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sugar-petals · 3 years ago

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can you give us more thoughts about domestic yoongles? the taemin's one (wich I love) just made me miss the cat boy so much ;o;

i have a phd in househusband yoongi so let me fire out some ideas for ya.

myg at home headcanon

🐱 word count. 1.9k | fluff, slice of life, slight nsfw mentions, x reader, bullet points

The doorbell sound is a recording of Yoongi imitating a doorbell. He’s such a meme. Ceci n'est pas une pipe.

Seemingly, he teaches himself a new recipe every week. To perfection. Yoongi is very particular about sticking to the recipe and wielding his kitchen tools in the right way. He collects knives, olive oil, and still hates cutting onions.

He separates sleep time, work time, and couple time as the holy trinity. For each, he switches his mood.

Blushes easily no matter for how long you’ve been together.

Establishes his own radio show where he DJs at one point.

Yoongi keeps an extreme track on the garbage schedule. He knows exactly what is due when. Separating the trash is a must. That includes sorting out fake friends trying to get between your relationship. Your social circle as a couple is extremely deliberate.

Yoongi deems himself a terrible host for guests. Unless Hoseok is there to drag him out, it's true he rather stays in the kitchen or at the barbecue preparing the menu courses rather than making small talk. He leaves the hospitality bits to you, however you want to go about it.

What he lacks in conversing with guests, he makes up in bed, God is absolutely fair.

He sings and hums pretty often and has his own vernacular of extraterrestrial uwu noises. It's an alphabet that you have to yet decipher but it's incredibly cute.

Self-made paintings everywhere around his house.

Yoongi hasn't gone clubbing since grammar school. The most he does is going to a restaurant at lunch with very close friends. And always in a work context. His private life is so secluded from everything else and paparazzi just don't spot him anywhere, Dispatch thinks he must live abroad.

Very well, he does consider his big ole house a separate country. It's a living organism with a studio, gym, trophy room, small-size basketball court, and vastly equipped kitchen. A home theater as well, he likes American movies (like Inception) and Korean action genres, and you can stream whatever you fancy in there whenever you like.

Yes, he has underwear with cute little bears on.

There's even a little pond in the backyard. Yoongi, Pisces he is, likes fishes after all. Sometimes he sits at the edge of the 'Little Ole Min Lake (LOML)' and stares into the water for literal hours with his chin parked on his palm.

His fridge is so high-tech and futuristic, even Yoongi is rendered clueless by its AI sometimes. The washing machine, too.

Yoongi watches RuPaul’s drag race. What did you expect? He finds it so humorous.

Owns lord knows how many comic collections.

Favorite holiday destination: New York.

Christmas is basically 50% you unveiling new music equipment to him in the garage and Yoongi almost fainting at the sexiness of it. The other 50% is spent holding hands and orgasm after orgasm until the new year since you loose track of time.

Goes on long rants why he’d marry you again every weekend.

Making you presents is his specialty. Always accompanied with a hand-written note. He writes a lot of things by hand for you in general. Texting, basically never. Always on paper.

No sex without a blanket and socks on. Yoongi gets cold very very easily and just doesn’t like showing skin. You buy him a heated blanket for his birthday, he even uses it in his studio chair.

Chronically addicted to making out.

Matching black outfits and glasses.

Laughs at even your worst jokes or phrases you didn’t expect you even uttered.

Yoongi owns the phoniest, most secretive-looking black car ever and nobody knows about it. Even he forgets he owns it, in fact he genuinely acts like it just doesn’t exist. Hilarious. And that guy has a level 1 Korean driver's license. Which allows him to drive trailers and busses and fucking trucks, and construction machines, let that sink in.

It's really a genius curse. Yoongi being put to the test will always deliver but he won't choose to execute his full skillset if he doesn't have to. Well, pragmatic. He's not as phony as he thinks he is, which is even more hilarious.

He uses that behemoth of a car so scarcely because he'd rather have things delivered to his doorstep and he's stingy with gas. Also, he doesn't like traffic and driving because of the traumatic shoulder accident and his tendency to space out. Translation: You drive that thing... that monster... it really is an impressive, fast, and scary machine.

If someone devious ever even remotely manages to invade his privacy and get past the doubly-installed security system, he has enough money to deal with it no matter what.

If it concerns your privacy, he's a red belt. And owns Jin's number if a taekwondo master is required. Jimin's if it needs someone with kendo skills.

If Yoongi needs someone to go on a complete rampage, Jungkook lives just down the block. He can sprint to Yoongi's bunker I mean mansion within 45 seconds. 30 if it's very urgent. 20 if the reward is an instant ramen splurge with Yoongi's black card.

He has a sexy, glamorous sword collection hanging on the living room wall anyways, so. Who the hell is dumb enough to mess with him and his expensive lawyer in the first place.

But just in case, who knows... Yoongi settles matters shruggingly, anonymously, and with cash and he's too exhausted for violence, but don't underestimate his deter-min-ation and network for emergencies. Also, he is Agust D after all.

He will bonk a naughty burglar or kidnapper across the head with a wooden cooking spoon or take him down by throwing a basketball if the situation requires it. Damn, his reflexes are so fast, a feral cat in motion. So, lean back and sip on your drink of choice. Things are cared for.

If Yoongi is the one being kidnapped or a highly skilled stalker invades the property at night when he's fast asleep (nothing can wake this man during certain hours, strong REM right here): Don't forget that honeyboy is a Dodgers fan. There are signed baseball bats everywhere in this damn house.

In that sense, your parents visiting you here for the first time thought you were an undercover thug couple. Not to worry mom and dad, you both just like sports very much okay.

Yoongi walks around in all black clothes and the rooms are all seemingly dark. Even if you live together, you don't know his skin care routine. It's clear to you he's some sort of vampire.

Since Yoongi always forgets to remove his makeup, you made it a habit to wipe it down when he's about to pass out. He won't lie, he enjoys that kind of affection.

Holly is your resident child. You're essentially a family.

He insists to tackle this by himself, Yoongi sees his therapist monthly. Not shifting responsibility is something he's stubborn about and he pours his emotions into writing. You will do conversation about deeper stuff, but he says it's mostly up to him and his own mind. He dislikes burdening you or opening up too much and it's something to respect rather than force him about. If he wants to share a thought, he will. It doesn’t mean he can’t trust you or sucks at communicating (we know that he’s direct). Yoongi simply can’t put that much pain in such few words nor should you alleviate it for him.

Calls from the manager faze Yoongi as much as Jimin is bothered by gravity. If he’s busy kissing your body slow mo, who the hell dares to disturb his worship.

This man had so many let-downs and interpersonal catastrophes in his life, he's super discerning with people. Because he rolls that way, during their first meeting Yoongi uses his psychology certificate on your friends. You see him squint at them, he listens very closely. After they pass the vibe check aka meow radar, he befriends them, too.

Yoongi doodles Grammy trophies everywhere to manifest them.

Yoongi shaves his legs.

All the sex toys he’s ever bought are black. Gotta vibe in style.

He spends ridiculous amounts of time in the studio but he's yours for the remainder of the night, breakfast, and he makes a lavish lunch and dinner.

Um, consider his head parked between your legs. The Hongkong line was not a joke.

Doesn’t mind you squishing his cheeks whenever and for how long you like.

Every other weekend he gets flowers, vouchers, and gifts — not because of fans, they don’t know where his house is, but because he donates so much.

Namjoon often drops by and cleanses the area with his crystals.

Yoongi is a photography major so you can ask him to take professional, ceiling-high black and white shots of you.

Feeding each other food lovingly. Man, this guy got lips.

He set up a library just for you, in the exact historical aesthetic you like the most. Send him the link to any book you want, it's basically in the online shopping cart already. As I said, he wants to make you presents like every week.

Sometimes he sits on the other end studying English videos and vocab while you read. And yes, he's already 95% fluent but pretends being merely intermediate. He knows technical terms even native speakers have never heard of.

He collects pajamas and earrings.

Swears on the phone.

Namjoon being the horniest member is a cover-up story. Yoongi masturbates almost unreasonable amounts of times, by himself and in your arms when going to bed. Not gonna lie, it’s a sight to see his hands at work. He’s almost equally obsessed with fingering you once you ask him.

Yoongi was the one asking you to move in and almost had a nervous meltdown before meeting up with you to tell you just that.

He’s the little spoon and of course a sleeping burrito to hold tight.

Finds you equally attractive in any state or styling. Yoongi practices what he preaches, he always reacts the same and says the same.

Jams out to outrageous beats Namjoon sends him by dancing in the studio. You walk in on him every time. Was embarrassed at first, now you dance along.

Has bought you a life-sized Yoongi pillow and customized you a giant Shooky to hug when he’s not at home over night.

Owned a wine cellar until he quit drinking. Turned it into a piano room instead.

Only you know Yoongi has a serpent and dagger tattoo.

Scrubs the bathroom religiously.

The house smells like restaurant food and his extravagant perfumes half of the time.

Sometimes he has to remind himself he’s married to you and not his coffee machine. He shall be forgiven. You can’t complain that he doesn’t love you enough, nor is he ever not adorable when drinking his latte.

Never wears short sleeves. It can be scorching and he’ll wear a jacket.

Tell him and the cap stays on during sex.

He grows his hair out and puts it in a low bun. The bangs remain.

Yoongi has installed the most fire-proof building in the entire city it seems. That he wanted to be a firefighter when he was young definitely shows. Figures the house has to be protected from heat: His blasting studio music and Yoongi himself are just way too sizzling.

Still melts into a puddle when you kiss his nose.

Couple sunrise watching.

#yoongi #yoongi hc #yoongi x reader #bts #bts x reader #bts hc #yoongi scenario

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years ago

Text

Leon brings Merlin and Lancelot in on his underground enterprise;

Turns out, Leon is the biggest Magic Ally out there. Confusion, bonding, and sneaky hijinks ensue.

I imagine it starts fairly normally.

The Gang (King Arthur, Merlin, and the five knights) have literally just arrived back at the castle after a fairly uneventful hunt (I mean... nowadays, getting attacked by bandits only once in three days counts as uneventful).

Merlin is left behind to help the stablehands untack the horses, like usual, except he leaves the stables half a candle mark later to find Leon awkwardly loitering around outside, the evening dimming around him.

He thinks maybe the First Knight had gotten injured, and was too embarrassed to ask for help in front of everyone (something that is common in all of the knights. Merlin thinks it’s very stupid, and has told all of them this at least once), so doesn’t question it when Leon asks Merlin for a quick word, and leads him back to his quarters.

Leon locks the door behind him. Not unusual, the man was very private. It’s when he puts a chair in front of the door and draws the curtains, that Merlin starts to get a little nervous. He’d cast a small enchantment on one of the bandits, to make him confused enough to trip over his own feet (as opposed to skewering Elyan, which is what he’d been about to do) but Merlin was certain that no one had seen him. He was certain.

And... Leon was a knight. He’d been a knight for longer than Arthur had been King, longer than he’d even known Merlin. Surely if he saw... he would've said something, accused him or just killed him.

(He has to remind himself to have a little faith in his friends. But also: “This might be completely unrelated, so just act natural.”)

Leon turns around to look at Merlin, and instantly recognises how nervous the younger man is, despite his poor attempt to hide it. The knight keeps his distance, and gives him a slow nod:

“I just wanted to let you know, Merlin, if you ever need... ah, a way out of the city, unseen, at short notice, then I can sort something for you.”

At that, all of Merlin’s racing, terrifying thoughts, stutter to a stop, and he looks at Leon with nothing but confusion on his face. He tilts his head slightly, asking, ever so eloquently:

“...What?”

Leon sends a soft smile and a knowing wink his way:

“Or, you know, the back up of a noble in court, or an alibi, I can do that to. I have a feeling that, considering you haven’t done a runner yet, you’re planning on sticking around.”

Merlin just furrows his eyebrows, shaking his head slightly in bewilderment:

“I... Leon I have no idea what you’re talking about. What do you mean, done a runner? Why would I need your help in court or... or an alibi??”

Leon just raises an eyebrow, and tilts his head.

Merlin copies him.

A look of realisation crosses the blonde’s face, and he lifts his hands in surrender:

“Ah. Ok, before I say anything else, I promise Merlin, you are entirely safe. I would protect you with my life if I had to-”

Merlin slowly nods, still confused:

“-I know about your magic.”

Merlin gasps and steps back, but Leon just smiles at him again, nodding his head slightly; it does nothing to relax the servant, and his breathing continues to get deeper as he backs himself against the wall, tears filling his eyes.

Leon frowns, his heart cracking slightly, but resists the protective urge to walk towards Merlin to comfort him. Instead he takes a step back, not lowering his hands. Before he can open his mouth to utter more reassurances, a tirade of broken, cracking apologies fall from Merlin’s lips:

“I... Leon I swear I’m not evil, I... I don’t hurt people, I promise. Please, you... please believe me, I would NEVER-”

Leon interrupts him, shaking his head rapidly, and forcing a reassuring smile on his face:

“I know. Merlin, I know that. I know you’re not evil, I know that you use it to protect us, I know. It’s ok, I won’t tell anyone, you’re not in danger, I would NEVER hurt you, or tell anyone, ok? I swear it. You’re safe with me.”

Merlin gulps, but relaxes (only slightly, but it’s a start. Leon doesn’t know why he’s so surprised at Merlin’s reaction, I suppose he thought he had been clear in his brotherly affection and protectiveness towards the younger man. Apparently not; he would have to fix that). He gives Leon an assessing once over, and it strikes the knight how efficient he is. He wonders how many times Merlin’s eyes have flicked over someone: checking their face for any sign of deception, checking how close their hands are to a weapon, checking their stance to see if they’re preparing for a fight.

Leon stays in place, forcing himself to untense, and giving Merlin a weak smile, hoping that the servant doesn’t mistake his slight heartbreak for fear or anger.

After a few moments, Merlin relaxes even further (though is still understandably ready to bolt at a moment’s notice), and steps away from the wall, Leon’s smile widens, and he nods once again, patiently waiting for Merlin to say something:

“You... you offered to smuggle me out of the city?”

Leon nods, glancing to the door behind him before gesturing Merlin to keep his voice down as he replies cryptically:

“You wouldn’t be the first.”

The servant gulps, giving the knight an assessing gaze, magic buzzing under his skin, alert and frightened at the idea of a Red Knight other than Lancelot knowing the truth:

“You’ve smuggled others out?”

Leon nods and moves ever so slowly to sit on the edge of his bed, still holding his hands up placatingly. He doesn’t gesture for Merlin to join him, understanding the other man’s remaining jumpiness, but leaves space next to him, just in case.

Merlin hesitates for only a second before settling on the bed next to him, forcing himself to relax. The knight wasn’t currently armed, and anyway, if Leon had been planning on accusing him or attacking him, then he wouldn’t be doing this. None of what he said could, in any way, make sense as some sort of trick.

Once Merlin settles, still a little uneasy, Leon begins his explanation in a quiet voice, obviously still worried about startling Merlin (and obviously not wanting to risk someone overhearing him):

“It started when I was fifteen. One of the serving girls in my father’s household was born with magic, though it didn’t manifest until years after the purge started. She was my age, sweet, kind, I couldn’t possibly believe her to be evil or corrupt, but under The King’s law, she would’ve been burned. Poor girl was terrified of being found out, but Uther was so paranoid, they were basically interrogating anyone who entered or exited the city; she had nowhere to go. I had already started my training at this point, so I used my knowledge of guard rotations and shift changes to sneak her out. I left her with some family in a village nearer the border, snuck back in a few days later. From then on it just... kept happening. I suppose I got good at recognising the specific brand of fear that magic-users in Camelot suffer from, and I’ve got a good eye; I know magic when I see it-”

He gives Merlin a knowing look, but the servant just turns indignant and says:

“Well, I was also born with magic, and it took you ten years to figure it out, so-”

He sticks his tongue out at the knight, and Leon raises his eyebrow at him, before laughing and nodding, thankful for Merlin’s lessening fear:

“-yeah, I suppose. But still. It started off with just the occasional person; one or two a month. And then it was whole families or groups of people who either had magic, or were scared of being accused and wanted out. It became a bit of a side-career, though I always refused any payment they offered.”

Merlin stares at him, thoughtful and in awe, before yet another look of realisation crosses his face:

“Is this why the Druids are so fond of you?”

Finally, it’s Leon’s turn to look confused, and Merlin continues:

“Whenever we come across them, they always seem less wary of you than the other knights, like they know what you’ve done.”

Leon takes in slow breath, quirking his eyebrows slightly and shrugging:

“I’ve never really noticed, maybe. I’ve never been into a camp, but when someone I was sneaking out had nowhere to go, I’d take them as close to a Druid settlement as I dared, and pointed them in the right direction; I suppose word might’ve spread.”

Merlin nods, looking to his lap, thinking. Leon stays silent, understanding that this is probably a lot to take in, and not wanting to interrupt Merlin’s processing time.

After a few moments, Merlin, still staring into his lap, reaches across to Leon and takes the knight’s hand in a shaking one of his own. It’s then that Leon notices the slow tears on the other man’s face, but before he can say anything, Merlin looks up at him, his voice shaking as he whispers a rough:

“Thank you.”

Leon smiles, squeezing his hand and bumping their shoulders together:

“Anytime. Like I said Merlin, I would protect you with my life. If you ever need anything...”

Merlin takes a deep breath, standing and wiping the tears from his face quickly before dragging Leon to the door:

“There is one thing. Come on.”

Leon allows himself to be dragged, and Merlin moves the chair to the side before stepping out of the way, allowing Leon to unlock the door with the key hanging around his neck. He doesn’t question where they’re going, though he is slightly confused when he notices that they’re heading deeper into the castle, as opposed to outside or to Merlin’s chambers like he was expecting.

They finally come to a stop outside Lancelot’s door, and Leon nods to himself in realisation. He had suspected that the other knight had known the truth, but hadn’t wanted to ask or push it in case he was wrong.

Merlin knocks rapidly after checking the corridor for other people, and the door had barely been opened before he’s pushing his way through, still dragging Leon behind him. The two men move to stand by the opposite wall, Lancelot still by the door looking increasingly confused:

“Merlin, Leon, is... is everything alright?”

Merlin waves his hand casually, not even needing an incantation as his eyes flash briefly gold and the door shuts of it’s own accord (... or Merlin’s accord).

Lancelot immediately gasps and makes a jump for the sword sat on the table, but Leon holds his hands up in surrender as Merlin rushes to speak:

“Lance it’s fine!! Leon knows about my magic, and he’s been smuggling people out of Camelot for decades, he’s safe.”

Lancelot looks to Leon with a mix of suspicion and relief, still picking the sword up and holding it loosely in one hand, but the older knight is too distracted staring at Merlin in mild outrage:

“Dec- How old do you think I am, Merlin?!”

Merlin looks up at him guiltily, and Lancelot lets go of his suspicion, instead clamping his free hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing at Merlin’s squeaked reply:

“Uh... there’s no safe way to answer that, is there? You said you were fifteen when you started, and I know you’re older than Arthur, so...”

Leon scoffs, rolling his eyes as Lancelot snorts:

“I’m only five years older than him, Merlin. I’m thirty-one, you can say “decades” plural when I hit thirty-five, and not a day sooner.”

Merlin holds in a smirk, and nods. Lancelot clears his throat, dropping the sword back on the table and asking the obvious question:

“So... how much does he know?”

Merlin spends the rest of the night explaining everything, from Kilgharrah calling to him when he first arrived, (”You mean that thing was under the castle the whole time?!”) to just last week, when he had to sneak out of the city to deal with a particularly insatiable Succubus that was causing problems with the border patrols (”Huh. I wondered why the men had just... stopped disappearing. I’m not complaining though, thank you.”).

He included all the information about the prophecies and being Emrys and how Arthur was the Once and Future King and the coming (potential) Golden Age. Leon was especially curious about that, and interrupted often to ask questions.

Lancelot also interrupted rather often, but only to correct Merlin when he underappreciated his own genius or power or selflessness, much to Merlin’s embarrassment and annoyance.

Merlin also tried to miss out as much of his own suffering as he could, but Lancelot wasn’t having it, and Leon was horrified to learn of the Serket sting, the countless, almost fatal fights he’d had with various people (Nimueh, The Cailleach (”I did also wonder how the veil just... repaired itself. Nice one.”), Morgause, Agravaine, etc (Morgana is good in this, though her magic is still hidden)), and all the other terrible things that had happened.

When he finally finishes, Leon is speechless.

The knight had just thought that Merlin had learned a few tricks to keep himself and Arthur safe when they went out and about, but he was actually, apparently, the most powerful Warlock ever, and had a whole series of prophecies and battle scars to back it up. Lancelot’s face was an odd mix of prideful and mournful, and that only drove home to Leon how much Merlin had suffered over the years.

After a few minutes of silence, Merlin awkwardly waiting, as if for judgement, Lancelot pipes up, his voice oddly cheery:

“So, Sir Leon, fancy two extra sets of hands in the little smuggling ring you’ve got going?”

And that is essentially... exactly what happens.

It’s usually Leon who discovers the sorcerers, being the most observant of the three, but it’s Merlin they send on the first approach more often than not. Leon had always been painfully aware of how scary a Camelot Knight going “I know you have magic” must be, so the trio takes advantage of Merlin’s non-threatening look. That, paired with the fact that he’s well known and well loved around the town, makes starting things off a lot easier.

A lot of the time, the people they approach don’t want to leave. They’ve kept themselves hidden for over twenty years, and they plan to continue to do so, but it’s a weight off their back to know that the option is there if they need it.

Merlin introduces Leon to the tunnels under the city, hidden and warded with his magic. The older knight is very much relieved at that; taking advantage of gaps in guard rotations wasn’t the most reliable plan, and he’d been paranoid for years that something would go wrong one day and he’d get caught.

They worked well together, though all three of their lives got a lot more complicated. Lancelot and Merlin were pulled into Leon’s secret smuggling life (despite him insisting that they could sit it out, considering they were already so busy trying to keep Arthur alive, which is apparently a lot harder than Leon had first assumed), and Leon was pulled into Merlin and Lancelot’s secret “bring about the Golden Age” life (despite the two of them insisting that Leon didn’t need to help, considering he was already so busy running a smuggling ring right under the nose of the King).

To be honest, the two lives sort of swirled together. Anyone that they sent to the Druid camps was told to spread the word of the Once and Future King, and when Leon was sent to distract Arthur when Lancelot and Merlin needed to do something Magicky, Lancelot was sent to distract Arthur when Leon and Merlin needed to do something smuggly.

Eventually Gaius finds out. Because of course he does. Because he’s not stupid. And whilst the three of them are unwilling to put him in anymore danger than he’s already in (harbouring a Warlock is... pretty dangerous. Though Arthur would probably forgive the older man anything.), they never turn away the small, portable medkits he passes along to them, and don’t complain when he offers to talk to Arthur about a promising new treatment for the flu for a few hours.

But overall, they have a proper little (unpaid) enterprise going, and no one suspects a thing.

Mistakes are made of course, some a little bigger that others. But most of them get a laugh from the trio when they think back on them later.

Ironically enough, this mistake came when the trio mistook a “need to save Arthur” problem, for a “need to save this poor scared sorcerer” problem.

They’d been getting complacent. No one had tried to kill Arthur directly in a while, so when a visiting Lord brought with him a very nervous, very secretive stablehand, they didn’t even consider that it would be the young servant who wanted to kill Arthur as opposed to the visiting noble (who was an arsehole, and therefor automatically under suspicion).

Merlin, being the most powerful of the three of them, was keeping an eye on the noble; trying to keep him away from Arthur as well as trying to figure out if he knew that his stablehand was a magic-user. Leon was distracting Arthur, with the help of a report Gaius had written, by talking endlessly about certain weaknesses in the knight’s armour and the injuries that Gaius treats most often and the link between the two.

That left Lancelot to trail the stablehand, whose name they had discovered was Alban. He wasn’t wearing any armour and didn’t have a sword, only a small dagger up his sleeve, so as not to frighten the boy.

Which of course was a huge mistake.

Considering how innocent Merlin looks, but how dangerous he actually is, they really shouldn’t have underestimated the boy, but alas, with how well both of the secret lives had been going, their egos had grown, and they weren’t as careful as they should’ve been.

It was only after the Lord had retired to his chambers (and Merlin had come to the annoying conclusion that he was an arsehole, but certainly not smart enough to be dangerous), and Leon had exhausted every possible line of enquiry about armour and injuries, that the two of them thought something might be wrong.

It had been hours since they had heard from Lancelot, and by the sounds of it, no one had seen him in that time either.

The stablehand also couldn’t be found.

They tried not to assume the worst; all of them (Merlin, most often) had disappeared for longer before, so before they panicked, the two of them went about methodically searching for the other knight.

The wards down in the tunnels hadn’t been disturbed, Lancelot’s room was untouched (the sight of his armour and sword laid out on his bed did nothing to quell their growing anxiety), and no one had seen him leave the city. The Camelot stablehands had no idea where the visiting servant was, and had apparently barely seen him in the stables since he’d arrived anyway.

Now it was time to panic.

The two men rushed back to Lancelot’s room, shutting the door behind them, Merlin hurriedly asking:

“What’s the last thing he touched, do you reckon?”

Leon raked his hands through his hair for the dozenth time, looking around with wide eyes:

“Uh... we had training this morning, and he took his armour off after that, and immediately went to follow Alban, so his armour? His sword?”

Merlin picks the sword up in careful but hurried hands. He closes his eyes, concentrating, as he mutters a quick spell. The sword shimmers for a moment before Merlin throws it back down on the bed with a huff:

“Nope, the trail is there but it’s weak, I need something more recent.”

Leon curses quietly to himself:

“Try his water goblet? Or the wash bowl? God knows that man doesn’t like to be grimy.”

Merlin hums, walking to the wash bowl before halting in his tracks:

“Wait... no, you’re right. He doesn’t like being dirty,-”

With that, Merlin changes direction, heading to the small desk in the corner and opening the draws at random, rifling through them. Leon walks up behind him:

“Merlin? What are you-”

He’s interrupted by Merlin exclaiming in victory, and straightening up. He turns around with a grin on his face, holding out a small comb:

“-he will have run a comb through his hair after washing,-”

He pulls a short, brunette hair from between the wooden teeth:

“-and an actual piece of him is WAY better to track him with than something he’s just touched.”

He repeats the spell from earlier, the smile returning to his face when he begins to feel the pull in his heart, leading him to the lost knight.

The two of them leave the room hurriedly, Leon trailing after Merlin, both of them trying to look an inconspicuous as possible.

They walk briskly down the corridor, hope and excitement blooming in their chests at the idea of finding the friend they’d been so worried about. Leon puts a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, but neither of them stop moving as he speaks lowly:

“Can you tell how far away he is?”

Merlin hums, before replying equally quietly:

“Yeah, I think he’s about... actually... no, no I can’t- what?”

With that, he stops dead in his tracks, stumbling when Leon runs into his back with a gentle “oof”. The knight looks down at him, his face back to looking panicked. They’d stopped at a crossroads in the corridor, and Merlin’s head twitches from side to side, like he can’t decide which way to go.

Leon shakes his shoulder slightly:

“Merlin, he’s been gone for hours, we need to hurry. Close your eyes, breathe, which way is Lancelot?”

Merlin does what Leon says, shuffling on his feet slightly before closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, and relaxing his shoulders:

“Where are you, Lance?”

He mutters it quietly to himself, and Leon barely dares to breathe, not wanting to distract him. After a few moments, Merlin’s head twitches to the right, the corridor that leads to the servant quarters. The servant opens his eyes, nodding briefly at Leon, before turning and walking down the corridor.

He passes the first few doors without hesitation, thankful for the late hour; all the servants are either eating their own dinner, or serving dinner to their masters. Which is probably where Merlin should be right now, but he had more pressing matters, he could deal with Arthur later.

He slows as he reaches the end of the corridor, frowning in confusion. There are no more doors, they’ve reached a dead end, and Merlin tilts his head whilst Leon stares at him expectantly, periodically checking the corridor behind them. Merlin begins muttering to himself again, flexing his hands as if he were in pain:

“This is... wrong. I don’t come down here very often but... there’s... this is wrong. I can feel it and I can... see it, like there’s something out the corner of my eye that shouldn’t be there-”

He gasps, turning and looking at a specific part of the wall, hovering his hand over the stonework:

“-or something that should be there!”

Leon’s gaze flicks between the wall and Merlin as he quietly asks:

“A hidden door? Can you... unhide it?”

Merlin takes a second to snort and roll his eyes, before pressing his hand against the wall, muttering spells to himself. Leon turns around, hand on the hilt of his sword at his hip as he stands guard. After a few minutes of Merlin getting more and more frustrated when the wall stays... well... a wall, he finally lets out a whispered exclamation; Leon glances behind him to see the stone rippling, and finally fading to reveal the door.

With one last check down the corridor, they enter the room slowly, shutting the door behind him. Leon whispers Lance’s name into the darkness tentatively, but Merlin just shakes his head, summoning a light.

It’s just a normal storage room filled with dusty shelves and empty crates, but Merlin moves through the debris to the back, cursing under his breath when he finds what he’s looking for. Leon moves up behind him, staring over the younger man’s shoulder to the precise symbol drawn onto the floor:

“Merls?”

Merlin huffs speaking lowly, not looking away from the symbol:

“It’s a teleportation spell, it’s why I was being pulled in two directions. Lance went through this portal, but it probably took him somewhere outside the city limits.”

Leon gulps, before taking a deep breath and gripping Merlin’s shoulder again:

“Can you activate it? Do we follow through the portal, or track him out of the city??”

Merlin shakes his head roughly:

“No, that would take far too long, we don’t actually know how long he’s been gone, it could have been all afternoon, remember? Look around, there should be a crystal or an orb or something, like a switch I have to push magic into to activate the spell.”

It only takes a few minutes of rummaging for Leon to uncover a rough looking crystal, and Merlin smiles weakly at the comically fearful look on the knight’s face as he holds it as far away from himself as he can; he may trust Merlin’s magic, but he is still logically... unnerved by things he doesn’t understand.

Merlin takes it from him, eyes turning briefly gold as he mutters an incantation and his hand is engulfed in a blue flame. The flame dies down after a few seconds at Merlin’s command, and he hides the now glowing crystal back where Leon had found it, before looking back to the symbol on the floor.

It takes only a few moments for the lines to start softly glowing, and when nothing else changes, Merlin takes a deep breath, reaching behind him blindly for Leon’s hand, and muttering:

“Well, here goes nothing.”

He feels the knight take his hand and step up next to him. With one last nervous glance to each other, they nod, and step into the circle.

MEANWHILE

Thankfully, whilst Lancelot hadn’t been seen in a while (on account of being camped out in the hidden storage room, waiting for his stalkee to reappear out of the weird glowy circle thing), he had only actually been kidnapped by Evil Alban the Not-Stablehand for about half a candle mark.

And he was currently very bored. The younger man finally reappeared, only to fly into a rage at the sight of another man, crouched like a gremlin, almost asleep in the corner of the entrance to his secret lair.

His eyes had flashed sickly yellow, and Lancelot found himself falling over the edge into sleep, and waking up an undetermined amount of time (like five minutes, but it was so fucking dark where he was, he had no way to guess what time of day it was) later, tied to a chair (not gagged, thankfully).

He had realised the trio’s mistake fairly early on in Evil Alban the Not-Stablehand’s monologue; something about vengeance and sins of the father and yadda yadda yadda. Honestly? He tuned it out pretty quickly, he’d heard it all before... multiple times, and he wasn’t too worried; he had faith that Merlin and Leon would arrive to rescue him soon (though he wasn’t looking forward to all the comments along the lines of “who’s the real princess?”).

It was when he almost nodded off that Alban stuttered slightly:

“...after all, surely someone who is strong enough to take the crown should... should deserve... it... are you falling asleep?!”

Lancelot’s head whips up with a quiet snort as he blinks the sleep from his eyes, and looks at the outraged criminal with guilt in his eyes:

“Uh... no? You’re doing wonderfully, Alban, very riveting, keep going.”

The knight’s words do nothing to calm the other man down, and he exclaims slightly as he stamps his foot petulantly. Lancelot bites his lip to stop himself laughing, but before he can get himself under control and say something else, Alban puffs his chest out and grins triumphantly:

“Your mind games shan’t work on me, Sir Knight. I will not be distracted by your mocking or... or distractions.”

Lancelot raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. Alban huffs, shaking his head roughly before looking back at Lancelot with wide, expectant eyes:

“Well? What do you think of my plan, noble Sir? Ineffable, no?”

Lancelot purses his lips, once again looking guilty as he chooses not to point out the younger’s misuse of the word ineffable (definitely NOT ineffable, considering he’d banged on and on for half a candle-mark):

“I don’t suppose you could... sum up the last twenty minutes or so worth of... plan? Then I could.... let you know my thoughts?”

Alban let out an inhuman screech, stamping his foot again, much to Lancelot’s hidden amusement. The Great Villain stalked off into the darkness, huffing and grumbling to himself, and Lancelot just rolled his eyes, murmuring under his breath:

“For fucks sake. Better not leave me here. Where the fuck are you guys?”

As if the Gods themselves answered the knight’s question, he hears another inhuman screech come from the darkness; though this one was a lot more high pitched, and was immediately followed by Leon’s unmistakable voice growling out:

“Where is he you pre-pubescent piece of shit?!”

Lancelot allows himself to snort at the likely look of terror on the Not-Stablehand’s face before yelling:

“Don’t make the kid shit himself Leon, if he does, you’ll be the one carrying his unconscious body back.”

He hears Merlin’s laugh and the distinct sound of a skull making contact with the hilt of a sword, before the two of them appear like ghosts, lit only by the glow of Merlin’s golden eyes, and the magical light floating between their heads.

Lancelot gives them a grin, shuffling in his binds slightly as he says:

“Took you long enough, he’s been banging on about how clever he is for fucking ages. Cut me loose, would you?”

Merlin clicks his fingers, the ropes falling the the floor as Leon checks him over for injury, and affectionately ruffling his hair, much to the other knight’s chagrin.

The three of them move to crowd around Alban’s crumpled form, hands on their hips as they stare at him, unimpressed. Lancelot sighs:

“You really didn’t have to hit him that hard, I don’t think he was that much of a threat.”

Merlin huffs and stalks off to reactivate the teleportation spell, leaving the chastising for Leon to deal with:

“Not much of a threat?! Lance no one had seen you in hours, we thought you were dead!”

Lancelot frowns and shuffles, suddenly looking apologetic:

“Ah, sorry. He took me less than a candle-mark ago, though I guess I lost track of how long I’d been sat waiting for him before that. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Leon huffs, but drops the subject as Merlin calls back to them. The curly-hired knight picks Alban up, laying him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes before following Lancelot in Merlin’s direction. They stand around the glowing symbol, and Lancelot rolls his eyes at Merlin’s glower:

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Mister I regularly show up after three days covered in bruises and blood with “The Tavern” as my only excuse.”

Leon snorts and Merlin rolls his eyes but smirks, and with that, the trio step into the circle, reappearing back in the storage cupboard with no one else in Camelot even vaguely aware of the mini adventure they’d had.

This happens for a while. Saving people (mostly Arthur) from the batshit insane things that happen in Camelot that no one but them seems to be aware of.

Of course, rumours fly about the oddly close connection the three men have. Lancelot is head over heals in love with Guinevere (which he ardently denies, despite Merlin and Leon’s repeated dramatic attempts to get them together) and everyone knows it, but even Arthur starts to (jealously) suspect something is going on between Leon and Merlin, especially when Merlin’s lack of talent when it comes to making up excuses is displayed yet again.

Leon and Merlin had been sneaking out of the castle, on their way to meet the teenage son of a noble who desperately needed to escape. Lancelot, who had a late patrol, was to meet them by one of the tunnel entrances outside the city limits, and assure that no other guards were nearby.

Unfortunately, the pair came across a sleepy King, on his way to the kitchens for a midnight snack.

The King stared at them with wide, shocked eyes, and the pair stared back. Leon grimaced slightly, and after a few moments of awkward silence, Arthur slowly asks:

“What are you two... doing?”

Leon takes a deep breath desperately trying to come up with something to say, but before he can find an excuse, Merlin pipes up:

“I was teaching him poetry.”

Leon lets out his breath before slowly covering his face with his hands as he shakes his head slightly. Merlin immediately realises his mistake and bites his lip, furrowing his eyebrows as he says:

“What I mean, is that-”

He’s cut off by Arthur holding a hand up, his face looking mildly put-off as he shakes his head:

“I don’t want to know. Yeah, I changed my mind, I really... don’t want to know.” Before turning around and heading back in the same direction he’d come from, hunger forgotten.

Merlin holds his breath until Arthur turns the corner, before letting it all out in one go and staring at the floor wide-eyed. Leon keeps his head in his hands as he mutters:

“You fucking idiot.-” before looking up at the man besides him incredulously:

“-Why??”

Merlin looks at him indignantly, and loudly whispers:

“I don’t know!! It was just the three of us in a dark corridor like last time and it just popped into my head and I said it! At least he didn’t push, I suppose.”

Leon shakes his head again, before a look of realisation crosses his face and he looks at Merlin with dread in his eyes:

“Yeah... except when you used that excuse on me- shut up, of course I knew you were lying, I’m not an idiot- I thought you and Arthur were uh... well, I thought you were sleeping together...”

Merlin’s eyes go wide and he sputters for a response before he lets out a quiet, deranged laugh, and shakes his blushing head:

“First off, no. Second off... at least he didn’t push.” he repeats. Leon squints at his friend, before he gasps and grins:

“Oh my God, you like him!-”

Merlin scowls at him, and Leon laughs gleefully (though still quietly) before whispering:

“-all this time we’ve been ribbing Lancelot about Guinevere, and we should’ve been ribbing you! Oh my God, wait ‘til Lance hears this.”

Merlin turns on him, face bright red as he angrily (or as angrily as he can, when he’s the colour of Leon’s cape, and the knight is trying not to wake the castle up with his laughter):

“I swear to God, Leon, I will turn you into a fucking toad if you breath a word to anyone! I’ll do it, I swear I’ll do it!”

Leon forces himself to breath and coughs slightly as he catches his breath, putting a hand on Merlin’s shoulder:

“Fine, fine. I won’t say anything, but only if you help me hang mistletoe up in Lance’s doorway next week.”

Merlin rolls his eyes, but nods his head with a grin, and with that, they resume their sneaking around.

This happens for what feels like years and years, but really, Merlin only gets one day into looking at Leon with a shit-eating grin and saying that the old man has been doing this for “decades”, when suddenly... they don’t have to do it anymore.

Arthur repeals the ban on magic.

And to be honest, it was a complete surprise to everyone. Of course, the whole Kingdom knew that he was more tolerant than his father had ever been; he hadn’t executed anyone in years, and unless accusations were serious or life-threatening, he rarely ordered investigations.

As it turns out, he’d been working on it in secret for months, with only Morgana’s help (not that he knew about her magic, she was just the only person in his life who’d always been vocally against the ban). All the work they’d put in meant that when it came time to present it to the council, all Arthur had to do was hold his head high and say something along the lines of “I am your King, you do this, or you lose your seat.”.

The drafts were so well-worked, so perfect, the council had nothing to argue against, no excuses worth more than a roll of the eyes and a dismissive wave of the hand.

The repeal went through seamlessly, and Arthur was announcing Merlin and Morgana as his Court Sorcerers within a week (after of course a few hours of raging at the lies and deception, in which they defended themselves and each each other with sharp tongues and entirely valid descriptions of their terror, and with Leon and Lancelot stood behind them the whole time ready to pull their swords at a moments notice).

Leon, Lancelot, and Merlin told the King about all their adventures saving his arse, which he floundered at before abashedly thanking them, but they never mentioned the now obsolete smuggling ring they had going.

Of course, there were moments when they missed the excitement of sneaking out at night, the victory of seeing a family off to the Druid’s, or to a safe village, but ultimately they were ecstatic that they weren’t needed in that capacity anymore. It was undeniably a good thing.

Their plan to keep their heroics to themselves failed miserably however, when a crowd of around two-hundred gathered in the courtyard, led by a woman in her mid-thirties who looked mighty familiar to Sir Leon.

The gang met them down there, armed and worried at first, but quickly relaxing when they realised this was the furthest to an attack a group this large could get.

The King led the party, Morgana, Elyan, Gwaine, and Percival to his left, and Merlin, Leon, and Lancelot to his right, Guinevere and Gaius waiting by the castle entrance. It was only when Lancelot gasped, and grabbed Merlin and Leon’s sleeves to point at a specific family near the front of the crowd that they understood. All these people, all these happy, joyful, alive people... were people they’d saved over the years.

The three of them gulped, suddenly teary as more and more of the crowd pointed their way, wide smiles on their faces. They knew that this wasn’t even half the people they had saved (if you include Leon’s sixteen years doing it alone), but still, it was astounding to visually see it.

The familiar woman stepped forward at Arthur’s gesture, and the trio suddenly realise what’s about to happen. “Oh shit.” and variants of the above are muttered by all three as they wait with baited breath. There’s not really anything they can do to stop this:

“Your Highness, firstly I would like to thank you, for accepting my people back into your Kingdom-”

Her voice quietens slightly as she glances to the floor, her eyes filling with tears before she looks up again:

“-many of us haven’t been home in... in a long time, and it’s good to be back.-”

Arthur nods, giving her a smile despite his still growing confusion at the crowd behind her. The woman looks quickly to Leon, giving him a brief smile as he gasps, recognising her. She looks back to the King, raising her voice and her head as she continues:

“-Secondly, I would like to extend an even greater thank-you to Sir Leon, and his two companions, without whom many of us would have died. They risked their lives sneaking us out of the city when your father hunted us, and after, when we were still at risk of execution, but they never stopped, and never gave up. We are but a fraction of the hundreds of people they saved, and we have nothing to offer them but our unending gratitude, and a humble demand that they are rewarded for their service to Camelot’s people. They are heroes to us all, and always will be”

Arthur looks slowly over to a very teary Leon, who doesn’t even glance his way as he stares at the former servant-girl, a weak smile on his face. Merlin and Lancelot meet The King’s gaze in his stead, smiling sheepishly and shrugging as they nod, confirming the woman’s story.

Arthur shakes his head minutely, half proud of his friends, and half annoyed at being caught off guard, before turning back to the woman, the smile back on his face:

“I’m glad to welcome you home, all of you, and I apologise that it took so long for me to right the wrongs committed by this Kingdom. Sir Leon and his companions will indeed be rewarded for their service,-”

At this, Arthur turns to look at the trio, a soft, meaningful smile on his face as he nods at them:

“-and I extend my thanks to them also, for being brave enough to protect my people, when I was not.”

Leon finally meets The King’s gaze, and returns his nod. Merlin and Lancelot each clap him on the back, before the three of them descend into the crowd. A loud cheer goes up around the courtyard, the rest of the knights, Morgana, and Guinevere looking on in shock as the trio greets person after person, accepting thanks and hugs and laughing joyously at the reminder of the good they’d done, despite their fear.

THE END!!

I really loved writing this one😄! Honestly this idea started out as crack, but I’m glad that it ended so wholesomely :)

Same as usual lads, someone wants to write it up properly or extend it, go for it, credit and tag me ✌️

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ptergwen · 3 years ago

Text

smoke and mirrors

⇢ richkid!tom x richkid!reader ⇠

w/c: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, drinking, light angst, and implied smut

summary: because of your mother’s insistence on a pristine family image and tom’s messy one, you deny your true feelings for him

a/n: ok ok ok the pics of tom in monaco really made me think and i had to get everything out of my system so here we are! thank you and enjoy x

your living room is engulfed by a hushed chatter that comes from far too many guests. half the people, you hardly know. it’s overcrowded, superficial, and the last place you want to be. it’s one of your mother’s get-togethers, as she likes to call them. these things are always far from the casual affairs they sound like.

weeks go into planning, caterers and decorators making themselves at home in yours. the family’s image is everything to your mom, so being a good hostess is her top priority. ironically, she’s more concerned with throwing her gatherings than raising you. so much for family, huh?

the only reason you agreed to make an appearance tonight is that tom might do the same. he’s a really good friend, someone you’ve been able to count on through all the mess that is your lives. you met in high school, when he moved from london to the states. his dad was offered a job promotion he couldn’t pass up. plus, tom and his brothers would be receiving a stellar private education here in america.

it was a win for everyone, especially you. the freckle faced boy who got lost on his way to english class became your closest confidant. tom’s company is such a sweet escape. he’s not interested in opera or the stock market like most people you meet are. he sneaks you out to go on walks at dawn and does shots with you until you can’t stand straight.

as you two continue to grow together, revelations about yourselves have come to light. what you want beyond your inheritances, who you want beyond friendship. you figured out the second part on a faithful night recently. tom showed up to your place with a bottle of tequila. after you drank it down through lots of lime chasers and giggles, he kissed you. you didn’t kiss back.

your heart said to go for it, but your mind pulled you back in. you were so shocked and overcome with new feelings, you froze up. that, and you’d infuriate your mother. although she cares about tom a great deal, she loathes his public figure. he’s always getting papped in places and with people he shouldn’t be. the two of you together would just destroy her.

you still want to please your mom at the end of the day, no matter how deep under your skin she gets.

tom immediately apologized and tried play it off as him being drunk. you grew up with him, became part of each other’s families, which means you know him well enough to know he was lying. he meant every second his lips were on yours.

what you need to do now is something you’ve meant to for a while. the only problem is that you’re stuck at your mother’s party, and tom hasn’t shown up yet.

“y/n, darling,” your mom calls for your attention. she’s dragged you into a conversation with some bloggers, but you haven’t spoken a word. “why don’t you tell us about your trip to spain last summer?” she plasters on her award winning grin and squeezes your shoulder. it’s time to play along.

“oh, it was beautiful,” you halfheartedly reply, more to the bloggers than her. they nod in clear interest. one jots down notes. “we went for a few weeks and visited a bunch of different cities. i’d love to go back sometime.” the typical press formatted answer earns your mom’s approval. you’re off the hook. your eyes start to wander around the room, hoping to set on tom.

“we?” the woman taking notes asks. must everyone pry? “my friend and i,” you shortly reply. you’re standing up on your tiptoes to see over the crowd. you’d think six inch heels would do the trick. “i’m actually looking for him right now, so if you’ll excuse me,” you offer a polite smile and silently pray they won’t ask who. unfortunately, your wishes don’t come true.

the other blogger, a short and stubborn man, speaks up. “just a friend you say? come on, tell us. who’s the lucky fella?” he inquires. your mother raises a firm eyebrow, signaling for you not to.

tom has a reputation for his reckless behavior. it’s your mom’s worst nightmare when the media associates your names under most circumstances. you’re representing her, so she does whatever she can to control how you’re seen. you’re constantly in the papers, being a young socialite and all. it sucks.

“he’d like to stay out of the tabloids, sorry,” you cover for tom, on your mom’s behalf. “i should really go. it was nice meeting you.” the bloggers don’t bother to hide their disappointment as you shake their hands. your mother rubs your back in approval. “thank you for doing that. we’ll talk later,” she speaks lowly. “bye, mom!” you practically make a run for it.

weaving through the sea of people, you end up by the main entrance. it’s hard not to get lost even though it’s your house. the place is packed with girls just a couple years older than you, wearing pearls around their necks. men’s strong colognes flow through the air. you’re in a form fitting red slip dress and louboutins yourself.

smoke and mirrors is what they call it. you show the pretty parts to distract from your ugly ones.

harrison suddenly comes waltzing in with a lady on either of his arms. you’d expect nothing less. he’s tom’s best friend besides you, considering the failed kiss attempt didn’t change that. their parents worked at the london branch of the same company. they each came to the states and met you. you happily introduced them to your world, helping to make it theirs as well.

“haz!” you meet him at the front door. he’s smirking while he leads the women inside. “fancy seeing you here, isn’t it?” he jokes. “very funny. i died laughing,” you deadpan, curiously eyeing harrison’s plus two. they merely giggle. “listen, have you seen tom anywhere? if he’s coming.” you’re fighting back a frown. “why wouldn’t he be?” harrison questions in a more serious tone this time.

“long story. you have guests to entertain, so i won’t get into it now,” you decide and manage a small smile instead. he perks up. “right. i’ll let you know if i see him?” nodding, you give him a wave goodbye. “enjoy yourself.” “you too, love. cheers!” the girls lean into him, harrison wiggling his eyebrows at you. he’s ridiculous.

hours pass by without word of tom. it isn’t like him to miss an event, especially if you’re in attendance. you despise these exhausting nights, and he’s supposed to be your rock during them. he should have his arm draped around your shoulders, whispering silly remarks to you while you hide out somewhere. you miss him more than you thought possible.

you’re just about to give up when you spot nikki ushering her husband inside. behind them follows tom, clad in a grey checkered suit with his locks perfectly tousled. he’s here. you waited the whole night, and he finally came.

tom kisses his mom on the cheek before strutting over to the drink table, not without a few reporters hassling him. they’re probably looking for another holland scandal to break. he declines their requests for comments on this and opinions on that, instead pulling up a chair next to harrison. the two exchange hugs and fix themselves glasses of champagne, you watching their encounter.

harrison fills tom in on the drama he’s missed tonight while they sip their drinks. tom keeps forcing smiles that don’t reach his eyes. he’s fiddling with his fingers, leg bouncing up and down steadily. those are the telltale signs he needs saving. however awkward it may be, you’re going to have to break your silence. it was bound to happen eventually.

“mate, i’m telling you. she fit her entire first right up her-“ “boys,” you cut into harrison’s story, greeting him and tom. his face tints deep pink upon your arrival. “don’t let me stop you. finish your charming anecdote,” you encourage him and subtly glance over at tom. he’s biting back a grin as he sets his elbows on the table.

“not with a lady present. let’s just… pretend you didn’t hear that,” harrison chuckles nervously and hops to his feet. “i’m gonna leave you two to chat.” humming, you move to take his chair. tom sucks in a breath. “what happened to the girls you brought?” you wonder. “they left. said they got bored,” harrison admits, tom stifling laughter. he elbows his friend for that.

“oh, fuck off. i’ll see you later,” he mopes, flicking your arm for good measure. tom salutes him and grabs his nearly empty champagne. “so long, bruv.”

it’s just you and tom now, seated side by side, silently so. he has no intentions of speaking first. he’s too embarrassed, and you don’t blame him. this is on you. you clear your throat before starting the conversation.

“can i top you off?” you tap the bottom of his glass with a tiny smile. tom shakes his head. “i’m alright, thanks.” he finishes the last sip and sets it down, turning to face you. your smile has vanished. “wasn’t sure you were gonna make it. i’m glad you did,” you change the subject. as if he’s considering the sincerity behind your words, tom furrows his eyebrows.

“mum wanted us to. she dragged me and dad straight off the golf course,” he explains and clasps his hands in his lap. his fingers interlock with each other. you fight off the urge to replace them with yours. “we would’ve been here sooner, but the paps are camped outside.” the hint of a smile forms on his lips, at last. “guess it’s not often you get the town’s finest under one roof.”

“you think i’m one of the town’s finest?” you tease, resting your chin in your palm. something flashes behind tom’s eyes. he looks right into yours, scooting closer. “absolutely. you’re the most eligible bachelorette in this whole building.” you allow a toothy grin to spread across your face. “tommy, stop it. you’re too nice to me.”

the nickname is music to his ears. tom looks you up and down, licking his lips simultaneously. “no, seriously. you look gorgeous,” he muses, you pushing at his chest. he exhales a breathy laugh, and you giggle yourself. “red’s definitely your color.” “reverse card. you wear it way better than i do,” you insist. your fingers tug at the collar of his suit. “too bad you didn’t match me.”

you’re relieved you two can talk like you usually do, light flirting and good vibes. it might not be so hard to put the kiss behind you. well, you can’t go on pretending it didn’t happen. you have to at least discuss the fiasco. tom should know why you didn’t reciprocate, then you can take it from there. whether he still has feelings for you, assuming he ever did, will depend on how that turns out.

“not to ruin the fun, but we still have to talk,” you murmur, tom’s body stiffening across from yours. he’s not sure he’s ready to discuss that. “can it wait? we’re at a party,” tom reminds you, running a hand through his styled locks. “yeah, my mother’s. don’t tell me you’re having a good time,” you playfully chastise him. he simply shrugs. “hardly. you’re the best part.”

you ignore the butterflies roaming about your body.

“you won’t mind a quick convo, then. it is with me,” you attempt to persuade him and place a hand on his knee. tom coughs a bit too loudly, the contact surprising him. “you know what? i think i’ll take you up on that drink first,” he decides with a mustered up smile. “coming right up.” you pat his leg before taking his glass. he chews on his lower lip while you poor the bubbling liquid. that was certainly… odd.

you slide tom his champagne back with an exaggerated wink. tom scoffs at this. “mm, thanks. care to join me?” he brings the alcohol to his lips, eyes never leaving yours. your mother specifically said no drinking tonight, since the press would be here. screw your mother, though. “please. could you hand me a glass?” you eagerly grab the champagne bottle. tom searches for an empty cup next to him.

you two are unspoken drinking buddies at this point.

“here you are, darling,” tom drawls, holding out the glass for you. every time he calls you that, you completely melt. “thanks, tommy,” you purr in response. you’re finally pouring your own drink when someone taps you on the shoulder, and hard. you look behind you to find your mother standing with her hands on her hips, less than thrilled. speak of the devil.

“hello, mother. can i help you?” you make sure to ask rudely. she responds with a smile that’s obviously fake. if tom weren’t here, you’d be getting scolded. “yes, my darling. those bloggers from earlier were hoping you’d finish your interview.” your mom shakes your shoulder in a motherly way. you squint up at her. “didn’t they leave hours ago-“ “they’re back,” she sharply informs you.

she’s lying, and you have a hunch as to why.

frowning, you hold tom’s hand in both of yours. “sorry, this won’t take long. why don’t you go find tuwaine?” you suggest instead. “he’s around here somewhere.” tom gives you an understanding nod and laces your fingers together, even if it’s only for a moment. “must be chatting up some producers or whatnot. i’ll see if i can help.” he’s such an incredible friend to everyone. he deserves the same from you.

“thomas, so lovely to see you,” your mom interrupts. tom stands up, kissing both her cheeks out of courtesy. “you, too. what a wonderful party. thank you for having us.” despite what the rest of the world believes, his manners are impeccable. “of course. give nikki my best, will you?” your mom puts her hands on his shoulders. he grins at her. “definitely. take care, mrs. y/l/n.” “always a pleasure,” she states, nudging you to come along with her.

you shoot tom one last apologetic look as your mother pulls you along and towards the crowd.

tom is no idiot. he’s well aware how she really feels about him.

when a swarm of guests is surrounding you, your mom lets go. you scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. “why would you do that? i haven’t seen tom in days.” she sighs without a care. “isn’t it time you branch out? expand your social circle?” her manicured fingers ruffle your hair. you push away her touch. “i’m social enough. we were in the middle of something really important.”

you begin to walk away, but your mother takes your arm. “whatever you’re about to do, it’s a mistake. he’ll make a fool of you,” she practically spits. yanking your arm from her grasp, you laugh bitterly. “of me, or of the family name? look around, mom.” you gesture to the spot beside her where your dad should be. “as far as i’m concerned, i have no family except tom. i’m gonna go check on him.”

you’re gone before your mom can stop you. she simply stands there, utterly mortified by what you said.

you run around the house to find tom, stumbling in your heels and not giving a fuck. you’d truly meant the part about him being your family. all the holland’s, honestly. they’re the most genuine and caring souls, and you don’t want to lose the one you’re closest to because of your mother’s delusions.

tom is in a circle with harrison and tuwaine, the three of them chuckling amongst themselves. you’d hate to bug him, but this can’t wait anymore.

“uh, tom?” you mumble his name, appearing behind him. he steps away with another quiet laugh. “hey, y/n/n. that was quick, hm?” your face gives away your distress. his whole demeanor shifting, tom reaches for your hands. “what is it, love? is something the matter?” “just… come with me,” you croak out.

you manage to smile at harrison and tuwaine, dropping one of tom’s hands so you can lead him upstairs. they each return the smile and share curious looks.

following behind you, tom keeps your hand tight in his own. he’d thought you were going to grill him about the kiss that barely happened. it seems like this is a much more pressing matter. his outburst of emotions can be discussed another time. now, it’s time to deal with yours.

you drag tom into the first room on the second floor, which is your dad’s study. he’s away on business this weekend, so he luckily couldn’t make the party. tom sits down in the office chair. you sit up on the desk, in front of him. your lip quivers the second his worried features come into view.

“y/n/n, what’s going on? why are we in here?” tom wonders, his tone soft. your heart clenches. “i- i wanted us to have some privacy when i told you this,” you sniffle out and blink back the tears forming. you’re sort of shaken from the conversation with your mother, and mostly because you have no idea how tom will react to your confession.

his hands come to stay on your thighs, right below your dress. they feel warm against your bare skin.

“tell me what? i’m listening, yeah?” tom gazes up at you with so much love. “lay it all out for me.” god, he’s fucking amazing. if only you knew where to start. “do you, um…” you trail off, letting your tears subside and words settle. “do you remember when your family made your big debut in town?”

a grin replaces tom’s frown, painting his beautiful face. “how could i forget? you made it quite memorable.” he traces circles on your thigh and elicits a giggle from you. “i spilled a whole thing of soda on your white fucking button down,” you recount with a lighthearted sigh. “right before your dad was supposed to introduce you to everyone, too.”

tom presses his tongue into his cheek to hold back another grin. “took ages to get it out. dad went mad when i didn’t show.” he cocks his head to the side, you leaning back on your hands. “you held me hostage in the laundry room so you could do that bloody stain stick.” your mouth drops open in mock offense. “i had to clean up my mess! i wasn’t gonna let the world meet you covered in pepsi.”

that was one of your earliest memories together. the holland’s threw a party and invited everyone who was willing to attend. they had been hoping to properly introduce themselves to the town, and this was their way of doing so. although yours and tom’s friendship was fairly new, you spent all night together because you had experience with such events.

tom’s dad was making a speech to thank the guests for coming. you and him listened from the snack table, until his name was called. he rushed to go up there while you were pouring yourself a drink. he’d bumped into you, and the bottle ended up all over him. you snuck tom right off to his laundry room.

you’d felt terrible as he stood there shirtless and blushing, you aggressively swiping his button down with a stain stick.

“why do you bring that up?” tom questions and continues circling your skin. you purse your lips. “i dunno. it was the last party i actually enjoyed,” you admit, putting your hand over his that rests on your thigh. “like to reminisce when i’m suffering through one of my mother’s.” his eyes shift to where your hands are laced. “i see,” he affirms. “so, is that… all you wanted to talk about?” “not even close,” you laugh out.

a burst of courage coursing through your body, you say it. “when you kissed me the other night-“ “i won’t do it again,” tom cuts in, trying to avoid the rejection he thinks you’ll give him. “it was a mistake, and i’m so sorry. our friendship is more important than my feelings.” you seem excited to hear that, though it’s not for the reason tom expects. “you do have feelings for me?”

he’d forgotten about his i was drunk excuse.

“um, yeah. i do,” he admits, cheeks rosy and lip caught in his teeth. “but, i’ll learn to put them aside, if that’s what’s best.” “no, no. it isn’t,” you dismiss him and put your free hand on his chest. “i love you, tom. that’s what i was really trying to tell you.” your words bring an instant grin to his face. he chuckles in disbelief, standing from the chair.

“fuck, thank god. that’s all i’ve ever wanted to hear.” he’s between your legs now, his hands moving up to your hips. you’re beaming at him as your arms snake around his neck. a burning question comes to tom’s mind. “hang on. why didn’t you kiss me back, then?” he almost whispers, thumb brushing over your hipbone. “this is gonna sound weird, but… my mom,” you reluctantly let out.

“you’re gonna have to elaborate,” tom prompts you and raises an eyebrow. you can’t hold back your eye roll. “she’s never been a fan of the person you are in the media.” his lips form a line. “i gathered.” your fingers tangle in his curls at the nape of his neck reassuringly. “i was subconsciously scared i would be letting her down in some way, if we were together.”

tom allows your hands to work their way up to his scalp. he exhales contentedly as you play with his ever so soft hair. “i understand, she’s intimidating. what’s changed that brilliant mind of yours about coming clean?” your nose scrunches up when he pokes one of your temples. “oh, yeah. i yelled at her earlier ‘cuz she stole me away from you.” his face lights up. “sexy.” “shut up,” you groan. “someone had to tell her off.”

“good thing it got to be you,” tom agrees with a squeeze at your hip. “‘m proud of you, y/n/n. it’s not easy, standing up to mummy dearest.” you tug on his hair. “like you’d know. nikki is a saint.” “that’s what she’ll have you believe,” he says under his breath, you gasping. his lips turn up in a smirk. “on that note… i love you, too.”

“would’ve been embarrassing if you didn’t say it back,” you acknowledge with a cheesy smile. tom dips his head down to rest his forehead against yours. “yeah, yeah. save the attitude for your mum.” your legs easily wrap around his waist, tom’s breath hot as it hits your face. “let’s give that kiss another go,” you mewl. he doesn’t hesitate to reply. “with pleasure.”

tom’s lips land on yours, you kissing back right away. he smiles into it as your lips gently move together. “about fucking time,” he grumbles, your hands situating in his chocolate curls once again. he’s savoring every second you touch him, kiss him, love him. the taste of your mouth is one he’s craved for longer than you could imagine.

it doesn’t take long for things to heat up, you messing with tom’s hair and tom rubbing your hips. you lay back on the desk as his tongue enters your mouth. holding you by your waist, tom hovers over you. his tongue tangles with yours in a deep kiss. between that and his fingers beginning to massage your thigh, you’re done for. you’re ready to take this a step further by the time he’s kissing down your neck.

“tommy?” you grab onto his shoulders, your head back. his lips detach from your skin with a grin. “yeah, love? ‘s everything okay?” he coos, pressing a final kiss to your collarbone. “more than.” you tilt his chin up to peck his lips. “you wouldn’t happen to have a condom, would you? just thinking ahead.” he laughs breathlessly, reaching into his suit pocket.

“conveniently enough, i do. not sure your dad would like me fucking you on his desk, though.” tom sets his hand on your leg that’s still hooked around his waist. “my room’s always available. carry me?” you make grabby hands and bat your lashes. he hoists you up by your waist, not lifting you just yet. “that would break the news of us, no? your mum’s gonna go apeshit.” he keeps his arms around you, chuckling.

“let her. besides, i know a couple of bloggers that would love to announce our status update.” you peck tom’s lips, grinning as you do. you’re suddenly in the air and being picked up by tom. the surprise of it makes you squeal, clutching onto his broad shoulders instinctively. he gives you the look of adoration that’s reserved for you only.

“we’ll go pop a few bottles with everyone, then we’re celebrating on our own.”

#tom holland #richkid!tom #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you

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finelinevogue · 3 years ago

Note

Can you do one where Harry take his children and YN to one of his concert and their just dancing around singing along on stage with Harry.

i love this concept so much!! i kinda of wanna make it sad though soooo it’s gonna be harry’s final show :/ hope you enjoy;

oli - 29, felix - 27, belle - 24

The concert had been amazing, but unfortunately it was coming to its’ end now.

The final show.

That’s what Harry had decided to call it; a clever play on words with reference to his first ever solo single. The last 50 years had been a rollercoaster for Harry, from growing up just a kid in Cheshire, to going on the X Factor and winning the hearts of millions and from being in the most successful band of the decade to going solo and still being absolutely beloved. Times had changed, though. Harry had changed. He had a beautiful family of 3 now, excluding his wonderful wife. His children were his universe, no question about it, but they were getting older now - Harry was getting older. He was 50 this year and with that in mind he’d decided to retire. Retiring had involved a long conversation with you, along with a bottle of red wine, about whether it was the right decision or not. But it was - is.

You had suggested he put on one final, massive show, to celebrate his life and his achievements along with all that the fans have too. Tickets were open internationally and it was being streamed on various TV outlets for those who couldn’t attend. The tickets sold within 47 seconds. 47 seconds. It was being held in the Olympic Stadium in London, because it was Harry’s home and it held the most number of people he could genuinely allow.

The concert had started with ‘Fine Line’ songs, which merged into HS1 songs with a few One Direction songs as well. The entire set list had been composed by the fans with various polls on social media, with the concert supposedly lasting 2 hours (although with support artists and a few extra surprises it was more likely going to be 3!)

It had been beautiful so far. Magical. Unforgettable.

Every chance he got, without making it grossly obvious, he looked at you. He'd told you to stick your thumbs up at him every time he caught your eye, so he knew that you were okay - and every time, you did.

The concert was coming to an end now, which everyone was dreading. How could +30 years feel like it'd only been thirty minutes? You were devastated, so you could only imagine what his fans were thinking.

"Hey!"

The end Kiwi, for the second time, strummed throughout the arena and you knew it was time for the final song. His final song.

"Mum, is this the end?" Belle asked you, from where she was standing next to you. You had been dancing together all night and gotten progressively more tired. Your feet hurt. Your throats burned. Yet, as always, it was so worth it.

"Yes, Belles, it is." You tell her, and she pouted sadly. "Dad won't want to see you sad love, okay? He can still sing to you before bed?" You teased her, reminding her of a time when Harry would do such a thing, not wanting her to be all sad. It was supposed to be a celebration, but even you could admit that is was pretty hard-hitting.

"Really mum?" She asked.

You booped her nose annoyingly, before answering. "Every night if you want him to."

The lights changed from their green tone, thanks to Kiwi, back to a bright, white light. It beamed on Harry, making him look even more like the angel that he is. He dragged his microphone back to the centre stage and took a deep breath for beginning a speech he'd told you he'd prepared.

"So this is it, my friends." He laughed sadly into the microphone. He brushed his hair back and took out his in-ears to hear the audience. They were all awwing and crying, but what else did you expect? Their favourite artist was retiring - who wouldn't be crying a river?

"I, um. I'd like to take a bit of time to thank certain people." He coughed, something he always did after performing Kiwi due to his asthma. You thought it was lovely that he'd planned a speech to thank his management and crew. They did so much work backstage and you definitely didn't think they got enough credit for their hard work.

"Okay. I've made a little list..." Harry pulled out a tiny bit of crumpled paper from his pocket. "Just in case I forget anyone." He joked to himself, but made everyone laugh anyways. "So I guess first off, I should start with you lovely people." He pointed around the whole stadium, showing he was talking about the fans. "What you have done for me is indescribable. I think to myself, everyday, am I worthy of even being here—"

"Yes!" An army of agreement echoed around the arena, making Harry stop, blush and smile to himself.

"Well thank you! Um. You have been the best fans ever, and I know you will continue to be. I know you don't owe me anything, but all I ask you to keep loving yourselves and treating people with kindness, because I know I can count on you lot to do that, for me." He sniffled at the end, making you bite your lip to prevent the tears from falling for you. He looked so vulnerable right now, but you knew he'd be feeling on top of the world.

"Jheez." He sniffles again. "That's one thank you down and i'm already crying." He looked to his band to share the joke with.

“Dad’s such a wuss.” Oli laughed, holding his arm around Beas waist, making the people around you chuckle in agreement.

“Shut up you - Mr-tears-in-your-eyes!” You pointed out, laughing as he flipped you the bird - which then got him a hit off his grandma Anne.

All of Harrys family and friends were here, in a special cornered off section. It was such a thoughtful thing for Harry to do. All his family, and a fair few of yours, were sat down along with Harrys closest friends. Everyone was sharing laughs and drinks, whilst using every inch of space to dance along to your husbands boastful music.

"Secondly, my touring family. From Jeff and Ben, to Sarah's Kitchen, Adam, Mitch, Sarah, Charlotte and Nyoh, not forgetting everyone backstage and behind the lights, music and cameras. You've all been the greatest. Everything you do is second to none. You're all talented, warm-hearted, people whom I will carry in my heart forever. Thank you." You noticed members of the crew and band starting to tear up now.

"Moving on to my boys. We've been through it all, lads, and I couldn't have asked for four better brothers than you all. Louis. Liam. Niall. Zayn. Thank you." Everyone cheered ten times louder, maybe because this was as close to a One Direction reunion as the fans were ever going to get, but definitely because Harry had mentioned Zayn. You saw a girl faint at the mere mention of all the boys in the same sentence. The boys lifted up their beers to Harry, stood close by to where you were standing.

"I guess I should say thank you to the women who made all this possible. Mum. Gem. Thank you for signing me up all those years ago. Thank you for believing in me. You've made me the - crap, sorry! - the man I am now and I love you both." Harry prayed to them both, whilst bowing, and swiftly wiped away the tears afterwards. Anne and Gemma, on the other hand, were proudly crying.

"Ol, Fix and Belles. You rascals make me get out of bed every morning and give me more of a purpose in life. You four give me so much joy and happiness. I love you all, even if you do drive me up the wall on an early Saturday morning! Thank you, my loves." You stood close to all your children, giving them the support they needed in this moment. Belle was crying against your chest, the ever-so-emotional woman she was. Felix was stood up, with Heather, with his drink raised to his dad. Oli was to your side, trying to remain cool and stoic, but you still caught the tears that ran down his face.

"Now." The audience calmed down again after awing over your babies. Harry cleared his throat before beginning again. "This evening keeps on reminding me of a very special person in my life. Someone who is my everything and that's my beautiful wife, Y/N." His words make your breath hitch in your throat. You never expected him to say anything about you. I mean, what had you done?

"Mum." Belle called out to you, in affirmation that this was real.

"She's more than just a wife. She's a lover. She's my muse. She's my best-fucking-friend, apologises for swearing but sue me. I was hesitant to let go of all this, at first. What would I do with myself now? You know? People tell me i'm 'happiest on stage', and for a time that was true. Until I met Y/N. She's made me realise that family makes me the happiest. She makes me the happiest." He jumped down off stage, taking the microphone with him. He ran his hands along the fans in the front row, but had no intention of stopping until he met you.

You felt Belle leaving your side, but you were too captivated by Harry to fully understand what was happening.

"So what am I going to do now, you ask? Well..." Harry cheekily smiled at you. "I'm going to make her the happiest woman alive, just as she makes me the happiest man." You began to cry again and the chorus of thousands of fans clapping and screaming surrounds you, only to all stop when his lips meet yours. He tasted like a combination of salty sweat and mint, but he was home. After a minute of crying, kissing and 'i love yous' , Harry ran back to the stage before Jeff could shoot him.

"Thank you all. All my love." He said whilst adjusting his microphone. "Please sing along if you know the words." He asked, full well knowing every single person will be screaming out the lyrics to him.

"Just stop you're crying it's the sign of the times. Welcome to the final show. Hope you're wearing your best clothes."

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chocominnie · 3 years ago

Text

One Last Time 06 — Pjm. (M)

⇢ pairing: Jimin X Reader

⇢ Genre: Idol!Jimin, Exbf!Jimin, model!reader, sad au, fluff, tons of smut, angst

⇢ Synopsis: Your idol ex boyfriend Jimin cheated on you. You two have been broken up for a while now and the media has been keeping track of you and him. You’re trying to get over him, but the things that happen inbetween makes you re-think the entire breakup, and so does Jimin…

⇢ Song : xxxxx

⇢ Word Count : 3k

⇢ Warnings: dominant jimin, makeout sessions, this is honestly a sad angsty au, cheating, pregnancy, unprotected and protected sex, a bunch of sex, no really a LOT of sexual themes too, I know I’m forgetting some but sorry in advance!

⇢ Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

⇢ Authors note: This is my mini series for the summer! Get your tissues, things to take your anger out on, and sit back and watch the drama unfold. Shall we begin?

‘‘ I swear I am going to have someone beat your ass Park Jimin!’’

‘‘ It’s not my fucking fault! I broke up with her but you lead her to the apartment knowing she’ll follow!’‘

‘‘ Damn it Jimin im going to kick your ass!’‘

Your eyes pop open just in time to see Jungkook on-top of Jimin hitting him repeatedly on the face while Jimin manages to push him off of him and begin his fist fight against him. He straddles Jungkook to the floor and punches are thrown left and right. Now the sudden headache of seeing the two brothers fight has began in your head and you cannot stand hearing the groaning and yelling between them. Bringing your hand up to signal them to stop, you realize they don’t even know you’ve awakened.

Jungkook on the other hand is not having it so he throws Jimin off of him harshly making Jimin groan. The way he grabs Jimin’s collar with venom fast strength finally gives you the courage to yell out to them.

‘‘ Stop! Damn it, you two are like literal fucking teenagers. Act your age!”

The both of them turn their heads toward you slowly. Jungkook drops his fist, which was going to connect with Jimin’s face. You take a good look at them. Freshly bruised from each-other. Great.

‘‘ You think fighting is going to solve this problem huh? Get over here now.” You say, eyebrows furrowed in anger.

Jungkook gives Jimin a death glare before rushing to your side and feeling your forehead. You slap his hand away and pull him down by his shirt only for him to recieve a harsh slap to the forehead.

‘‘ Shit!” He stumbles back and rubs his forehead. He shoots you a glare, wanting to yell at you but doesn’t. You motion for Jimin to come to you too. He raises his eyebrows in amusement.

‘‘ I don’t think it’s necessary for you to do that..” He says, as if your death glare towards him isn’t enough to tell him you aren’t joking whatsoever.

He gets the memo when you disregard his comments before hanging his head low and bending down a little to your height. One slap against the forehead and two across the wrists.

‘‘ That’s for you fighting He was only looking out for me. The last two were for having a psychotic girlfriend who almost killed me. Look at my wrist!’‘

You hold them out to see two I.V’s, one for blood transfusion and the other a regular for nutrients on your right wrist. Both of them bandaged up which does need to be changed because of the old blood.

‘‘ I know and I’m sorry. I didn’t know she would be this upset.’‘ Jimin says, hanging his head low. Jungkook rolls his eyes at him out of annoyance.

‘‘ Whatever. I already called my lawyer for your case. Since Isabel tried to attempt murder to you, you will win this case for sure.’‘ He proudly leans against the wall hoping to atleast crack a smile from you.

You don’t smile though. The last thing you need is another scandal. If this were to make the news and blogs right now then it could be a bad thing. You’ve just started your modeling career again and right now would be the worst time to have something like that.

Jimin leans on the wall with his hands in his pockets, still avoiding locking eyes with you which is something he usually does. Something tells you that he’s hiding something. Something that you just can’t put your finger on.

‘‘ The police will come shortly for witness statements and your statement. Then they’ll call for a court date as soon as possible.’‘ Jimin’s voice low, illuminating with a hint of sadness.

Out of curiosity you want to say something more. To ask him whats going on and why he’s acting rather like this. It’s really not like him. He’s hiding something for sure and you just cannot put your finger on it. You just agree and pull out your phone. A missed call from Ryan. You try texting her and she almost always responds immediately. This time she doesn’t. What’s really going on?

You don’t know but Ryan took it upon herself to pay Isabel a visit. Usually visitors aren’t allowed for people in holding but with a little sweet talk of hers she got to get atleast 10 minutes to talk. That’s all she needs. When it comes to you, her bestfriend, she never messes around. Hearing the news from Jungkook yesterday she almost went luncatic. Throwing things at him, calling his brother every disrespectful name in the book. Oh she hates him now for sure.

Jungkook had to stop her from going over to the hospital to beat his ass into a bloody pulp for causing you pain and getting together with that crazy girl just to break up with her. Ryan was heated.

But now she can take this heat and serve some to Isabel right now. She walks with confidence into the room. Nothing and nobody can stop her and if they even try, she’ll chew them up and spit them out. Catching a glimpise of Isabel sitting at the table with her hands cuffed and security next to her, Ryan shoots her a devious glare.

‘‘ What brings you here? I expected my boyfr-’‘

A harsh slam from her hands hit the table as she bends a little to her seated level, ‘‘ He’ not your fucking boyfriend. You were lucky I wasn’t there to beat your fucking ass.”

The guard tenses up at the sounds and sudden movements. Ryan notices, and decides to take her seat to calm down before she’s the one sitting behind the jail bars too.

‘‘ Ryan.. I thought we were friends?’‘ She frowns, pouting her lips while fake wiping tears away.

Ryan scoffs,shaking her head ever so slowly with a devilish grin on her face. “ We aren’t. Don’t let me catch you un-attended without your manager or body guard.. Isabel.’’

Isabel laughs one of her evil laughs, throwing her head back then coming back up, “ Oh how cute. Is this a threat from little ol’ you? Me and Jimin were doing just fine before your bestfriend had decided to enter his life again. I’m not the only bad guy here. She should know boundaries for taken men. Ex’s aren’t supposed to be firendly and lovey dovey. Spending nights and going everywhere with each other. Especially when one’s a famous idol with another idol girlfriend. Do I make myself clear?”

“ Maybe you should take that up with your hoe of a boyfriend. He’s the one who can’t leave her alone.” She yells, inches away from Isabel’s face. The two stare at each other long and hard. Isabel is no match for Ryan though.

The guard clears his throat to break the two’s glares. The tension is thick in the air.

“ If you ever touch yn again, I’ll make sure you’re the one in the hospital this time around.”

‘‘ You’ll all see. I’ll win this court case. Trust me… there’s things you do not know.”

Ryan rolls her eyes, strutting her way out the room with the sound of her heels clicking right behind her. Consider the message recieved.

It’s been one week after the situation. In which in between those days you were dismissed from the hospital and have been in at Jimin’s house ever since. You didn’t want to be here. You want to be at home with your cat, Clara. Jungkook’s been going over to feed and play with her. Jimin kept pleading for you not to return home just yet because it could be a danger to you. It makes sense. You never know what Isabel has up her sleeve.

So you’ve been sitting here doing the same old thing everyday. Eat, watch movies and netflix tv shows, sleep, and repeat.

Jimin would come in and out of his home studio to check in on you. He still has to work on producing and singing his songs. He’d bring the food and your medicine he prepared per usual, kiss your forehead, and go right back out to producing his highly anticipated album.

It all seems fake to you. Something is off. Something is not being told to you. You can feel it in your gut but can’t put a finger on it.

‘‘ This is so cliche.’‘ You murmur to yourself, switching the flat-screen T.V off.

And as if on cue Jimin comes inside your- well his room with a glass of water and prescribed pain killers for you. The slight smile on his face makes you want to smile but you don’t.

‘‘ Smile for ocne yn. Do you not like staying here?’‘ He says, sitting next to you on the side of the bed and places the glass in your hands.

You furrow your eyebrows at him, taking the two pills out of his palm. “ No.. but be honest with me Jimin okay?”

His face turns a quick shade of pink then pale as if you had said the wrong choice of words at the wrong time. As if he had seen a ghost at this very moment. That’s not a good sign at all.

‘‘ Are you.. hiding something from me?’‘

The atmosphere is thick and silence fills the room. You don’t say anything and he doesn’t either. Your eyes meet his and for once they don’t pull away first.

Jimin doesn’t know how to break it to you though. It’s now or never.

‘‘ She will never leave me.”

You bite your lip hard, “ What do you mean?”

“ That she said that she’d do everything to ruin our relationship if we continue to persue one. She’d spready rumors about you to Dispatch. Make a scene whenver you’re near me. Anything she can do, she will do it.”

You don’t know how to take this all in. You knew Isabel was possesive but not this possesive. The thought of her doing things on purpose for you to make everyone hate you makes you want to cry. To just bawl your eyes out right here right now. You can’t.. you won’t do it.

You won’t give in because thats what she wants. To make you cry. To ruin your reputation and work. Jimin came back into your life and of course you don’t know what to do or how to deal with it. But this is what you wanted right? You’ve been longing for you and him to get a second chance. It’s you. You’re the one who’s been putting things off and not letting things go with the flow. Maybe he came back to you because he realized how wrong he was for cheating on you. For leaving you behind. For not seeing things for truly how it is.

You knew Isabel was bad luck from the beginning. Now is the time to try and take back what was originally yours. That will hurt her more than ever.

“ She needs to have a reality check. Not everything revolves around her.”

‘‘ I agree. Putting her behind bars might give her a reality check. It should serve her right for harming people.” Jimin sighs.

The silence is thick. You both don’t know what to say and it’s sure as hell awkward more than ever right now. Until that silence breaks.

‘‘ I feel like you aren’t being your true self to me. If we are getting things out now.”

His sudden comment makes you lift your head up from playing with the comforter. “ What do you mean?’’

‘‘ You.. don’t want to take actions on what you feel, say, or want to do with or about me. It’s killing me inside.”

He’s right. You do try to push your feelings aside no matter what the cause is. It’s just you trying to not set yourself up for hearbreak again. You do want him. You do want everything to do with him. Considering the things that happened in the past, it’s no doubt theres a fence guarding your heart from intruders.

You exhale out heavily, “ Im just.. scared.’’

‘‘ Of? “

‘‘ Being hurt again.”

Dead silence again. This time he’s the one trying to come up with words to redirect your view of him. Yes, he broke your heart in the worst way possible. He wants you to see he’s changed.

Jimin bites his lip, voice shaky when he begins talking again. ‘‘ How can I show you that i’m not the same anymore. