#maybe on top of that fear he thinks that they’re cowards? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

senpiecakes · 2 years ago

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A Love Not Meant to Be: Childe

Notes: I saw this in my drafts, and I haven't posted anything in this series for a while so I was like 'fuck it, I'm gonna finish it.' (lowkey this made me cry while I listened to the song)

Summary: Hated by everyone, loved by you.

Theme/s: GN!Reader, Angst No Comfort, the world hates you both

Warning/s: Some very mean words from the world. That's about it.

Once More to See You by Mitski

5.5k Words

“I’ll protect you.”

Childe is known to be protective of those he loves. He goes out of his way to spin elaborate lies for his youngest brother to protect his innocence, he makes sure to keep his whole family out of harm's way because of his job, and he will strike down any enemy that dares to threaten his loved ones. In all of that, there was you. You loved Childe dearly, and it was clear he had the same feelings for you. Childe shows you off to his subordinates, pampers you with his wealth and makes sure you’re top priority always. That included your safety. Everywhere you went, bodyguards kept a close distance, if you were out with Childe, he’d keep a secure arm around you, even at home he’d make sure you’re safe- especially when you’re alone. All that you could trust him in. Childe only sees threats in the form of enemies, never in the common folk that walk with you in the streets day to day.

‘There goes that Fatui’s hound.’

‘Can you believe they’re actually WITH a Harbinger?’

‘I bet you they’re kidnapped or blackmailed.’

Everyday, hushed voices would throw scorn at you and Childe as you passed. You knew of the world’s disdain for the Fatui but you also knew Childe. He was sweet, caring, protective and you knew in your heart he would never hurt you. But you were also aware of his reputation; his strength in battle, his ability to harm warranted or not, his sworn duty to an Archon planning to rid the world of Gods. It was only fair of people to have their opinions about Childe. But you knew deep down how much the man can love- if the rest of the world saw him through your eyes, maybe their opinions of him would change. People feared him, but they had the gall to throw their cowardly vices towards you.

Some days, you tell your bodyguards to lay back for a while, that you can handle yourself while you grocery shop. Despite your commands, they follow you. On those days when you appear to be alone, people made it clear how much they truly hated the man you loved. They would be more vocal about their jeers, going as far as to tell you directly that you should be ashamed for being with him. You’d defend Childe with all that you can and that usually results in many unsavory exchanges.

People refusing to sell you things in fear that Childe may target them, some barring you from their business with the most ridiculous reasons, others even outright mocking you. That’s when your bodyguards step in and you fear that it only escalates things further- that you had to be kept within a wall.

‘I knew you’re a coward, hiding behind that Fatui freak.’

You don’t really think much about these encounters, never speaking a word about it to Childe until your bodyguards inform him of all that’s happened.

“Do you want me to deal with them?” He asks you one night.

“What? No! I can handle myself.” You say.

“Well, alright. Just tell me if anything else happens, okay?”

In truth, you knew if Childe stepped in it would make things worse. You didn’t want him to shoulder all the weight and responsibility of keeping those he loved safe. He already has so many stresses happening at once, one more problem could send him over the edge. And so, you bore through it because you loved him. It was all that you needed.

It was until strange things started happening around your home- the place where you felt the most secure. Rocks thrown at your windows, strangers standing only a few feet away from your doorstep, light acts of vandalism appearing on your property. Only then did you start fearing for your life. You brought the issue up to Childe who kept guard throughout the night, but miraculously, nothing ever happens when he’s at home. It’s only when you’re by yourself that people seem to go out of their way to take out their frustrations of Childe onto you. You didn’t think that people could be so cruel. Then again, they had a reason to hate Childe- but they had no excuse to show their hatred through you.

Childe always noticed your fears. As much as he tried to relieve it, the world always seemed to push his efforts away. Even as he volunteers to deal with the problem himself, you hold him back. As much as it angers him to see you look so vulnerable, he knows it’ll only make things worse.

Things came to a boiling point when Childe suggested you two take a walk together around town to take your mind off of things. You were reluctant to be seen with him, which was silly but reasonable. In the end, you agreed and Childe was more observant in his surroundings more than ever. His head was held up high, scanning the crowd who turned away as they met his cold gaze. You on the other hand kept your eyes low on the ground, fearing that someone would be brave enough to cross Childe’s wrath. He noticed this, noticed your shying away as if you were embarrassed to be seen with him, and he could do nothing to ease you of your worries.

It’ll only make things worse.

As you walked, Childe led you away to a place with little to no people- a place where you can breathe. He savors this moment with you. He never really has time to be at home so Childe always makes sure to spend as much time with you as he can, pouring out his heart when he’s absent during the night when you sleep.

“You know, you’re the realest thing I’ve had in a while.” Childe says, taking your fingers in his hands. “Thank you.” He looked at you and was surprised to see your face. Quick was your change of expression- a look of fear as you glanced down at his hand, then back up at Childe. Your eyes, wide and worried, wandering around the near-empty streets as you took your fingers away by impulse and smiled awkwardly.

“Ah… well, let’s get going before it gets too dark.”

It was clear how much of a toll the fear had on you. You barely went out to shop anymore, spending your days and nights locked up in your house, counting down the days for Childe’s return from a mission. He worries about you, even more so when you start acting differently towards him. You’re silent, shrinking away from his touch, never wanting to go out for dinners and always afraid of seeing him off- even if it was just at your front door. You worried about your long term future with him. You wanted life with Childe to be normal- that one day if would just be the two of you living a mundane but peaceful life. Childe was angry and heartbroken; angry at the fact that he is powerless to change the minds of people, to stop them from seeing his infamy through you. Heartbroken at the fact that you drift away because of the very same people that convince you that loving him was a sin. Childe needed to take you out of there.

And so, you move. He takes you to his missions and you find temporary housing in whatever nation his job lands him in. You thought you could handle it, that starting fresh would be what’s best, but it seemed that this lifestyle was far more exhausting than the one you had before. You never had a home; whenever you felt comfortable in your new living space, Childe always finishes up his mission before you even get the chance to look around the place. You don’t get to stay for long anyways; the longer you stay, the more people recognize Childe and soon you are back in the cycle of hate. As much as Childe tried to keep you from harm's way, it never felt safe. It was draining, but you held on for Childe’s sake. He just wanted to keep you safe.

“Let’s go back home to Snezhnaya.” Childe suggested one night. “I think it’ll be good for both of us.” You knew why Childe wanted to go back home. He needed peace away from the dangers of his duty and you were more than happy to be there with him. Still, you can’t really shake off the paranoia you’ve acquired after running away for so long.

“What about your work?” You ask.

“I’ve requested a time off. I’ve been doing great anyways.”

“We can’t stay with your family.” You say silently, looking down at your hands. “We can’t risk it. After all the places we’ve been, people are bound to recognize me now.”

“I know.” Childe responds. “I rented us a cabin in the forest. Just the two of us.”

Soon enough, you found yourself in the winters of Snezhnaya, in a little wooden cabin surrounded by tall trees, blanketed by snow under the dome of endless sky. It really was just the two of you. Childe watches in adoration as you feel yourself feeling free for the first time in a while. He smiles as you do back at him, bounding through the snow and into his open arms.

Childe hasn’t felt you this close in so long. He’s gone on nights and on days you’re withdrawn. He wants to get carried away with you. Your comforting embrace was almost enough to send him over the edge.

“I missed you.” He whispers in your ear, tone mirroring that of a desperate man waiting to be satisfied.

He wants to devour you like a wolf; caught between your teeth and tongue like a ravaged, hungry animal waiting for the warmth that comes with death as soon as he takes the first bite. And all that Childe has ever known was hunger; to hunt and to take what was never given to him. He will kiss till you are breathless, till your skin burns with desire and lips shed the blood he once ravaged others to get- to release the tension built up in his bones when he failed to protect you from the world. But he is in your hands. He’d let you tame him if it meant he’d get to feel your love like the way he used to.

Tonight, as you spare him a fluttering kiss, sweet like candy and warm like the blood he craves- Childe falters. You barely have your lips on his, but as soon as he feels the delicate brush of your skin, the slight exhale through your nose on his cheek as if to say you feel secure, Childe is at the mercy of the prey that was once in his control. He will not bite the hand that feeds him, and so, he simply closes his eyes and sinks into the innocence of your willingness to be in his grasp. His mind races with all the things that had happened to the both of you. You endured so much for him and the thought of that makes Childe feel guilt like never before.

The world slows to let Childe’s heart thrum madly in his chest. He feels you inch in closer, fingers interlocking with him as he feels the tension leave your shoulders, the weight of fear from the past now gone. You’re with him. You’re both alone. You’re safe.

Childe will not be the monster the world portrays him to be- not especially around you. But even if you see him in his prime- blue waves crashing into violent lighting- how could you kiss him like he’s a man fit to hold the beauty of the world? He’s shown you how childish, immature, selfish and brash he could be, all the while he stubbornly wants to keep you at his side for his sake. Even then, you chose to stay. You didn’t want to push him away. Childe feels as though he doesn’t deserve this.

Tell me, he thinks. How could you love me for who I am?

“How could you still be with me for all the things I’ve done?” Childe mumbles, voice breaking as he pulls you in. “The blood on my hands, the lives it took-“ You stop him. Childe falls silent and your response nearly makes him lose his composure.

“You were just a kid.” You whisper, taking his face in your steady hands. “You were never given a choice.” Childe breathes hard as he studies your hardened eyes, scolding him almost. He wasn’t the type to show weakness, not with you, not with gentle scolding. But this- you’re giving him a choice- a choice of freedom. To be unshackled by the consequences of his past and allow him to be vulnerable, even for just a second.

The snowfall was quiet, and so were you. You knew what you had to say and Childe knows what it was. He just didn’t want to accept it.

“You know we can’t keep running away, Childe.”

Childe doesn’t answer and instead looks away, his eyes darting back and forth, refusing to look at you. His jaw was tight and his hands were clenched into a fist. You soften at the sight. You know that looks all too well. It was Childe’s way of showing fear. He wasn’t really afraid- only frustrated and fearful of the consequence of his actions. He knows deep down that he can’t keep running. He can’t take you with him and he refuses to let you go. You’re tired, he knows that, he just doesn’t ever want to lose you.

“Ajax,” you say, your hand landing on Childe’s cheek. He nearly flinches away from your touch, but instead he relents and allows himself to melt into you- his kiss finding home in the warmth of your palms. “What are you so afraid of?” Truth be told, Childe wasn’t as brave as he presents himself to be. He was just a person like everyone else; he had his own fears, worries, doubts and regrets. Many of those he did on his own, but now they’ve caught up to him, and he is more afraid of consequences now than he has ever been. All because of you. Childe ran away from all those problems before, but if those consequences catch up to him, they’d cost him you. You who fought with him so bravely- never afraid of him and his tainted past. You who stuck by him even when the world seemed to treat you like an outcast for even associating yourself with him. You who had sacrificed everything for him, defended him when he refused to do the same for himself. He was given a glimpse of the risks that came with his dangerous job. Soon, people would find the courage to test his strength. By all means, it would always cost you your freedom.

“Of you.” Childe says finally. “I’m scared of everything because of you.” It was hypocritical of him to think this way, especially since he was the one who put your life at risk and your reputation hanging on by a string. But you were braver than him in a way that was sane- and you still had the courage to look at him as if he were just any other person in the world. His dream of normalcy, you never took it away.

“Then why don’t you leave me?” Childe scoffs

“It’s not that easy for me to do that, you know?” He says with a weak laugh. He can’t leave you alone. He doesn’t want to, he would never want to.

“Then I’ll do it for you.” You say. “I’ll go far away and things will go back to normal.”

Childe looks at you surprised. He knows you’re doing this for his own sake and yours, that you’re doing what’s best even if it hurts. But why does he feel so betrayed? Why would you of all people leave him that quickly with all those promises and hopes and dreams for the future? Why would you be the one to crush them? Did any of it mean nothing? Why was it so easy for you to abandon what you had with him? Childe wanted to fight, argue and win you over again and again even if it meant you both had to go through heartbreak together. He needed you. He wanted to battle- but instead you calmed him with a look. A look he knew so well, so pleasant, that Childe’s sea of emotions ebbed and he gave you space to talk.

“You’re joking, right? Tell me you’re joking.” He says incredulously. You don’t answer. “Y/N, come on-”

“I love you, Childe, but this isn’t healthy for either of us.” You say. Childe shakes his head in protest but stays silent, allowing your words to penetrate him painfully as he lets the gravity of your situations sink in. You were right, he can’t keep running.

“You can protect me all you want, but we can’t live like this. You have jobs to do, places to go where I can’t, and I can’t keep fearing for my life when I’m with you. I love you, but I can’t… we can’t escape this, we can’t run away.” You say. “The best thing we can do is to get away from each other.”

“No, don’t do this to me!” He begs, almost angry. Childe doesn’t look at you and instead looks down at his feet, his teeth gritting and jaw tight as you hold his face and will for him to look.

“If you love me, then you wouldn’t do this, you wouldn’t leave me.” He argues. You shake your head but he continues. “You’ll just be like everyone else if you do. You’ll betray me by leaving because you’re just like everyone else!” Childe was guilting you into staying. He knows how wrong it was, how selfish he was being, but he thought it would be the only way to keep you by his side. It was the only way he knew how.

“You and I both know that isn’t true.” You say. Childe balls his fists a shadow looms over his already darkened eyes.

“If you really loved me, you would stay.” His voice was a silent, forceful anger that made you pity him. But this, whatever you two had, was destructive; it hurt you both and you knew well that Childe would destroy himself and a million more just to get what he wants- just to keep you with him.

“I do love you, Childe,” You say and a hopeful shine appears in his eyes. “But not enough to make me want to stay.” And in a flash, it’s gone. Despair washes over Childe’s expression, soon replaced by anger and desperation. He towers over you, a dark aura emanating from his gaze.

“You’re a liar.” Childe spits out, venom lacing his tone. You stand your ground- you knew well Childe would never hurt you. He never had space to deal with his emotions in a healthy manner, and you knew this tantrum was to mask the true feelings of hurt he had inside. He didn’t want to be seen as weak and vulnerable, even if it were you.

You were lying. You loved Childe so much it hurt- but this relationship between you two had terrorized you far worse. As much as you loved him, as much as he meant to you, you needed to save yourself. You sacrificed so much and risked everything in your life to be with him. You knew him better than anyone and saw him in a light that nobody else was willing to. You loved him as Ajax- the loving caring brother and family man that would do anything to protect those he loved so they would never have to go through the same thing he did. At the same time you loved Childe- the powerful, cocky and reckless Harbinger loyal to the Tsaritsa and even more loyal to you. But even that wasn’t enough. The world saw how much you truly loved Childe and decided to take advantage of that by pitting itself against you. It really was just the two of you against the world- but you had your limits, and Childe couldn’t be the person to fight alongside you if he tried. He tried, you tried, but nothing was enough.

“Please, Childe, look at me.” You say. “It might be the last time I’ll see you.”

“No!” He yells. “It’s not the last time! There won’t be a last time! You’re not leaving, I’ll see you again tomorrow and I can look at you all I want because you’re not leaving me! You would never do that to me!” Childe hugs you tight, his body trembling against you and choking sobs escape his throat. “Please, Y/N, I don’t want to be alone.”

You never thought you would ever see a Harbinger in this state- walls crumbling and image shattered from fear of all things. You thought the Harbingers were never afraid, that Childe would be the last person you’ll see look so distraught after all he went through. Then he looked at you dark blue eyes filled with tears, his brows furrowed and suppressed sobs making their way past his lips. You envision the young boy within him; robbed of this childhood, his innocence, still carrying the fear and trauma of the days he was taken away from his safety. Childe found his new safeplace in you, and the fear of losing it, losing you, the hope and dreams he so precariously planned with you, coupled with the loneliness and isolation that would come after you leave- of course he was going to be afraid. But you feared for your life- you didn’t want to risk Childe’s to save yours. And so, you turn away to leave but Childe grabs you.

“Childe, let me go.” You assert, tugging your wrist away from his tightening grip. He stares you down, wishing that it wouldn’t have to come to this.

“No, you can’t leave me.” He says. “You need me.” His tone was menacing, the same he uses against his subordinates to make them submit. This annoys you for some reason- to think that Childe had the nerve to see you as someone as lowly as those men and women under him- you thought you were both way past that. You angrily take your wrist away from him and start yelling- a version of you that Childe has never seen before. You didn’t know why you yelled, you didn’t understand why a red hot anger surged through your chest. You released every form of frustration you had on him; your fears, your regrets, the way you hated how he was so stubborn, the way you hated how he never admits he was wrong, how every bit of your life was stripped away the moment you told him you loved him. Everything. Tears well in your eyes with each word you say, and even more so when Childe decides to fight back. You thought that you trying to push him away like this would prompt him to let you go, not spiral into this form of chaos. You knew well that Childe would never give up an opportunity to fight; there’s no turning back now.

