations #recommendation list

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thewheelofrp · 2 years

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@chiefohara

It had been a long night for the Queen but she was use to working at odd hours. She didn’t mind it at all this time because she was getting the preparations in order for the celebrations when they arrive. Their Monarch had finally found her consort which had her people very excited. When Wilhelmina was happy her people were prosperous so Kelly’s arrival marked an era of great blessings.

Once they were in orbit around the homeworld Wil slipped back into her chambers, shaking off her robes before climbing into bed next to her sleeping lover. Kelly looked so peaceful she couldn’t bring herself to wake her even though she was told she could. After making it clear she didn’t want them disturbed she snuggled in behind Kelly, resting her eyes until her consort woke naturally.

#chiefohara #closed starter

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hitchell-mope · 7 months

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Hypothetical titles for season nineteen of 88

Watch what happens. Season premiere. Part one. The precinct teams up with the other precincts all over the state when thousands of expensive Cartier watches get stolen from right under the proprietors noses. First appearance of Divine Love Konadu-Sun as Theo Wilmington.

The art of horology. Season premiere. Part two. Armed with Clyde’s knowledge, and a lot more than a few puns at Lucia’s expense, Thornton leads his team up against The Horologist.

Old mother Hubbard. The remains of a champion Great Dane are found in Central Park. And all signs point to his owner

The testimony of a college bound warlock. A Familiar approaches Findlay to help convince her human to testify at a murder trial. Guest starring Michelle Gomez as Alpine Affleck and Miles Brown as Atticus Alderman

The wrong Holmes. With the help of the deceaseds Spectre. The team investigates a fratricide that turns into a should’ve been assisted sororicide. Guest starring Tia Mowry, Tahj Mowry and Tamera Mowry as Martine, Sherman and Eunice Holmes.

Mumsies the word. Leland’s ex wife and Zoey’s estranged mother Bernadette Sellars (Minnie Driver) stops by for a long overdue visit along with her new fiancé Morton Simmons (Lee Pace)

Four Jews in a room bitching. Lysander takes Tina, Drummond, Odessa, Clyde and David to the bar mitzvah of his favourite Oxford professors son. Where him and the other three men promptly get locked in the coat check room while a robbery’s in progress.

The family disappointment. The real reason for Bernadette and Morton’s nuptials is revealed when an immigration agent drops by Fifth Avenue. First appearance of Paget Brewster as Agent Wilhelmina Wallace.

Condolences. The Five Families of New York gather together once more for the funeral of Jacob’s mother. Second and last appearance of Bellamy Young as Adelaide Spratt

Truth will out. Having had enough of Bernadette’s charade. Delaney tells Zoey the truth about everything.

Hogwarts Holdings. Findlay can’t resist sitting in on one of Clyde’s business meetings. Which surprisingly helps Clyde gain a new ally against his sister. Guest starring Rupert Grint as himself.

Five alarm fire. Midseason finale. Part one. Solaris’s life is endangered when the NYFD headquarters explodes two weeks before Christmas with him a sixty other firefighters inside it.

Tag em and bag em. Midseason premiere. Part two. As Thornton and the team work to save the survivors of the explosion. Jones gets a visit from the director of the New York branch of the FBI. First appearance of Will Estes as FBI Director William Wallace.

The world’s oldest raver. Zoey gets a reality check when she throws her back out after she goes clubbing with Ethan.

Let a story be a story. Findlay finds herself at war with Arlene’s protege who’s trying to get a musical about Henry VIII cancelled on grounds of misogyny. Guest starring Sadie Sink as Chartreuse Addams.

Roulette. Chambers returns to ask Jacob’s help in a court case against a casino owner he owes money to. Guest starring Jack Black as Dionysus Morgan

Saxe Coburg Gotha. Part one. Findlay accompanies Tina back to England when the princess royal and her wife leak some personal news to tbd international press. Guest starring Rhianne Barreto as Rani Burton, Auli’i Cravalho as Aimee Davenport, Chris Pratt as Emerson Davenport and Meera Syal as the queen mother Nadine Burton

Threat level Hewitt. Part two. The queen mother will do anything to prevent history repeating itself. Even if it means irreparably destroying her relationship with her daughter. Guest starring Jack Whitehall as Tina’s older brother Lord Jasper Downey.

First flight. Theo starts flying independently and runs away after having enough of the fighting between Delaney, Bernadette, Findlay and Kimberly.

Yankees and Redcoats. A game of cat and mouse ensues at a cd signing by Tina’s celebrity crushes. Guest starring Finn Wolfhard as Yannick Keynes, Louis Partridge as his singing partner Radcliffe Coats and Hunter Doohan as their manager Hadley Dawson.

Pieta. Godfrey find himself getting sued by Jesse’s mother and stepfather for millennia of backpay in child support. Guest starring Sakina Jaffrey as Mary Carpenter, Alexander Siddig as Joseph Carpenter and Adria Arjona as Maggie Christensen.

The captain, the slut, her boyfriend and his mother. Thornton takes the lead when Ethan’s mother gets burgled. Meanwhile. The final preparations are underway for Sellers/Simmons “wedding”. Guest starring Catherine Keener as Dorothy Baum.

Who’ll catch the bride? Season finale. Part one. Bernadette and Morton’s sham wedding day arrives. And Delaney has a special present for the blushing schemer.

Why waste a wedding? Season finale. Part two. With Agent Wallace closing in, Bernadette tries to make sure her sham wedding goes off without a hitch. But she doesn’t count on Zoey coming to her senses. And that will be her downfall.

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kyliemilne · 3 years

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I love acting, so here’s a new list with actors/actresses roles! 2.4

Tiffani Thiessen

Saved By the Bell Universe: Kelly Kapowski-Morris

Beverly Hills 90210: Valerie Malone (season 5-10)

Alexa & Katie: Lori Mendoza

Fastlane: Wilhelmina Billie Chambers

White Collar: Elizabeth Burke

She Fought Alone (Tv Movie): Caitlin Rose

A Killer Among Friends (Tv Movie): Jenny Monroe

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garfieldstannie · 2 years

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Favorite and Least Favorite Characters in Each Season Of AHS

Murder House:

Favorites: Violet Harmon and Vivian Harmon

Least Favorite: Larry Harvey, Hayden McClaine and Ben Harmon

Asylum:

Favorites: Kit Walker, Grace Bertrand and Shelley

Least Favorite: Sister Mary Eunice McKee, Dr.Thredson and Johnny Morgan

Coven:

Favorites: Zoe Benson, Kyle Spencer and Cordelia Foxx

Least Favorite: The Axeman, Madison Montgomery, Spalding and Delphine

Freakshow:

Favorites: Amazon Eve, Paul, and Desiree Dupree

Least Favorite: Meep, Stanley and Maggie Esmerelda.

Hotel:

Favorites: Sally McKenna, John Lowell, Tristan Duffy, Liz Taylor and Ramona Royale

Least Favorite: Alex Lowell, and the children

Roanoke:

Least Favorite: All

Cult:

Favorites: Ally Mayfair-Richards and Beverly Hope

Least Favorite: Kai Anderson, Winter Anderson, Jack Samuels and Ivy Mayfair-Richards

Apocalypse:

Favorites: Wilhelmina Venable, Zoe Benson, Matt Nutter and Mallory

Least Favorite: Michael Langdon, the entire counsel except for that one guy

1984:

Favorites: Montana Duke, Xavier Pympton, Benjamin Richter, Donna Chambers and

Least Favorite: Margaret Booth and Brooke Thompson

#ahs fandom #ahs #american horror story #ahs coven #ahs cult #ahs hotel #ahs apocalypse #ahs asylum #ahs murder house #ahs 1984 #ahs roanoke

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madforfashiondude · 5 years

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High Museum Of Art And Dallas Museum Of Art To Present Pioneering Design Exhibition Exploring The Spectrum Of Sensory Experience

Debut of New Works by International Designers In Archibong, Matt Checkowski, Misha Kahn, the Ladd Brothers Laurie Haycock Makela, and Yuri Suzuki speechless: different by design Opens at the Dallas Museum of Art in November 2019, Travels to the High Museum of Art in April 2020

The High Museum of Art (High) (Atlanta, Ga.) and the Dallas Museum of Art (DMA) (Dallas, Texas) announced the…

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#Anne Cox Chambers Exhibition Fund #Anne Cox Chambers Foundation #Barbara Stewart Exhibition Fund #Dallas Museum Of Art #Dorothy Smith Hopkins Exhibition Endowment Fund #Eleanor McDonald Storza Exhibition Endowment Fund #Forward Arts Foundation Exhibition Endowment Fund #Helen S. Lanier Endowment Fund #High Museum of Art #Ini Archibong #Isobel Anne Fraser–Nancy Fraser Parker Exhibition Endowment Fund #Joel Knox and Joan Marmo #John H. and Wilhelmina D. Harland Exhibition Endowment Fund #Katherine Murphy Riley Special Exhibition Endowment Fund #Laurie Haycock Makela #Louise Sams and Jerome Grilhot #Lucinda W. Bunnen #Marcia and John Donnell #Margaretta Taylor Exhibition Fund #Margot and Danny McCaul #Matt Checkowski #Misha Kahn #Mr. and Mrs. Baxter Jones #Northside Hospital #Peggy Foreman #Robin and Hilton Howell #Rod Westmoreland #Sarah and Jim Kennedy #Sarah Schleuning #speechless: Beyond Sense

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 3 years

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Ugly Betty and Galavant should have a crossover

I’m back on my nonsense about two should be beloved ABC shows even though one hasn’t been on for years and one was unfairly cancelled. Yes I’m talking about Ugly Betty and Galavant.

