#debating whether or not to turn off reblogs. hm

[jackhues]

(mockingbird au!) late nights - platonic!hughes

request: I love mockingbird so so much. I was thinking of something involving Luke too. Maybe during some summer night, where yn finds him in the kitchen. He can't sleep or something because he is getting to know someone and is doubting. And YN helps him and then also Quinn appears and joins to the midnight therapy season. And Jack finds them later and he is like, all heart eyes because he appreciates how his brothers simply included you in their life's and how you are one more. Like, he knows he doesn't have to worry because eine way or another you will be okay. 

requested by: anon : )

notes: i'm so glad you all like this au! i was super excited to write this bcz i love the idea so much!! continue sending in requests for the au! check out the request rules below! thanks for requesting <3

likes are good, reblogs are better &lt;3

mockingbird! au request rules!

tags: @woodruff-edwards , @austinbutlerscaresme , @zegras2crosby , @hockeyboysarehot , @ratkingbunting , @mysticaldonkey , @lam-ila , @babydollmarauders , @starjoyyy , @kjohnson-91 , @gavinbrindley @huggyhugh , @jackhughesily , @panarin10 , @equallyshaw , @power2myheart , @lynnismypseudonym , @beccaiscold , @akengii , @nowandkei , @cinnamonpancakes , @mitchymainer , @lifeofpriya , @marshmallow-babe, @hughesx3 , @emsully2002 , @starsandhughes , @huggy-hischier73, @doglady5678 , @thatoneblog &lt;3

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gif not mine!

you made your way downstairs, tiptoeing so that you wouldn’t wake anyone up.

it was your first time spending the summer with jack, and to be honest, it was going pretty well. everyone seemed to be so happy that you were there with them, and it was never awkward.

you felt like you belonged immediately.

it was the middle of the night, and you couldn’t sleep. jack had been knocked out, so you decided to come down to the kitchen, maybe grab a glass of milk, and then try to go to sleep again.

you weren’t expecting to see luke sitting on the chair, rubbing his temples with his phone out in front of him.

“luke?” you asked, coming around the counter. “shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

luke turned his phone off quickly, looking up to see you. he shrugged, laughing nervously, “i mean i could technically ask you the same thing.”

“couldn’t sleep,” you shrugged back. “i thought i’d grab some milk or something and then go back to bed. you want some?”

luke seemed to be relieved that you weren’t pressing the matter, “yeah, i’ll take a glass.”

you hummed in response, reaching for two glasses and pouring milk in them. on a whim, you grabbed the cookies from the cabinet, taking them out as well.

you and luke sat in a comfortable silence, enjoying your cookies and milk. even if you were new the the hughes household, you knew there was no reason for him to be up in the middle of the night unless something was bothering him.

“you okay?” you asked the youngest hughes.

“hm?”

“are you okay?” you repeated. “most people don’t stay awake all night for no reason. also, you’ve been looking a little stressed for a while. is everything alright?”

luke sighed, clearly debating whether he should share this with you.

“it’s just — i met this girl,” he muttered. “she’s smart, and kind, and funny. at first, i thought she was a little weird because she knows so much about everything, but she’s actually really cool. i just… i don’t know. i’m scared, y/n.”

you smiled softly, “hey, you don’t have to be scared about anything. if she’s nice, and if you’re happy with her, then that’s all that matters.”

luke shook his head, “no, you don’t get it. like, she’s — sometimes she’ll talk to me like we’ve known each other forever, but other times, she won’t even say hi when we pass each other in the halls. and it’s so weird, because i really like her, and i think she likes me too, but then sometimes i feel like she’s not as interested as i am. and then… and then she posts pictures of her enjoying her summer, and there’s some dude in so many of the pictures. i just — i don’t understand what to do.”

you sat there, allowing luke to rant to you, explaining the situationship that he had found himself in.

“let me see her posts,” you held a hand out.

luke raised a brow, but slid his phone towards you. 

you scrolled through the instagram account, finding three new posts since the summer started. two of them tagged an account for photo credits, the other one was a photo dump where the person was tagged in multiple pictures.

you clicked the profile that was tagged, shaking your head to yourself as you realized it was private. 

“one second,” you muttered to luke, who was completely oblivious and beginning to get antsy. 

after a little more searching and a few more clicks, you handed luke’s phone back to him.

“well, one problem’s solved,” you grinned.

“which one?” he seemed more lost than ever.

you pointed at the tagged account, “the boy you’re worrying about, that’s her brother. if you scroll further down on her page, you can see pictures of him when he was younger, and he commented on an old picture saying ‘younger brothers are the best’, referring to himself. you don’t have to worry about her being with someone else.”

“but what about when she ignores me in the halls and stuff?” he asked. “like, is there a reason? what’s going on with that?”

you sucked in a breath, “that’s another thing i wanted to point out.”

“what?” he sounded concerned.

“now, i’m pretty much pulling at loose strings here, but i think the reason she ignores you sometimes is because of you.”

“heh?”

“okay, wait, let me try to explain that better,” you said, raising your hands in defense. “some of the pictures, especially the ones of her in your team’s hockey jerseys, people have been commenting some nasty stuff.”

“like what?” luke’s brows furrowed. you wanted to wrap him up in bubble wrap and hide him from the world. he was far too innocent to be out there.

“she’s your friend, right?”

“yeah,” luke stated, as if he couldn’t understand why that was a problem.

“well, people notice stuff like this,” you explained. “especially because you’re a hughes, you’re well known. they’ve been commenting stuff, saying she’s only using you or that you guys are hooking up on the low—”

“we’re not!” luke’s face was becoming red from anger.

“i know you’re not,” you remained calm. “but people are cruel, and it’s hard to deal with their comments. i think that when the comments get too much, she tries to ignore you, but she can’t really.”

“no one should have to go through that,” luke shook his head. 

you smiled a little sadly. you knew that firsthand.

“honestly, i think you should just talk to her,” you explained. “call her, and ask her if she’s okay. let her know you like her, and you want to be more than friends. you don’t have to rush anything, you’re still young. but don’t waste this chance.”

luke smiled a little, “thanks, y/n. you’re the best.”

“what’re you guys doing?” quinn’s voice came from somewhere behind you two.

you turned, ushering quinn to the kitchen. “we’re just having a midnight therapy session. care to join?”

quinn looked at you guys, unable to figure out if you were joking.

“y/n gave me relationship advice,” luke nodded solemnly. “maybe she can give you some tricks to help build your game.”

you laughed, shaking your head, “oh no. i’m the last person you should come to for flirting tips.”

“you’re telling me you dealt with jack flirting with you before you dated, and you still don’t know anything about flirting?” quinn questioned.

“jack’s got the most game from the three of us,” luke agreed. “you’ve got to have picked up something.”

you shook your head, still laughing. “oh god, that man had no game, whatsoever. the first i saw him, he tripped — over his own words and then on the ground.”

quinn’s eyes bulged, while luke choked on his glass of milk.

“you’re joking?” quinn muttered in disbelief as you patted luke’s back. “wow, i would’ve never imagined jack to get tongue tied over someone.”

“when he said the first time he met you, he embarrassed himself, he wasn’t joking,” luke said, finally recovered from his coughing fit.

you shrugged, “he was a bit of a mess the first couple times we met. but he was cute, and clumsy in an endearing sorta way. don’t ever come to me for flirting advice because i have never flirted with anyone nor been on the receiving end of it. the fact that i’m with jack despite our first meeting shows how low my standards are.”

the two hughes brothers laughed, shaking their heads to themselves as they asked about more stories from you and jack meeting. jack had been cagey about the details, but you had no hesitation sharing them.

some time during your third story, jack padded downstairs, having woken up without you next to him. he stopped at the bottom of the stairs, smiling softly at you and your brothers, laughing and talking with each other.

he’d been nervous bringing you back to michigan for the summer, but there was no way he would let you spend the summer alone in new jersey. seeing you and his brothers get along made his heart happy.

he smiled to himself, listening to you talk. his smile dropped slowly as he realized the stories you were all sharing.

“okay, okay,” he stepped out into the kitchen. “i think that’s enough bonding for one night.”

[epiclamer]

hero is going to a movie alone. they're having a good time until villain sits down right next to them. medium to low horny (here have food and also pls drink water 🥞🥞)

Mmmm thank you anon!! This one also reminds me of my girl sooooo @save-the-villainous-cat here you are babes!

Cw: a little smutty

(No reposts but reblogs appreciated <3)

Movie Night

Hero let their eyes flicker across the screen mindlessly, barely paying attention. The movie was mediocre at best, they just needed something to do to get their team off their back, besides they weren’t really looking forward to another lonely night in their apartment anyways. The nights we’re getting cold and watching people double up and enjoy the holiday season was getting on Hero’s nerves. They weren’t a jealous person, but watching everyone strive in a domain they could hardly play in, it bubbled up inside them. They just wanted to live that cute romantic stuff.

The seat next to them moved, catching their eye, someone choosing to sit themselves directly to the right of Hero in a movie theatre that was practically empty. So much for any good time to themselves, now they had find a new row or convince the other to move.

Hero turned to face the newcomer, bracing for an argument and still debating whether or not they should just take their things and leave. “Hey-”

“Hey.”

Villain. Villain was here. Sitting next to them. In this dark and almost empty theatre. They were grinning at Hero, a bag of popcorn in hand and a drink in the other as they shuffled their butt in their seat.