This was like any battle Childe would have trained to fight. It wasn’t like anything he had ever experienced from those before- the thrill, the excitement, his heart racing for more, more, more. Not tonight, not with you. You two were in war- fighting each other with the harshest words, sharp tongues, insults and arguments thrown so carelessly at the others deepest fears and insecurities. You were someone that knew Childe better than anybody, so this, the ache in Childe’s heart almost felt agonizing. He’s never seen you look so defeated. It’s as if it hurts you to even say these things to him out of anger. He hated the way your voice echoed the words his own mind would tell him; he hated the way your hands restrained themselves into fists by your side; he hated how tense your shoulders were, how your eyes looked so sad. He hated the way you mirrored those who tried so hard to break you in a pitiful attempt to make him feel what you felt.

Even from before as strangers berated you for even being with him, your life turned upside down for even being associated with him, you always put up such a strong front. Childe admired that, even more so now as he felt that he could shrink at the sheer magnitude of emotions that flooded out of you all because of him. Childe listened to you rant, your words becoming warbled as his head pounded with the strength of his own voice. He didn’t even know what he was saying at this point- only watching you cry and shout- wishing for nothing but to pull you in his arms and comfort you even while you’re still furious at him. Even if you beat, kick and punch your way out of his arms, just stay, he thinks.

Stay with me.

If it meant he’d lose everything else, Childe was willing to let this be the first battle he’ll lose. And what greater reward was it to lose against someone he loves?

“I can’t do this anymore, Childe,” you cry silently, your voice barely making it past your strained throat. He hears you, loud and clear. “I love you, but I can’t.”

Childe is silent.

The fallout was devastating, comparable to the collapse of a dying star. It was explosive and angry and destructive beyond what you could have anticipated. It was dangerous on both ends- the freefall of the damage reaching far beyond the ground zero of everything that surrounded the two of you. The echo of the forests that surrounded you two in the silence of winter felt the weight of you and Childe’s booming voices yelling louder above one anothers- shouting words you both would have never expected to hear the other say. It was painful, to you, to Childe and to the universe that knew of the relationship you had in secret- how the world watched your love bloom and beautify like a flower- and like a flower it wilted into the cold. It was ugly and it shouldn’t have been in the first place.

But at the same time, it was colorful and beautiful and bright. Twin flames bursting with far more hues than the searing red you saw in fury, the gentle blue of his tearful, empty eyes- a kaleidoscope of colors springing to life once the initial flames died down to a spark from where they’d started. The whispering, hushed voices, exhausted and only realizing the gravity of your situations. The once harmful words full of spite and venom now replaced by half-hearted apologies that carry the weight of your entire hearts, the words Childe cannot say. Like a star flickering out of its last few breaths, it explodes, furious and catastrophic, but it’s wonderful all the same. The rebirth of a new galaxy, the start of life anew. But for the both of you, it was still in the in-between; the slow, gradual explosion of a supernova, not yet ready to start over. That would be far, far into the future; right now, Childe stares into your tired, reddened eyes, seeing nothing but sadness and pity, and a glimpse into what could have been your future with him. That was the moment he calmed down, the star finally settling within itself to wait another million years of stasis until it could start over. The way Childe loved you was sincerely heartfelt, but the world was not ready to allow him to be happy.

Childe needed to make a choice. His hands tremble and fall to his sides, steeling himself for the moment you would look at him, finally seeing him for who he really is. Childe looks down, refusing to even glance at you, unable to confront the fact that his delusional want of hopes and dreams would just be that; a hope and a dream. He’ll just bear through the pain in silence, only listen when you would eventually turn your heels and walk away. Instead, Childe feels the lightness of your grip around him, your arms wrapped around his frame so surely, and the delicate plush of your kiss on his lips. In that moment, when he feels your shaking body against his beginning to hesitantly pull away, Childe breaks. His composure weakens as he sobs against your lips, shaking fingers not knowing where to touch you- wanting to reach for you so badly- but he doesn’t know how. He felt like he couldn’t, it would hurt too much, but if he didn’t, he would regret not wanting to when he had the chance. And so, he pulls you in, so close, so tight, that he feels he can never ever let you go. Childe hears your muffled sobs against his lips, your hands placed on his chest not knowing if you should push him away or pull him even closer. If he could live in this moment, he would for a million years; he would freeze time and let it be so that the two of you could live on happily.

When you break away, still feeling the need to gravitate towards each other, Childe smiles dumbly despite the situation. You follow suit.

“Gods…” You mumble, wiping away your own tears. “Will it always be like this if we fight? We kiss and make up?” Childe chuckles weakly.

“I wouldn’t really mind that.”

Silence again, and the snow begins to fall. Your gaze wanders ‘round the now still forest that cushioned your arguments and your eyes fixate on the sun beginning to set.

“It’s getting dark.” You say, and Childe nods in agreement. Tentatively, he takes your hand and leads you both back into the cabin, the fire now long gone, but the heat never leaving your skin.

You two went about that night in complete silence- never once uttering a single word to each other until it was finally time to sleep on your shared bed. Only then, when you decide to sleep on your side and fully expected Childe to stay in his, did you feel the relief of comfort when he wrapped you in his arms and pull you close. You nestled yourself in his warmth and breathed in the frost of the night. Silence was broken by Childe once more.

“You’re free to make a choice, Y/N,” he mumbles. “If you choose to leave, just know I’ll never be mad at you for it.” You feel Childe’s embrace tighten as he says it. You nod and hold his roughened hand, kissing his knuckles and burying yourself under the covers.

“Goodnight, Ajax.”

Childe didn’t sleep that night. He listened to the whistling breeze from outside and the occasional movements you’d make. He thinks about all the events that led up till now; how life snowballed into this catastrophe of a situation you both were in. He thinks about how different life for him would be if he hadn’t met you. He won’t be happier then; Childe loves you too much to imagine a life wherein your absence would be his downfall. At the same time, your life would ultimately be better without him in it. He pictures your smiling face amongst the crowd, everyone happy to see you’ve arrived because he isn’t there to taint your reputation. How different things would be for you both if you hadn’t met.

Childe had a choice, you’ve given him one. As much as it pains him to do this to you, to do it to himself, he knew in his heart he had to do it.

Silently, before the sun breaks out into dawn, Childe prepares himself for the inevitability of loneliness once he steps out the door. He watches you for a moment and ultimately decides that staying for a second longer would be far more painful. And so, he left silently in the sunrise, in the snow where he’ll be in the far, far future. When you woke that morning, you braced yourself of the dread that came with Childe’s absence. You knew deep down he’ll leave. He never wanted to be the selfish one, but tonight, he needed to be- for your sake. You breathed in the cold winter air and willed yourself to look at the note he left on the side that was once his. So little words, yet it had been enough to have you shatter.

‘Please forget me.’

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bookish-phile · 1 year ago

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fourth wing in a nutshell (i think?)

“Stop letting fear leach into your voice,” Luca snaps from behind Rhiannon. “If the dragons think you’re a coward, you’ll be nothing but a name tomorrow.” “She says,” Ridoc narrates, “inducing more fear.”

“It’s been rather surprising to watch, actually.” “Happy to be your entertainment. I’m going to bed.”

“Hell yes!” Ridoc yells, hooting from the top. “That’s our girl!”

“Get on your back?” I repeat like a fucking parrot.

“You’re making us look bad. Stop it.”

“You will not fall. I will not allow it.” “You will trust me.”

“But…” I shake my head. “Dragons value strength and cunning and…ferocity in their riders.” None of which defines me. “Please, do tell me more about what I should value.”

“For the record, please tell me the name of the dragon who chose you.” I lift my chin. “Tairneanach.” “Pronunciation could use some work.” Tairn’s voice rumbles through my head.

I belong to Tairn and Andarna…and, in some really fucked-up way…Xaden.

Tell him to ease up on you.” “Tell him to mind his own business.”

“Tairn says if you harm me, he’ll burn you,” I say as dragons to the left and right launch skyward without their riders, headed back to the Vale. But not Tairn. Nope, he’s still standing behind me like an overprotective dad.

and it’s not like Liam here is sleeping in my bedroom.” “I mean, I’m not opposed—”

“Oh, are we telling dick jokes now?” Ridoc asks from Liam’s side. “Because my entire life has led up to this very moment.”

"..but Sgaeyl does whatever she wants, whenever she wants.."

“Are we on offense or defense?” I ask Xaden. “Little busy right now.” “Oh no, am I distracting you?” A smile curves my mouth. Shit, am I flirting? Maybe. Do I care? Oddly enough…no. “Yes.”

“What did she say?” Xaden asks, gripping my shoulders to steady me. Tairn growls and a puff of steam blasts us both. “I’d take your hands off the rider,” Sgaeyl warns.

“Fuck, that stubborn, feisty look always makes me want to kiss you.”

but it’s not his position that steals my breath. It’s the saddle strapped across his back that has me gawking. “I hear it’s all the fashion,” Tairn brags.

“Third-years are taught to build wards, and at this point in the year, they’re leaving anyway.” I shrug. “May as well send them early so they can be of use.” “Point fucking made.”

Dress uniforms only.” She lifts her brows at Ridoc. He shrugs. “What else would I be wearing?” “One never knows what you’ll come up with,” Devera says, dismissing us.

“So she’s grown quite close to him out of necessity.” Out of lust and need and the ache in my chest I’m terrified to define, but sure, necessity works.

“Then what made you even think that? Have to admit, it pissed me off. I’ve given you exactly zero reasons to think I’m in anyone else’s bed.”

anyway i almost forgot to post this and i also think no one actually read till the end bc i never read long posts so im gonna assume no one else does either

also these are just some stuff i found funny

#fourth wing #violence sorrengail #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #xaden x violet #ridoc #rhiannon #liam mairi #etcetc

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shecallsbs · 1 year ago

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➳ | @wisperedlullaby sent . . .

Kaiser slowly awoke to the sound of loud noises, honking from what he could presume was unknown prey and the sound of people. The massive buildings and sights were something he had never seen become and one he didn't like, what the hell had happened and where was he? Everything about this place was disgusting and he hated it already. He stood up slowly and flew to the top of a building to get a better look at things. This was a city full of those pests, how had he gotten here? And more importantly, where was a way out? One thing was for sure wherever he was had way more tech, stuff he didn't even recognize, where were the easily burnable houses, the blacksmiths, the farms, and more importantly the cockroaches who called themselves hunters? He jumped down from the roof and snarled, scaring off a few citizens as he did so and causing a panic. They still seemed to fear the same way, heh, that would have been good, but he wasn't going to push his luck, after all he didn't know what they were capable of, or so the surroundings told him anyways. He was confident that they were not any stronger than the hunters who constantly invaded his den and tried to end him. A small blast of fire came out of his maw as he tried to scare off these annoyances. He wasn't going to fly off like some coward, nor was he going to back down from the position he was already in. Flight or fight and he has chosen defense, and if push come to some he'd fight.

She had sensed the aura before the sounds of screams could reach her ears.

Although maybe “sensing” wasn’t the right word. Because really, Lauren hadn’t sensed anything- the aura had slammed into her, grabbed her by the shoulders, and demanded her attention. And she’d had no choice but to oblige it.

Browser tabs with report drafts were quickly cast aside, the seat in her office promptly abandoned. The low click of her heels, for a moment, is the only sound to pierce the steady silence inside- but outside is a far different story. It’s loud, plenty of blocks over, and crowds of people flock in the opposite direction. The air is heavy with panic, and the faintest tinge of burning- burning which forces her out of her blazer, which is quickly discarded somewhere she doesn’t think about.

Her own footsteps are harder to hear now. There are sirens, piercing and muffled at the same time. A businessman nearly knocks her over in his haste to escape. She keeps walking.

Sounds are sharper now, a sister effect to the surge her blood had just sent through her veins. She hopes her own sister is home, instead of roaming about. Now pointed ears tell her she’s headed in the right direction, though the spattering of taxi drivers could’ve told her just as well. They’re too frantic to pay the taller woman, or the direction she’s headed in, much mind. They won’t remember her by the time they get somewhere safe, considering what else is going on.

The glint of her eyes mars her vision, forcing her to remove her glasses the moment she arrives. By this point, the police are on the scene- doing what little they can, which.. Isn’t much. It’s both still and all too busy, the way they scurry to find something to do. She can move along the side of the patrol cars with little issue.

She needed to know. What were they shielding themselves from?

A surge of heat dances across her skin: a warning. Her eyes travel to meet it’s source.

This. Something draconic, scales of deepest onyx. There were wings that jutted out from the side. It- he stood tall, imposing, looming, defensive. It only takes one glance to confirm the aura- the same one that had brought her here. And at the moment, things are far too chaotic for questions or answers of any sort.

She isn’t one for heroics. She never has been, and never will be. But Lauren steps out from the side of the barricade, and lifts her eyes to meet his. Weaponless hands sit at her sides- there’s no need to attack what’s already riled.

She carries nothing but a singular question:

Who are you?

#wisperedlullaby #𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 | | 𝘊𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 #(( Woohoo!! There we go!!#(( I can’t wait to see where this goes!!!

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rat-slaughterer · 1 year ago

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"... Riiiy-ght! Sleep...-ing... That's what I meant. Definitely." And he most definitely didn't mean that he would be hiding under those aforementioned cushions, sniveling like the little coward he is. Noooo, an invader such as himself would never do something like that, under any circumstances. "I like sleep! It's fun." Like a TV program designed personally for you, by you.

You, who knows all your deepest secrets and pleasures and regrets. Who knows just what to dream up to have you waking up with a sudden yelp. Good stuff. "Who says having a PAK makes you not wanna sleep, huh? I don't need to do it. I know you don't need to... do. Whatever thing you do that you don't need to." With some trepidation, he whispers a quiet "music...?" under his breath. Do vortians even like music?

Another bump hits the metro train. Yeesh, this trip almost seems like it could go on forever. Maybe he could blast a hole through the top and just sneak off. Live in the fields, frolic, whatever. At this point, all he wants is to be able to get up and move around.

Oh, but those damn nuns... They’d probably look at him all funny if he did that.

He settles for swinging his feet.

They turn from damsels cowering in the corner to gossipy grandmas in a matter of seconds, after hearing Hal’s question. Skoodge jumps in his seat, looking at her like she just asked him if he killed her pet grumbling, then switches his gaze between her, and the nuns, and back at her, eventually landing more permanently on the nuns.

One of his brows begins to twitch in irritation, peeking out from under his shades with every little jerk up. "... Hey, hey, now! Haven’t you never heard of nun-ya?”

They all collectively shake their heads.

Skoodge stands from his spot, and pulls out what appears to almost be a cross from his PAK – but the more it pulls out, the more it becomes recognizable as an ordinary space-broom that just has a weird handle.

Brandished with a flourish like a genuine knight from medieval times, or maybe a really serious LARPer, Skoodge begins pushing the nuns out from the corner with the bristled end. "It’s nun-ya business! Get on! Get lost! Shoo-oo! Shoo!"

They scramble on all fours, chittering like rodents, flooding the only exit as the metro makes a stop and then squeezing themselves through the doors before they even finish opening. Skoodge forces the last of them out with one more push, and huffs, twirling the broom around until it’s settled at his side, shaking his head disapprovingly.

“Rude.”

The doors close once more. Hal’s question still hangs in the air, unanswered.

His gloved fingers tap at the handle of his broom.

“... Why would it matter if I did? Aren’t you supposed to think all irkens hate everyone that isn’t them, anyways? Or something like that?” One side of his mouth pulls in a half-grimace, and he turns to face the vortian girl. “That... is, what you guys think...?” he asks, unsure of how other species are supposed to perceive his own. Generally, with fear. Maybe anger or repulsion, too, if they’re confident enough.

@vortship continued from here

Skoodge sits, leaned forward, cheek pressed into his fist propped up by the elbow on his knee, looking absolutely bored out of his mind. His PAK? Both. He's bored out of both.

Sat to Hal's left, fitted in a, frankly, terrible disguise. Worse than Zim's, even, with shades in place of contacts and a brimmed hat in place of a wig. In all honesty, the irken couldn't care less about how unconvincing he looks.

Though... if he'd known how long this excursion was going to be dragged out for, he might have dressed for the occasion, and actually put some effort in to make himself look more like a human.

A harsher bump hits the moving metro, causing Skoodge's fist to slip out from under his head. He almost falls forward, but manages to stop in time. After righting himself, he decides to just sit straight up, both his hands limp at his side. Empty, mind you. Spare of any success. Not a single plastic grocery bag in sight.

Gosh, this blows.

And by Zog, the nuns. "Eurgh..." He can't wait for them to drop off at one of the next stops. If it doesn't happen some time soon, he's going to make his own stop and crash through the window behind him.

"You said it. I wanna hide in the cushions so long I turn into one." With the various goos and gunk, wedged, buried along all crevices of the fiery orange couch in Zim's base, melding into the furniture isn't too far-fetched of a thought.

#look! his disguise! gaze at it in all its un-glory #no reblog edits this time i guess since i cannot kill off my past initial-poster self!!! vile.#{ “ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ﹗ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ﹖„ ; 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 ⋆✧･ﾟ:* }#vortship #I KEPT REBLOGGING TO THE WRONG BLOG AUGH

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brascu · 2 years ago

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warning for spoilers from season 3

alright, I believe Klaus is gonna get fucked next season an here is why

when he meets his father in the void, Reginald tells him he is his greatest dissapointment and that he wanted him to live to up to his full potential.

Later, in season 3, when Klaus is able to catch that ball, he says that “now he’s ready”. Ready for what? Klaus asks, and Reginald takes him to the cemetery where he admits he made Klaus so traumatized so he could control him.

He says with all letters that Klaus was the most important child to learn how to control his powers. (season 1)

And all through seasons, Klaus is the closest to his father. Every timeline.

But then we go back to season 3 when Reginald locks him outside the tunnel. Why? after fully comprehending his powers, Klaus didn’t have a chance to use them. Why would Reginald bother training him? why would he rush to do so? Why only him?

If locking him outside was by chance, he wouldn’t have said those lines. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth”. The greates potential is more trouble than he’s worth? bite me. Why would he run off with him to train as the word crumbled??

I’ve already said in another post, but I believe the tunnel couldn’t handle more than “the shaman and the seven”. And Klaus was the only one able to get inside of oblivion by himself. Maybe it was a bet, but maybe it wasn’t. After all, when they’re getting on top of the sigil, He again uses Klaus so Allison could be out of there. I believe she was supposed to kill him and save the others.

But then we go back to the cemetery, where Klaus was able to conquer those ghosts. Really nice that scene, but terrible useless, no? What he does with Luther, calling him to fight, he had already done with Ben in season 1. What does Reginald really wants from Klaus’s powers?

At this point, I believe Klaus really is the most powerful Umbrella, and probably the smartest one as well. Luther’s leadership? Klaus leads hords of ghosts. Diego’s long distance and furtivity? Klaus can get anywhere without raising suspicion, can shoot and again, can use the dead. Allison’s rumours? Klaus has +5 in charisma and is really good at manipulating people. Five’s agility? Klaus literally can’t die, who cares about bullets? Also, he understood ans was ok with time travel in his first time. Ben’s tentacles? Ben6 could only materialize at his will and Ben2 is a coward. Viktor’s sounds? pretty much they’ve been used for blowing things up? the thing with the kugelblitz was nice but it didn’t work. (I know I’m biased, I know)

We are always looking for number ones or sevens, but if you think four is exacly in the middle and the universe is a sucker for balance. How about someone who lives as much as he dies? Who looks for death while fearing it?

Who is so strong, but don’t fight? Who’s so irritating, but charismatic? Who’s manly and girly? Easily distracted, passionately focused, joyfully uninterested, profoundly curious?

Klaus doesn’t pay much attention to everything, but what’s important at the moment, by chance, he takes seriously. Something he found before season 1 was vital for season 3′s development. He is Reginald’s perfect little mess of intuition. And intuition is a skill that he’s trained and took him places.

I can’t wait to see what in hell that alien has stored for him. Because I know he haven’t finished what he started.

You can stop reading here if you don’t want to see me going crazy lol

(also, did you guys notice that Reginald’s notebook, when taking notes about Klaus’s deaths, had other times before the first time he killed Klaus in this timeline? 22 minutes, the time Klaus took to come back to life after the first time Reggie killed him, was not his first entry. We cannot read it, but there’s a previous note in the exact format he’s using right now.

I’m so sure Reginald can travel through dimensions or something. Specially since I saw something about a elevator in the comics, both Klaus and Ben are seen together in elevators[ben on his feet while klaus is on the floor when we have dead ben and both on their feet when Klaus and Ben2 are alive] and when we see Luther coming back from the dead [void - another dimension] he comes from an elevator.)

(and as you guys already know that I love finishing my theory dump referencing another piece of media, this time I bring you Hair - The Musical.

Klaus went back in time to the 60′s two times. In the first one, he went to the vietnam war(alone) and watched his lover die. The second one(whole family), that was before that, he became a hippie in a somewhat polyamorous life. In Hair, the play, Claud(Klaus) was part of a hippie comunity(Claud family) and ended up in vietnam(alone), where he died. Claud(Klaus) had this love triangle with Berger(Ben) and Sheila(Jill). By the end of the play, Claud dies and comes back as a spirit, but no one sees him(Ben/Dave).

The most famous song of this musical is “The Age of Aquarious”, by the band the 5th dimension. It’s said that the fourth dimention is time, what we were exploring through last three seasons. The fifth dimension would be both a level of conciousness that happens after self realization (Klaus making peace with his trauma) and please remember that when Klaus re-introduces himself to Reginald he says he is the spiritual one; or the fifth dimension would be “ is that it is a dimension unseen by humans where the forces of gravity and electromagnetism unite to create a simple but graceful theory of the fundamental forces“ (definition taken in sciencing.com). Both seem fitting for me.

The song starts with “When the moon is in the seventh house”. This all could be a coincidence, But I really don’t believe in those. or maybe I do... un coup de des...)

#klaus hargreeves #reginald hargreeves #Tua #tua season 3 #tua s3 #tua s3 theories #the umbrella academy

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theshelbyclan · 4 years ago

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Castle in the Sky

Summary: You’re the daydreaming sibling of the Shelby’s, but when the adventure spills over into real life, it’s not as great as you’d imagined

(Gif by @nofckingfighting) A/N: A sweet anon requested: can I have request please Something like this Tommy was very protective over y/n and she gets hurt by one of the bad guys and sees blood on her face now all bruised but Tommy wants revenge Omg if you do so thank you so much for my request! ❤️ Huge fan of your works!This is set around season 1, back in the good old days when the only real enemy was Billy Kimber, remember those days? So easy… anyways, hope you like it J Words: 2933 ***

You were only nine when you started as a bookie’s runner for the Peaky Blinders. Nothing about this was special, half the kids of Small Heath worked for them, but there was just one difference: the Shelby’s were your brothers. It was a good job in many ways, because it meant not only being able to help your brothers, but people were inclined to give you a bit extra, just for being a Shelby. You imagined they thought it good luck.

“Y/N, take this to the other side of town, will you?” Tommy requested as he sat hunched over a newspaper. You protested a little, “Why me? I’ve done all of mine for today…” “This one’s extra, alright?” “Who is it?” you could never hide your inquisitive nature. But you only showed it around your brothers; to the rest of the world you were just quiet and practically invisible. He smirked slightly, “Someone who’ll pay up big. That’s why I need you to do it. Can’t trust any of the other kids not to steal…” “I have some homework to do, Tommy.” At thirteen, you were still at school, which was a minor miracle in Birmingham. “Tell you what: if you just do this one job, I’ll get you magazine you’ve been talking about, eh?” now he looked up and met your eyes. “Book, Tommy,” you smiled, “You might have heard of the concept? It’s a little like a magazine, a little like that newspaper, but with more pages? Some find it challenging, but once you get used to it…” “Alright, little miss know-it-all,” he grumbled without malice, “Go on, take the slip, make sure he bets all. Off with you. Stop outsmarting your old brother, eh?” He winked to make sure you were comfortable and you returned it with a big grin. “Where?” “Digbeth,” Tommy’s nose was back in the newspaper, “behind the Golden Dragon.” ***

As you were walking through the streets of Small Heath on your way to Digbeth, you were daydreaming. In a way it was strange just how different you were from your brothers, because the entire Shelby clan was very realistic, trying to make their way in this hard world, where you would rather pretend all day you were the main character in some story. The books you read, it was all an escape to you. So while you were walking, the people and factories disappeared. In your head, you were walking through the woods, on a secret mission that your king gave you. With the top-priority letter in your pocket, you remembered what he’d told you before you left: “If you get caught, eat the letter. If they capture you, make sure to be brave and never divulge its contents to anyone. And if all else fails, you must make the ultimate sacrifice. But remember, you have to memorize the contents of the letter first…” Wouldn’t it just be easier to memorize it now and destroy the letter immediately? You pondered on the matter… In the distance, you could see the mountains and the towers of another kingdom, and you knew your enemies were near. Without anyone noticing, you put a hand to your pocket and could feel the reassuring rustling of paper underneath your fingers: the letter was still there. If it would come to a fight, how would you go about it? If there were just one man, the small dagger in your boots would suffice. If it were two, you’d distract one, maybe by throwing the veil you were wearing, quickly turning around to kill the other and then back to the first one before he had time to recover. If there were more than three, you’d run, because you were the fastest after all. You’d get to higher ground and attack them from there, like a deadly shadow they could never see coming. As you smiled to yourself, you left the daydream for a short moment. You looked down and saw the muddy shoes you were wearing, marching through Birmingham mud. In the distance, all you saw was smoke and factory pipes. But it was honestly all you needed: your imagination did the rest. The real world barged in when you delivered the slip in Digbeth. Everything went smoothly at first. Your big brown eyes persuaded him to indeed bet big, and you were quite satisfied with yourself, knowing Tommy would be too. But you still had to walk back with a lot of money now in your pocket.

*** Almost home, there were only a few streets to go. Your head was back in the clouds and this time you were imagining you were a spy during the war. Silently, you moved through the streets, making yourself invisible and pretending every man wearing a hat was the enemy. So each time you saw one, you changed directions or hid for a second. It was a fun game, until you realised the enemy wasn’t wearing a hat. “Now, what’s a pretty girl like you doing on the streets, all by herself?” A man with a heavy Cockney accent popped up next to you and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. You opened your mouth to reply, but no words came out. In your dreams, you always knew what to say, but in reality it wasn’t so easy. The man approached you and you noticed he’d cut you off from your one exit out of the alley, “It’s Y/N Shelby, isn’t it,” he grinned. “No,” you managed to say, “you got the wrong girl.” He grinned again, “Nice try, sweetheart. We’ve seen you at the Garrison. They don’t allow little girls at the pub, unless they’re a Shelby.” This was all true. You felt your hands getting clammy. “Tommy sent you, didn’t he?” Again, you tried to remember what the hero in your stories would do. She’d run, climb the building and then throw a knife right between the eyes of the man. Or she’d say something clever, just to distract him, and then turn around and escape when he least expected it. He took another few steps forward and you could smell him now, a smell of strange smoke and the river, “Do you know who I am?” Nailed to the ground, you shook your head. “I work for Mr. Billy Kimber. Ever heard of him?” You turned to see if you could escape, but then realised the other side of the alley was blocked by two more men. Neither of them were wearing hats. Cold sweat of fear ran down your back. The man in front of you started laughing, “There’s no running, sweetheart. Just give it to me.” At once you realised he was referring to the money in your pocket, but for Tommy’s sake, you wanted at least to try to be brave, “I don’t have anything.” He sighed, “Don’t play with me. I’m not the kind of man to play with, and neither is Mr. Kimber,” his voice was suddenly low and menacing, “Your brother thought he could, thought he would get away with fixing a race, he did, and now he’s going to be put against the post and shot. Don’t think I won’t do the same to you.” You gulped, but still thought of Tommy’s disappointment in you when he would find out you’d been a coward. So you took a deep breath and said softly, “It’s not yours. This money is ours. You can tell Mr. Kimber to go fuck himself!” It didn’t come out as strongly as you’d hoped. Like a crack of thunder, he swiftly slapped you across the face with the back of his hand. All the air was knocked out of your lungs in a second and you stood gasping for air, as you felt some blood trickling down your chin. “Give me the money,” he demanded again. And then, like your heroes, you pretended to reach for it in your pocket. Suddenly, you turned around and started running into the other direction, hoping to slip past the two men before they could stop you. But it didn’t work. One grabbed your arm and when you tried to push him away, he punched you hard. All strength left you in an instant. The second one started fumbling in your pockets and instinctively you kicked him, which earned you another blow to the head. More punches followed and your head was spinning. As you looked up to the sky, you remembered wanting to get back home, to your castle, where all was well and safe. In the end, they left you on the ground and the money was gone. Your last thought was: Tommy is going to be so embarrassed.

*** “Y/N?” You opened your eyes, but couldn’t see for a moment. “Y/N,” the familiar voice repeated, “Come on, yes, let’s get you home. Polly, Polly will know what to do, yes…” Strong arms lifted you up and rocking with his familiar limp, Curly carried you back to Watery Lane. When he’d taken you into the kitchen, Aunt Polly flew to your side in seconds, asking, “What’s happened?” Uncertainly, Curly explained and as he did, he started to become upset over your state. That’s when Tommy came in and started to calm him, while keeping an eye on you all the time. “Sweetheart,” Aunt Polly had taken a cold cloth to the cut in your lip, “Wake up… Come back to us…” Again you tried opening you eyes and you finally managed this time. But all your concern was with Curly, who was still anxiously fidgeting with his cap in hand. “Don’t worry, Curly,” you croaked, “I’m alright now. You did good, carrying me here.” “Polly will know what to do…” he kept on repeating. Tommy put a hand on his shoulder and it had an immediate calming effect, “It’s alright, Curly, go back to Charlie, eh? We’ll take care of her now.” Before he left, you said to him, “Curly? I’ll stop by tomorrow, see about that beautiful horse of yours, alright?” That put an immediate smile on his face, “Yes, she’s a beauty, alright… And she needs her princess to ride her! Back to that castle in the sky…yes…” When he’d gone, you lowered your head again and sighed deeply. Carefully, you felt your face and only then realised how awful you must look. “Who did this,” Tommy demanded at once. Polly glared daggers at him, “You did, I presume?” “Me?” “I told you again and again not to use the little ones to run errands. Sending them across half of Birmingham with money in their pockets, and look what happens!” For a moment, Tommy seemed to be speechless. Then he protested, “They’re invisible, Pol. Nobody knows they’re carrying anything.” “This one did,” you interjected, “because he knew who I was.” “How?” “Said he was with Kimber,” you whispered as the memories came back to you, “said he’d put me up against a post and he’d shoot me, like he’d do with you…” In a sudden fit of rage, Tommy grabbed a chair and flung it across the room. Polly snarled at the gesture and then turned to you, “Stay here. This cloth is cold, keep it against your eye, or it’ll turn black in half an hour, and I can’t take you to church looking like that. I just need to have a word with your brother.” You took the cloth and didn’t dare to look at Tommy, who was now being taken away by his aunt like he was ten years old again and in trouble. Aunt Polly closed the door behind her, but you still tried to hear as much as you could. Most of it was lost, but when they started shouting you heard bits like “putting your little sister in danger!” and “this is Billy fucking Kimber, Thomas” and “family first”. At first Tommy protested with “I didn’t know they knew her” and “Kimber is getting weak”, but eventually he shouted out in defeat, “I fucked up, alright? I’ll fix it. I promise.” When they came back, Tommy looked like a dog that’d just been kicked. So he retreated into a corner and started smoking, still sulking a little. Aunt Polly lifted your head up by placing a finger under your chin, “You won’t look pretty for a week, but it’ll heal.” You shrugged, not caring about being pretty at all, and muttered, “I feel like an idiot…” “Why?” your aunt demanded, “because big men decided to go after a small girl?” Tears started forming in the corners of your eyes, as you admitted, “Because I wanted to be brave! In my stories I’m pretty and strong and the hero, but in reality I’m just like a mouse. No one notices me and I’m useless…” “Sweetheart,” Polly softened her voice and crouched down next to you, “Just because you can’t fight like Arthur or John can, doesn’t make you useless. We’re all stuck here, in Small Heath, and there’s nothing pretty about that. But you reading all those books? That’s what’s going to make this easier. You can pretend, and that’s worth more than you’ll ever realise.” You smiled back at your aunt, who always knew what to say to make you feel better. “I’m off to the chemist to get you some powder against the pain,” she kissed the top of your head, “I’ll be right back, love.” After she’d gone as well, you sighed again and dropped the cloth. Her words mattered, of course they did, but it didn’t change the fact that you weren’t happy with yourself at all. For starters, you still couldn’t bear looking at Tommy. “Y/N,” he grumbled, which convinced you even more he was angry and disappointed, “Tell me what they looked like.” “They didn’t wear hats…” Impatiently he waved a hand, “Apart from that. What else?” “I don’t know,” you shrugged, “it all happened fast, Tommy. They had that accent that Kimber has as well.” “Fucking Cockneys…” your brother breathed. “Tommy?” you tried carefully, “I’m so sorry, but I lost the money. I tried to keep it. When they asked I told them to fuck off and then I tried to run and even fight, but they still took it. I’m so sorry…” He held up a hand to silence you and locked eyes with you, “You told them to fuck off?” “Yes, but it didn’t help…” “You actually told them to fuck off?” he frowned, “Usually you’re too shy to even say anything to strangers…” “I was angry,” you explained, “and I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Tommy walked over to you and much to your surprise, he was smirking, “So you told them to go fuck themselves, and then you fought them?” “Yes?” “Did you hit any of them?” You thought about it for a second, “I think I kicked one in the balls and hit the other in the face.” His grin grew even wider and he mumbled to himself, “Wait ‘till I tell Arthur about this…” “Why?” you protested, “So he can laugh at me as well?” “No, sweetheart, he’ll be the proudest brother ever. His little sister, who everyone thinks is a little mouse too scared to do anything? She fucking hit a grown man and told them to go fuck themselves. Now that’s a hero in my book!” His laugh was contagious and you had to join in. But soon you became uncertain again and asked, “Are you not upset I lost the money?” “The money’s not important,” his face grew serious again in an instant, “but you are.” “Really?” you whispered. “Yes,” he took your face in his hands, “Listen, Y/N, this is what’s going to happen: Billy Kimber threatened my little sister, so I’m going to put himup against the post, and shoot him.” “And then what?” “Well, what usually happens in your books? Maybe I could learn something from them, eh?” A warm feeling of being appreciated for who you were came over you, “You’d take his kingdom and his skull would be put up on the gates, as a warning for all future enemies.” “That’s fucking dark,” Tommy raised one eyebrow, “But I like it.” “Me too…” you smiled at your brother. “I mean it though, Y/N. Kimber touched you, so I’m going to shoot the bastard. I won’t let anyone fucking go near you again.” And just like that, you felt safe enough again to continue dreaming. *** A few weeks later, everything had turned to chaos, both in the Shelby household as in the whole of Birmingham. Tommy didn’t speak to anyone of what happened to you, he hadn’t even apologized, but he wasn’t like that. He told you he’d fix it, promised you revenge, and that was even better. When the men were counting minutes in front of the Garrison and Billy Kimber’s army arrived, you were sitting at home with a book. You couldn’t really concentrate, because you knew there were too many of them. You pretended some angel would appear to save them all. There’d have to be no bloodshed, because this angel would be on your brothers’ side. That angel came in the form of your older sister Ada. She’d always had flair. In the end, only two bullets were fired. You listened to them both. One killed Danny Whizz-bang. The other killed Billy Kimber. Nobody knew, but as Tommy fired, he didn’t have business on his mind.

As he aimed, he saw his little sister’s face, all bruised and battered.

He whispered, “for Y/N,” and shot.

Bang.

***

Masterlist

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hotxcheeto · 3 years ago

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Could you do Vi x reader where the reader used to be a coward and ran away when they were trying to save Vander. Years later the reader sees Vi at the brothel and decides to help her find Jinx, but keeps their identity a secret out of shame and fear. The reader is a completely changed person now, and will not hesitate to sacrifice themselves for Vi, but they’re terrified that she’ll hate them if she finds out who they are. Maybe they get hurt helping Vi and she takes off their mask/hood/whatever they’re using to disguise themselves, and finds out it’s them?

━ 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐍

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Vi x G/N!Reader 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Angsty, Fluff at the end, Cursing, Slight fight scene, drunk asshole, mentions of blood, wound on reader

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - This is... questionable

You smoothed out the sparkly outfit you sported. The matching mask hiding the bottom half of your face. Routine uniform for the place of work you'd decided on. You hated it, but all the workers wore them. Though you were never sure why.

You were collecting empty glasses from a table, setting them on your tray before turning around. Bumping directly into someone.

"Sorry." You quickly, apologized, looking at the floor instead of them. "Yeah, no problem. Hey I'm looking fo-" "C'mon get me another drink!" You turned your head to the man at the table, quickly nodding before walking past the person. Never looking up at them.

"Glenn I need another for table six." "You got it." You set the used glasses into the container of already used dishes. Before setting the tray on the bar top waiting for Glenn. You then looked to your left, to the person who'd tried talking to you.

A familiar pink head of hair made you freeze. Surely it wasn't. This had happened before. You shut your eyes shaking your head. No, no, no, no, no.

No, it wasn't happening.

It wasn't her.

"Next time, try using some manners." You heard that slightly more mature, yet still cocky as ever, voice say. "Mind your own. Last time I checked you're not my mommy." Glenn handed you the drink, watching you quickly set it on the tray and turn around.

"Finally, thank you hotstuff." You cringed setting the cup down on the table before looking at her. The girl who you'd ran from. Her eyes bore into yours before you turned to walk away. Yet she grabbed your arm.

"I'm looking for someone." "I'm sorry, I can't help you." "Please. They're m-" The sudden sound of someone spitting something out made you turn around. "This is the wrong drink." "I'm sorry I-" "Maybe if you weren't talking to this bitch you would've gotten it right. Or maybe you're just stupid."

Vi stepped towards him with a scowl, making you back up. "Fuck off." "Excuse me." You looked back and forth between them before shaking your head. Grabbing Vi's arm. "I'll talk just c'mon." "No, no I think she can stay. Because I need a new drink and this bitch is gonna pay for it." Vi shook her head. "Fuck off." The guy then stood up, nearly the same height as Vi.

"I'd watch your mouth lady." "Or what?" "Sit down Don. I'll get you another." Your voice no longer wavered, instead your eyes were sharp as you stared at the man. "What are you gonna do?" He stepped towards you. Before you could do anything Vi pushed him back, the man hitting the table.

"What the fuck?" He went to go at Vi but you moved, without thinking, stepping in front of him. "Calm the fuck down, or you're out of here Don." You pointed to the door, staring at him in anger, fire in your eyes. "Back off, bitch." "Watch your fucking mouth." Vi stepped forward at the same time Don did.

"Back off. Or you're done." He was close to you, you could smell the liquor on his breath. His eyes moving down to yours. "Leave her alone." "What? What are you gonna do?" He stepped towards you, out of reaction, you moved. Hitting him as hard as possible where the sun didn't shine. And for him, he reacted as well.

Shoving you as hard as possible into another table. Your side catching one of the chairs. A large gash forming on your hip, blood dripping from the wound. Red soaking into your outfit.

You heard more commotion, looking up as Vi hit Don in the face. Sending him to the floor as security, or what everyone named as security, made themselves useful. You looked back down at your wound, hands hovering above it as you hissed.

"Are you okay?" Your mask had fallen from your face, your eyes scanning over the red before you looked up nodding. "Yeah. Fuck." "Y/n?" You stared at her with shame in your eyes before shaking your head. "You need to go, Vi." "You knew who I was." She said both sad stunned.

"Of course I knew who you were." You stood up, not allowing her to help you up, looking at your side. "I can deal with this, but you need to go." "I need to find Powder." She stepped closer to you, watching you flinch before shaking your head. "She's not Powder anymore. You haven't been here long have you?" Vi stared at you confused before shaking her head.

"C'mon." You grabbed her hand and lead her towards the bathrooms. "Last I heard she was with Silco. He took care of her. Sometimes I'd see her, she'd see me. She's changed. Good and bad. Just like everyone else." You lifted the part of your outfit and turned on the sink, sticking your fingers under the cold water.

"Why didn't you tell me it was you?" You froze, staring down at the sink while Vi stared at you in the mirror. "Because... I thought you'd hate me. After what I did... back then. I fucked up bigtime. I didn't think you needed to see me." You splashed water onto the wound, hissing, clenching your teeth together.

"You were scared." "Of everything. I was scared of everything. I was a coward." You laughed, rubbing some of the blood off your skin around the cut. "You can find Powder closer to Silco's main base. It's towards the deeper part of the Undercity. Where me and you used to play that stupid hide and seek game." You shook your head.

"I don't think it was stupid." Finally you dragged your eyes up from the cut, looking at through the mirror. Slight tears had welled up in her eyes as she stared at you. An unreadable expression on her face. The only thing you could make out was sadness.

"Vi..." "I came looking for you." You looked back down and turned the sink off. Putting the clothing back down. "I told you where you can find her. She's not the same anymore, don't treat her like she is." You gave your last words before turning around, moving to walk past her when she grabbed your arm again.

"Don't walk away from me again." You froze up, closing your eyes, swallowing. "Y/n/n, I never fucking blamed you." You opened your eyes, looking at her, holding her tears back. "It doesn't matter. Because I'll always blame myself." She pulled you towards her holding you in a hug you couldn't bring yourself to push away from.

Your arms hung at your sides. And for a moment, her heart felt like it stopped beating. Listening to you begin to quietly sob. And finally, your arms slowly raised to wrap around her waist. Shoving your face into her shirt, holding her tightly.

"I'm sorry." "Don't be. Alright?" She held onto you as if you were going to disappear, but not squeezing you. Not enough to make you back away. "Vi?" "Hm?" "Why'd you come find me first?" She laughed quietly. "Cause..." She turned a slight shade of pink, you moving your head to look at her with teary eyes.

"It's okay. I missed you too." She looked away with a smile. "I needed my partner in crime." "That hides the whole time?" Vi shrugged. "Brains and brawn." You laughed slightly, rubbing your eyes, looking at the tattoos that were slightly visible between the bandages on her arms and her sleeves.

"C'mon. I want you to meet someone." "Okay. But you need to tell me how you're still around. After disappearing." She wrapped her arm around your shoulders and pushed the bathroom door open. "Fine. And while I do, I can take care of that." She gestured to your hip. "Okay. What about my job?" "You can get a new one. One that doesn't have a Don around." You giggled.

"You know, I would not have expected you to do that." "Do what?" "Stand up to him like that." You shrugged. "Maybe I'm more than just brains." She smiled looking down at you. "But your just brawn." You added listening to her scoff, a grin making it's way on her face. "I see how it is."

You'd changed. Good and bad.

She was just glad she had you back.

A/n: Half time show was... okay... also y'all see Kanye West rn?

#vi x yn #vi x you #vi x reader #vi arcane #arcane vi #arcane league of legends #arcane netflix #arcane #netflix #nevy writes

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years ago

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Twin!AU Part 3:

Hunith and Uther alike have to face the consequences of their actions, Merlin (and everyone, really) decides that family doesn’t end in blood.

Part 1 Part 2

TW: Suicidal ideation (mostly past, but it sort of... flairs up a little here I guess)

Hunith’s face falls and she physically recoils at Merlin’s harsh declaration.

His hard gaze doesn’t leave her, even as she glances at Arthur, a little behind Merlin and to his side. The blonde has his gaze fixed on Hunith, but he looks away the moment they make eye contact, unable to stand the confused pain in her expression:

“Merlin? What happened?”

Lancelot and Percival approach slowly after handing the horses off to a couple of stablehands, and Gwaine puts his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, not that The Warlock notices; he clenches his jaw tightly before speaking, but continues resisting the urge to look away:

“You lied to me. About everything.”

Hunith’s eyes go wide and she gulps, opening her mouth and shutting it again as she struggles to think of a response. It’s then that Merlin finally looks away, gazing over the top of her head at the empty courtyard. Arthur quietly intervenes, his authoritative voice full of warring emotions despite it’s low volume:

“We should take this somewhere more private.”

Merlin doesn’t even nod, just turns around and walks back towards the castle, hands clenched tightly at his side before he pushes the doors open and stalks in without looking back. Gwaine and Arthur share a concerned look before the older knight rushes after him. Arthur gestures for Hunith to go first, but not without stopping her with a hand on her shoulder, and a muttered, almost teary:

“You had no right.”

Her face falls even further, but The Regent steps back and looks away before she can reply, and she timidly hurries through the door after Merlin and Gwaine. Arthur gives Lancelot and Percival a pointed look:

“I imagine we’ll be in my chambers, make sure we are undisturbed. I don’t want anyone interrupting unless the world is about to end. Let Leon and Morgana know that they can take charge of any meetings today.”

They both nod, but Lancelot jogs up the steps to stop Arthur before he can leave:

“I... know what she did was wrong, but don’t let Merlin be too harsh. He’s always been close to his mother, he’ll regret it later if he pushes her away completely.”

Arthur almost snaps out something about how Hunith isn’t Merlin’s mother, but he keeps it to himself, sighing and nodding:

“Yeah, I know, but she... she needs to know what this has done to him, how much he’s suffered needlessly because of this. There isn’t... I know she probably just did what she thought was right but... she needs to know. Merlin deserves an apology, and he certainly deserves the truth.”

Lancelot nods hesitatingly, but doesn’t say anything else, stepping aside to allow The Regent through. He catches up to the others just as Merlin slams the door open to his chambers, continuing to not look back as he heads over to the large dining table, leaning his hand against the back of one of the chairs and staring towards the window.

Gwaine and Arthur approach slowly, standing either side of him but not touching him as they wait in suspense for someone to start the conversation. Hunith already has tears in her eyes as she stands on the other side of the table, trying and failing to get Merlin to look at her. The harsh glare he laid on her before was horrific, but this... him being unable to look at her at all, that is worse:

“Merlin, please, I only did what-”

She’s cut off by Merlin’s harsh instruction:

“Sit.”

She glances to Arthur once more, but he just nods wordlessly at the chair in front of her; the only sounds in the room are the scraping of the chair on the stone floor and Merlin’s laboured breathing. He was evidently trying very hard to hold his anger in, and when he says nothing more once she’s sat down, Gwaine puts his hand back on his shoulder. He shrugs it off, finally turning to face Hunith but remaining unable to look in her eyes:

“Why?”

A tears slips loose from her eye and she sniffles, taking a deep, shaky breath and fiddling with her hands on the table. Arthur absent-mindedly wonders if Merlin would still do that too if he’d been raised with his actual family, if it was natural, or if he’d picked it up from her:

“Please, Merlin, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

Merlin takes in a sharp breath, tightening his gip on the chair in a way that looks painful, shaking his head:

“No. No apologies, no excuses. I want to know exactly why you lied to me, why you took this from me.”

His voice is deadly in a quiet kind of way, like he could snap clean in two and set the world alight at any moment. Gwaine looks worriedly between the other two men, clearly thinking on the same lines as Lancelot, but neither of them notice, Merlin’s gaze stuck to the table and Arthur’s stuck on Hunith:

“I would have told you one day, Merlin, you-”

Merlin finally looks up at her, the blazing fury in his eyes contrasting in a rather horrific manner with the steady stream of tears on his cheeks:

“One day when? Arthur’s known about my magic for ages. I’ve been in Camelot for years, you have had every opportunity.”

Hunith lets out a low sob, but doesn’t look away:

“I didn’t think you were ready, Mer-”

Merlin bites his lip and turns away, running his hands through his hair harshly before turning around again, quick as lightening, and pointing an accusing finger at her:

“No, you weren’t ready! You weren’t ready to face the fact that you lied to me about who I am, because you knew you had no right, because you knew I would be angry!”

Hunith stands, but doesn’t make any moves to approach Merlin at Arthur’s harsh glare and Gwaine’s worried gesture. He doesn’t think Merlin or Arthur would hurt her, he’d never even consider the idea, but he knows that his partner needs space to be angry:

“I didn’t want you to be upset,-”

Merlin scoffs and lets out a sob of his own, wiping his face harshly before responding loudly:

“Gods, I wonder why I would be upset! Maybe because you lied to me about everything?!-”

Hunith shakes her head desperately, but Merlin carries on without pause:

“-You had no right to keep this from me! I grew up alone, with no one but you to rely on because you made me think I was some kind of beast! Keeping me from Camelot, I understand, keeping it from me as I child even, I understand. But you’ve had years of opportunity, you are selfish, a hypocrite and a coward.-”

Hunith looks horrified at his admission, mainly the sudden reveal at how her treatment of Merlin had effected him independently of the lie:

“-I hated myself, I was terrified, I didn’t want to exist, because of you! You made me think I was some kind of unnatural monster and then you sent me to Gaius under the guise of teaching me control, so he could carry on the lie for you! He promised me I wasn’t a monster, that I wasn’t born evil, over and over, but he’s lied to me from the moment I met him, how am I supposed to trust anything he says?! How am I supposed to trust anything you say when I was just some unwanted, throwaway thing that you never asked for, and got rid of at the earliest opportunity?!-”

Gwaine and Arthur stare at Merlin with matching heartbreak in their expressions; it seems that Merlin is upset at more than just the base lie. The New Prince doesn’t even try to stop the tears, his breathing quick and ragged, and after a few moments of thick silence, he takes a deep breath and quietly continues:

“-I didn’t have to be so alone, that was all you, and Gaius, and Kilgharrah, and everyone else who lied to me. When I had nothing, I had you, and you lied to me.-”

Merlin’s voice cracks, his breathing shaky and his face pale as his entire world seemingly crumbles down around him:

“-You took my brother from me and you had no right. You’re not my mother, you’re just as bad as Uther.”

With those last words, he storms from the room, Gwaine hot on his heels. Arthur stays however, feeling the need to comfort the crying woman, but also feeling, maybe slightly cruelly, that she deserves this. He sighs, pushing the though from his mind and moving around to put a hand on her shoulder as she buries her face in her hands, sobbing:

“I... you did your best, I think he knows that, but that doesn’t change what you took from him, from both of us. He needs time.”