For one thing they both have strong female leads who initially seem optimistic and naive but possess great inner strength when dealing with theit crazy friends, even more outrageous adventures and more. Besides that, they have dreams and work hard to achieve them whether it be becoming a writer or saving their kingdom.

There is the sweet handsome man candy who when he falls for a woman, he falls deep and loyally in love. Will doing anything for them and for his friends. Secretly kinda a softie. Also has to deal with insanity every single day even though they just want a normal life.

The level headedness and stylish flair of these two gay icons (okay Sid wasn’t confirmed but the whole leading a gay army was basically a confirmation right?)

The best unlikely friends trio

The out of this worlds diva we love to hate then love again

Plus both shows had the best guest stars (Lindsey Lohan! Victoria Beckham! John Stamos! Weird Al!) and such meaningful lessons on love, fashion and relationships.

I know it’s not the most likely crossover, but these shows are so good I’d love to see it. Plus Ugly Betty never had a musical episode, such a shame when it would have been such fun with them. And Galavant has a few anchronism anyway, so why not bring the peeps from Mode to work for the high lord of the D’Dew, he who accessorizes and does fashion on the side.

Much more likely would be a crossover of Ugly Betty and that ‘00s Nickelodeon True Jackson VP. It took me forever to realize it was like a tamer version of it, True was totally Betty and Amanda was Nick’s answer to Wilhelmina right down to their semi bonding episode moments. I don’t know the other similarities but they were the main ones I thought of right now.

Galavant, I can see crossing over with Dwight in Shining Armor. For those who don’t know, it’s a recent show, 2019 I think, and as excerpted from wiki... “Dwight is a present-day teenager who falls into an ancient, underground chamber. He lands on Gretta, a gothic princess who has been magically sleeping for a thousand years. Dwight inadvertently kisses Gretta, breaking the magic spell.

This action also awakens her court magician, Baldric, as well as scores of medieval villains, and makes Dwight her de facto champion until her hordes of enemies are defeated.

Dwight must deal with new role as protector while helping Gretta assimilate into high school life.”

It’s very family friendly and I absolutely adore Dwight. He’s so kind, and compassionate and adorkable.🥰 They are a classic medieval characters come to the real world but actually realistic in how they won’t ever fit in and they never lose their thous and thees no matter how Dwight tries. And Dwight doesn't become the conventional knight champion which I find is a nice subversion. So it and Galavant crossing over would be easy and fun I think.

#ugly betty #galavant #true Jackson vp #dwight in shining armor #betty suarez #amanda tannean #marc st. james #justin suarez #wilhelmina slater #daniel meade #gary galavant #princess isabella of valencia #sid #madalena

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chiefohara · 2 years

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Queen Wilhelmina had been trying for a child since the moment they landed. Kelly’s job as Wilhelmina’s consort was to produce children for her and to be her lover. Kelly had grown into her role and had bonded with Mina and know they were true lovers.

They had been mating every morning and night and any chance in-between. They even took a road trip to escape the palace and have some time alone, which helps make them lovers and even bond on a spiritual level. Kelly even got a flower named and made solely for her. It was in her hair when they returned to a thunderous crowd upon their return.

The next morning, The suns shined into the royal chambers and Kelly awoke, sitting up and yawning as she stretched. Her hair had gotten longer and was half way down her back for the first time in her life thanks to the juices she drank to make her more fertile. Kelly smiled at the suns and then looked down at the sleeping Queen below.

Something felt different inside Kelly this morning. She wasn’t sure what. Probably just her need for Wil’s seed.

Kelly moved so she could be between her legs and wake Wil up with their morning ritual. But as she took the first lick and was about to take her love in her mouth.... Kelly’s eyes widened and she ran as fast as she could to the bathroom and threw up in the toilet.

@thewheelofrp

#thewheelofrp #queen wilhelmina #sorry but I found this funny for some reason XD #hope this is a good start

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miss-agliz · 2 years

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Chapter 1: Arcturus and Fleamont

Lord Arcturus Black of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black had been called late at night by one of his closest allies, Lord Stephen Burke. The Floo-call lasted well over half an hour, but the news required it: the Minister of Magic had died suddenly.

Wilhelmina Tuft had been a good Minister after Grindelwald's war, helping the magical community to rebuild the hurting economy and introducing nation-wide festivals, to celebrate the new era of peace. She had known how to keep the old families happy while pushing forward some more progressive and tolerant reforms. It certainly was a grave loss.

The next morning, Lord Black didn't even have breakfast before Floo-ing away from Black Manor to the Ministry for an emergeny Wizengamot session. The house-elves had done their job and neatly set the plum-coloured robes and important files for easier acces while on a rush.

The entrance fireplaces were roaring with green flames as they let in dozens of wizards and witches in formal Wizengamot attire. The mass of people only going in one direction: towards the Chamber of the Wizengamot.

"Lord Black! Lord Black!" a masculine voice in the crowd said. But, it wasn't until the caller reached him that Lord Black noticed it.

"Lord Burke, thank you from calling yesterday" said the old man ", it certainly was helpful information, if not we would have nothing to add to today's session."

"Thanks to you, my Lord, for taking care of it. Shall we enter?"

Lord Arcturus Black had spent the past decade as part of the Wizengamot, since his father had fallen ill, and thirty more years in various ministerial department, but accostumed as he could be to the room, it still took the air from his lungs for a few seconds after entering. The obsidian walls and floor sucked the light from the hundreds of torches that lit the room; next to the door were the stairs to the gallery where the citizens, visitors and journalists could seat and watch the sessions take place, in the middle was a mahogany stand, from where the Chief Warlock conducted the session, and three chairs: one for tehe Chief Warlock, one for the Minister of Magic, and one for the Scribe; on the end of the room there were 75 chairs organized in three levels and forming a half-moon looming over the Chief Warlock's stand and split through the middle for the stairs, on the first level sat those who represented the 21 Most Ancient and Noble Houses, the second level was for those of the 25 Ancient and Noble Houses, and the third level was shared between the 13 Ancient Houses and the 15 elected members.

There was only a chair next to his, just one family was more powerful than the Black's: the Peverell family. Last name long stinguished, it now run on the Potter line, a bunch of muggle-loving barely wizards that had managed to grab hold of two other respectable pure-blood families apart of their own. Arcturus rememberd his father complaining about the late Henry Potter, and how he had managed to woo the last member of the Fleamont line. Now was Arcturus' turn to deal with the Potter siblings.

The oldest of the Potter duo was Fleamont, a tall and slightly tanned man with gray well-groomed hair and wrinkles that showed how much he had laughed in his youth; he had married young and for love, to a woman called Euphemia Mitry, but they hadn't had any luck in conceiving a child. The younger brother was Charlus Potter, a pale and thin man with shoulder-length black curly hair who had managed to look youthfull in his 50 years of age, five less than his brother; he married the scariest most out-spoken witch of his year, a Slytherin called Dorea Black, and had a seven year old boy called Ignotus, soon to be introduced into society.

"Welcome Wizengamot Lords and Ladys to this emergency meeting" Dumbledore's voice, Wizengamot's Chief Warlock and Hogwarts Headmaster, resonated through the spatious room ", I call in 1959's 11th session into order. Today we're discussing our collective response to the death of our Minister of Magic: Wilhelmina Tuft. If you want to talk now its your time."

Lord Fleamont Potter rose from his seat with the wand lit, and started talking when given the turn. "My sincerest condolences to the Tuft family, we feel for your loss, may she be blessed by the skies. Now, to the matter at hand, The Houses of Peverell and Fleamont propose a week of nation-wide mourning while the new elections are being organized".

"All in favour, please raise your wands" indicated Dumbledore. The response was unanimously in favour of Lord Peverell's proposition.

#Agliz's WWAU #harry potter #harry potter au #harry potter fanfiction

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zamoimagines · 4 years

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This Means War

Word Count: 3,769

Pairings: Venable x Reader, Cordelia x Reader

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Warnings: None

Summary: You’re sent to Outpost 3 on behalf of the coven with Coco to protect Mallory. A spell is put over you so that you forget anything you ever knew of being a witch, including all of your memories of your girlfriend, Cordelia. Without the Supreme and being confined to the Outpost after a nuclear missile launch, you feel empty for what seems to be no reason at all. That’s until a new woman, Miss Wilhelmina Venable takes an interest in you.

A/N: You sluts are gonna live for this shit. I’m extremely proud of this chapter, and I’m excited for you guys to read it. Let me know what ya’ll think ;)

The Outpost was a much warmer place with Venable by your side. When you had first arrived, this seemed like the coldest place on Earth. Lifeless. Depressing. That kiss had changed everything. Suddenly, the corridors seemed much brighter. You were so much nicer and talkative toward the other residents. Hell, the mineral cubes even tasted better. Love had such a wonderful effect on you. It was noticeable that Wilhelmina was becoming happier too. She’d stopped yelling at every little thing, and she’d even become much more lenient. It was obvious when she merely started laughing at one of Coco’s hissy fits.

“This whole place is bullshit! I swear to fucking god if you don’t get me some decent shampoo, I’m going to lose my fucking mind!” she screamed.

All Venable could do was chuckle to herself. No harsh words, no punishments. Just laughter. When Wilhelmina left the room, the blonde looked at you with a crazed expression.

“What the shit just happened?”

“Perhaps she’s just loosening up a little.” You shrugged to her.

Coco squinted her eyes. “There’s something weird going on… I can smell it.”

“No, you can smell that disgusting perfume you’ve been wearing.” Mr. Gallant retorted.

Coco shrieked as you tried hard not to giggle. Mr. Gallant was already cackling. Mallory, one of the Greys that often joined in their conversations, was trying her best not to be unprofessional. You could see a smile crack on her face.

“I will fucking end you!”

“Oh, I’m shaking, really!” He mocked. The three of them had become entertaining to you, rather than annoying like they had always been. You might have even considered them to be good friends of yours now.

The Outpost was starting to finally feel like home. Every night after all the others drifted off to sleep, you would sneak off to Venable’s room to sleep in her chambers. Some nights were just as steamy as the first you’d spent with her. Others were gentler, in which you would stay up all night listening to her read to you or talk about everything and nothing. Wilhelmina was slowly becoming your other half. It didn’t take long for you to completely forget about the mysterious woman that had been haunting your dreams months before.

Everything was growing to some sort of normal. You could admit that you were finally happy once again.

One night, you entered Venable’s room excited to see her after a long day of her working. She’d stayed distant all day but you just figured that she was busy doing things for the Cooperative. You put on the prettiest smile for her.

“Mina!” you sang out as you closed the door behind you. “I missed you at dinner-”

You were caught off guard. Usually, when you came at night, her eyes would sparkle. This was much different. She wouldn’t even meet your gaze. The redhead was pacing back and forth, her silk robe dragging heavily behind her. She hadn’t even taken her hair down yet. Something was most definitely wrong.

Slowly, you made your way up to her and touched her shoulder gently.

“Mina? Are you okay?”

Her face was ridden with fear. You had never seen her this disturbed before.

“Someone’s coming, Y/N.”

“What do you mean?” you replied, “I thought no one else was alive?”

“The head of the Cooperative is arriving tomorrow. He intends to conduct interviews on everyone that resides here… All of the Greys, the other residents, Mead, you and I-” She bit her lower lip nervously. “Something isn’t right. I can feel it.”

You took her hand into your own. Placing a soft kiss to her knuckles, you managed to get her to crack a small grin.

“Y/N- You’re so good to me.” Wilhelmina pulled you in close and let her arms wrap around you tightly. You rested your head in her neck.

“You must promise me something.”

“What is it?”

Her chin leaned gently against your hair. “Promise me you won’t go to your interview. I don’t care if this man is running this facility. I don’t trust him, and I have to keep you safe.” She gazed down at you as her hand cupped your cheek.

“Promise me that you’ll stay away from him. No matter what he says, no matter how persistent he is, you must promise me that you will not partake in an interview.”

You weren’t sure what to say. Seeing Venable this shaken up was scaring you. Wilhelmina Venable, fearless leader of the Apocalypse, was showing an emotion you’d never seen from her before; fright. Wilhelmina was frightened. If this woman was worried, then you were completely terrified.

“I-I promise, Mina.”

Wilhelmina pulled you into another tight hug.

“I’m going to do everything to keep you safe, Y/N. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

You wholeheartedly believed her. You trusted Venable with your life.

The next morning, everyone was up at the crack of dawn. Venable was back to her strict ways. It was very obvious to you that she was tense, and you were sure that the others could tell something was up.

“Venable, it’s too early for this shit-”

“Ms. Vanderbilt, I will NOT stand for your catty remarks. If you so much as breathe near me, so help me, I will have you in a straight jacket for the rest of your stay here. Do I make myself clear?”

Everyone was very taken aback. Coco couldn’t even reply. She just remained completely silent the rest of the morning.

A couple hours later, Venable called a mandatory meeting in the common room. Everyone did as they were told and made their way down immediately. No one wanted to be on her bad side today. You sat on the couch in the spot closest to where Venable was standing. Her posture was rigid, almost as cold as the day you met her. You wanted nothing more than to comfort her.

“As many of you may know, the Cooperative is running our operation. We are forever in debt to them for saving all of our lives. We should feel lucky out of all the people in the world, we were the ones they showed mercy to,” she began, “We should also feel honored that the head of the Cooperative has decided to pay us a visit. May I present to you all Mr. Langdon, our savior.”

From the shadows, a well dressed man slithered his way by Wilhelmina. He had long hair, ice blue eyes, and an evil smile. Something in your gut told you this man was bad news. He almost made you want to flee for some odd reason. He made your blood boil and you barely even knew him.

“Hello.” He greeted everyone in a sly tone, “I’m Michael Langdon. I’m here for the next phase of business.”

“Business?” Coco piped up. “What business is there? The world ended.”

Venable shot a deadly look at her. Mr. Gallant surprisingly spoke up as well.

“She’s got a point. What else can there be?”

Michael flashed a smile to the pair.

“I’m so glad you asked. You see, this facility was only meant to be temporary. Our mission was to gather the lost souls that may survive all of the nuclear fallout,” he began, “You are the lost souls we needed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Coco muttered.

“It means that some of you will be coming with me to your new facility. A true safe haven. I will conduct an interview with each resident… And I expect all of you to speak with me.” He paused for a moment to gaze down at you. You could feel his piercing gaze, almost as if he could see right through your soul. You didn’t dare to make eye contact with him. All of a sudden, you felt a finger lift your chin.

His eyes were locked on you. Michael was studying you rather intently, making sure not to miss a single detail of your features. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Venable’s fingers twitching upon her cane. Her teeth were clenched tight together as she tried hard not to show any sort of weakness toward you.

“You look familiar… Don’t I know you from somewhere, little one?” Michael cooed as he brushed your hair behind your ear. His touch made you want to vomit.

“Ms. Y/L/N was one of the first to arrive. She doesn’t remember anyone from before the apocalypse.” Venable cut in.

“I see.” Michael’s gaze lingered. There was something about him, something absolutely foul. You knew him from somewhere. Langdon radiated malice and hate. His intentions were cruel rather than merciful.

“Will everyone go to the safe haven?” Dinah asked.

Michael left your side to step to the others. You were glad Dinah spoke when she did.

“Not all of you will be eligible. If your interview goes well, then expect a desirable outcome. If you don’t pass…” He grinned to himself. “Then you’ll be left behind.”

“Left behind as in stay here?” Coco laughed in disbelief, “I can’t be here! Not when there’s a utopia waiting for us!”

“Let’s hope you meet the requirements so you don’t stay and rot.”

His remark made Coco’s face twist in disgust. All of you were completely terrified.

“Interviews will begin immediately. Are there any volunteers to go first?”

Everyone remained silent. His head snapped in your direction.

“How about you, little one?”

Anxiety rushed over you as Venable’s eyes widened in horror. You opened your mouth to say something, though someone else spoke instead.

“I’ll go first!” Mr. Gallant cried out. You glanced over in his direction.

“I wanna get this over with anyway. Let me go.”

Michael raised a brow. “Very well. The rest of you may be dismissed.”

The man returned to the shadows to make his way to the spare office waiting for him. You mouthed a “thank you” to Mr. Gallant. He gave you a sympathetic smile before following Michael upstairs.

Once everyone had dispersed, you were alone with Venable. Wilhelmina instantly sat down next to you.

“Are you alright, my darling?”

“Mina, there is something just awful about him.”

“I know, my love.” She murmured as she gave you a tight hug. “I have a plan to get us out.”

“What do you mean?”

“Y/N, we can’t stay here. We’ll die if we don’t go.”

“But where will we go?”

“I know where the safe haven is. If we travel by foot and don’t stop, we’ll be there in two days.”

“Mina, what about radiation poisoning? What will we do about food? What if we die out there-”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take. If you want to live, you’re going to have to trust me.”

This was too much to take in all at once. On one hand, going outside of the Outpost was incredibly dangerous. Though staying inside would get you killed eventually. You realized that you didn’t have much of a choice.

“Okay. Tell me what to do.” You replied.

Her lips barely touched your ear as she whispered to you.

“Stay out of Langdon’s sight. I’ll keep him away from you as long as I can, but whatever you do, do not let him conduct an interview.” She squeezed your hand, “Halloween is tomorrow. Langdon wants us to have a celebration, we’ll sneak out while the party is happening.”

“What about the others?”

“Never mind them. Make sure to gather your things tonight, and pack light. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

You nodded to her. She kissed your cheek lovingly as a single tear fell from her eyes.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you so much.”

Your lips found her own as you kissed her. It was long, almost bittersweet.

“I love you too, Mina.”

-----

You weren’t sure how you’d done it, but you managed to stay out of Michael’s sight. Perhaps it was the fact that you’d locked yourself in your room for the rest of the evening. You were just grateful he’d never found you. Everything that you thought you might need was packed away, lightly, just as Venable had instructed. You were ready to run.

“Halloween?” Mr. Gallant spoke. Everyone at the breakfast table had smiling faces at the sound of a celebration. Even Venable managed to grin today.

“That’s right. We will be hosting a Halloween party this evening in the style of a Victorian Masquerade. At 6:30 sharp. The Cooperative has provided us with some gifts that will be dispersed during the festivities.” Wilhelmina explained.

“What kind of gifts?” Dinah asked.

“What does it matter? They’re gifts! When’s the last time any one of us was given something!” Coco giggled.

You were trying to be as excited as the others. It was hard to think that you’d be leaving all of them behind. As much as these people annoyed you at times, they had become like a little family to you. You’d never admit it but missing out on Coco’s temper tantrums or not being able to listen to Mallory’s stories was something you were going to miss dearly. Wilhelmina winked in your direction as the others began to chat amongst themselves about the evening ahead.

“I assume everyone is giddy about the party tonight?”

Michael appeared out of nowhere, staring at everyone around the table.

Fuck, fuck, fuck you thought to yourself. He was already gawking at you.

“We’re stoked, Langdon!” Coco replied.

“I’m very glad,” he muttered and completely ignored her presence. “Ms. Y/L/N, I do believe we still have to conduct your interview.”

“O-Oh, are we still doing that?” You squeaked.

“Yes, little one. You missed your slot yesterday.”

“I’m sorry. I forgot all about it, that was my mistake.”

Michael sauntered over behind you and gripped your shoulders. His hands were strong, as if he could crush bones with them. A shiver ran up your spine.

“That’s quite alright, dove. Let’s just make sure to take care of it today.”

“Mr. Langdon, I don’t think conducting her interview today would be necessary.” Venable added. Her expression remained cool and collected, though you could tell that she could lunge at him at any second. “After all, today is a celebration. Perhaps the rest of the interviews can wait until tomorrow.”

“It won’t take but a moment. Besides, hers is the last interview of the residents.”

“That’s not true!” Dinah said, “You still haven’t given me an interview.”

Michael loosened his grip. “Ah, Ms. Stevens. I’m terribly sorry, I’m afraid I’ve forgotten yours as well.”

“Save the interviews for tomorrow, Mr. Langdon. Everyone deserves a bit of a rest today, don’t you agree?” Venable cooed. It amazed you how great she was at manipulating the enemy.

“Perhaps. Well then,” Michael moved to stand before the table. “I expect to see all of you tonight. You are dismissed.”

Mr. Gallant pulled on your hand and guided you over to where he, Coco, and Mallory were going. You were secretly glad about it. Who knows what would’ve happened if you’d stayed at that table.

“Okay, I’m doing everyone’s hair. Coco, I think for you, we should do a huge French updo! Like one of those powder wigs!”

“Ooooh! I’m going to look fucking amazing!” She squeaked.

“Y/N, I’m thinking maybe a half up, half down moment?”

“Oh, you’re too kind. But I’m not sure if I need my hair done-”

“Of course you do! You’re gonna be beautiful.”

“It’s Halloween, you have to glam it up with me! I can’t be fabulous by myself!” Coco begged.

“I’m sorry guys, I’m not one for the spotlight. I appreciate it though,” you gave them a tired smile, “I’ll be excited to see how yours turns out though. You will look amazing.”

“That’s alright. Coco’s hair is gonna take forever anyway. This bitch can never sit still.” Mr. Gallant joked.

“I’m gonna choke you.”

“I double dog dare you to do it.”

Coco smacked his arm playfully as Mallory rolled her eyes.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, though you didn’t dare to let them out. You really were going to miss them. Without thinking, you pulled all three of them into a tight hug.

“Uh-” Mr. Gallant began,

“Y/N?” Coco muttered.

“Just shut up and let me have this.” you said with a small laugh. They all scooted a bit closer and engaged in the group hug happily. You never wanted to let go of them but you knew that you had to. Tonight was going to be the night you departed from this place forever.

----

Music was booming throughout the halls. Laughter and hollering could be heard from the common room. It was hard to believe that you could hear it all from your room for the Outpost was never this loud. It was nice to know that everyone was having such a wonderful time.

Instead of your normal dress, you had put on the pants and shirt you’d come in. It had been so long since you’d seen yourself in normal clothes. You were surprised that you’d found your old shoes as well. You took a deep breath, stopping to take a good look at yourself. You were sure that you were ready.

Just as you leaned over to grab your bag, you smelled that strange floral scent that used to intoxicate your dreams. The room remained the same. Despite this, you could feel an overwhelming presence beside you.

“Don’t leave. I’m coming.”

It was that damned mystery woman.

“I-I have to go. It’s the only way.”

“You must stay. Trust me.”

“I don’t even know who you are! How in the hell am I supposed to trust you?”

“Yes, you do, my love. I’ll be arriving soon.”

“Who are you?”

“You already know the answer to that.”

“Stop fucking with my head!”

“Y/N?”

You looked to your door. Wilhelmina looked very different. Her hair was up in a sleek ponytail. Rather than her usual black ball gown, she was dressed in a lavender pantsuit. She held on tight to her cane. Mina must have been a knockout before the apocalypse happened. You wished that you two had met in different circumstances.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah-” you stuttered, “let’s just go. Are you ready?”

Wilhelmina nodded. “I’ve taken care of the others, so we have to leave now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Doesn’t matter. We have to go.”

It scared you to hear her words. You loved Mina, but she still did cruel things in the past. She was known for killing others prior to your arrivals. You hoped to whatever God was out there that she hadn’t hurt anyone.

The two of you rushed down the hall trying hard not to make a sound. You figured it would’ve been easier over the noise from the party, though to your surprise, the building had gone completely silent. This was the eeriest you’d ever seen the Outpost. Mina led you down the stairs and past the common room. Your eyes widened at the sight of the party.

Michael was nowhere to be found. Bile and blood covered the tiled flooring. All of the residents were dead. You covered your mouth so you wouldn’t scream, but you were completely mortified.

“Y/N, come on.”

“Mina- w-what happened to them?”

“We have to go, darling.”

“But, Mina-”

“I’m not arguing with you!” she snapped. She had never gotten snippy with you before. Though, you were sure it was only because she was scared. You couldn’t blame her.

You continued to follow her until you reached the front of the Outpost. This was the hallway where you had first come inside. It seemed much more daunting to go outside rather than staying here. Mina took your hand.

“Are you ready, my love?”

There was a small silence. You honestly weren’t sure.

“I have to be.”

She gave you a weary smile. You could tell that she wasn’t really sure about this either. But what choice did you have?

“Come on. We have to get out the door before Michael notices that we’re gone.”

Wilhelmina began to make her way toward the entrance. Just as you went to walk behind her, the door at the end of the hall swung wide open. A strong breeze whipped into the building as Venable covered her face with her elbow.

“Oh, what now?!” She cried out.

Though there was something stirring inside of you. You slowly stepped past Wilhelmina and gradually made your way toward the door.

“Y/N! Get back!” Wilhelmina yelled.

You couldn’t bother to hear her. Another softer breeze swirled around your body. That same intoxicating scent of flowers filled your nose. This time, it was all different. Your mind began to wander.

Memories flooded back to you. Robicheaux, the coven, New Orleans, the pretty greenhouse you loved to study in, practicing magic with other women; it was all coming back to you. You could feel your veins surging with power.

More memories came to you. That evening; Mallory was there. So was Coco. That mysterious woman faced you, and you could hear her voice clear as day.

“I will come to see you as soon as I can. I promise that I will find you.”

“I can’t! Delia, I can’t be without you! P-Please!”

“Y/N, I love you more than anything. Please remember me.”

Tears streamed down your cheeks as the breeze grew stronger. Everything made sense now.

“Y/N, stay back! Jesus fucking christ-” Wilhelmina moved to rush to your side, but as the wind picked up, she noticed that you weren’t fighting any of this. You seemed different. Something in you had changed.

All of a sudden, the wind stopped. The clicking of heels echoed through the doors.

“What if we can’t find them?” A British accent rung out.

“We will. They’re here, they have to be.”

That voice. Your heart was racing. It was her.

Three women entered the Outpost. They were all dressed in black. One, a younger blonde, had a concerned look upon her face. Another with bright red hair and thick glasses was keeping an eye out for enemies. The third woman was-

“Cordelia?” you whispered.

It was the mysterious woman from your dreams. It was Cordelia Goode, Supreme of your former coven. She had finally come for you. Her gaze instantly met your own as a beautiful smile widened across her face.

“My love.” Cordelia said through choked tears.

It was really her. She had finally come for you.

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ghostlyandcoastly · 4 years

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The Dusty (dramione marriage law fic)

Hi I posted my first real dramione fic (other one is probs dead and abandoned) last night I figured why not post it here too! You can read it on AO3 or read it below

Chapter One: Ginny brings the wine

Hermione returned to her flat drained of all energy. She was not a witch easily defeated. She fought Voldemort throughout her school years for Merlin’s sake! It took a lot for Hermione Granger to have the fight in her body and brain depleted. And this? This was what broke her.

She’d been in a twelve-round legislative battle. As a legislative aide to the Minister of Magic, one of the youngest and brightest, she’d been working against a certain bill. A bill Hermione saw as the end of peacetime. A bill that Hermione would go to her grave cursing. A bill Hermione thought immoral and suspect. It was a Marriage bill. Although she supposed now, she would have to come to terms with the fact it was now a Marriage Law.

She had made valiant legal and moral arguments. She had lobbied members of the Wizengamot. She had garnered support in the wizarding media. And yet, when the cards fell, she was on the losing side. She was not used to losing. It did not feel good.

The bill- the law, she corrected herself mentally- was called The Decree To Unite Wizarding Society Through Espousal (DUWSTE or “the dusty” as Ron and others had taken to calling it). It mandated that every unmarried witch and wizard ages 21 to 35 be married. Yet this was not the only mandate. It required pureblood wizards to marry muggleborns or first-generation half-bloods. And still, yet, this was not the most repulsive thing about the law to Hermione. The second most repulsive thing about this would be that the pairs would be determined by magic. The members of the Wizengamot who initially proposed this law had charmed a goblet (which reminded Hermione of the disastrous consequences of a certain goblet of fire in her fourth year) to spit out names “appropriately” matched. The pairs would be revealed in a ceremony in one week’s time. The worst item in the proposal- now law- was the Child stipulation. Couples must produce at least one magical child within three years of marriage. There were invasive measures to be taken which would determine levels of fertility and whether the couple has made attempts at the child-making process. Hermione found this despicable. No matter how sterile the language was, the details were reprehensible. The idea that any man or woman would be forced to stand by, having their privacy completely disregarded in such a crude manner was shameful.

Hermione accused the law of depriving wizards and witches of agency and publicly ridiculed the idea that whatever charm the proponents had placed upon the goblet would result in “loving and harmonious couples” as a farce.

But all of her fighting was for not because the bill had passed, although narrowly. She had been biting at her nails as the final votes were cast. When Wilhemina Walters cast her yay vote, Hermione had nearly broken down in tears. There were two more members to vote after that but Wilhelmina, one of the swing votes, had put it in the pocket of the bill’s proponents. Once the final result was called, (“The Decree to Unite Wizarding Society Through Espousal has passed the Wizengamot for immediate enactment. Notices to the relevant wizards and witches will be sent out on Monday via the Minister of Magic’s office. This session of the Wizengamot is hereby adjourned.”) Hermione fled from the chamber and found herself bent over the toilet, throwing up her guts like her lunch was slugs and she was Ron in second year.

Hermione shook her head as she felt another round of tears welling up. She could not believe this was happening. In one week, she would find out who she was marrying. Her mind drifted thinking of the possibilities. There were few men she actually liked and was comfortable around. There was obviously Harry and Ron whom she loved. But neither of them was an option. Harry and Ginny had been married a year and a half ago. Ron was engaged to Susan Bones as of seven months ago, prior to this bill being an issue. The Dusty (she was now resolved to not give it more respect than it deserved) had a stipulation that if you were engaged prior to the enactment of the law with proof of the date, you were not subject to the matching “service”. However, if you submitted a waiver under the engagement clause you must marry within three months of the enactment of the law. The other male friends she had were similarly tied up in relationships. Neville proposed to Hannah Abbott a month ago- not because of the law, but because they were in love. Although Hermione had her suspicions about whether Neville and Hannah rushed it because of the law. There was George who had eloped with Angelina Johnson (now Weasley) a few months ago. They both outright admitted that it was because of the law. They did not see any purpose of waiting if they were going to be forced to marry. There were Dean and Seamus but they’d been married since the day after the Battle of Hogwarts.

The only single male friend she had was Blaise Zabini. Zabini was also a legislative aide to the Minister of Magic. They’d fought together against the bill but he hadn’t been quite so invested. He proposed to her daily, knowing she was annoyed at the prospect of marrying not out of an abundance of choice and love. The proposals were never serious. Blaise had said if the bill passed, he was sure he could put up with whoever he was matched with. He knew he was charming and he didn’t really believe in true love after all. Blaise made fun of Hermione for being a closet romantic. She huffed but she knew it was true.

A knock at her door pulled her from her reverie. She made her way to the door without much enthusiasm. Looking through the peephole which glowed green for “safe and familiar”, she saw it was Ginny. She opened the door to her friend’s too bright expression.

“I have wine and I have chocolate. Let’s mourn the end of your singlehood.”

Hermione felt her eyes well up.

“Oh, no. Don’t do that. Drink!” Ginny shoved her way into her flat and pushed Hermione to the couch and went about getting wine glasses from the kitchen, leaving the large bag of chocolates on Hermione’s lap. Hermione sighed deeply before tearing into a hazelnut vanilla chocolate.

They spent hours gossiping about anything other than the law. They got drunk and they ate chocolate and called for takeout delivery. But once properly lubricated, Ginny broached the topic.

“Soooo… at least this means you’ll finally get laid again.” Ginny said with a slight but noticeable slur to her voice. Hermione, being a lightweight, had a loose enough tongue to not just shake her head at Ginny.

“No way! I don’t wanna get ministry-mandated-sex for the rest of my life! I should-” She hiccoughed. “I should have gotten laid more often.” She sighs.

“You should have. But you were too busy fighting the damn dusty to do much of anything except eat, sleep, and be dragged for-forcibibibily to social gatherings on the weekend sometimes by my husband and me.” Ginny finished her statement and Hermione was about to reply indignantly (she didn’t have to be dragged per se) but Ginny sat up abruptly. “I have an idea! An excellent idea!”

“Oh no. What?” Hermione knew to be on guard when drunk Ginny had an idea.

“You still have time! You have a week til you get your partner. Even then, who says you can’t have a fling before you get married? It’s not like it’ll be a particularly romantic relationship in the three months they give you to get to know each other before marrying you off.”

“You want me to have a fling?”

“I want you to get laid. I want you to have sex that you won’t hate. I know you. No matter how nice the guy is, how attractive he is, or how big his cock is, you won’t be satisfied with ministry-mandated sex!”

“That’s right at least. It’ll always be in the back of my mind that this is something that I didn’t want, that would be forced upon me.” She sighs, expecting tears to come but they don’t. Maybe she’d run out.

“So that’s that. Tomorrow we’ll go out for a girls’ night, inviting Luna and Susan and Hannah, that will result in you getting laid at some bloke’s apartment and us married and engaged folks will go home and get laid by our husbands-fiances.” Ginny lacked tact sober. When drunk, she certainly didn’t pull punches. “One, way to put a fine point on it. Two, you expect me to have a one night stand?” She said doubtfully. “How am I gonna find someone? I know all of wizarding London pretty much. I’ve been out with a couple of people and either they were deeply uninteresting or uninterested in me.”

“I doubt the latter was true for anyone, first of all. Second of all, we’ll go to a muggle club. You can have hot, completely noncommittal sex with a muggle and it’ll be fun! I promise!” Hermione looked at her friend with doubt, amusement, and a bit of insecurity in her eyes. “I promise!” Ginny repeats. With that, they move on to other topics but the idea Ginny has planted has taken root in Hermione’s mind. She had one week of freedom where she wouldn’t be government-mandated engaged. She’d spend it having fun and thumbing her nose at the ministry.

That had been a Wednesday night. Hermione woke up Thursday with a hangover and owled in sick for the day at work. She wasn’t ready to show her face. If she saw Joanna Gibson or Todd Travers, she might have punched their pretty little noses. Joanna and Todd were both legislative aides of Norris Baumbach, the senior member of the Wizengamot who was responsible for pushing the bill through. Hermione despised the two of them. Travers was the cousin of a convicted Death Eater and his Slytherin ambition was crystal clear to Hermione. Travers would do anything to clear his family name- and that included playing dirty, provided he wasn’t caught. Joanna Gibson was an obnoxious Ravenclaw half-blood who, while she wasn’t as dirty as Travers, was significantly more a bitch. Hermione didn’t want to see their smug expressions. All the legislative aides worked on the same floor and there would be no avoiding them once at the ministry.

She spent Thursday eating fast food and peanut butter cups. She watched The Notebook and caught up on a muggle romance novel she’d started months ago. She received several owls from friends with good wishes but she didn’t have the energy to respond. She promised herself she would wake up early tomorrow and reply but today was a day that she reserved for herself.

On Friday she woke up early like she said and responded to everyone.

To Harry, she wrote,

I’m fine. Ginny should keep her mouth shut. I know you’ll always be there for me and I appreciate it. I’m getting ready tomorrow at yours so we can talk more then. Love you.

To Ron and Susan (though the note from them had been distinctly Susan with a postscript distinctly Ron), she wrote,

I’m fine. I always knew it was a possibility. Love you guys. We should meet for lunch next week. Trust me, I’m determined to have this damn thing affect my life in the least amount of ways possible. Speaking of, Susan, would you like to join Ginny and a few others and me on a girls night out tomorrow? Also, Ron, I happily accept your offer to blow my future husband’s bits to smithereens if he lays an unwanted hand on me. Love you guys too.

She answered Luna, Kingsley, and Neville’s notes next before moving on to the final one. The one from Draco Malfoy. They rarely spoke. Malfoy was occasionally around the office when he came to visit Blaise and they had worked together once when Hermione was working on legislation that she needed a master potioneer’s help with. Hermione found him to be every bit as arrogant and obnoxious- though even she could see he was not the boy he once was. For one, he was very much a man, as loathe as she was to admit such a thing. Yes, Draco Malfoy had grown into his pointy features and his skin no longer looked unhealthy- though it was a far cry from tanned.

The note from Malfoy had been short and had sparked a fire in her that had previously been put out.

Granger,

Blaise tells me you owled in sick to work. Never thought you’d be so easily defeated. All these years of poking at you and you let a little thing like a ‘lowly despicable immoral’ law that cast shade on all our futures defeat you. Tsk, tsk. What’s that muggle saying? Don’t let the bastards get you down? Get back up, Granger.

She was irritated. She was mystified. She felt like she had been confunded. So she wrote back to the best of her ability.

Malfoy,

Firstly, you made an inaccurate assumption. I simply wasn’t feeling well. Don’t presume to know me. Secondly, why must you Slytherins be so shady about your meaning? I can’t tell where you stand on this law. You certainly never spoke out against it. Nor in favor of it. Though I’m guessing your bigoted little mind would be against it- poor Draco Malfoy could never sully himself with a muggleborn, surely it’d be beneath him. Curious that you didn’t speak out. Or did you just not want to be on the same side as me? Thirdly, you made a common muggle mistake. The actual phrase is don’t let the bastards grind you down. Don’t worry, happens to the best of us. Fourthly, I will be back at the ministry today but not simply because you told me to so don’t go getting a big head thinking your words of wisdom somehow prompted my miraculous recovery. Fifthly, why are you writing to me? What do you get out of this?

Sincerely sod off,

Hermione Granger

Hermione made a noise at the back of her throat, proud of her note but distinctly uncomfortable that Malfoy had contacted her about this. Even more so uncomfortable that he was encouraging her. Albeit in a very arrogant way. Could she expect anything different from Draco Malfoy?

She shook it off and hurried off to the ministry, determined to turn her legislative tide. She was at her desk for only a few minutes before Blaise sat down across from her and slid a steaming cup of coffee her way.

“Oh, bless you!” Hermione gushed.

Blaise smiled and replied, “I didn’t sneeze but you’re welcome.” Then his expression changed from jovial to sober which was a disturbing trend as Hermione had so rarely seen that change. “So how are you feeling?” Hermione huffed at this question. She’d probably be fielding it a lot for a little bit.

“I’m fine.” She insists. He gives her a look that says don’t lie to a liar. “I’ve made a plan. All I’ve ever needed was a plan.” Blaise snorted.

“You’re not running off with Potter to defeat You Know Who.” Even after all these years, many still wouldn’t say his name. No matter how often she would insist to Blaise that fear of the name blah blah blah. “You’re going to be married. And he could be the most charming bloke and you’re going to despise him. You’re not fine.”

“Ginny said something similar.” She blushed remembering Ginny’s comments about her mystery husband’s dick. “There’s nothing I can do about it now. There’s no more fighting it. At least not outright.” Blaise squinted in a very Slytherin manner.

“What exactly do you have planned Golden Girl?” He asked.

“Wouldn’t you just love to know.” She winked at him. He leaned back and grabbed his heart in a sarcastic but friendly manner. She laughed at his antics. “Back to work, back to work.” She made a shooing motion with her hand and he rolled his eyes at her.

Hermione was working on another Goblin fair pay bill because the last one had come out so toothless its supporters waned and its antagonists still voted no. Getting the Goblins to work with her on it had been a beast of a task in the first place. Now she had to go back to Moregi, the appointed Goblin liaison to the ministry, and beg for his cooperation once again. He was a cynical creature, to begin with, and with the latest defeat, he was growing more so. She couldn’t blame him though. It was rather defeating.

She shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair. It seemed nothing was going right. She knew when she took the job that it would not be easy and she was not the kind of person who could leave work at the office and not pour every ounce of herself into what was in front of her. Before The Dusty, Hermione had fantasized about true love, being the closet romantic she was. She had dreamed of a partner to come home to, a partner who would make her want to leave it all behind her when she stepped through the floo. Her heart twinged as she kissed this fantasy goodbye. She’d be chasing work even harder than usual once she had her ministry-appointed husband in her ministry-assigned place of residence.

“So is that what you do all day to get it to look that way?” A distinctly arrogant voice pulled her out of her reverie.

“What are you on about this time Malfoy?” She groaned, not looking up. He came around from time to time despite not having any official ministry position. Malfoy was the first of the Malfoy men to take up an actual career that wasn’t flitting about in politics and investments. He was an apprentice to Ollivander. Hermione always did wonder about that relationship given that Ollivander had been trapped in his family’s dungeons.

“Your hands. Mussing about in the mess you call hair.” He drawled. She looked up at him and gave him a cruel look.