“Mind if I join you, pretty?” The nickname wasn’t what somehow compelled Hero to nod, but they were sure that it helped. They would’ve never agreed to let their nemesis sit by them casually and watch a movie, but in a sense it calmed the raging loneliness in Hero’s heart.

“What? You want to keep staring at me, or do you want to watch this movie?” Villain never faltered, throwing Hero their sultry gaze as they munched on their snacks. Hardly giving Hero the time of day, staying focused on the movie but splayed out enough in their seat to have their arm rest against Hero’s.

The other quickly corrected themselves, eyes immediately turning back to the film playing on the big screen and a small blush creeping to their cheeks. Villains arm pressed delicately against their own and as much as they wanted to deny it and ignore the sensations it provoked inside their frozen heart; they wanted so much more.

Hero wanted to feel the villain, touch them, toy with them, tease them, whatever. As long as their hands could be on Villains body and Villains could be on theirs. They craved that feeling of mutuality. They practically wanted to flip themselves around and press their bodies together in this exact moment. They were falling apart and they needed the warmth of Villains lips on theirs.

“Enjoying the movie, hm?” Villain joked, watching Hero startle from their zoned out state. They were only teasing, but in reality they hadn’t been very focused on the screenplay either. Villain shrugged, feeling Hero’s eyes on them once more. “I give it… four out of ten.”

Hero scoffed, rolling their eyes at the other. “You’ve been here for like five minutes. You can’t make a judgement on a movie not having seen the whole thing!”

Villain smirked, listening to Hero ramble on about how film is an art and must be taken seriously, blah blah blah. It was adorable. And even throughout their mindless blabbering about cinema and the messages behind it, they kept their voice low as not to bother any of the other watchers. God, if Villain didn’t have their hands full right now they would’ve probably grabbed the hero and kissed them. But they decided on a softer approach.

Propping their popcorn bag on the floor and sliding their hand over to Hero’s inner thigh, Villain squeezed gently which seemed to stop the other in the tracks of their speech. Halting completely and blinking up at the villain with eyes like saucers.

“Hero, why don’t you tell me all about cinema back at my place?” When the crime-stopper shied away from a response, Villain continued. “Don’t worry, we can do it with my head between your thighs and your hands in my hair if that makes it any better.”

Now, how could Hero decline such an offer?

[manjiroro]

hii! just saw your last post and i wanted to left a request here in your inbox <3 i really enjoyed reading s/o who is gojo’s little sister and s/o who is like itadori, i would like to ask if you could write one of these ideas but for ran haitani, you can choose!<33

fem s/o who is gojo's little sister

character: ran

content: fluff, fem reader, slight crack

part 1

huhu thank you for requesting~~ im so glad you enjoyed them :))

i apologise for any mistakes and i hope you enjoy~~

you and ran were currently on a date

he had his hands intertwined with yours as the both of walked through the busy streets of roppongi 

he was teasing you as per normal while walking when you heard a familiar voice calling out to you

you tense up and you were debating whether you should run or turn around

but ran beat you to it and turned around to face the man who was calling you

ran turned around and was faced with a tall man who looked almost identical to you

“ahem, miss y/n, what are you doing here?”

“i should be asking you satoru, what on earth are you here for?”

“hm? i’m getting groceries.”

“since when did you buy groceries?!”

“uh, who’s this?”

your attention was turned to ran 

“oh, a friend.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN A FRIEND GOJO Y/N? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO YOUR DEAR BROTHER?”

gojo said dramatically, causing everyone else’s attention to fall on the three of you

you smacked your brother in the head and apologised to the people surrounding you

ran on the other hand, stood there dazed, since when did you have a brother? and why didn’t you tell him?

“so, aren’t you going to tell me who this is?”

gojo asked while examining your boyfriend’s face

“no, it’s non of your business.”

“i think i have every right to know who you’re hanging out with.”

“no, you don’t.”

“ah, i’m ran, i’m y/n’s boyfriend.”

you looked at ran in horror as he introduced himself, you shut your eyes in anticipation of what’s to come

“BOYFRIEND????? I AM HURT, MY DARLING SISTER’S HEART BELONGING TO SOMEONE ELSE AND SHE DIDN’T BOTHER TELLING ME.”

now ran understands why you didn’t bother telling him

im gonna say gojo wouldn’t approve of your relationship because ran is a very well known delinquent in roppongi 

and he cant afford to have his little sister getting hurt 

he just thinks ran is extremely dangerous for you to be around

so every time you’re about to go on a date, he’ll stand in front of the door

and if ran’s coming over to pick you up, he’ll stand in front of the door too

but he soon changed his mind when he was stalking the both of you on a date

you snuck out of the house and he wanted to make sure that ran wouldn’t do anything to you

while on the date, someone decided to catcall you

gojo was ready to beat them up when your boyfriend stepped in and punched them to the ground

“i know my girl is pretty but the next time i see your face, i’ll make sure to beat it beyond recognition.”

and with that he left while having an arm slung tightly around your face

as much as he hated ran, he had to agree that your boyfriend was pretty badass

so after a few more stalking sessions, he realised that ran is actually very protective of you 

and he slowly grew to accept your relationship

“hey hey sis~”

he chimes while he skips into your room

“just wanna tell you, i approve of your relationship with ran, so you don’t have to sneak off with him ever again~~”

you stood to your feet instantly

“have you been stalking us?!”

“maybe, but that’s not important, what’s important is that i accept him.”

you side eyed him while mumbling a thank you to your brother 

as much as he annoys you, you know that he was worried for you

❥ masterlist

reblogs are highly appreciated!!

[movedyoakkemae]

ignore me, i’m archiving this thread bc... i love it. DO NOT REBLOG.

kid ( @kaivoleur ) & conan.

kid: 

    “ Have we talked about the moral implications and-or ramifications of putting infants in consistent, casual proximity with criminals and corpses yet? ”

conan: 

     conan tilts his head, almost birdlike, to the side upon that remark, briefly uncertain whether or not kid is making a joke about his stature and the rate of which he sees homicide cases or if he’s talking about the shōnentantei-dan and their current propensity to witness murders even WITHOUT conan in the direct vicinity.

     deciding to take it as the latter, he remarks with much self-recrimination, ‘ the kids are pretty good at bouncing back now – better than they did even a few months ago, but, yeah, i do wish they weren’t quite getting so used to it. dad used to take me to crime scenes when i was their age, but i definitely didn’t see the variety and intensity of crimes at the same frequency they did at their age. ’

     a wry grin touches his lips as he states, ‘ – y’know, they’ve even taken to talking about murder cases they’ve witnessed over lunch now ? nothing’s quite like hearing those three talk about the best ways they’ve seen a body being dumped – either through hydrochloric acid, chopping the body to pieces, or even just dumping a body into a river – while the other kids and our teacher are hanging onto their every word. those kids are going to be scary once they’re our age. ’

     ( he’s also continuously widely surprised that their parents would still let them go onto trips with him and agasa-hakase. conan’s pretty sure most parents would have IMMEDIATELY told the kids never to talk to conan again. he’s glad they didn’t because as much as the kids annoy him, he does genuinely like them, but… still. it probably would have been better for them to have been cut off from conan earlier on when witnessing one crime would have been in a once in a blue moon experience instead of literally every time they went on one of their weekly outings. )

kid: 

    KID hadn’t expected a serious reply, but that isn’t to say he’s not prepared for it. He quirks a brow at ‘ our age ’ and debates the merits of correcting the detective — on one hand, quipping about Conan’s current state is never not funny, but on the other, he’d really prefer to try and complete the night without getting a soccer ball power-kicked to his face, so.

“ Detectiveness must be infectious, ” he says instead, because he’s not in a particularly dodgy mood. First officers, then teens, and now children; he’s never going to be free of them, huh? The thought brings a smile to his face — he wouldn’t have it any other way, of course. The chase is pointless if it doesn’t attract attention, and ( even worse ) boring if some do-gooder isn’t trying to get in his way. “ I’m not going to have to deal with them on a regular basis, am I? I think even one tiny detective is grating enough on Nakamori-keibu’s nerves. ”

The thief doesn’t even want to think of what a group of five infuriatingly sharp children would do to the old man. ( Wait. Five? He pauses for a split instant, turning the detective’s words over in his head — he’d definitely said three, and three-plus-one… is one short. Hm. A thought for later, then. )

“ Hopefully, by the time they reach my age, we’ll both have everything… figured out, ” KID muses, a hint of a grin reaching his eyes. “ Not that I don’t enjoy all you young detectives making valiant attempts to slow me down, of course, but you know how it is. ” Probably not, but KID makes no further effort to explain.

conan: 

    ‘ a “regular” basis ? probably not. your heists usually run too late at night, and their parents tend to be pretty good at setting a bedtime for them. ’ he’s pretty sure ran’s given up on setting him a bedtime considering all of the cases he takes and how some of them may last into the middle of the night. ‘ and i think nakamori-keibu is getting used to me. ’

    he hadn’t been at first – in fact, nakamori-keibu had been downright hostile to the occasional addition of conan to the ranks, but, well, one can’t deny constant results. he’s pretty sure nakamori-keibu likes conan better than shinichi, at any rate, but, to be fair, shinichi only appeared once and immediately assumed control of the officers. conan’s only just come the closest to catching kid and getting jewels back as quickly as possible.

    conan rolls his eyes at kid’s unsubtle emphasis of separating their ages ( and, as such, picking fun of conan’s current predicament. if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s pretty sure kid doesn’t know the full story, he’d get a lot more pissed than he does ). ‘ just for that, i’m making sure the others get new watches, belts, and shoes, ’ he threatens.

    but, after a pause and the amused look crossing his face, it’s clear that conan has realised what an interesting and entertaining idea it would probably make. after all, the shōnentantei-dan were getting better at traps all the time, and, well, their soccer skills have also gotten better too just by playing with conan all of the time. hm… he might owe haibara a purse or something, but it might be worth it just to see kid having to dodge five high speed soccer balls.

kid: 

    “ I’m surprised you haven’t taught them your curfew-eschewing ways yet, ” KID remarks blandly, tucking his hands into his pockets. He’s been tempted multiple times to push the heist back further into the night — mostly because a sleepy Task Force is an easier to handle Task Force — but he really needs the crowds of an accessible hour to pull off some of his best tricks. ( Besides, much as he declines to admit it, he does need sleep too. Sometimes. When he doesn’t have anything else to do. So never, basically. )

Maybe if he got more sleep, he wouldn’t be accidentally inspiring his critics with awful, no-good, very bad ideas. One tantei-kun is enough, thank you very much, he doesn’t need an entire entourage of children power-kicking soccer balls at him. KID manages to suppress a shudder at the thought, merely letting his grin ice over a mere degree.

“ Don’t even think about it, ” he says with just a hint of dourness, although it’s obviously a little too late for that. “ Holding heists at reasonable hours is not worth getting pelted by a hail of weaponized sports equipment. Don’t make me push heists back to 3 AM and cheerfully let Nakamori-keibu know it’s your fault he’s not getting his much-needed beauty sleep. Hakuba would probably actively attempt to murder me, too, ” he adds as an afterthought. Especially if he did it during finals week — ooh, but now that thought’s tempting. Kaito doesn’t particularly need to excel, he just needs to pass, and he could do that in his sleep; Hakuba, however… Well. He can’t imagine the detective settling for anything less than his own best work. “ Hey, if I ever get murdered at my own heist, would you still investigate it? ”

It’s a question he voices with the light-hearted tone of a joke, but something in his expression — shifts, his gaze sharpening. As though halfway through the question, he’d realized what had actually come out of his mouth, and for an instant it’s not Hakuba on mind but Snake and a sniper’s scope. But the words weigh too heavily for his liking, so he pushes on with somewhat less-than-natural joviality, “ Or does being a criminal excuse me from your jurisdiction or whatever? I don’t know how you detectives work. ” ( A lie, for the most part. )

conan: 

   conan waves a hand as if to wipe the idea from both of their brains. ‘ you already know about it, so it wouldn’t make for such a good trap anymore anyway, and you’d be careful to look out for new watches, belts, and shoes for the kids. ’ now, the task force, on the other hand… that was definitely an idea to save for later.

   ( he also notes the slight familiarity of kid calling him “hakuba”. nakamori-keibu gets, well, “nakamori-keibu”, and conan gets “tantei-kun” and, on occasion, “meitantei”, so why does hakuba get called by his last name ? it may be nothing, but he notes it either way. ).

   “hey, if i ever get murdered at my own heist, would you still investigate it?” the question seems light-hearted, coming from kid’s lips, a laugh at his own morality perhaps, but there’s something in his expression that shifts. conan’s eyes immediately narrow at the clue – it’s genuine, that shift of expression, judging from how kid tries to falsely lighten the air with, “or does being a criminal excuse me from your jurisdiction or whatever? i don’t know how you detectives work.”

   he had heard rumours of unidentified criminals moving around at kid heists, but he hadn’t personally seen any sign of them, so he had just dismissed them as rumours. now, conan wonders if he shouldn’t have. something to look into, definitely. if someone was trying to kill kid, in a way that he apparently thinks is possible given the question, conan needs to put a stop to it yesterday.

    ‘ idiot, ’ he deadpans, affecting an annoyed appearance, as if insulted by the question. ‘ if someone – however unlikely – managed to kill you, i’d hunt them down and make sure they’d get arrested. it doesn’t matter to me if you’re a thief or not – murder takes precedence over thieves any day, and criminals don’t deserve to die, no matter what th – anyone – might think. ’

    the slip comes from remembering asō seiji… they had murdered so many people, and still… conan had tried so hard ( and failed ) to save them.

    ( he has to close his eyes against the sudden memory of heat, and the same haunting tune playing in his ears. it’s a failure that still tastes bitter in his mouth, ash and smoke from the fire choking his lungs. shinichi thinks, for however long he’ll be alive, he’d never listen to moonlight sonata in the same way ever again ).

kid: 

    A laugh bubbles up to KID’s lips but doesn’t quite make it out of his mouth ( he could not say why, himself; relief? exasperation? he doesn’t know from where the laughter rises but he refuses to let it breach the surface ), and he wonders for a moment what the detective had been about to say before ‘ anyone ’ — but he lets him have his secrets, in the end. The thief lets only an amused breath escape, rocking his weight slightly, as though to leave, because this is already too much exposed in a single confrontation and he should leave before he lets himself slip too far. Or farther; maybe this is already too much.

But when the little detective closes his eyes, the thief holds himself still, because all of the sudden it is not the hilarity of his own possible doom that lingers over his thoughts. Rather, abject horror sours his amusement because if Conan goes after the crows at his heists, if he tips the balance so carefully maintained in the heists and manages to corner them…

Snake may be incompetent, but he’s still got BITE, and wild things are always most vicious with their backs to a wall.

    ( Meitantei is brilliant.               But so was Toichi, before he burned. )

“ Mm, good to know. But don’t hold your breath, ” KID says breezily, tearing his mind away from the old, old memory. “ I don’t plan on dying anytime soon. Try not to jump at shadows too much in the meantime, tantei-kun ~ ” He waits and makes sure to meet the detective’s gaze as he speaks, trying to convey the unspoken warning; just because he’d nudged a bit of confirmation about the… dangers associated with his moonlighting, doesn’t mean he wants Conan diving headfirst into it.

This is KID’s territory, and he’s got first dibs, so to speak. His way is a bit of a balancing act, trying to slowly key his critics in on what’s going on without alarming them or alarming Them, but maybe with this step, he can get a little closer to that end goal.

With a flick of the wrist, he reveals a grey marble in the palm of his hand. He lets it slip from his fingers, and when it hits the ground, it erupts in a cloud of smoke — and by the time that clears, KID’s gone.

[emsylcatac]

😻😸💗😿☺️ love square (these emojis seem to lend themselves to Ladrien but I'm not picky)

Aha the whole lovesquare it is then ;) Gonna go with the “4 times + 1″ cliché trope here with “4 times Marinette/Ladybug almost told Adrien/Chat Noir she loved him and the one time she did”.

____________

1. 😿 

Chat Noir was crying. Ladybug didn’t know why she found it as shocking as she did. Maybe it was because she had technically never seen him cry before; maybe it was because the only time she did, he was covered in white. Or maybe it was simply that the idea of her partner looking so broken was foreign and almost unfathomable to her. He usually was her support; now she felt that she had to be his for once.

She sat down next to him and put gently an arm around his shoulder so he wouldn’t be startled by her presence. She couldn’t ask him what was wrong, not yet. Not when their identities were still a secret. ‘I love you’ she wanted to tell him. But she knew she couldn’t; she feared he might not take it in the way she meant it.

“You’re important to me, you know.” is what she said instead.

* * *

2. 💗

Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god. Her heart was pounding fast in her chest as she hold Adrien, taking him further and further away from the akuma as fast as her yoyo could allow. “Are you alright?” she asked him as his grip tightened around her neck and she could feel his breath so close to her ear.

“Hmm” he answered in an affirmative sound. She thought she would get used to carrying Adrien in her arms as Ladybug after all the times it happened, but the erratic beating of her heart was telling her otherwise. Once she felt that they were far enough, she dropped him gently on the ground.

“Thanks my La– Ladybug!” he said with a small smile.

“Of course!” she answered. “Go hiding somewhere and be careful, you’re important to me.” she said, trying hard not to let the blush on her cheeks be seen.

“I am?” he asked while tilting his head slightly, a small blush covering his cheeks that he couldn’t hide, and oh no – he was adorable.

“I… Yeah” she stammered. “I love yooo– aaaaALL the citizens in Paris of course!” she caught herself on time. He seemed to buy her answer and gave her a small nod of the head before disappearing – probably to hide somewhere as she asked him to do.

* * *

3. 😸

Chat Noir was still grinning. He and Marinette were trying to recover from an uncontrollable fit of laughter they just shared. They had learned each other’s identities earlier that day and everything was a mess in their head – at least in hers.

Which was why she had asked him to come once he would be done with his homework to talk about it. It was awkward, neither knew what to say, and they couldn’t look in each other’s eyes for more than 2 seconds (not that she counted in her head). At least he seemed to be overall more at ease than she was. 

Until they started sharing stories of all the times they most likely failed to recognise the other and ridiculous attempts and excuses to transform. Which led them to this moment, the both of them laughing louder than the other, awkwardness momentarily forgotten.

“And then Plagg thought it was his precious camembert and stuck his head in the bracelet - don’t ask me how he did it!” Chat Noir was retelling and they were back into giggling again.

While she watched him laugh and laugh, she couldn’t help but start to merge the two boys together. ‘I love you so much’ she thought while she caught one of his smile radiating happiness. She startled a bit at the thought but found it was right. However, it was too early to let him know now. They were barely adjusting to each other. So Marinette let the thought go wander somewhere else in the back of her mind, smiling at the prospect of it blossoming more and more in the near future to come.

* * *

4. ☺️

“Careful where you put your feet!” Adrien chuckled while holding Marinette in place.

She was so engrossed in their conversation that she hadn’t seen the basket ball forgotten in the middle of the playground and tripped on it. Naturally, Adrien caught her in time before she would hit the ground.

“Thank you.”, she told him with a small smile once she was back steadily on her feet. He chuckled again while taking her hand and starting to walk towards the school exist.

“Of course!” he replied with a soft smile and an almost imperceptible blush gracing his cheeks. “You know I’m always there to catch you, even if it means that I’m not letting you fall for me!” he added with a wink. Marinette bit her lips and looked to the side, pondering whether she should tell him now or not.

“Well”, he said after a pause and dropping her hand, “better get going since the Gorilla is already there! I’ll see you tomorrow Marinette!” he told her, all the while looking at her with the softest expression that made her fall in love with him in the first place, making her insides melt on the spot. She watched him go to his car while waving him goodbye.

“I love you already, you know…” she whispered once he had closed the door.

5. 😻

This was it. She wouldn’t back away this time; it had gone for long enough. Ladybug was pacing on the roof, waiting for Adrien - for Chat Noir to arrive. She hadn’t picked the same one where he had made her his surprise all those months ago. She wanted something different. After debating on what to do, she decided to go for something simple (well, Tikki convinced her something simple would be the best course of action more like).

The small macaron was still intact in her palms. She idly wondered how it had not turned into crumbed yet but she was thankful. Suddenly, she heard someone dropping behind her and she turned around.

“Good evening ma Buguinette!” Chat Noir greeted her. “What did you want to discuss?”

“For you!” she said, presenting him the macaron and shoving it into his hand. His eyes widened a little, not excepting it.

“For me?” he said surprised. “What is the special occasion?” he asked after having recovered and bringing the macaron to his mouth. “Hm.. Passion fruit, my favourite! Thank you so much!”

Ladybug took a deep breath. “It is because… It is to say thank you.” she said with a soft smile. “Thank you for being you. For always supporting me. I’ve always…” she marked a pause and took another breath. “I’ve always felt that you were more than just a partner to me and… With everything that happened since our reveal… I’ve slowly come to understand why.”

If his eyes were wide before, it was nothing compared to how they were now.

“Does that mean… Does that mean that you…” he trailed off, not sure whether to believe what he was hearing or to hope or to understand the meaning behind her words.

“It means that I love you, Adrien.” she finished for his ears only smiling and with the beginning of tears forming in her eyes. A huge smile slowly formed on his face and his eyes were fixing her with so much love that she could almost see his pupils taking hearts shape.

“I love you too…” he whispered before they both met in a sweet kiss.

____________

…. Me when I thought of this game: let’s write a very short funny shitty thing around 10 sentences long emojis inspired hahaha

Me finishing this one: LOLOL guess who wrote 1200+ words of love drama while not even being a writer and having never really writen a fic in my life? 🤡

Aaaaaanyway. I hope it turned out all right (I was about to say not too cheesy but who am I kidding, not Plagg that’s for sure).

Thanks for the ask haha ♥

Send me your last 5 emojis and 2 characters 😊💩😱😻👀 (I honestly already have a lot to do but if some of you want to receive emojis and join my silly fun you can reblog the post on the link! I’ll gladly send you my latest emojis)

[asongofmarvelanddc]

Sworn Enemies PT6

PAIRING: Alfred X Reader

WORD COUNT: 5776 pre-editing

WARNINGS/THEMES: Fluff…mostly.

SUMMARY: Y/N continues training the Saxon army in preparation for the worst-case scenario. Alfred and Y/N finally get married. Y/N realises that there may be someone conspiring against Alfred. An unexpected guest arrives in Wessex.

A/N: Please reblog and leave comments, it’s what I feed on 💛

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9 | PART 10

MASTERLIST | INSTA

“What makes Vikings such great warriors?”

Ten men stood before you, each of them with their hands behind them, backs straight and eyes forward. You were almost certain that if you suddenly began to undress, not one man's stance would waver.

These men were chosen by the former Commander. “They are the best of the best,” he had said. You would have preferred to observe and select your own men by yourself, but the Saxons were already unhappy with Alfred’s choice to name you Commander, so you decided to accept the men he presented.

They were to learn from you and relay the knowledge they learned to the rest of the army, making it faster and easier to whip them into shape. So far, they seemed to be receptive and had proved themselves to be capable. But to beat your enemy, you have to know them, and these men knew nothing about Vikings.

The men were silent as they stared straight ahead and you raised an eyebrow, “That was not a rhetorical question, I am looking for an answer.”

They remained silent.

“No one can answer?” you asked as you looked at each man in front of you. 

“You,” you pointed at one of the soldiers to your right and he immediately stepped forward, “What makes the Vikings such great warriors?”

The man glanced awkwardly at the men around him before clearing his throat, “I have never fought a Viking army.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as you walked closer to him, “Never?” He shook his head once more, looking ahead as you spoke to him. You let out a heavy sigh and began walking back to where you were stood previously,  muttering, “That is not reassuring.”

“But my father fought them.” You stopped in your tracks and turned around when the soldier spoke again.

“He said they fought like they were not afraid of death.” 

You struggled to hide the smile that formed on your lips. “Yes,” you cleared your throat and continued addressing all the men, “And why do we fight like we do not fear death? Hm?”

“Because you are all savages,” one of the soldiers on your left spoke.

An eerie silence descended over the courtyard as your eyes narrowed. A few of the slaves around had paused their work to observe what would happen next. You clasped your hands behind your back and walked towards the soldier, lips pursed in anger, stopping right in front of him.

One second, you were staring at him with hard eyes and the next, your fist was connecting to his nose. Blood streamed from his nostrils as he gripped his nose tightly with his hand. After a few seconds, he released the nose, letting the blood flow, before standing back at attention, arms at his side. 

“I asked for factual reasons, not your opinions,” you spat as you turned to return to the the front, “Anybody else?”

The silence was deafening. The disappointment was clear on your face as you let out a sigh and shook your head. 

“You must know your enemy, understand them, their culture, their beliefs, if you want to defeat them,” you spoke, loudly so each and every one of them could hear you, “We fight like we do not fear death because we believe that dying on the battle field grants us entrance to Valhalla, or for you, heaven.”

You paused for a moment to let your words sink in before addressing them again, “Do you fear death?” 

One of the soldiers snorted, “Everyone fears death, my Lady.”

You cracked a smile, “Unless I am in a dress, I would prefer it if you referred to me as ‘Commander’.” 

“Yes, Commander.”

“So, why?” you asked and he glanced in your direction in confusion, “Why should you fear death if you are going to heaven?”

You clasped your hands together in front of you then walked along the row of men. “Are you sinners?” you asked rhetorically, cocking an eyebrow.

Stopping in your tracks, you faced the soldiers with a hardened gaze. “I hear you have a very forgiving God,” you said, “Pray. Repent. I don’t care what you have to do.”

“From this day forth I want you to fight like Vikings,” you commanded, meeting as many eyes as you could, “I want you to move like Vikings. Think like Vikings...Be Viking.”

Silence descended over the courtyard. Only the sounds of birds squawking were discernible. A feeling of pride overcame you as each of them hung on your every word. They were your army. 

Your instruments of wrath.

                                                          ***

Alfred had been watching you from the balcony above the courtyard. His eyes never left your form, whether you were simply talking to the men or sparring with them. He was in awe. After the session, when you looked up to see if he was still there, he finally shifted his gaze away from you in embarrassment. It didn’t matter because you had already felt his eyes on you.

As you approached him, Alfred outstretched an arm, intending to wrap it around you, but you drew back. “I don’t want to get your clothes dirty,” you chuckled, looking down at your muddy clothes. He simply rolled his eyes and hugged you anyways, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“You broke that man’s nose,” he laughed as he looked down at you. You looked to the man whose injuries were now being tended to. 

“It will heal,” you shrugged which made Alfred raise an eyebrow before laughing once more.

You fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, which allowed you to think. The further into your mind you went, the guiltier you felt. Soon, the content smile on your face had been replaced with a frown. 

“What is it?” Alfred asked, noticing your expression. 

You let out a heavy sigh and looked up at him. “Do you think the Vi-,” you cut yourself off and rephrased the question, “Do you think my brothers will come soon?” 

Alfred was clearly confused by the seemingly random question, but nevertheless, he shook his head and answered, “I don’t know.” 

You let out a breath and looked down at the courtyard, “If they do come, do you think we will be prepared?”

“That is a question I should be asking you, don’t you think?” he asked, looking down at you, but you didn’t answer, nor did you look up at him, “Y/N. What's the matter, really?”

Shutting your eyes for a moment, you debated whether you should confess your fears to him. Then you heard him whisper, “You can trust me with whatever you are feeling,” as his thumb stroked the top of your hip.

Shaking your head, you opened your eyes and turned to face him, both his hands now resting on your hips, “I feel like a traitor. Like I have betrayed my people.”

“You told me yourself that the only reason you came here is because your brothers betrayed you,” he replied. You nodded your head and frowned. 

“They did,” you whispered, “But Bjorn and Ubbe did not. And everything I'm doing here affects them just as much as it affects Ivar and Hvitserk.”

Alfred’s hands left your hips and rested on your shoulders, “Y/N, all of this is only a contingency plan.” 

You sighed and shook your head. “Alfred, we have to be realistic,” you said, “Do you really think that there will be peace with no more bloodshed?” 

Alfred dropped his arms to rest at his sides. “You’re right.”

“Both Vikings and Saxons have too much pride to settle this peacefully,” you continued, looking out into the courtyard once more, “There will be many more battles before anyone wins this war.”

“Y/N...” he trailed off, “I am trying to do this the best way I can.”

You turned to look at him and placed your hand in his. “I know,” you nodded, looking into his blue eyes, “But you do not think the way your people do, and as King, it is your responsibility to reflect your people’s views,”

“Or I can do whatever I please.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes. As King, it means you can do whatever you want. But it also means that you cannot do whatever you want.”

Silence descended on you both once more.

“I keep thinking about my Uncle Rollo,” you whispered, “He betrayed my father and our people hated him for it - they still do. And he did it all for fame.”

“You have a better reason than your uncle did.”

Cocking your head to the side, you shrugged your shoulders. “Perhaps,” you said, “But I still wonder if my justification is good enough.”

A frown formed on Alfred’s lips and you looked away from him. You knew that saying that would hurt him, but you had to let him know how you felt. He let go of your hand and rested his hands on the balcony rail, looking out into the courtyard. You sighed and turned to face him, “Alfred, I’m-”

“Lady Y/N?” a young woman’s voice sounded from behind you. With a heavy sigh, you turned around to face her, an eyebrow raised in question. She cleared her throat, licked her lips and clasped her hands in front of her. You intimidated every woman - and some of the men - in this country, and you found yourself witnessing their fear every time they spoke to you.

“Lady Margaret sent me to tell you that your dress is ready for fitting,” the woman spoke. Lady Margaret was the seamstress who had been in charge of dressing you ever since you arrived in Wessex. She was one of the few women who had embraced you with open arms. She was arguably your only friend in the country. Except Alfred, of course.

“Can we have the fitting later, I’m...busy right now,” you said, glancing to Alfred for a moment. 

The young woman looked uncertain. “The ceremony is tomorrow,” she explained, “I imagine Lady Margaret would want time to make any necessary adjustments.”

You let out a sigh, “Fine.” You gave a quick, backward glance to Alfred who was...it was hard to explain how hurt he looked. But it was not the time to talk. You turned back to the woman and nodded your head, “Let’s go.”

                        __________________________

You couldn’t recognise yourself in the mirror. The girl staring back at you, she looked like you, but at the same time, she didn’t. Because never had you ever looked this-

“Stunning.”

Through the mirror, you spotted the owner of the voice. He pushed himself off the door frame of the bedroom before walking in. “That dress is stunning,” he began as he stopped just behind you, “Perfect for the woman wearing it.”

“Thank you, Aethelred,” you forced a smile on your lips, “It is beautiful, isn’t it? Lady Margaret did a wonderful job.”

“It’s in her blood,” he shrugged, “Her mother made my mother’s dress.”

“I imagine she looked a vision.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he chuckled. 

Focusing your gaze on the dress, you admired it once again, letting out a sigh of content as a smile tugged on the corner of your lips. The dress was red lace from top to bottom, with long sleeves and a neckline that rested just below your collar bone. The Saxons were not too keen on showing skin.

Aethelred suddenly moved closer, his fingers lightly tracing the intricate design on your waist line. The sensation caused the hair on your skin to stand on end, and you sucked in a sharp breath. You were irritated. “Look at that detailing,” he whispered, his breath fanning your face because he was standing so close. 

You lifted your gaze to look at him through the mirror, and it was only then that you realised how close he was. He stood just behind you, close enough that the heat radiating from his body completely enveloped you. His hand was still on your waist, and his gaze fixed on you. A person who did not know any better would assume that he was the man you were marrying tomorrow - and that made you uncomfortable.

“Such a shame,” he murmured, “That you met him first.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion and cracked a smile, “Why is that a shame?”

“If we had met first, perhaps I would be the man you were marrying.”

You blinked after his statement before soft laughter escaped your lips. When he did not join you, you immediately ceased your laughing and tilted your head up to look at him. 

“You're serious?” you asked him, eyebrows raised in surprise, “You think if I had saved your life during the battle, you would be in Alfred’s place?”

His silence spoke many words. That was exactly what he was insinuating.

“You don’t agree?” he asked with a raised brow, he was genuinely surprised by your reaction. 

“No. I do not.”

You turned back to the mirror and brushed his hands off of you, suddenly feeling irritated.

“Well,” he sighed, a forced smile on his lips, “It’s still a shame.”

You watched as he leaned down to whisper into your ear. 

“It would have been nice to have you by my side when I'm King.”

You paused to let his words sink in. 

When I’m King.

When.

By the time you registered what Aethelred had said, he had already disappeared from the room. He intended to become King soon, and the only way he could take that title from his brother is if Alfred died. A feeling of dread descended upon you as you connected the dots. Was Aethelred planning on murdering Alfred?

                        __________________________

Alfred occupied the biggest room in the castle. You had only been in there a handful of times, and even so, you had only ever gotten as far as the bed. Judith did not approve of your visits to see Alfred. She believed that you were trying to tempt Alfred into ‘sinning’. Quite hypocritical of her considering the story of Alfred’s conception. The truth is, she wanted you as far away from her son as possible, which would become impossible after the wedding.

Now here you were, standing in front of Alfred’s door. This was the first time you had ever felt nervous when going to see him. You were worried that he was still angry with you after what you had said earlier, a misunderstanding. You needed to apologise. He was the only person in the entire country that you could trust, and after your conversation with Aethelred, you feared that you were one of the very few that he could trust.

You knocked softly on the door and waited quietly.

No answer.

“Alfred?” you knocked slightly harder and called out his name.

Again, no answer.

With a sigh, you twisted the handle and pushed the door open. The bed chamber was empty, and his bed was made. It was getting quite late, you had assumed that he would be here. 

Turning to leave, you stopped in your tracks when you heard sloshing sounds coming from the privy where his baths were usually drawn. You followed the sounds and peeked your head around the doorway.

Alfred was sitting in the bath, his arms resting on the sides and his head thrown back as he stared at the ceiling. He looked deep in thought.

“Alfred?” you called out softly. He raised his head at the sound of your voice, a shocked expression on his face when he found you standing there.

“Y/N,” he answered in surprise and sat up a little. You stepped forward and entered the room completely. 

“I need to talk to you,” you said, clasping your hands in front of you, “Are you busy?” 

He looked taken aback for a moment before shaking his head and gesturing to the stool beside the bath. You nodded and walked over to the stool to sit down. You started to wonder where the slave girl who washed him had gotten to. Why was he alone in here?

“Where is Agatha?” you asked, turning to face him. He simply shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. 

“Very well.”

You sat in silence as you gathered your thoughts while Alfred soaked. He seemed tense, but you made no comment about it. 

You knew you had to apologise to him, but the conversation you had with Aethelred earlier was nagging at you. Alfred trusted his brother more than anyone else. If you confessed your fears of his betrayal...you were afraid to find out who Alfred would choose to believe.

“Why are you here, Y/N?”

Alfred’s question pulled you out of your thoughts. You cleared your throat and adjusted your seating, “I came to apologise to you.” 

He nodded but did not respond.

“Alfred,” when you called his name, he turned to look at you, “You know I didn’t mean what it must have sounded like to you."

His gaze softened, but still, he did not speak. 

“Even though I don’t regret coming here to be with you, I have moments where I feel like I betrayed my people. My brothers, my mother and father’s memory,” you looked down at your fingers sadly, “You have to understand, I abandoned everything to be here with you, and it is not easy to just...let go. If you can't see that, then...”

You waited with a held breath for Alfred’s response, and eventually he spoke. 

“I'm not angry,” he let out a breath, “I was just surprised. You've seemed so happy in the last few months.”

“And I have been,” you reassured him, “You were worth it then, and you are now. That has not changed.”

Alfred’s face broke out in a smile, “I would wait until after the wedding to say that to me.”

“Why is that?”

“My mother tells me that ‘marital bliss’ lasts only a short time,” he chuckled and leaned back in the bath, “Very soon, you will be tired of seeing my face.”

“Oh, I am sure,” you agreed sarcastically, “When we start having sex, that will definitely ruin our marriage.” 

Alfred’s cheeks suddenly turned a deep red and you chuckled at his innocence. 

“You are very sweet,” you placed a quick kiss on his lips then stood up. On your way out of the room, you turned around to smile at him, “I will see you at the wedding tomorrow.”

                        __________________________

It was the wedding day.

You stood just outside the throne room, alone, apart from two guards who stood by the door. Their hands rested on the handles, waiting for your signal to open the doors. You twiddled your thumbs nervously as you took deep breaths. You wished there was someone beside you to calm you down. Why did you have to do this alone?

“Can you remind me how the wedding is conducted?”

You had just returned from the courtyard where you’d been training some of the men in the army. Sometime in the middle of your earlier conversations, Alfred had stood behind you at your vanity and began helping you to undo the braids in your hair as you coached him on how to do so.

“The ceremony will take place in the throne room,” Alfred smiled, “With a few Lords, Dukes, and family.”

“Why not in the Church?” you asked in confusion, looking at him through the mirror.

“It is not the same for Royalty,” he answered, moving on to another braid, “The Bishop and Priest will come to the throne room and officiate the ceremony there.”

“I see.”

“Traditionally,” he continued, “The bride’s father would accompany her as she walks down the aisle. He would then hand his daughter to the groom; it symbolises the groom taking on the responsibility for the welfare and happiness of his bride. In our case, however, you will be walking alone because-”

“Because my father is dead.”

“Yes...”

“And even if he wasn’t, he has killed hundreds of your people,” you pursed your lips, “I sincerely doubt he would be welcome.”

“Yes...” Alfred cleared his throat awkwardly and continued, “So you will be walking alone.”

You had been preparing for this for the last few weeks, and it was time to face the crowd. You sucked in a sharp breath and straightened your back before nodding to the guards. At your signal, they pulled the doors open, revealing the throne room.

Clasping your hands together, you raised your chin slightly and began to walk slowly into the room. As soon as you entered, you realised every single pair of eyes was fixed on you. Suddenly, your strong gaze started to waver, and you felt the urge to run back out the way you came.

You turned away from the mirror and looked up at Alfred, “What if I get nervous?”

Alfred laughed like you had just told a joke.

“You? Nervous?”

“I will be alone,” you explained, “None of those people like me. I might feel intimidated.” You lowered your gaze and avoided his eyes, embarrassed to show any vulnerability.

“Yes, you will be alone,” he nodded then placed his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up, “And you won’t care.”

As you walked, you looked around at the staring people standing for you. 

On the left side of the aisle, Margaret stood there beaming at you. It comforted you ever so slightly. You cracked the smallest of smiles and gave her a slight nod before turning to the right aisle. 

Sitting in the front row was Judith and Aethelred. Shockingly, Judith was not scowling, nor did she look like she would explode at any moment. She looked...indifferent. You were visibly taken aback and found that your confused eyes remained on her until you reached the altar.

“You won’t be alone for long,” Alfred shrugged as his hands returned to your hair, “When you reach the altar, I will take your hand and the ceremony will officially begin.”

Alfred stood on the right side of the altar. He was wearing a velvet cloak, held together with a golden chain. His crown balanced atop his head and a soft smile graced his lips when he saw you. He took your hand in his as you approached. You held your joined hands up, visible for everyone to see as you faced the Bishop.

On the step in front of you was a table holding two lit candles and one unlit, a giant cross, a bell, and a small jug. 

“We will both climb the step and kneel in front of the table.”

You awkwardly fixed the red veil covering your hair and adjusted your position on the floor. You were sure your knees were starting to bruise due to the hard concrete floor.

“Then the Bishop will hand us each a stick...”

You lifted your veil ever so slightly to glance at Alfred. You were unsure of what to do next. He must have felt your stare on his face because he turned to you and nodded to the lit candle in front of you.

You copied his movements as he used the candle in front of him to light his stick. Together, you lit the middle candle. A few days ago, Alfred had told you that it was a symbol of unification between the pride and groom.

“And finally, we take our vows.”

“Do you, Alfred, son of Aethelwulf, before all these witnesses here gathered, take this woman, Y/N, daughter of...” the Bishop swallowed thickly before continuing, “Ragnar as your lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this moment until death parts you?”

"I, of course. will answer with -”

“I do.”

Alfred glanced at you for a moment and gave you a reassuring smile before turning back to the Bishop.

“Do you, Y/N, before all these witnesses, take this man, Alfred, to have and to hold, and forsaking all others, to serve and obey from this time henceforth until you die?”

“Obey?”

Once again you turned to face Alfred. “I have to swear to obey you for the rest of my life?” you asked, completely bewildered, “That is not marriage, that’s slavery!”

The conditions for marriage were completely different with Vikings. Your mother never had to swear to obey your father. Margrethe never had to swear to obey Ubbe. It was strange as well as insulting.

“It is the way we do things here,” Alfred shrugged, “You can seek comfort in the fact that you are not Christian. Your vows are not binding...to you.”

It seemed like everyone, from the guests, to the  Priest and the Bishop, were waiting with held breaths for your answer. You couldn’t be sure which answer they were waiting and hoping for; ‘I do’ or ‘I don’t’.

You opened your mouth to answer when you accidentally inhaled some of the smoke coming from the burning incense that the Priest was holding. Alfred shot you a concerned look as you broke into a coughing fit, but you quickly recovered and waved him off.

You looked up at the Bishop and cringed, “I’m sorry.” His plain expression remained unchanged.

You cleared your throat and licked your dry lips nervously. Everyone was waiting. Pushing out every doubt in your mind, you sucked in a deep breath and nodded, “I do.”

The bishop gestured to you both with his hands, “You may stand.”

Both of you stood and clasped your hands in front you. The Priest handed you a gold ring, similar to the one he gave Alfred.

“Let these rings be a permanent sign that you are united in holy matrimony,” the Bishop declared as you and Alfred slipped the rings onto each other’s fingers, “In the eyes of these people, and in the eyes of God.”

A chorus of “Amen” was heard as Alfred took your hand and you both turned around to face the guests as man and wife.

The Viking princess and the Saxon King.

Married.

                        __________________________

“This is so strange.”

A feast was thrown in honour of the King and his new Queen that evening. However, what the Saxons referred to as a celebration, was actually quite dull. Viking funerals were livelier than this. Everything here was so...tame.

All through the feast, various people had approached yours and Alfred’s table to offer their congratulations and a few gifts. The whole time, you only managed to muster up a smile and a few thank you’s, but mainly left Alfred to do the greeting. 

In all honesty, you were uncomfortable sitting there. You were surrounded by people you didn’t know in a dress that was starting to itch. Earlier, you were informed that it would not be lady like to scarf down all the food on your plate, and so, you were growing hungrier by the minute. 

But above all else, you couldn’t shake the unfamiliarity of being referred to as someone’s ‘wife’, as well as the overwhelming guilt that came with the term. For every second of happiness you were feeling, there was a conflicting sadness over the fact that your brothers were not here. Neither was your mother...or your father. 

Even if he was alive, would he have approved? Would he have hated you for, literally, getting into bed with a Saxon?

“What is?” Alfred asked from your side, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

You glanced at him for a second then back to crowd and let out a deep breath. “Everything,” you sighed, “It’s so...surreal.”

“I agree,” he chuckled, “I was only getting used to being addressed as ‘King Alfred’. Now, there are two things I have to get used to.”

“I became a wife and a Queen of Saxons in one day, I think there is a lot more for me to get used to,” you downed the red wine in your chalice, glancing at Alfred over the top of the cup as you drank.

“I was not aware it was a competition,”

“It would only be a competition if you had a chance of winning.”

Alfred chuckled, amusement in his eyes, “Competing over who has more right to feel overwhelmed. I expect this is normal for newlyweds?”

“I suppose so,” you pursed your lips then turned to Alfred. You both let out a soft laugh just as Judith approached your table.

She was wearing a smile on her face. She looked from you to her son, hands clasped in front of her.

“It is...heartwarming to see the newlyweds so jovial,” she smiled. You awkwardly looked at Alfred, not knowing what to say. He was very well aware of your...strained relationship with his mother. She did not like you, and the feeling was not mutual.

“It was a beautiful ceremony,” she continued, then swallowed, “And you looked beautiful, Y/N.”

You were once again visibly taken aback by her compliment. She  stunned you into silence.

“Congratulations to you both,” she finished and turned to walk away. 

Alfred rose from his seat and walked around the table to his mother before pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Thank you, mother,” he smiled softly.

“Thank you, Judith, for your kind words,” you said, a little breathlessly, still in shock. She simply flashed another forceful smile before walking away to join a few of the other women in the room.

You were about to discuss what could have possibly caused Judith’s sudden change of heart when you were interrupted by Aethelred.

He walked up to the table, a proud smirk on his face and an empty goblet in his hand. “Brother,” he cheered as he grabbed Alfred’s face and placed a sloppy kiss on his face. Alfred couldn’t help but laugh at his brother’s drunkenness, but your laughter was forced. You were still wary of him after what he had said yesterday.

When I am King...

What did that mean? 

“I never thought you would be the first to be married, brother,” he shook his head in disbelief, “And to a Viking woman! It says something that you had to look outside the country to find someone willing to marry you.”

You rolled your eyes as Alfred chuckled at his brother’s words. “Oh, I assure you brother, from Northumbria to right here in Wessex, the women are weeping over the great loss they have suffered today,” Alfred winked and sipped his wine.

“The women are more than welcome to seek comfort in my warm embrace-”

“Okay,” you cut them off as you stood up, “This dress is extremely uncomfortable, and seeing as you will be discussing women for the time being, I shall use this opportunity to rid myself of it. Excuse me.”

Alfred watched you as you descended the steps and manoeuvred through the crowd, until you exited the room before turning back to his brother. Aethelred was staring.

“Well?” his brother asked.

“’Well’, what?” Alfred downed his wine, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Why are you still sitting here? Follow her.”

“What?”

Aethelred leaned forward to whisper into his brother’s ear. “You know the reason why you married the heathen. The one reason,” he hissed, “Now go and put a son in the woman.”

Alfred looked up at his older brother and nodded his head. Aethelred gave him a short squeeze on the shoulder before ushering him along. As Alfred walked out of the room, the guests erupted in cheers for what was about to come.

It was time to consummate the marriage.

                        __________________________

A significant amount of time had passed since the wedding. 

Nothing changed much. You continued to train your men, while Alfred dealt with the pretentious Lords and Ladies that you had no patience for. You still had a temper that was best channeled into sparring.

It seemed like the Saxons had grown to trust you. There was no longer any animosity towards you, not any that was obvious anyways. The longer you and Alfred were married, the greater the pressure to produce heirs became.

You had been ill for a few weeks now, and Alfred was sure that the pregnancy was making you ill. Despite reassuring him that it was only a fever, he, along with his mother, brother and a few others, had insisted on you being seen by the midwife.

Which is why you were currently sitting in your bedroom, being examined by the midwife. She had taken some measurements and inspected your urine. Now, she was examining your breasts, a thoughtful expression on her face.

You were growing impatient. You were absolutely sure that you were not with child, but you still wanted a swift confirmation to expunge any and all worries.

“When was your last bleed?” she suddenly asked, looking up at you. You thought about it for longer than you expected. Was it...

“Um-”

“Lady Y/N,” you were interrupted by a young woman entering the room, “The King has requested your presence in the throne room.”

You let out a heavy sigh, “Can it wait?”

“I’m afraid he says it is urgent,” she shook her head, “You have visitors that he would like you to meet.”

You frowned in confusion before nodding your head, “Very well.” You rose and began to dress yourself with the assistance of a few of your hand maidens who had entered the room. 

As you stood outside the throne room, you could hear loud chatter and what sounded like arguing. You could not hear Alfred’s voice, however. 

What is going on?

You pushed the door open and entered the room. As you walked towards Alfred’s throne, the room grew silent and everyone stared at you. 

“I would like you all to meet my wife, Y/N” Alfred said proudly as you stopped beside him. It was not an tone that you associated with him, which only added to your confusion.

You leaned down to whisper nervously in his ear, “What is happening, Alfred? Why are all these people staring at me?”

“You have guests,” Alfred pointed into the crowd of people, “From Kattegat.”

That one word sent you into a trance. 

Kattegat. Home.

Who was here? Ubbe? Hvitserk? Ivar?

You stepped forward and squinted your eyes to see better. Standing somewhere in the middle was a tall burly man. His head was shaved bald, but his beard was blonde. His blue eyes stared at you intensely. Blue eyes that resembled your father’s. Blue eyes that you could never ever forget.

“Bjorn?”

*

This a repost of Sworn Enemies because my old blog got deleted. There’s a few changes, but it’s mainly the same.

Special thanks to these people! I’m glad you guys like this series 💛:

@shelbi-percifull , @florenceivy , @cbouvier23 , @icylodge , @simvez , @squirrelacorngliterfarts , @writingeverynowand-then , @fromforeigntofamiliarity , @studyingthemind , @fuckthatfeeling , @brooklynalpha , @girl-obsessed-with-things , @deficilimbecile , @paarachvtes , @xbergiex , @olamishamigo , @xinyourdreamsx @camu-winchester , @feyrearcheron44 , @alpha-pac , @candyheartsandcigarettes , @ok-roemanov , @ajxlawley

[soundwavereporting]

What about the concept of that affection post you reblogged but like with prowl for the prompt thing???? I'm v bad at coming up with stuff so forgive me

i present:

false starts and casual physical contact, starring prowl, cosmos, and a couple of random, very unimaginatively named OCs. technically it’s future!prowlcoswave, but is currently coswave, ft. three emotionally stunted characters. it takes place a couple months after the end of ‘redux’, (which i still haven’t finished.)

unbeta’d save for spellcheck and a repetitive word detector. ao3 link in the source. feedback is always appreciated!

Of all the things Prowl had ever imagined he might end up doing if and when the war ended, reuniting Decepticons with their conjuxes had never been one of them.

“I mean, we’re not technically conjuxes,” Outburst was saying. “After the siege at the Perseus Veil, Sparknote and I were separated before we could complete the fourth step. So we’re technically not conjuxes. Yet.”

Outburst was very obviously an MTO—likely one of the last batches. He had that overeager, slightly desperate look of a mech who didn’t know what to do with himself off the battlefield, and he was gawking at Prowl as though Prowl was a sparkeater who had decided to sit himself behind a desk and devote half a day to locating a long-lost-almost-conjux.

“Uh-huh.”

“We never even discussed the fourth step,” Outburst said. “And even if we had—I still don’t know what I should do! It’s been half a million years since we saw each other. Sparknote’s been traveling the galaxy and I’ve been spinning my wheels patrolling warworlds. All the stuff he’s seen—how can I even compare?”

Prowl looked over the edge of his screen and peered at Outburst.

“It seems Sparknote has been looking for you as well,” Prowl said. “Changing your designation resulted in the queries being erroneously rerouted.”

“I told—I told him I was thinking about changing it,” Outburst said. “Are you sure that’s the right person? Maybe he doesn’t want to see me. Maybe—”

Wordlessly, Prowl pushed the datapad over to Outburst, who took one look at the image of the Deception named Sparknote (third lieutenant, last assigned to the Alpha Exploratory Corps) and let out a sharp, static-laden exhale. His tactical HUD flashed, and Prowl had a microsecond of warning before Outburst leapt over the desk to tackle Prowl in a strut-crushing embrace.

“It’s him,” Outburst said, as Prowl tried to decide whether to shove the Deception away or return the gesture. He wondered if Outburst could hear his processor spinning. “It’s him, it’s him, it’s him.”

Decision made, Prowl stiffened his shoulders and Outburst jumped back as though he’d been shocked. His leg banged the desk and a datapad clattered to the floor.

“I’m so sorry,” Outburst said. “I just—”

Prowl held up a placating hand as his vision slowly returned to normal. “It’s fine. Good luck with your act of devotion, Outburst.”

Outburst beamed.

Within the hour, Prowl’s shift was finished, and sooner rather than later, Prowl set down his datapads and locked the door to his office. The halls were no more crowded than they usually were—most mechs completed their shifts at the same time Prowl had finished his. Prowl made a mental note to adjust his schedule tomorrow in order to accommodate mechs who needed to see him after hours. Carefully, Prowl navigated the throngs of Decepticons as he made his way back to habsuite.

Since accepting the position of deputy security chief two months ago, the rate of glares and side eyes had dropped significantly. His first week on the station, he had received 39 such looks, up to a high of 988 the week he began his job, to a low of 19 this week.

Prowl opened the habsuite door and stepped in.

His plating was warm where Outburst had embraced him. Not overly so, not nearly enough to be irritating. Just warm.

“Hey.” Cosmos said. The Autobot’s frame was relaxed—he had hardly bothered to turn and see if it was actually Prowl entering the habsuite.

Cosmos usually worked the overnight shift at the comms, since it was quieter, and, Prowl knew, gave him ample time to flirt with Soundwave via comlink.

Prowl grabbed a cube from the dispenser and sat beside Cosmos. He tried to peer over the Autobot’s shoulder to see what he was reading, but Cosmos was simply too tall. After a moment, Cosmos tilted the datapad up so Prowl could see.

“Translating again?”

“Yeah.” Cosmos tapped the datapad. “I’m on the classics—but I’ve got circuits older than the ‘classics’.”

“It’s a relative term,” Prowl said neutrally. “Anything interesting?”

“Unless you’re into uncomfortably saccharine, human, descriptions of forbidden love, not really.” Cosmos paused. “D’you think Soundwave’d get it if I sent him some of these?”

Cosmos held up the datapad.

“You’re not experiencing forbidden love.”

“Hah.” Cosmos gave the datapad one last, irritated look and switched it off. “Feels like it, sometimes.”

“If it helps,” Prowl said, entirely unsure whether or not his next words would actually help. “Soundwave feels the same—about the whole ‘forbidden love’, thing, at least.”

“Oh.” Cosmos gesticulated with the datapad, waving it mere inches from Prowl’s face. “I knew it! You two do talk about me.”

“No more than we talk about anyone else,” Prowl lied, and Cosmos scoffed. “He has shown me a few of the exchanges you two engaged in.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Cosmos mumbled and tossed the datapad onto the table. “I’m really gonna kill him.”

“I was the one who asked,” Prowl offered. “I wanted to know why he was so distracted.”

“He could’ve lied!”

“I would have known.”

Prowl picked up the datapad Cosmos had been translating and studied it for a moment. Saccharine indeed.

Prowl set it down.

“He needed help,” Prowl said, finally. “Sometimes, he doesn’t exactly know how to reply.”

“Primus.” Cosmos said. “Is that why he sometimes takes two hours to respond?”

Prowl nodded, unsure if the level of embarrassment he was feeling was proportionate to the current situation.

“I was the one who suggested comparing you to the green circuit nebula,” Prowl admitted.

“So instead of overworking yourselves in your off duty hours,” Cosmos began. “You overwork yourselves trying to come up with ways to flirt with me.”

“That is only a small fraction of what we do,” Prowl said.

“Figures.”

And that seemed to be that.

Prowl finished his cube and debated getting up for another, then decided against it. Cosmos’s frame was pleasantly warm against his side, and the mech would be leaving for his shift in a few minutes anyway.

“I liked it,” Cosmos said, finally. “What you wrote. Or he wrote. Your collaboration, I guess.”

 “He meant it,” Prowl said, and judging by the tilt of the Autobot’s head, imagined Cosmos was smiling under his battlemask.

“Some forbidden love, “ Cosmos said. “When I’ve got someone helping the guy I’m trying to court. Hey—if I can’t figure out what to tell Soundwave, does that mean I can ask you?”

As if on cue, Cosmos’s comlink chimed.

Cosmos looked at Prowl, then sheepishly looked at his chat log, then equally sheepishly showed Prowl the message.

“Send him a song,” Prowl suggested. “Some of that earth music he likes.”

“Hm.” Cosmos typed his response, and together, they waited.

A moment later, the comlink chimed again.

“He said…” Cosmos trailed off. “To tell you the gesture was appreciated?”

Prowl looked up, half-expecting to see Soundwave emerging from the ceiling.

“Telepath,” Prowl realized. “I told him not to listen to me.”

“You want me to tell him that?”

Prowl shrugged.

“He’s—oh.” This time, Cosmos was the one to look up at the ceiling. “Not listening to you. I’m thinking loudly enough for the both of us, I guess.”

“…ah.” Prowl dared to sneak a glance at Cosmos, who looked like he had just been caught in an uncomfortable, interpersonal crossfire. “You are sitting next to me, Cosmos,” Prowl said. “It’s only natural you would be thinking about me.”

“I know!” Cosmos keyed in his reply and sent it, then turned to face Prowl fully. “It’s just…thinking, y’know?”

“Thinking?”

“Yeah.” Cosmos gestured at the datapad, then at himself. “The way he wrote it, it got me thinking.”

“About?”

Cosmos sighed.

“I think I’m in a little over my head,” Cosmos admitted. “Flirting’s nice and all, but I’ve never been in a serious relationship before. Not one I was really invested in, anyway. It’s never gotten to the point where we actually do anything, and he listens to me, which is fine, so I know he knows I’m thinking about it, but it’s like…I want to, but the concept of it is just so uncomfortable. Does that make sense?”

Prowl thought back to Outburst.

“Yes.”  

“I kinda hoped you wouldn’t,” Cosmos said. “Just so I could ask you what I should do. You know, being an impartial, flirting-assistant and all.”

Prowl remembered how Outburst had so effortlessly cast aside thousands of years of war and hate and trauma in a moment of pure, unfiltered reliefs and joy. Would it be possible to learn to do that? Did he even want to want that?

Prowl wasn’t sure.

But Cosmos did.

“I suppose the first step is to get comfortable with casual physical contact,” Prowl said. “And to define casual physical contact.”

“Makes sense,” Cosmos said. “But, I can’t really go up to a random Deception and go ‘hey I’d like to work up to kissing Soundwave, can I practice by giving you a hug?’” Cosmos looked away, then back at Prowl, and Prowl tensed, instinctively dreading the next question, simply because he didn’t have an answer. “I mean, unless you’re willing to, uh, help? Is that the right way to put it?”

“I don’t mind,” Prowl guessed. “I think. I’d…I’d tell you if I did—or when I do, at least.”

That seemed to be the safest answer—better than I don’t know, at any rate.

Cosmos let out a slow exhale. “Okay. Here goes: Prowl. Can I give you a hug?”

He hadn’t expected Cosmos to ask, but he supposed that was the proper way to do it.

“Yeah,” Prowl said. “I mean, yes.”

“Okay.” Cosmos coughed awkwardly. Prowl hadn’t yet decided if that habit was endearing or annoying. “Okay?”

Moving just quickly enough to make it slightly less awkward than Prowl feared it would be, Cosmos moved forward, arms outstretched, and pulled him into an embrace.

A moment later, Prowl realized that he should probably return the gesture, and he awkwardly lifted his arms up to rest on Cosmos’s back.

“Oh.” Cosmos tensed, and for a microsecond his angles and trajectories shifted, indicating Cosmos was uncomfortable, but they settled back just as quickly, and Cosmos relaxed against Prowl’s frame.

“I guess a good hug is supposed to be two-way, huh?”

“It would seem so.” Prowl said dryly. His plating itched, but not unbearably so. He could stay like this for a while, Prowl thought, and realized with some relief that Cosmos seemed to be indicating he felt the same.

“My shift starts in a few minutes,” Cosmos said. “I should really get going.”

But he made no move to pull away, and Prowl didn’t encourage him.

[schizosupport]

Hey I’m kind of panicking a bit?? I have schizophrenia, NOT DID, but I have headmates. I’m getting vaguely told that my system is a delusion and it’s scaring me really badly. They are so real to me, and I can’t find anything online. Especially with the controversy that people are trying to say people with systems have DID and not something ‘scary like schizophrenia’ and that it’s an insult. But now it’s hitting me that maybe I was diagnosed with schizo because they thibk my system is a delusion,

Hey Ink-Nero

I’m sorry, this didn’t show up in my notifications, so I don’t hope you’ve been waiting a long while for an answer!

Hm, this is a kind of personal question to me. At some point I had experiences similar to that of headmates, that turned out to be, most likely, psychotic in nature. (Specifically, delusions of control and something similar to voices) HOWEVER, life is not so clear-cut. The line between dissociation and psychosis is not so conveniently clear-cut. I was definitely also dissociating, and my experiences were also related to dissociation. I mostly write these experiences off as psychotic, because they went away when I upped my dose of antipsychotics. But that isn’t a reliable method to tell, and there are a number of things in my case that led me to the conclusion that it was psychotic, that I don’t want to get into.

What I’m trying to get at is, that the borderland between having headmates and being psychotic is probably a little more blurred than either community would like to admit, because life does not fit neatly inside diagnostic boxes. A symptom is merely that - a symptom - and it does not say anything about the origin of the symptom.

As such, hearing voices is most often associated with psychosis, but some people with DID report that they can communicate with their alters in a way that would be described similarly to hearing voices.

Losing time is commonly associated with DID (and other dissociative disorders), but it is also not uncommon for people with psychosis to lose time.

This all just goes to say that the symptoms of DID and schizophrenia can overlap, even though the disorders are ultimately conceived of in a completely different way.

You say that you have schizophrenia, not DID, but you do have headmates. It makes me wonder about the nature of your headmates. I assume what you mean by this is, that you don’t live up to the criteria for DID. What about OSDD or similar? Or would you rather not pathologize it? Or do you mean that you’re professionally diagnosed with schizophrenia, not DID, but that you might live up to a diagnosis of DID (or OSDD)? 

What I’m getting at is: Are you wondering whether your schizophrenia diagnosis is in fact wrong, because it is based on the professionals’ belief, that your headmates constitue psychosis? Or do you have other symptoms of schizophrenia that would justify the diagnosis, headmates not-with-standing? 

If you have other symptoms of schizophrenia, specifically psychosis, it’s not a reach to think that the professionals could be writing the whole system thing off as a delusion. (Even if you had no other symptoms, the MH system sucks, and they might still think it’s psychotic (or that you were faking)).

(Sorry for rambling for so long, but this is a difficult question, so I’m just trying to think out loud about it, and hope that it’s somehow helpful.)

I sense that you’re also kind of asking: “Could it be a delusion?”

Essentially… yes. It *could* be a delusion. But it could also not be a delusion? I doubt all the people out there with headmates of varying kinds are all “delusional”, but I also don’t doubt that a few of them are. But even saying as much betrays the point. Because they’re just *words*. They don’t change lived experience. 

You have headmates. If they’re not hurting you, and you don’t intend to get rid of them, then does it matter if they’re psychotic or dissociative? Of course I don’t know your relationship to your headmates, but I’m a great believer in “if it ain’t broken, don’t try to fix it”, meaning, that if you guys function well as a system, then where’s the harm?

The difference between the treatment of psychosis and multiplicity is that in the case of multiplicity you try to communicate with, and foster understanding, with your parts - but for psychosis, most MH professionals go straight for subduing it, without dialogue. 

Is this the right approach? Lenghty debates have been held about this matter..

Personally I believe that there CAN be sense found in madness, and that it’s possible to work productively with psychotic symptoms in a safe environment. But this is a controversial view for sure, don’t tell my psychiatrist! She’d be deeply concerned about me identifying with my illness, or something.

But the thing is. ALL symptoms originate inside YOU. They are shaped by your experience. And you can shape them going forward, but the way you conceive of them.

So IF, and I say IF because I don’t know if your headmates are psychotic in nature or not - but IF they were: Then that’s probably not a bad thing! It seems like a relatively comprehensible way for psychosis to manifest, one that promotes communication and working with these parts of yourself.

Especially if it’s not hurting you, I wouldn’t worry too much about the cause. The fact of the matter is that you experience having headmates, and no word to describe that experience, makes it less real to you. 

I honesly have no idea if I’m making sense, I’m sooooo tired. I hope that some followers with more experience with the intersection of identity dissociation and psychosis can correct me, if I said something wrong or even bad.

-mod Kit

Ps. I tried asking some friends as well, if they get back to me, I’ll reblog this, and add it and tag you in the reblog.

Pps. If you have more specific questions feel free to ask again, I realize that I rambled about a lot of things here..