She just about manages a nod, and Arthur sighs again, standing awkwardly for a few minutes before he realises she isn’t going to stop any time soon. He gently pushes her to sit back in the chair before heading to the door, following Gwaine and Merlin.

They’re not in the corridor when he shuts the door behind him, but he’s not surprised at that. Merlin has always been private about his true emotions, always kept them close to his chest, he wouldn’t want anyone to see him having a breakdown in the middle of the hall. Months ago, Arthur would have thought it was left over fear of his magic being discovered, but now he bitterly thinks that it probably has more to do with the way he was raised.

He runs a hand through his hair, sparing a glance to the—previously unnoticed—worried looking guards. Thankfully, they were two of the men that had been trusted with the truth (Arthur reminds himself to thank Leon later for paying attention to who was stationed where), so Arthur isn’t too worried at the fact that they had likely overheard the one-sided yelling match. He fixes them with a commanding stare and clears his throat:

“Escort the Lady Hunith to the physician’s chambers when she emerges, leave her with Gaius, but don’t rush her.-”

They bow briefly in acknowledgement of his orders, and his question comes out quietly:

“-Do you know where they went?”

They needn’t ask who, and one of the guards answers lowly, matching Arthur’s volume:

“I think they headed to Sir Gwaine’s chambers, Sire.”

He nods and mutters a quiet thank you, slowly heading in that direction, knowing he had to go see them but also wanting to give them few extra minutes of privacy. They still had a lot to take care of, they’d missed several council meetings over the last few days, and whilst Arthur trusts Leon and Morgana to keep things rolling, he really should be making regular appearances. That, and they still haven’t dealt with Uther; to be perfectly honest, Arthur is surprised that rumours haven’t started spreading about The King’s disappearance and Arthur’s sudden growth of responsibilities, but he’s grateful. Don’t look a gift Griffin in the mouth or... something.

He finally stops outside the knight’s room—nodding at Lance who wordlessly stands guard in the corridor—before flinching at the quiet crying he can hear from inside. He knocks a few times softly before entering, shutting the door behind him and approaching the bed. Gwaine sits leant against the headboard, tears in his eyes as he holds a shaking Merlin in his arms. The Warlock lays besides Gwaine, in the middle of the bed, his face buried in the knight’s chest and his hands twisted into the fabric of his tunic.

Arthur lets out a deep, mournful breath at the sight of his brother so distraught, and he moves around to the other side of the bed, raising his eyebrow in question at Gwaine and settling next to Merlin at his singular nod. Merlin doesn’t seem to notice his presence, not until Arthur settles a hand on his back and whispers his name. He instantly calms a little, and Gwaine mentally scolds himself for the slight flair of jealousy; Merlin had discovered he has a brother, that his best friend is his brother, it’s no surprise that he calms easier in his presence, especially considering the reveal unburied so much hidden trauma.

After a few more minutes, Merlin turns to be laying on his back, though he makes sure to stay in Gwaine’s embrace. The knight leans down to press a kiss to the top of his head, and though he can’t see it, he can almost feel the slight smile on The Warlock’s face. Arthur moves his hand back to his lap, looking at the two of them out of the corner of his eye; he sees nothing but worry and utter adoration on Gwaine’s face, and he wonders just how he hadn’t approved of their relationship. Gwaine’s whispered words just solidify Arthur’s newfound belief in the man:

“I love you, Merls, no matter what.”

Merlin lets out a quiet, choked laugh, and Gwaine considers that a win, even more so when Merlin responds in kind:

“I love you.”

Despite their relationship not being a particularly new thing, Arthur hadn’t even considered the possibility that they’d reached that far, that their partnership was that solid; perhaps that had something to do with their general lack of PDA, which he had always wondered how Gwaine had put up with. He grimaces with a quiet realisation, but it catches Merlin’s gaze and he raises a questioning eyebrow, his tears thankfully dried. Arthur glances up at Gwaine, who smirks at him knowingly, before looking back down to his brother:

“Making you Crown Prince is something I’m actually quite looking forward to, but I’m going to have to crown Gwaine as well.”

Gwaine snorts in amusement but Merlin turns pink and coughs slightly:

“Well.. we haven’t really discussed marriage, Arthur.”

Arthur looks to him with an apologetic expression:

“Merlin, royals have different courting rules. Royal partnerships tend to be incredibly short before a marriage has to happen. Back when me and Gwen were courting, we hid not only because Uther wouldn’t have approved, but also because we didn’t want to rush things. I’m especially glad we did now, otherwise we would have had to be married by now. The whole kingdom know that you two have been together for at least a year, the moment you’re crowned...”

His voice trails off as he comes to a second, horrifying realisation. He stands from the bed and stares at Gwaine with wide eyes and a pale face:

“Oh my God. Oh my God. If neither me, you, or Morgana have children... once you two have been married... Gwaine will officially be third in line for the throne. Oh... fuck.”

Merlin and Gwaine freeze for just a moment before they burst into loud laughter, and Arthur shakes his head, pacing slightly and not paying attention to the knocking at the door. Lancelot walks in slowly, an amused smile of his face despite his confusion:

“Do I even want to ask?”

Arthur fixes him with an almost distraught gaze before glaring half-heartedly at Merlin:

“Why? Why couldn’t it have been Leon, or Lancelot?? Elyan or Percival?? Hell, I would have been happier with fucking George.”

Gwaine’s laughter gets even louder but Merlin calmly wipes the tears (of laughter, thankfully) from his face and looks to Lancelot with bitten lips and held in hysterics:

“Arthur just realised that once all the crowning ceremonies happen, Gwaine will be third in line for the throne, if I’m the last one to die and there aren’t any children.”

Lance’s eyes go wide and he clamps a hand over his moth in a poor attempt to hold in his laughter. He fails miserably, bursting just like Gwaine and Merlin had moments earlier. Arthur fixes an annoyed glare on him and waves a desperate hand:

“This is not funny.”

Gwaine just shakes his head as he finally manages to calm himself, wiping his face clean and sitting up straight, one hand still on Merlin’s shoulder:

“It’s hilarious, Princess. God imagine Geoffrey’s face. Imagine the council.”

Arthur just takes a deep breath and looks to the ceiling again:

“Fuck. Ok, alright, whatever. That is a problem for another time.-”

He looks back down to Merlin with an apologetic smile, after shooting one last withering glare at a still-smirking Gwaine:

“-You feeling up to council? I’ve missed a fair few, and I think it might be a good idea for you two to start making appearances as well. That and... as much as we’ve told them you have magic, it might be worth showing it off a little.-”

At Merlin’s wide, fearful eyes, Arthur holds his hands out placatingly and hurries to continue:

“-You don’t have to, but they're working on the ban repeal. Obviously not anything huge, but passing jugs or paper or whatever with magic might help desensitise them to the idea. Plus, now that you’re semi-officially royalty, and you have Gwaine or Leon trailing you almost everywhere, no one would dare attack you. And if they do, you have every right to defend yourself in whatever capacity you deem necessary.”

At Merlin’s still nervous face, Lancelot quickly tacks on:

“And they all know that Arthur would go ape-shit if anything were to happen to you.”

Arthur gestures at the knight and nods in agreement, nodding further at Gwaine’s quiet “He’s not the only one.” . Merlin takes a deep breath and shuffles off the bed, standing and straightening his clothes out with unsteady hands:

“Let’s go. You’re right, I’m going to have to get used to stupid council meetings at some point if you’re insisting on crowning me, might as well be now.”

Arthur and Lancelot smile proudly and Gwaine moves to stand at his side, straightening his own clothes before running his hands through Merlin’s hair, flattening and neatening it. Merlin stands still and lets himself be assessed and fixed with a soft smile on his face, and Arthur feels almost as if he were intruding on something personal and domestic, even more so than when they were professing their love for each other; he looks away awkwardly and Lancelot raises an amused eyebrow at him.

The four of them finally exit the room, Arthur and Merlin falling into step besides each other, Gwaine slightly behind them, and Lancelot trailing the three of them with his face pulled into a blank mask and his hand on his sword.

This time, there is no hesitation before they enter the council room, and no raised eyebrows when Merlin takes his rightful place alongside Arthur at the head of the table. Flanked by Morgana, Leon, Lancelot, and Gwaine, Arthur effortlessly takes control of the meeting, hurrying things along with a proud confidence and an easy authority that was slowly but surely being taken on by his brother, at his side.

The council session lasts for the remainder of the day, and though at least half of the councilmen yelp, Gaius obviously not included, when Merlin first starts floating things about or magically highlighting words or moving the room’s lighting around with a flick of his wrist, most of them are used to it by the time the sun touches the horizon.

Arthur finally calls an end to the meeting when it gets dark. Though he was in a slightly manic mood and desperate to get as much work done as possible now that he was actually free to attend meetings, he could see that the others, Merlin especially, were flagging. He knew it would happen eventually, he can’t imagine The Warlock has been sleeping much, and he definitely came to some sort of private, horrifying conclusion around half a candle-mark ago. The hitch in Merlin’s breath, the widening of his eyes, and the slight, tiny flair of every candle in the room thankfully went unnoticed by everyone bar Arthur, Gwaine, and Lancelot.

When the room empties of councilmen, Merlin stands and paces away from the table, hands fiddling roughly with his sleeves. Arthur waves Morgana and Leon away, thanking them briefly before nodding pointedly at the door. Lancelot follows shortly, and Arthur has half a mind to send Gwaine away as well, but he knows that would be somewhat selfish as the other man approaches his partner’s turned back:

“Merlin? Something wrong? I thought that went remarkably well.”

Merlin’s head turns quickly, his furrowed brows confused:

“What? What went well?”

Gwaine raises an eyebrow, glancing briefly at the neatly stacked paperwork on the table:

“The meeting? About planning your coronation and the legalisation of magic? That we’ve been in all afternoon?”

Merlin untenses slightly, turning around properly and using one hand to rub at his eyes tiredly:

“Oh, yeah right. It did go well. They didn’t freak out too much at my evil sorcery, did they?”

He tries to go for a joking smirk, but it falls flat, and Arthur walks towards him to put a hand on his brother’s shoulder:

“What’s on your mind?”

Merlin sags even more and Arthur quickly steps forward, gathering the suddenly distraught man in a tight hug. Merlin easily accepts, burying his face in Arthur’s neck and clutching the back of his tunic with shaking hands:

“I compared my mother to Uther. I told her it was her fault that I didn’t want to be alive. She’s never going to forgive me.”

Arthur shuts his eyes, stroking a hand through Merlin’s hair and muttering a quiet:

“Oh, Merlin, she loves you more than anything in this world, there’s nothing to forgive.”

Merlin doesn’t look up, but shakes his head roughly; before he can argue, Gwaine steps around the two of them, pressing a kiss to the nape of Merlin’s neck before stepping back and stroking a soft hand over his back:

“What she did was wrong, Merls, you’re allowed to be angry. And now you’re not so angry anymore you can go sit down with her and talk it out, ok? There was no way that first conversation was going to be anything other than difficult and heartbreaking, but you got through it, and now you can sort it out properly.”

Merlin relaxes just a touch, and Arthur gets the disturbing feeling swelling in his gut that Gwaine knew of Merlin’s (hopefully, former) despairs before the whole... twin thing. When The Warlock finally pulls away, he thankfully looks a little more confident, despite the drying tears on his cheeks; Arthur gives him a soft smile and nods towards the door:

“Tonight, or tomorrow?”

Merlin takes a deep, fortifying breath, and walks towards the door purposefully, wiping his face clean before taking Gwaine’s offered hand in his own:

“Tonight, now. I should... I need to talk to Gaius as well. I’ve been unfairly punishing him for long enough, I think.”

Gwaine smiles understandingly, though Arthur, who rushes to catch up and walk on Merlin’s other side, shakes his head with a frown:

“Not unfairly, Merlin. It would be well within your rights to cut them out of your life for the foreseeable future for this. But I also understand wanting to forgive them so you have more... support. They may not be blood, Merlin, but... they are family, and that’s ok.”

Gwaine gives him an annoyed look at his first words, over Merlin’s shoulder, but doesn’t say anything. Merlin stops in the middle of the hallway, suddenly and without warning, and Gwaine grunts slightly when his arm is pulled back. The Warlock spares him an apologetic smile before turning his gaze to Arthur. Arthur raises an eyebrow, but Merlin tilts his head and frowns:

“Arthur you do know that... I consider you family above all others, right? you’re right, family doesn’t have to be blood,-”

He squeezes Gwaine’s hand, almost subconsciously, and receives a gentle squeeze back:

“-but after what we’ve found out, after all of this, all that we’re doing to... fix it, to fix what was done to us... you’re everything, you’re my brother. Me forgiving Hu... my mother, and Gaius, doesn’t change that I trust you above them, I consider you before them. They’re family, but you’re family first.”

Arthur’s eyes widen slightly at Merlin’s stern assertion, but he wills the tears in his eyes to disappear as he nods once, his jaw clenched with emotion. Merlin smirks slightly and rolls his eyes, muttering something about an “emotionally repressed idiot” before pulling him into an eagerly returned hug. Gwaine just snorts at both of them, happily leaning against the wall with crossed arms as he waits. They pull away fairly quickly, hyper aware of the fact that they were in the middle of the corridor, and whilst basically the whole citadel had picked up on the fact that something had changed, is changing, they didn’t want to let on too much until official public announcements were made.

They hurry in their journey to the Physician’s chambers, it was getting late and they wanted to sort this out as soon as possible; Gods know Merlin isn’t going to sleep a wink until he's spoken to his mother again.

They pause momentarily outside the door, taking deep breaths as they attempt to block out the hushed conversations coming from inside, not wanting to eavesdrop. Merlin turns to Gwaine with a nervous frown:

“Would you mind... waiting out here? Just for a minute?”

Gwaine gives him a soft smile and nods, pressing a kiss to his forehead and muttering “Call for me when you want me to come in, alright? I’m not going anywhere.” before giving Arthur an encouraging clap on the shoulder and stepping back to lean against the opposite wall.

Arthur sends a grateful smile the knight’s way, receiving a respectful nod in return, before he turns to the door. After a nod from Merlin, he raises a hand that shakes only slightly, and knocks. The murmured conversations stop immediately, and Gaius’ voice calls out:

“Enter.”

With one last look to each other, the brothers open the door and walk in together, shutting it gently behind them and turning to face the shocked pair. Hunith stares at Merlin with tears in her hopeful eyes, but Gaius quickly clears his throat and stands straight:

“How can I help, My Lords?”

Arthur sighs and Merlin shakes his head at the Physician’s formal address of them, rubbing a tired hand over his eyes before taking a small step forward :

“Don’t... I’m not... just Merlin, please.-”

His voice is quiet and tired, and the pleading tone it takes on deepens Arthur’s frown. He lets out a shaky breath, biting his lip before looking up to Hunith and continuing:

“-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. And I didn’t have any right to say those things; you’re... you’re nothing like Uther, and you did your best in a terrifying situation. You didn’t know any better, I shouldn’t blame you for how I turned out.”

Hunith’s tears overflow once again, and she takes in a shuddering breath as she steps hesitatingly towards the Warlock:

“Oh, my boy, you were right. I wasn’t ready to lose you, and I let that fear overcloud my judgement of what I knew to be right. I’m so sorry sweetheart, I should have told you who you were a long time ago, and it wasn’t fair of me to expect Gaius to carry on the lie, especially when you met Arthur, and especially when he found out about your magic.”

With that, Merlin pulls her into a tight hug, height difference be damned as he buries his face in her neck and shakes. Arthur gulps as he looks upon the scene, sharing a small, mournful smile with Gaius, the Physician understanding The Regent’s forgiveness in the small nod of his head. The hug doesn’t last quite as long as Arthur was expecting, though he supposes that forgiveness is more than just saying it aloud, and Merlin still has a great deal of self-worth related issues to get over, thanks to Hunith’s overly cautious raising of the boy. The Warlock clears his throat, his hands still on his mother’s shoulders as he gives her a weak smile:

“Igraine says thank you, by the way, for raising me with so much love.”

Hunith lets out a small chuckle, wiping away Merlin’s tears with soft hands:

“It was my honour, I’m glad that your... mother, is pleased.”

Merlin’s frown is brief, and he responds quickly:

“You’re my mother.”

Hunith’s smile grows, as does Merlin’s and she nods shakily, almost whispering:

“Ok... I... ok.”

Merlin lets go hesitatingly, but turns to Gaius after a moment or two. The Physician quickly interrupts anything the younger man could have said with a shake of his head and a soft smile, pulling him into a hug as he softly speaks:

“It’s alright, my boy. You were well within your rights to be angry, we had no right to lie to you in such a way.”

With Gaius and Merlin’s soft conversation happening to the side of the room, Hunith turns to Arthur with a hopeful smile on her face. He returns it faintly, and she pulls him into his own hug. He stiffens in her hold, wide eyes darting around the room as he clenches his hands at his side. It only takes her stroking a hand through his knotted hair for him to relax and hug her back:

“I’m honoured to have been able to raise your brother, Arthur, and I am sorry for keeping him from you for so long, it was selfish of me. I didn’t consider what you were losing, in not knowing that you weren’t alone, only what I would lose should I tell the truth.”

Arthur gulps and nods, but tightens his hold on her as the tears come to his eyes:

“It’s... ok. I understand, I think. The danger you put yourself in to raise and protect him was immense, I just wished I’d known sooner, so I could have done all of this sooner.”

They pull back, but Hunith keeps a tight hold on Arthur’s shoulders, an assessing frown on her face as she raises a hand to cup his cheek. Arthur leans into it, blushing slightly under her motherly gaze:

“I know. But you’re doing wonderfully, Arthur. You and Merlin will be the saviours of this Kingdom, I’m sure of it. Your mother would be so proud of you.”

A tear slips loose from Arthur’s eye as he harshly bites his lip. His voice comes out small and unsure, and Hunith has to resist the urge to pull him into another hug:

“You think?”

She just smiles and nods instead:

“I’m sure.”

Merlin and Gaius look upon the scene fondly, and Arthur’s blush deepens when he catches them staring. He steps back from Hunith who smirks at him knowingly as he frowns at Merlin:

“Shut up, Merlin.”

He just laughs and shakes his head:

“I always knew you had a soft spot for my mum.”

The Regent shakes his head and rolls his eyes, ignoring Merlin’s continued laughter:

“Either of you eaten? I’m starved.”

Gaius and Hunith’s smiles come a lot easier at that, and they shake their heads. Arthur leads the way out of the chambers, smiling and nodding at Gwaine’s raised eyebrow. The knight returns the smile, quickly sidling up to Merlin and re-taking his hand as Arthur speaks:

“I’ll let the kitchens know to have five meals sent up to my chambers, I’ll see you there in a moment.”

They part ways in the corridor, all of them with easy smiles and lighter hearts, especially when Gwaine eagerly regales his interpretation of Arthur’s reaction to having to crown him.

The next morning was once again tense. Arthur’s assertion late last night that he intended to finally deal with Uther weighs heavy in everyone’s minds.

Hunith and Gaius are once again tucked safely into the Physician’s chambers, and all of the King’s most trusted knights are called to stand guard in the corridor. Merlin and Arthur wear their smart clothes (a suggestion by Morgana that Gwaine thought was funny enough that he begged and begged until Merlin gave in), and they take in with them Leon and Morgana.

Uther looks manic, his hair unkept, his face unshaven. His clothes are clean at least, but they’re rumpled, likely due to the near constant pacing of the former King. The room is dark, the curtains obviously haven’t been opened in several days, but the dim candles highlight the mess throughout the room. Uther may still be being passed meals by the guards, but out of concern for the staff’s safety, no servants were granted access to tidy or otherwise serve.

His head whips around when the door opens, his enraged face turning red at the four people stood smartly by his door. He storms towards them, but Morgana, no longer scared of the consequences, holds a hand out and mutters a few golden words, halting him in his tracks. He apparently hasn’t lost his voice though, as he turns to Merlin:

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY DAUGHTER?! YOU-”

Merlin rolls his eyes and clicks his fingers, his eyes also turning golden as Uther’s mouth shuts with a clack. Leon manages to hold his smirk in, just stands still as the perfect guard, his hand on the hilt of his sword, but Morgana doesn’t even try, smiling openly. Merlin holds Uther’s furious gaze for a few more moments before looking to Arthur at his side, tilting his head in question. The Regent nods at him before stepping forward, his back straight and his face and voice Kingly:

“You will listen, and you will listen well, because I will not repeat myself. You are the only abomination in this room, and you will live with that for the rest of your days. How long that is, is up to you. I am Regent, soon enough I will be King, Myrddin will be Crown Prince, and Morgana will be Princess; when that happens, magic will finally be fully legalised, and the public will be made aware of your crimes. I will not hide things from my people, not like you have. No matter what you deserve, I struggle to bring myself to sentence you to execution, and you’ll be humiliated to learn, I imagine, that Merlin argued in favour of letting you keep your head when I brought it up.-”

Uther glances angrily at Merlin, but looks back to Arthur when he realises that he’s still incapable of speaking:

“-Therefor your options are as follows: You may go to the summer home on the coast, where you will be under constant guard, but will otherwise have a semi-free life. You will stay in Camelot, but live out the remainder of your days in this room only. Or me and Merlin will take a week long trip away to, say, Nemeth, whilst Princess Morgana and Sir Leon announce, organise, and undergo your execution. You have today to decide, we’ll be back this evening.”

Arthur doesn’t bother waiting for a reaction, turning his back on Uther and gesturing the others to lead the way through the door. He pauses momentarily, one hand on the door frame as he turns back, a mournful frown on his face as he quietly speaks:

“If you had just told the truth, if you had just owned up to making a mistake, you, me, Myrddin, Morgana, we... we could have been a family. You’re the one that ruined that, you’re the one that tore us apart, and I swear to you now, that whatever option you pick, I will never forgive you.”

That only seems to enrage Uther more, but Arthur isn’t quite sure why he bothered to hope for another reaction. He shuts the door behind him, waving at Merlin to reset the magical locks as he sighs and rubs tired hands over his face:

“Well at least that’s over and done with.”

Leon pats him on the shoulder consolingly, and Elyan raises an eyebrow, glancing around at the others and sighing when he realises no one else is going to ask:

“He didn’t take it well then, I’m guessing?”

Arthur takes a deep breath and stands straight, shaking his head. Morgana is the one to answer however, and Arthur appreciates the way she makes a genuine attempt to keep the humour out of her voice:

“No, he wasn’t best pleased, but I think he’s accepted that he has well and truly lost this battle. Something he’s not entirely used to, I suppose.”

The knights nod in understanding, and Merlin lets out a deep breath, tilting his head slightly:

“Weird to think that he’s my... dad... ugh.”

They all chuckle at that, even Arthur, though they all stop with concerned frowns when Merlin suddenly straightens up with wide eyes and an open mouth:

“Oh... my God... how did I...- What?!”

Arthur puts a hand on his shoulder, his frown deepening:

“Merls?”

The Warlock just ignores him, turning to Morgana with still wide eyes:

“You’re my sister! I’ve been focusing so much on how Arthur’s my brother that I didn’t even consider the fact that you’re my sister!”

Morgana takes in a sudden breath, and all bar Leon (who just raises an eyebrow and then rolls his eyes when he realises that he’s the only one unsurprised by this) stare at the two of them in shock. Morgana slowly pulls Merlin into a hug, and the two of them clutch each other tightly as a grin grows on Arthur’s face. Leon gives him another clap on the back, this one more congratulatory (if a little confused. Honestly, how did they miss that?), and the others cheer just as Gwen turns the corner into the corridor. She smiles confusedly at Merlin and Morgana, still hugging, as she sidles up to Leon, whispering:

“What’s the occasion? They find Uther dead?”

Leon laughs but shakes his head, leaning down to mutter his response:

“They only just now figured out that they’re siblings.”

She looks up to him quickly with a disbelieving raise of the eyebrows:

“Wait, just now as in, just now?-”

Leon smirks and nods firmly, and Gwen shakes her head as she laughs:

“-It’s been almost a week.”

Leon laughs as well leaning against the wall as the others chatter excitedly among themselves:

“Yeah, apparently you and I are the only ones who had considered the idea. These are all the smartest people I’ve ever come across...”

He trails off, but Gwen looks up at him with a teasing smirk:

“And yet sometimes...?”

They both laugh quietly, shaking their heads when Percival catches their eyes and tilts his head in question.

The group walks away soon enough, heading to one of the smaller dining rooms for an early lunch and a chance to discuss their intentions for this afternoon’s council meeting. Morgana, Merlin, and Arthur walk together, and conversation flows between all bar Gwaine, who stares at the back of his now betrothed’s head with the quiet adoration and lowly simmering excitement of someone that knew the man he loves is finally getting all that he deserves.

END of Part 3!!!

Part 4 will be VERY short. Will be just about post coronation and public announcement, will probably contain Merwaine’s wedding, some casual magic, some more family bonding.

I hope y’all enjoyed this!!! I wrote it surprisingly quickly once I set my mind to it

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workofheart · 4 years ago

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36+40 with Levi 👁

I love ur writing btw that bodyguard one was WOOOOOOO

this is honestly a fav thank u so much for the request, went kind of ham bc i love this idea. sorry if it hurts ur heart <3

one more | levi + “we’re not just friends and you fucking know it” + “if you’re going to act like a brat then i’m going to treat you like a brat”

warnings: angst/implied nsfw, aggressive levi, “hate to love you” kind of fucking, 18+ minors dni

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“i have feelings for you. and i think you have them for me, too.”

levi is not a man of many words - that much is obvious. he keeps it short and to the point, not one for meaningless chatter or even thinking out loud, preferring to save his input for when it matters most.

rare is such a thing due to him being rendered speechless by another person, not able to speak even if he wanted. he’s never been struck so voiceless in his life, dumbfounded and heart sinking at your admission.

his silence is deafening. coming here so late at night, you thought you had all the aces in your palm. you were so sure, but his lack of reciprocation to what you were just so confident tells you all you need to know.

he can’t stand to look you in the eyes, averting them to the papers strewn across his desk. “...it’s not that simple,” is all he can manage.

feeling embarrassed, you swallow thickly. “then what is it?”

“we’re comrades,” he offers, but damage control doesn’t look good on him. you wonder why he’s even trying. “i’d even call you my friend.”

you let out a wounded laugh at that, crossing your arms over your chest.. “come on, levi, are you kidding?”

there you go again, as if you can hear the thoughts racing through his mind before he can think them himself. of course he feels it, probably more than you, if he’s completely honest. but he can’t do it to himself again. he’s not sure if he can love someone like he wants to love you and come out alive on the other end.

“listen-”

“we’re not just friends and you fucking know it” you mutter, turning away from him. you can’t even look him in the eyes, from the humility, from the chance that maybe you’ve been wrong this whole time, from the chance you’re truly just in denial. have you just been misreading it all these years?

patience thinning, he stands from his chair to look at you properly, on your level now. “okay, and so what? you know how things are. you know how this life gets.” his lips are pursed, unwavering, sour.

a bitter expression takes root on your face. he hates it.

“i’d rather love and lose than be a coward and never love at all.”

levi’s eyes narrow, a harrowing clench to his jaw ensues. it’s a shock to hear it coming from you. in fact, he’s astonished. he’s never seen your seething denunciations first hand, though he’s heard so much in passing, and such abrasiveness from you feels like a brutal strike to the jaw. your acrid words sting his pride, spear through his facade like you knew it would.

he could tolerate attitude: he couldn’t tolerate being called a coward.

his voice drops. “don’t talk to me like that.”

“someone has to say it. the stoic act isn’t doing anything for you.”

he scoffs, incredulous. “you’re acting like a child.”

“you’re the one denying your feelings because you’re scared of getting hurt,” you argue, volume rising, “that’s childish if i’ve ever seen it.” you voice bounces off the walls of the room, and you can’t even be bothered to care about people hearing you when you’re so beat down.

you don’t even see it coming. with a swift movement, levi is storming toward you, has his hands wrapping around your upper arms, pushing you back against the door you stand in front of. you barely get the chance to look into his eyes before he has his lips on yours, firm and rough and unrelenting and...

and so, so inviting. once the initial shock fades, you can’t help but kiss him back, trying to match his pace, trying to find something to do with your hands when they’re still pinned back. but as soon as he feels you reciprocate, he’s pulling away.

eyes widening, you shake your head at him. “what do you think you’re doing?” you ask, chest heaving as you try to collect your breath.

“if you’re going to act like a brat, then i’m going to treat you like one.”

his grip on your arms slides down to your wrists and then he’s dragging you across the room, pushing you inside his separate bedroom before you can even process what’s happening.

“you want me to tell you how i feel? fine.” he grumbles, pushing you down onto the bed and shrugging off his suit jacket. “you’re the only person around here who sees through me.”

he clamors out of his shoes and belt, discards his gear straps to the side. you’re frozen to your spot, unsure whether to undress, to walk away, or to wait for levi’s order. it’s almost laughable, how he has you collapsing so easily in a matter of moments.

“you look at me like you know what i’m thinking.”

he’s down to his trousers, shirt tosses carelessly over the footboard, before he’s crawling on top of you, movements calculated and intimidating as he pushes you back further and further like an animal toying with its prey. panting, he hovers over you, drinking up the hazy fear in your eyes.

“you make me so fucking frustrated.”

he grips your jaw in his hand, harshly locking his lips with yours, his rugged hold giving you nowhere to go.

levi presses another rough kiss to your mouth, swallowing the lewd sound you can’t hold back and pulls away, huffing as he forces you to look at him. “you make me feel like my life is fucking falling apart. and you’re right, that scares the shit out of me.”

he’s in a pit of turmoil, stuck between his desires and the thought of consequences, but his rash judgment pushes it all out. he’ll worry about regret later. it’s not like doesn’t already have an abundance of that hanging over him at every given moment - what’s one more?

“tell me you want me,” he grunts, stilling his movements. he needs you to say it, needs to hear you so he knows it’s real.

your arms reach up to tangle around his neck. “i want you,” you cry between his lips, hands tugging at his hair with greed, trying to pull him closer. it’s not just confirmation, it’s a plea.

warmth spreads through his body yet he feels himself shiver at the way you cling to him. it doesn’t take long to get you out of your clothes. he wants it off, off, off, and you’re not one to deny him. he bites at your neck, nips at the shell of your ear, whispers cruel teases there right where only you can hear him. each new expanse of skin you uncover for him is a new way to torture you, make you feel how much he wants you now, knowing he won’t let himself have you later in a way more than this.

his eyes are glued to you as he slips inside, staring down at the mess he’s made of you. purple lovebites blossom across your flushed, heaving chest. your cunt is dripping, aching for something only he can give you. you’re hot and needy and lewd, just for him, just how he made you, and you had the nerve to call him a coward.

your mouth falls open at the feeling of his cock dragging sweet against your walls, squeezing him in the best way possible. it draws a low groan from him; he can’t tear his gaze away from how you tremble, dying for the moment to last, the pure pleasure he’s giving you rewarding him with how absolutely beautiful you look like this.

leaning forward, he drops his forearms to the sheets so he has you caged, chest pressing to yours. by now his skin is glossy, struggling to keep himself together with the moans you let out for him.

reaching down your figure, his calloused fingers find your clit to rub tight, hard circles that have you shaking. he picks his head up just to see your reaction, the way your eyes squeeze together, the way your back arches beneath him, the way you say his name like a prayer when you cum.

levi can bring you to your climax as many times as he wants. he’s more than able, more than willing. your body bends to his commands at a single touch. but the both of you know that’s not really what you’re here for.

he grits his teeth as he chases his own high, savoring the feel of your hands in his hair and how you clutch to his every movement, letting the confession spill off the tip of his tongue.

“fuck, i love you,” he pants into your neck, his heavy breaths puffing against your dampening skin. he feels the start crash over him in more ways than one with tears brimming on his lash line. not letting up, his strokes are smooth and fast and deep, as if he’s trying to make up for lost time, as if he’s trying to coax every filthy sound of reassurance he can out of you in the only way he knows how. “you know i do, shit, and you still make me say it.”

levi is not a man of many words, but god if he won’t give them to you when you ask.

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman angst #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman fanfic #aot smut #aot x reader #levi smut #levi x reader #levi angst

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lovelyrots · 3 years ago

Text

The Beginning of the End

Warnings : first fic I’ve written in a long while, forced infidelity, non/dubcon, Dabi is a sweet boyfriend and Keigo is a scummy bastard, oral (receiving and giving), handjob (receiving and giving), reader is fem, daddy kink, noncon filming, swearing uhhhhh message me if I’m missing anything?

Breathe in. Count to five. Breathe out. It’s showtime! A grin spread across your face as you looked down at the clueless people. Sparkling gems, webs of gold and countless other riches were flaunted in every direction. And it’s all mine for the taking. You thought as you dived through the skylight and used your quirk to shatter the lights as your feet gently touch the floor. “Attention rich snobs and gentlefolk! If you don’t want your life to be over in a few seconds, I recommend you throw all your money and jewels to the floor now!” You command as you strengthen the wind within the closed space. A few people hesitate before you whip them with the air around them and they’re jumping to lighten their pockets. “Thank you all so much for cooperating! Afterall I’m sure you can afford to replace it all!” You coo as the winds pick everything up and take it all up to the roof where you have a pair of duffel bags waiting. You take in the delicious look of fear on the faces of the people, the quiet whimpers from some of the women and the way their cowardly husbands push them in front of themselves. “Now that I have just made some room in your wealthy lives for some new pieces I’ll be taking my leave, oh but don’t even think of calling for heros or the police. A...friend of mine has them tied up right now so just enjoy the rest of your party. Ta ta~!” You exclaim as the wind brings you up to your bags and your exit. Across the city you can see those bright blue flames that have always made your heart beat just a little faster. You sling the straps of the bags over your shoulders and glide on the wind down to the alleyway across from the museum and run towards the safe house. Well my safe house at least. Hopefully Dabi can make it back.

Unknown to you, there was a crimson feather tucked into one of your bags and a pair of amber eyes trailing your figure from above.

Heavy thuds sounded three times on the front door before a fourth and gentler knock had you rushing to the door. “Hey doll, hope ya had fun.” Dabi chuckled as he sauntered in and flopped on your couch. “Well not as much as you. The news kept talking about all the damage you did. I’m surprised you didn’t overexert yourself.” You reply as you pull the bags from the closet you’d hid them in and drop them on the coffee table in front of Dabi. “You know it’ll take more than that little display to wear me out. Or maybe I need to give you a reminder.” He growled out playfully before pulling you on top of him. You lean forward and nuzzle into his neck as his hands start to wander over your body. “Mm you must’ve ran into Birdbrain earlier. You only get this excited after you fight him babe.” You said between kitten licks on his neck. He started grinding up into you and gripping you just a bit tighter. “That coward saw me and took off before I could turn him into some hot wings.” Dabi chuckled as one of his hands made its way into your shorts and smirked. “No undies princess? Atta girl.” His praise had your clit started to throb with want. Knowing how his praise gets you going, he dipped two fingers into your tight entrance and circled your hot button with his thumb. “Dabi!” You shriek as he sets a rough pace, scissoring your walls before adding a third finger. “That’s right, scream my name so everyone knows how good I make you feel.” He whispered into your ear as you began to moan and whine at each stroke of your clit. “You close doll? I can feel your walls clenching. C’mon pretty girl, let me know how good you feel.” While one of his hands was shoved in your shorts, his other was tweaking and pulling on your nipple sending your pleasure-addled brain into overdrive. “So good, you make me feel so good baby! Ahh~! More, please just a bit more!” You moan and beg as you can feel your peak approach. That’s when he starts to slow his ministrations of course. And you make sure to whine and try to grind down on his hand, chasing after the peak before it leaves you. “Aw, you want to cum doll? Ask nicely and I’ll gladly make you cum.” He teased you as he swiped your clit with his thumb twice to see you squirm. “Please Daddy, please! I’m so close, please daddy! Just a little more daddy!” You beg as you try again to grind on his fingers to get some relief. “I guess since you worked so hard tonight you can cum.” He pulled his fingers out of you with a harsh squelch and laid you down on the couch as you started to whine more at the loss of his fingers. “But I want you to cum on my tongue and not my fingers.” He said while pulling your shorts off and digging his head in between your spread thighs. He started licking and stroking your clit before moving down to your slit. He lazily drew circles on your clit as his tongue delved into your sweet slit and began slurping like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. “Ah~! Daddy! You’re making me feel so good daddy! Ahh~!” You writhe below Dabi and grip his hair between your fingers as he delves two fingers in. “Mm~! ‘M close daddy! Please can I cum daddy?” You begged again as you approached your peak again. “C’mon then, cum for daddy.” He growled out as he ate you fervently.

Quickly you crashed into euphoria as his thumb rubbed your clit to help you ride out your high and he slowly withdrew his face from between your legs before looking down at you. “That’s my girl, you want me to carry you to bed?” He asked as he moved towards your face to nip at your lip. “N-no, I think I’ll crash here tonight. Thanks Dabi.” You murmur as you lean up and peck his lips. “Can’t walk yet babe? Haha I’ll just put these up then. I need to check in with Dustface and find a fence for this shit, see ya in the morning babe?” He asked from the hallway as you heard the duffel bags dropping to the floor. “Yeah, 10:30 at Sanji’s? Or should I just head to your hideout?” You offered as you cringed from the cooling puddle beneath you. “I’ll see ya at the diner. If Dustface sees you he might cream his pants and then his nanny will make me mop it up. You sure you don’t want me to carry you to bed? Or even bring you a blanket for right now?” He crouched before you. “Yes I’m sure, I just want to lay here for a couple minutes. Now go before I jump you, loser.” You shove his shoulder with a laugh that warms his core. “Alright brat, take care.” He rolled his turquoise eyes before kissing you and walking off. “Love you too babe!” You shout before you hear the door shut gently and hear the turning of the lock. You stretch out before slowly sitting up and looking down at your now ruined couch. “Damn, I need to start telling him to put me on the floor. I’ll clean it in the morning, I’m too tired for this shit right now.” You say to yourself as you get up and head to your bathroom to clean yourself up and get ready for bed.

#mha #x reader #dabi x reader #tw noncon #tw dubcon #sweet Dabi #tw swearing #tw noncon filming #tw daddy kink #uhh let me know what else to tag if anyone reads this #SMUT #bnha dabi #bnha smut #bnha

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saorikuhara39 · 3 years ago

Text

Animedia October 2021 Issue Obey Me translation SHOWING YOU THE HALLOWEEN DREAM

[PLEASE DO NOT SCREENSHOT / REPOST]

(Reblogging / Comments okay)

Animedia October 2021 Issue Obey Me translation feat. Lucifer, Asmodeus

(On Sale Sep 2021)

The Black-Hearted(Bitter) Vampire and the Narcissistic(Sweet) Werewolf: Which treat would you choose?

① What do you think is your 'sweet' point?

② Tell us about your 'treats'!

③ How do you say "Trick or Treat" in your own way?

ASMODEUS

① Of course, it's my existence by itself ❤❤❤

② Yesterday I went to Devil Salon and enjoyed the "Super Beauty Muddy Course"! Of course, it's both for the face and the body! I'm already beautiful, but I look even more luscious and plump now❤. It's quite a treat for you too, don't you think?

③ Trick and treat! Because I want both sweets and pranks from you ♡ Halloween in the human world is the best time to get delicious sweets and cute mischiefs! Of course, if you also say something to me, I'll return the favour with lots of love ♪

LUCIFER

① I think I'm being too easy on my brothers. I don't mean to let them do whatever they want, but they're still family. So in the end I spoiled them. However, some idiot who decorated tapestries of Sucre Frenzy all around the House of Lamentation, claiming to be for advertising purposes, should be given a harsh punishment.

② Luke was very excited to make angel Gugelhupf with all his effort. It's a baked pastry in the shape of an angel's wings, with raspberries from the forest of the Celestial Realm as a topping. Simeon used to make it all the time, so he must have learned the recipe from him. ...That brings back memories. It was very delicious, so I look forward to it.

③ Entertain me. If you can't... you know what's coming, right?

---

Ain't afraid of no spooks and pranks!? FEAR LEVEL ANALYSIS By Lucifer & Asmodeus

LUCIFER: Whether you are scared or not, and whether you show it on the outside or not... Hmm...

ASMODEUS: Mammon is here, right?

LUCIFER: He's been off the chart from the start. Well, I can't argue with that.

ASMODEUS: Mammon's always saying things like, "I ain't afraid of nothin'!" while clinging the human behind their back. By the way, you should be here, right Lucifer?

LUCIFER: Hey. Am I off the chart too?

ASMODEUS: Because you don't get scared and you don't show it.

LUCIFER: You're in here.

ASMODEUS: What? I'm here?

LUCIFER: You're not always feeling as scared as you seem, are you?

ASMODEUS: Well, yeah. Because I'm so cute when I'm scared, aren't I? ♡

LUCIFER: Belphie is around here.

ASMODEUS: Hey! Show a little more reaction! ... I mean, won't Belphie feel a little more scared?

LUCIFER: He told me that he had a scary dream the other day and the human was comforting him.

ASMODEUS: I see. He's always acting like the youngest and getting spoiled.

LUCIFER: Satan is probably around here. Aside from anger, he is good at hiding his emotions.

ASMODEUS: Indeed! So is Beel around here?

LUCIFER: When he saw the empty refrigerator, he had a look of horror on his face, like he'd seen the end of the world.

ASMODEUS: Ahaha! So such a thing happened? I'll just pull him over a little closer here. Levi's a bit of a coward, so maybe this area suits him.

LUCIFER: That guy's too loud. He's even higher.

ASMODEUS: Like this?

LUCIFER: Yeah. We're done here.

---

HALLOWEEN DREAM CROSS TALK LUCIFER x ASMODEUS

Q: Tell us what kind of costumes will fit the other brothers.

ASMODEUS: It's got to be that costume for Levi. That Ruri-chan.

LUCIFER: ............Yeah.

ASMODEUS: Will a detective look fit Satan?

LUCIFER: Don't. He'll want to turn everything into a murder case. If it's Mammon, he might as well become a pirate.

ASMODEUS: You're right! A wild person suits a wild look! Belphie will fit as a witch. Paired with a wide-brimmed pointy hat and a broom! How about Frankenstein's Monster for Beel?

LUCIFER: I do think it looks good on him, but I have a better idea.

ASMODEUS: What~ is it?

LUCIFER: It's a hamburger. He said he wanted to try it the other day.

ASMODEUS: I can't put a finger on how I feel about this...

Q:What is the most unforgettable "prank" you have ever been involved in?

LUCIFER: The worst one is that the package and contents of the cursed records I have in my collection were switched around.

ASMODEUS: The Anti-Lucifer League is on a roll!

LUCIFER: Nothing good happens when Satan and Belphie team up.

ASMODEUS: For me, it was that time I ordered the super-special deluxe pancakes for phototaking and uploading onto Devilgram, but Beel ate them before I could take a picture! I had to place a reservation for it and it was very hard to get one!

LUCIFER: ...Was that supposed to be a prank?

#obey me #obey me jp #おべいみー #obey me asmodeus #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #Animedia #translations #translation #saori k translations

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more-stuff-of-pi · 3 years ago

Text

I’ll Fight For You

a/n: lmao i swear i’m fine, just needed good ol’ kiri to assist me in a v self-indulgent fic. also, sorry for taking forever to write something yoinks

notes: did i read through this after i wrote it? nope. we’re fucking rolling with the audacity of not even a single ounce of beta-ing. requests are open :) find my masterlist here

pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader | genre: angst (w/happy ending) / hurt/comfort | warnings: abusive mother (mental/verbal), a father who doesn’t intervene | word count: 2,018

Your boyfriend was practically vibrating with nerves as he adjusted his hair in the mirror. It was artfully piled on top of his head, his dark roots making a sharp contrast against the vibrant red.

“Ei,” you smiled, “you’re gonna be fine.”

He worried his sharp teeth against his bottom lip, frowning all the while. “But what if they--?”

“They’re going to love you, Ei. Probably even more than they love me,” you joke, coming up behind Eijirou’s monstrously large form. Hero work had been both kind and harsh on him but he made it look effortlessly good. You gently slid your arms around his waist as you angled yourself so that you could still eye his reflection.

“I’m just… worried, is all.”

You cock your eyebrow. “About what, Ei?”

He incredulously meets your gaze through the mirror. “What do you mean, about what?!”

It dawns on you a little bit. “Oh, well, she’s not going to be mean to you, Ei. She knows how to play nice when it counts. And you, good sir, count.”

“That’s not as reassuring as it is worrying, you know.”

“My mother is just a little intense, babe, it’s nothing I’m not used to. Like I said, she knows how to tone it down in front of others. I’m sure tonight will be fine. I probably just exaggerate everytime I whine about her, so she’s probably not even half as bad as I make her sound,” you shrug, leaning more into Eijirou’s side.

“Baby,” he sighs, twisting a little to look directly at you, no mirror this time. His eyes are sad yet firm as if wishing you to understand that there’s no need to defend yourself with him.

You squeeze him tighter before letting go and walking to the door. “C’mon, we’ll be late if we don’t leave now.”

❁

You always forget that you don’t really ever exaggerate your mother’s behavior towards you until you’re around her again. Everything as far as introducing your boyfriend to your parents has been going incredibly smoothly. Your dad enthusiastically engaged Eijirou in hero stories, talking about Red Riot’s most recent media appearance where he was dressed in pajamas and carrying tubs of various ice creams you both had wanted to try when he dropped everything to prevent a construction beam from falling on clueless bystanders. Only one tub of ice cream had survived and luck had it that it was your least favorite flavor combination. Your mother praised Eijirou for his success and his coupling good looks at which she winked, making your boyfriend flush both at the phrase and the uncomfortable comments your mother directed at him. You winced at that, having forgotten to prepare him for the habitual talent your mother had of sexualizing anything, especially if it would ‘embarrass’ her child.

Your mother had made off handed comments throughout the whole night that you seemed to be the only one to pick up on. Your dad might have noticed a few but, as usual, he only looked at you apologetically, never interrupting his wife to stand up for you.

As much as you loved both of your parents and as much as they had their good moments, this fucking sucked.

“--not that she’s any good with that quirk of hers, of course,” your mother snickered as she brought the glass to her lips. You had become a good actor over the years in order to avoid your mother’s bullying over your ‘sensitiveness’, but something about her dismissing your hard work always immediately dismantled whatever mask you had thrown on. To cover what you know must be a crestfallen look, you give a laugh, something that could be called half-hearted at best. Your eyes remained trained on your food. “Oh come on, Y/n, that was funny.”

You chuckled again, hoping to force some genuineness into it. “Yeah--”

“No, it wasn’t,” Eijirou immediately cuts you off, voice straining with anger. You felt your face drain of blood as you noticed how tightly he was gripping his chopsticks. He was fuming. You don’t think you’d ever seen him angry before. The thought scared you. “That was just mean.”

Your mother quirked an unimpressed, subtly pissed brow at your boyfriend. “Don’t be sensitive, Eijirou. House rules: if it’s mean but funny, it’s okay.”

“As long as you get a laugh from it, it’s okay to abuse your child?” He spits at her like venom.

Your mother sets her glass down, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

“You heard--”

You slap a hand over Eijirou’s bicep, squeezing so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up bruising. “It’s fine! Nothing I’m used to! I grew up on the ‘if it’s mean but funny’ rule, so it’s fine.”

The look he gave you was of incredulous anger. “No, it is not--!”

“Please, Ei. Please, just--,” you averted your eyes, ashamed of your own familiar defeat. “Just sit.”

Shamefully, you slide back into your seat, nervously smoothing out a napkin back onto your lap. Eijirou still stood beside you, staring daggers at your mother who effortlessly returned it. His fists were balled, the veins in his hands flexing with the effort of restraining himself. His jaw snapped shut with an audible clamp as he resolved himself to sitting back down.

Your dad clears his throat, more so than necessary as if the harder he did it, the better he could dissipate the tension. “Done, everyone?” No one answers him. He takes that as the go ahead to begin clearing dishes, desperately jumping at the opportunity to escape your mother’s impending tantrum. You loved your dad very much but, god, he was nothing if not a coward, always leaving you to fight your own battles. You don’t think you’ve ever won.

Your mother returns her cold attention to you, the ice starting to thicken and your mother’s hollow kindness starting to retreat along with her patience. “What are you even doing to help train your quirk, sweetie?”

Taken aback, you met her gaze. “W-what do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t ever see you doing anything at all to help. You do realize that training takes work, right? What does it take? It takes--,” your mother trailed off, flourishing both hands to motion for you to finish the sentence.

“Effort--”

“Effort!” She clapped with your word. “It takes effort! And I only want the best for you, sweetheart, which is why I’m just asking what you’re doing. From where I stand, it doesn’t look like you’re doing anything at all to help improve yourself! As your mother, your concerned mother, I’m just looking out for you, sweetheart.”

Your mind is reeling at her words. You so badly want to defend yourself, assert all of the effort that you have painstakingly put in-- but you are reminded of the precise way your mother is able to leech any ounce of power or confidence from you. You would think that was her quirk if you didn’t know any better. “Mom, I am putting effort in, I train almost everyday--”

“Do you really?” Her voice drips with venomous shock. “It certainly doesn’t look like you do,” she gestures vaguely at you, eyeing your body with a vulture’s gaze. “Maybe you should consider morning and night. Oh! And a diet change, too. You know, since the popular heroes have a specific look to them and I just want to make sure that you can fit that. Since it’s your dream to be a popular hero. Like I said, you have to be willing to put in the effort. Oh, sweetie, don’t look at me like that. You know the difficult position I’m in! Trying to encourage you and help you achieve your dreams while not seeming too enthusiastic. You’re putting that stress on me, sweetie, I’m only trying to help.”

It really was incredible how quickly your mother could erase any confidence you had. Normally, you would stand beaming, more than happy to assert yourself and stand up for yourself and others. All it took was a couple words from your mother, and you turned into a dog with its head down and its tail between its legs, fearful of its master.

Your gut sank and hatred swirled throughout your body for both yourself and her as you once again let her have power over you. “You’re right. Sorry, Mom--”

“Do you know where your daughter ranks as a hero?”

Stunned, you both glanced at Eijirou, having almost completely forgotten that he was there. Throughout her tirade, you had felt a tragically familiar loneliness, used to having to defend yourself when no one, not even your other family members, would. Used to always submitting and used to the shame that always accompanied your forced silence.

“What?” She spat.

“I asked if you knew your daughter’s ranking. I just was wondering, is all. It would make sense if you weren’t aware that she ranks in the top 30 since you were asking about the effort she puts in. I would think that that accomplishment -- at such a young age, too, might I add -- was evidence enough of the countless hours, blood, sweat, and tears that she has poured into this. The effort she’s painstakingly put in. You’re right that being a hero is her dream, and she’s a damn good one, too. Saved my life more than once with ‘that quirk of hers’,” he sneered bitterly. “And, on top of that, she’s so beautiful through and through that sometimes it’s all I can do to stare at her in awe. Your thinly veiled shaming of her appearance is never the result of a mother’s so-called difficult situation, only the result of your own insecurities.”

Eijirou suddenly stands, having finally had more than enough for one night. “The only gratitude I will ever have towards you is for bringing this wonderful woman into this world. I hope one day you’ll actually realize how amazing your daughter is and how proud of her you ought to be. Because I am. I am so incredibly proud of her and her accomplishments and the results of her efforts.”

“And who’s to say that I’m not proud of her, Eijirou?”

He scoffs. Eijirou, the kindest, most patient man you know, scoffs in your mother’s face. “Haven’t you ever heard that actions speak louder than words?”

Your mother gapes up at him, opening and closing her mouth like a fish. In that moment, she resembles a fish and you couldn’t be more pleased with that comparison.

“He’s right, mom.” You rise to join him. “I know you love me. I have no choice but to believe it because I think it would destroy me if I didn’t. But maybe someday I won’t constantly have to defend myself to you and you’ll accept the things I say without dismissing them. You always say you admire me most for my assertiveness but you shut me down anytime I use it to stand up for myself against you. And that makes you nothing but a hypocrite.” You stare her down, reveling in the confidence Eijirou gives you in this thing against your mother. For the first time, you are not alone as you fight this battle. For the first time, you have help. And for the first time, you feel like you’ve won. “Now if you’ll excuse us.”

You take Eijirou’s hand and lead him out of the house, leaving your parents to stare after you in shock. As soon as you make it out, cold air hits you like a slap in the face that harshly wakes you from a daze.

“Holy shit, Ei, did I just stand up to my mom?”

He laughs and squeezes your hand. “It was pretty manly, too.” You laugh breathlessly, still in disbelief as you push your other fist against his arm. “And you know,” he continues, “that I’m the best judge of that.”

“That must mean a lot,” you grin, swinging your linked hands between you as you walk further from your parents’ home, feeling the fullness of a good meal and a battle won.

taglist: @samwrights, @mayaoliviee, @luluwiie, @gigglyparker (i thought i would tag you since you commented on the draft that i posted of this, hope you don’t mind <3)

#i'll fight for you #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima x reader #bnha x reader #hurt/comfort #abusive mother tw #tw abusive mother #mha x reader #bro this fic lowkey fvcking sucks lmao so sorry that this is the first thing you see from me in a while #like it just feels really rushed which it probably is but it's incredibly self-indulgent and it fulfills my purposes so it's good enough #for me that is

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theclockworkmonk · 3 years ago

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Out of the Mouths of Babes — Chapter 2

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Read on FanFiction.net

Chapter 1 on Tumblr

Prompt: “Uncle Ron said something about Harry knocking Ginny up, but I don’t know what he means,” Teddy said.

************

"They can't be serious…." Harry muttered in disbelief as he stared down at the very official-looking letter.

"Who's serious about what?" asked Ginny, stepping into their living room.

Harry jumped and quickly tried to hide the letter behind his back. "Nothing!" he squeaked.

He should have known better. Ginny got a mischievous glint in her eye and darted around him, trying to get at the letter. They spent a minute chasing around each other, but eventually Ginny faked him out into tripping over the coffee table, and she quickly snatched the letter out of his hand with a triumphant laugh, making Harry once again wonder if she wouldn't be even better at Seeker.

"Ooooo," Ginny sang dramatically as she saw the emblem at the top of the parchment, "an official statement from the Wizengamot! Have they come up with a new award to bestow on you?"

"No, it's even worse," mumbled Harry.

"Oh, well now I'm very interested," Ginny teased, "am I worthy to take a peek at such official correspondence between such important people?"

"Well, it actually concerns you too, Missy," said Harry, crossing his arms, "so go ahead."

"Hold on, let's see if I can get the right tone." Ginny cleared her throat, pointed her nose in the air, and continued in her haughtiest tone,

"To the esteemed Harry James Potter,

After consideration of your actions to serve and protect the Wizarding World of Great Britain, as well as the recent discovery of your lineage to the Ancient and Noble House of Peverell, previously thought to be lost, it is with great honor and pleasure that we offer to restore your line to its former status by bestowing upon you one of the vacant Lordships!?"

Ginny dropped her character and her mouth gaped open in disbelief. "Along with the accompanying seat on the Wizengamot!" she finished quickly.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, and her face split into a wicked grin and Harry knew he would never hear the end of this.

Harry snatched the parchment back.

"Yeah, so in other words," he began before she could start getting her jokes in, "they're embarrassed by how many of their seats are still empty after half their members were thrown in prison or fled the country for being Death Eater collaborators, so they're once again trying to use me as their poster boy so they can look like they've turned over a new leaf. Except they clearly haven't, since they only deemed me 'worthy' after they found out which dead pure-bloods I'm descended from, so they're still the same navel-gazing, inbred aristocrats they've always been!"

By the time he was finished, he was shouting and he panted to catch his breath.

Ginny, however, still found the whole thing hilarious.

"Oh, it breaks my heart to see Lord Potter so displeased," she bowed low to him with a flourish of her hand. "Let me know if there's anything a lowly peasant like me can do to serve you."

"Yeah, yuck it up, Weasley," said Harry dryly, "Like I said, this affects you too."

She looked back up at him with a sardonic look. "How does your having to sit through long parliamentary bullshit have to do with me?"

"Well," said Harry, stepping toward her, "if I'm a Lord, that means that, if I ever get married one day—"

"Hypothetically speaking," said Ginny.

"Yes, then that hypothetical girl — whoever she might be — would become a Lady."

"Hmmm," hummed Ginny thoughtfully. She wrapped her hands around his neck and he snaked his arms around her waist. "So you think this is relevant to me because you're hoping to make me your Lady? That's mighty presumptive of you, Lord Potter."

"Well, I wouldn't say hoping," lied Harry. "It's just a logical possibility to consider, strictly because you're pure-blood, of course. But I'm still keeping my options open. After all, you know how much of a ladies man I am."

"Yes, of course. But you know…" said Ginny thoughtfully, tracing circles over Harry's chest with her finger, "'Lady Ginevra Potter….does have kind of a nice ring to it."

"Oh, but things would be expected of you, m'Lady," said Harry, "and you would definitely have to stop all that Quidditch nonsense. Such a vulgar and violent activity is beneath a woman of your standing."

"Oh, well, I guess that's settled, we have to break up," Ginny sighed, "We're just a part of two different worlds."

"I'll always remember you," said Harry romantically, "but alas, I must kiss you goodbye."

He bent down and gave her a kiss, then they broke apart as they cracked up into laughter.

"Come on, I'm not going to let anyone call me a Lord," said Harry, rolling his eyes, "and obviously I'm not actually going to sit on the bloody Wizengamot. Those seats are transferable, so I can give it to someone who will actually know what they're doing. My first instinct is your dad, but he probably won't want it either, and they'll do anything to get him off again. Andromeda would probably feel at home there, but could do some good. Or maybe McGonagall."

Ginny groaned. "You can be so boring sometimes, you know that? You have a chance to put Luna in a position of power, that would drive them insane! Oh, or how about Aberforth, that would be hilarious!"

Harry laughed. "We're not all agents of chaos like you, Gin. I swear, sometimes I think you're Eris in disguise."

"Oh, you think I'm a goddess?" Ginny flirted, "then I guess you better worship me."

"Hmmm," Harry kissed her again, but then sighed and pulled back. "Sadly, there's no time for that, we're already running late for dinner at the Burrow."

"Alright, should we go together or do you want to keep up the pretense that we're actually living in different flats?" she asked him pointedly.

He gave a weak, embarrassed smile. "I know it's ridiculous, and I might be a coward, I've just managed to escape your mother's disapproving stare so far in my life, I'd like to keep it that way as long as possible."

Ginny rolled her eyes but led him by the hand out the door of their flat, past the wards they had put up. Harry wrapped an arm around her waist, and turned on the spot, feeling the squeeze of Disapparition.

*********************

"Come on!" urged Ron, "I'm hungry!"

"What else is new?" laughed Hermione, as she finished a letter she needed to send and tied it to Pig. After she sent the little owl on his way, she turned around to see her fiance standing by the fireplace, bouncing on his feet like a child on Christmas morning.

"Honestly Ron," said Hermione, shaking her head, "one would think you haven't eaten in a week, and there's no way that your mother even has dinner ready yet."

"Yes, but her pre-dinner scones should be coming out of the oven right now!" said Ron cleverly, "And I might as well have not eaten in a week, don't pretend like I'm the only one who's sick of our sad attempts at cooking."

"Alright, alright!" said Hermione. She joined him by the fireplace, threw some floo powder into the grate, and together they stepped into the green flames.

"THE BURROW!" Ron shouted clearly, and after the spinning sensation and flashes of various fireplaces, they stumbled into the sitting room of Ron's childhood home.

Ron's excited smile faltered when they saw the sitting room completely empty, with no one there to greet them. He recognized the overlapping voices of his family instead coming from the kitchen, and with a rush of horror he feared that his precious scones were already being eaten by an army of Weasleys. He led Hermione by the hand across the room towards the kitchen, and he started to make out individual voices.

"I just don't understand why they haven't told us!" said his mother.

"He probably knows what we're likely to do to him," grumbled Charlie.

"You've been away too long, brother mine," chuckled George, "I guarantee you she's the one keeping it under wraps."

"In any case, we know that pushing the issue will do nothing but make things worse," said Ron's dad gently, "We just have to—"

"Scones ready?" asked Ron loudly as he and Hermione entered the kitchen, and Hermione had to resist the urge to swat him. The conversation he had interrupted seemed interesting, and her suspicions were confirmed (and her curiosity inflamed) when all talk instantly ceased the moment they walked into the room. Six heads snapped towards the arriving couple as Molly, Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Percy, and George widened their eyes in surprise and fear, like they were caught discussing something covert. Hermione also noticed how a few of them (mainly Ron's two oldest brothers) then narrowed their eyes venomously at her and her boyfriend.

While the kitchen of the Burrow was usually one of the warmest, most welcoming rooms in the world to Hermione, she noticed a distinctly cool, tense atmosphere this time. She looked sideways and saw that even Ron had clearly noticed, his eager smile slipping from his face.

There were several seconds of silence as the older family members' eyes all flittered between each other, holding a silent conversation that Ron and Hermione didn't know how to join. Then the loud ding of the kitchen timer made them all jerk suddenly.

"Wow, do I have great timing or what?" said Ron proudly, trying to ease some of the tension in the room, but some of his laughter died in his throat. His stomach didn't let him dwell on it, however, as Molly bent down to take the scones out of the oven, and the sweet, fresh smell filled the kitchen.

After she put the plate of scones on the table, Ron casually flicked a cooling charm over them before grabbing one greedily. The other Weasley men took their own, but they looked more like it was just something to do with their hands. While Ron hummed as he took a big bite, they chewed theirs thoughtfully.

"I should check on the washing," said Molly quietly, without looking at anyone. She grabbed a laundry basket and headed outside towards the clothesline.

"I'll help!" said Hermione cheerfully. She was always happy to help with the chores at the Burrow, but she also wanted to get one of the Weasleys alone to figure out what they had been talking about.

Molly didn't answer and continued outside with Hermione behind her.

"How have you and Arthur been?" asked Hermione pleasantly.

"Well, my days are still dreary, with no children left in the house," Molly sighed. "I knew that children don't stay children forever, but I certainly wasn't expecting my younger ones to hit so many milestones so quickly….and in the wrong order." She finished more quietly

Hermione frowned. Did Molly think she and Ron were getting married too soon? She had never expressed that before, she was overjoyed when they had announced their engagement.

"Er….well, Ron recently got promoted from Junior Auror," said Hermione uncertainly as she began helping Molly take garments off the clothesline and put them in the basket. "He'll be taking more serious cases now." So his career is well on track, if that's what you're worried about.

"I'm touched that you and Ron are willing to indulge that to me!" said Molly sharply

Hermione pursed her lips. Her patience was running out.

She stepped towards her soon-to-be mother-in-law and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Molly…"

For the first time, Molly turned to look at Hermione and the younger woman flinched back at the cold distrust and disapproval she saw in her eyes. Hermione felt a rush of deja vu, and after a short moment she realized where she had seen that look before: it was the same look she had received from Molly her fourth year, when the older witch had believed Rita Skeeter and was under the impression that Hermione was Harry's manipulative girlfriend, breaking his heart by messing around with Viktor.

"Mrs. Weasley...have I done something wrong?" asked Hermione weakly.

Seeing the hurt on Hermione's face, Molly's own harsh expression softened and was replaced with a wave of guilt. Her eyes got watery and her lip trembled, and before Hermione could say anything else she suddenly found herself being hugged tightly.

"No dear, you haven't done anything wrong," said Molly in a choked voice, as Hermione awkwardly patted her back, thoroughly confused. "I'm just being silly. I understand you're not choosing sides, you're just being a good friend."

Molly pulled back, and was smiling weakly at Hermione.

"Er...thank you," said Hermione, more bewildered than ever. "I don't mean to be rude, Molly, but I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh no, of course not," Molly winked dramatically, "There's nothing to tell, I'll drop it. Come on, dinner is just about ready."

Before Hermione could insist more strongly that Molly explain what the hell was going on, Molly picked up the now-full laundry basket and returned to the house, leaving Hermione blinking dumbly behind her.

******************************

As Hermione followed his mother outside, Ron continued to chew into the warm, buttery scone, barely looking at his surrounding family members, the earlier tension all but forgotten to him.

"So….little Ronnie doesn't come around for dinner as much as he used to," Bill pointed out.

"He and Harry have been burning the candle at both ends at the Ministry," said Percy.

"Hmm-hmm," Ron nodded, engrossed in his scone, not looking up to see the stern looks on his brothers' faces. "More than we need to be, honestly. But because of Harry's saving-people-thing, he's always sure that the next case will end in disaster if the dark wizard isn't caught right now, and of course he would be lost without me, so whenever he's working overtime I am too." He shrugged.

"Oh yes, I think we're all well aware how loyal you are to Harry," Charlie said darkly, "Even over other, older loyalties, as a matter of fact."

"Charlie…." began their dad warningly.

Ron looked back up, and grew uncomfortable again when he saw that all of his family members were looking directly at him. Earlier, he had assumed that the awkward tension in the room was because he and Hermione had interrupted an important conversation, but it seemed to go beyond that, like they were pissed directly at him for something he had done.

"What's going—"

He was interrupted by his mother re-entering the house, holding the laundry with one hand and wiping tears from her eyes with the other. Hermione followed in shortly behind her, and Ron looked pointedly at his mother and gave his fiance a quizzical look, but Hermione just returned a confused, helpless shrug.

"The roast should be almost done now," said Molly happily, and waved her want to send a flurry of plates and cutlery flying to settle in front of where each of the Weasley men were sitting.

"And I'm such a terrible mother, I neglected something," chuckled Molly, and bent down to kiss the crown of Ron's head. "We all missed you, dear."

"Mum…" Ron grumbled awkwardly, but he saw his brothers look at each other with slightly guilty expressions, and as they followed their mother's lead, the atmosphere of the room became friendlier.

Charlie drew in a deep breath and sighed. "I need a drink."

"Excellent idea!" pipped George. He waved his wand and summoned a large bottle of firewhiskey from the cabinet along with several glasses, which zoomed right past Molly's face, causing her to jump and shriek.

"For the last time, only the cook can summon in the kitchen!" Molly scolded him, "I won't have this room devolve in complete chaos of flying objects until someone gets a concussion!"

"And I know you don't always act like it, but you are all of age," said Arthur, raising his eyebrows at George pouring several glasses of whiskey, "so I see no reason why you can't bring your own drinking supplies instead of raiding mine."

Molly huffed. "Well maybe it will be best if we stopped keeping that poison in the house—"

She stopped abruptly as they heard a faint pop from outside, coming from down the pathway, and Ron knew that Harry and Ginny must have arrived. Instead of beaming and rushing out into the garden to greet her two favorite children, however, Ron saw his mother gasp and a bit of the color drain from her face. His family members all looked at each other with that same expression he first saw when he came into the room.

Charlie gave a low growl and picked up a glass. "Yup. Definitely need a drink."

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