“I imagine your hands spend plenty of time in your hair, massaging the pounds of hair product into it.”

“Yes, and I imagine it would take absolutely massive pounds of hair product to tame your hair an inch.” He tossed back.

“Pounds can’t be massive. It’s a definitive measurement, you can’t qualify it.” She informed him, satisfied with herself. Malfoy opened his mouth to retort but found himself interrupted by his best friend.

“What are you annoying Granger about this time, Draco?” Blaise asked.

“Oh, we all know Granger’s apparent annoyance at me is all just an act for how much she fancies me.” Blaise raised an eyebrow at this. Malfoy just smirked.

“You possess the charm of an acromantula to me, Malfoy.” She put her head down, back to the legislative work that awaited her. Blaise laughed at his two friends and sat back with his feet up on his desk.

“What brings you this way, Draco?” Blaise asks.

“Checking to see that Granger hadn’t offed herself yet and to take you to lunch, Blaise.” Draco said casually. Hermione looked up sharply and stood in the next second.

“I’ll have you know I’m doing perfectly fine!” She’d reached her wit’s end of everyone treating her like she’d suffered a personal tragedy and Malfoy’s casually cruel comment set her off. “Or I will be, very soon.” She said more to herself than the two men in front of her.

“Ah, yes. The plan.” Blaise said.

“Yes. The plan.” Hermione turned up her nose, resisting the urge to stomp her foot.

“What plan are you referring to?” Draco asked Blaise, knowing he wasn’t likely to get a response out of her.

“She won’t tell me. Just something that involves her indirectly fighting The Dusty.” Blaise informed Draco.

“Zabini!” Hermione reprimanded. She didn’t need Malfoy peering into this. Meanwhile, Malfoy just scoffed.

“The language of the law is quite precise. You know it damn well. What could you possibly do?”

“I’m taking back control of my life.” She said vaguely.

“What does that mean?” Blaise asks, unable to resist a puzzle.

“It means… well…” She wasn’t sure how to continue this. But Malfoy’s eyes were challenging her and she was always up for a dare. A Gryffindor, indeed. “The law says nothing about a pre-marital fling.”

She waited while the boys digested this. Then they looked at one another and burst out laughing. This led to her hands situating themselves on her hips in a haughty manner.

“What is ever so funny?” Hermione hissed.

“Your plan is to become a hussy?” Malfoy smirked, still chuckling.

“Excuse you!” She nearly screeched, causing the few in the office to look over at them. Well, those that hadn’t been looking before.

“C’mon, Hermione. It doesn’t exactly seem like you.” Zabini added.

“Yeah. Come off it. Haven’t you already turned to ice and stone from the lack of taking control as you put it?”

“You don’t think I’m capable? Neither of you?”

“Of casual, adult fun? No, I don’t.” Malfoy shrugged.

“Not that you’re incapable… just not necessarily comfortable doing something like that.” Blaise countered.

“I-I! Well! I’ll have you both know that I am not some sexless amoeba. I am an adult woman perfectly capable and willing to have a tryst with a man.” She resolutely exclaims.

“Alright. I’m sure you are.” Blaise held up his hands innocently, admitting defeat. Malfoy had not gotten the stand down memo.

“Prove it.” He says.

“Excuse me?” Hermione balks.

“Come to the pub tonight. We’ll pick a fellow out and you have to seduce him. Unless you’re incapable and unwilling.”

“Well, as shocking as this may seem to a prejudiced fool like you, Malfoy, the plan is to go to a muggle club. I’ve found them to be much more attentive than wizards anyways.” She added the last part, trying to make him blush as much as he was her.

“Well you have fun with that, Herm-” Blaise is cut off from his peacemaking efforts.

“We’ll come.”

“What?!” Blaise exclaims.

“We’ll come to your muggle pub. Meet you at the Leaky at nine?” Malfoy challenges her. She squints at him, trying to determine his game here.

“Sure. If you can stand to breathe all those muggle germs.”

“You know nothing about me, Granger.” He says cryptically before turning to Blaise who looked stricken, an uncommon occurrence for him. “Ready for lunch?” Without another word, he turned and started walking out the door. Blaise sighed heavily and stood to follow him but stopped at Hermione’s desk.

“Do you want me to talk him out of this?” Blaise asked, giving away his secret that he is actually a good friend.

“No. It’ll do the both of you some good to experience some culture that’s not prickly wizarding society. And do me some good to the surprised look on your faces when I do snag a man.” Hermione said more confidently than she felt. Blaise smiled and kissed her cheek.

“I’m sure this will go swimmingly.”

Hermione slumped to her chair. She was really going to do this now, wasn’t she? The thought of The Dusty popped back into her mind- her reason for this whole plot to begin with. A twinge in her gut reminded her how sharp the loss still was. The nervous fluttering in her stomach reminded her how very trapped she felt by it all. But the solid beat of her heart in her chest reminded her that she was a Gryffindor and Malfoy had baited her- she wasn’t about to back down.

#dramione #marriage law fic

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watusichris · 3 years

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Betty Davis: They Say She’s Different

It appears that everything anyone has written for the old Music Aficionado site has now disappeared from the web. A random Facebook post has prompted me to re-purpose this story, written in 2016, about my favorite funketress. **********

To this day, the name Betty Davis – Betty with a “y,” that is – remains best known to connoisseurs of Miles Davis minutiae and ‘70s funk obsessives. While it’s true that Betty played an important off-stage role in the career of the jazz trumpeter, to whom she was married for just a year, and she undoubtedly made some of the best hardcore funk records of her era, she deserves to be recognized beyond the relatively narrow provinces of the jazzbo and the crate-digger.

Uncompromising, intelligent, brazen, aggressive, and not incidentally gorgeous, sexually provocative, and a fashion plate always ahead of the curve, Betty was a prophetic figure. Spawned by the explosion of music, fashion, and alternative culture of the late ‘60s, and by concurrent leaps in black consciousness and feminism, she was a take-no-prisoners singer and writer who presented herself as something new, rich, and strange with her self-titled debut album in 1973.

There were some badass contemporaries working the soul and funk trenches– gutter-tongued diva Millie Jackson and one-time James Brown paramour Yvonne Fair leap to mind immediately – but they seemed to be adapting tropes previously worked by male singers in the genres. Betty still sounds like something new: a tough, smart, demanding woman who reveled in pleasure and insisted on satisfaction, unafraid to claim what she wanted.

Despite the fact that she was associated with some high-profile male musician friends and lovers – beyond Davis, the roll call included Hugh Masekela, Jimi Hendrix, Sly Stone, Mike Carabello, Eric Clapton, and Robert Palmer – she was no groupie or bed-hopping climber. Possessed of her own self-defining vision, she was producing her own records and leading a tight, flexible little band by the end of her brief run.

In 1976, after completing four splendid albums (only three of which were released at the time), she disappeared, not only from the music business but from the public eye entirely. What happened? It’s an old story that many women in the industry will recognize: Her record company didn’t know what to do with her, and wanted her to tone down her act. Betty Davis wasn’t having any of that, thank you, and she hit the damn road.

She was born Betty Mabry in Durham, NC, in 1945. She grew up country, and was exposed to down-home, get-down music early. On the title track of her second album, They Say I’m Different, she runs down the artists who served as inspirations: Big Mama Thornton, John Lee Hooker, Lightnin’ Hopkins, Howlin’ Wolf, Albert King, Chuck Berry. The blues, in one form or another, is the backbone of her style.

Her family relocated to Pittsburgh when she was young, but at 16 she left home for the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York. There she was hurtled into the roiling cultural vortex of the Village. She took up modeling, working for the toney Wilhelmina agency, and began running with a posse of similarly disposed, equally beautiful women who called themselves the “Electric Ladies.” Sound familiar? One of her closest cohorts was Devon Wilson, for many years a notorious consort of Jimi Hendrix known for her freewheeling, outré sex- and drug-saturated lifestyle.

Mabry began to try her hand at singing, and cut a few self-penned singles. They were in an old-school mold in terms of structure, but her very first 45 hints at things to come. “Get Ready For Betty,” a 1964 track released by Don Costa (discoverer of Paul Anka and Trini Lopez and a key arranger for Frank Sinatra), is stodgy early-‘60s NYC R&B to its core, but its message is pointed: “Get out my way, girl, ‘cause I’m comin’ to take your man.”

She also made a stolid romantic duet ballad with singer Roy Arlington and, produced by cult soul man Lou Courtney, a homage to the Cellar, the New York club where she DJed. But she didn’t start reaching the upper echelon of the music biz until one of her songs, a hymn to Harlem called “Uptown,” was cut by the Chambers Brothers for their smash 1968 album The Time Has Come, which also included the psychedelic soul workout “Time Has Come Today.”

The Chambers association probably secured a singles deal for her at Columbia Records, and her first session for the major label was produced by her former live-in boyfriend, South African trumpeter Masekela, in October 1968. By that time, she had split with him: A month earlier, she had married a far more famous horn player, Miles Davis, whom she had met in 1967. Davis and his regular producer Teo Macero would head her second session for Columbia in May 1969.

Those two dates were released for the first time as The Columbia Years 1968-1969 earlier this month by Light in the Attic, the independent label that has restored Betty’s entire catalog to print over the last decade. While devoted fans can be grateful that the work is finally seeing the light of day, it does not make for easy listening, for it was clearly made by people groping in the dark.

Betty’s artistic persona was at that point completely unformed, and so her male Svengalis did their best to mold the clay in their hands, with feeble results. Masekela evidently completed just three tracks, two of which, “It’s My Life” and “Live, Love, Learn,” were issued as a flop single. The homiletic song titles give the game away; the music, straight-up commercial soul backed by a large group (which included Wilton Felder and Wayne Henderson of the Jazz Crusaders and Masekela), has nothing original to say.

The date with Miles is a bigger waste, if a more spectacular one. The personnel couldn’t have been more glittering: Hendrix sidemen Billy Cox and Mitch Mitchell; ex-Detroit Wheels guitarist Jim McCarty; bassist Harvey Brooks, studio familiar of Bob Dylan and former member of the Electric Flag; and Davis’ then-current or future band mates Herbie Hancock, Wayne Shorter, John McLaughlin, and Larry Young.

But nothing jells. The material is either weak (Betty’s directionless original “Hangin’ Out” is the best of a bad lot) or incongruous (lumbering covers of Cream’s “Politician” and Creedence’s “Born On the Bayou”). Worse, the jazzers are unable to lay down anything resembling a solid soul-rock foundation, and even reliable timekeeper Mitchell blows the groove on more than one occasion. Miles gets impatient with his spouse at one point, rasping over the talk-back, “Sing it just like that, with the gum in your mouth and all, bitch.”

Apparently intended as demos, the failed tracks were consigned to the tape library. By late ’69, Miles and Betty’s marriage was history. She left her mark on his music: She appeared on the cover of his cover of his 1968 album Filles de Kilimanjaro and inspired its extended track “Mademoiselle Mabry” (based on the chords that opens Hendrix’s “The Wind Cries Mary”) and “Back Seat Betty” from his 1981 comeback album The Man With the Horn.

Moreover, she moved him toward the flash style that would dominate his music through the mid-‘70s, by exposing him to the slamming music of Hendrix and Sly and exchanging his continental suits for psychedelic pimp togs. Would we know Bitches Brew, On the Corner, and Agharta without Betty Davis? Maybe, maybe not.

For her part, Betty remained in the wings for a while. She collaborated on demos for the Commodores; in London, she modeled, worked on songs for Marc Bolan of T. Rex, and declined a production offer from her then-paramour Clapton. Drifting back to New York, she met Santana percussionist Carabello. They became involved romantically, and in 1972 she relocated to the San Francisco Bay area, where Carabello’s local connections led to the formation of a stellar band to back her on a debut album.

One reads the credits for Betty Davis in awe. The rhythm section was the Family Stone’s dissident, puissant rhythm section, bassist Larry Graham and drummer Greg Errico (who also produced). Original Santana guitarist Neal Schon, future Mandrill axe man Doug Rodrigues, founding Graham Central Station organist Hershall Kennedy, and keyboardist and ace Jerry Garcia collaborator Merl Saunders filled out the instrumentation. The Pointer Sisters, Sylvester, and Kathi McDonald were among a large platoon of backup vocalists.

Issued in 1973 by Just Sunshine Records, an independent label owned by Woodstock Festival promoter Michael Lang (who also released a set by another unique woman, folk singer-guitarist Karen Dalton), Betty Davis was one hell of a coming-out party. Since her abortive Columbia dates, she had developed a unique vocal attack that could leap from a velvety croon to a Tina Turner-like shriek in a nanosecond. The stomping funk of the studio band backed her up to the hilt.

Like Turner, she was one Bold Soul Sister. The lust-filled opening invitation “If I’m in Luck I Might Get Picked Up” announces that a new game was afoot. The statement of romantic/sexual independence “Anti Love Song,” the lovers’ chess match “Your Man My Man,” and the self-explanatory “Game is My Middle Name” offer up a startling, hard-edged new model of a hard-funking female vocalist.

The album’s most affecting track may be “Steppin in Her I. Miller Shoes,” Davis’ level-headed elegy for her sybaritic friend Devon Wilson, who sailed out a window at the Chelsea Hotel in 1971. “She coulda been anything that she wanted…Instead she chose to be nothing,” Davis sings, implying that route wouldn’t be one she would take herself.

“If I’m in Luck” grazed the lower reaches of the R&B singles chart and the album failed to reach the LP rolls at all, but Davis was undaunted. For 1974’s They Say I’m Different, she took the producer’s reins, which she would hold for the rest of her career. While the backup lineup is less glitzy (though Saunders, Pete Escovedo, and Buddy Miles, on guitar no less, appear), the support is still sizzling; crackling drums and burbling clavinet put over a set of songs that may have been even stronger than those heard on her debut.

No one who hears “He Was a Big Freak” is likely to ever forget it; it’s a startling dissection of a masochistic relationship -- inspired by Jimi Hendrix, and not, as many have assumed, by Miles Davis (“Everyone knows that Miles is a sadist,” Betty remarked later). Almost as notable are “Don’t Call Her No Tramp,” a prescient condemnation of what we now call slut-shaming, and the autobiographical title track, with slicing slide guitar work by Cordell Dudley.

Different and its attendant singles tanked, but Betty managed to maintain her profile with live gigs noteworthy for their uninhibited bawdiness, on-stage abandon, and the star’s Egyptian-princess-from-outer-space wardrobe sense. By early 1974 she had assembled a hot, lean road band that included her cousins Nickey Neal and Larry Johnson on drums and bass, respectively, plus keyboardist Fred Mills and guitarist Carlos Morales. This lineup would back her on her last two albums.

The end of Just Sunshine’s distribution deal liberated Davis, who, at the suggestion of then-boyfriend Robert Palmer, inked with Palmer’s label Island Records. The company released Nasty Gal in 1975, and it may be Davis’ best-executed work. The pared-down backing lets the songs shine, and there are good ones here: The shameless title song, the vituperative blast at the critics “Dedicated to the Press,” and the out-front ultimatum for sexual satisfaction “Feelins” get right up in the listener’s face. The most surprising track is the ballad “You and I,” an unexpected songwriting reunion with Miles, orchestrated by the trumpeter’s famed arranger Gil Evans.

It’s a tremendous album, and Betty supported it with live shows that ate the funk competition alive. A bootleg of an especially out-there set recorded at a festival on the French Riviera in 1976 literally climaxes with Nasty Gal’s “The Lone Ranger,” an in-the-saddle heavy breather that Davis wraps up by feigning a loud orgasm.

One should remember that at this particular juncture, Madonna was studying dance at the University of Michigan.

But Nasty Gal faded with hardly a trace, and Davis’ relationship with Island swiftly became fractious. It’s easy to see why the label declined to issue her final album, originally called Crashin’ From Passion and ultimately released, after years as a bootleg, by Light in the Attic in 2009 as Is It Love or Desire. The collection, which leans heavily on songs about sex, doping, and heavy drinking, includes “Stars Starve, You Know,” an outright condemnation of the games record companies play:

They said if I wanted to make some money

I’d have to change my style

Put a paper bag over my face

Sing soft and wear tight fitting gowns

They don’t like the way I’m lookin’

So it’s hard for my agent to get me bookin’s

Unless I cover up my legs and drop my pen

And commit one of those commercial sins…

Oh hey hey Island

And that was all she wrote. Until writers began to seek her out in the new millennium as her records became available again, Betty Davis was an invisible woman, one who had blazed a trail that other talents, such as Prince and Madonna, would blaze more profitably after her. She was definitively ahead of her time.

Asked by one writer what she had done since leaving music, Davis, who turns 71 on July 26, responded with the most tragic thing one can imagine any artist saying: “Nothing really.”

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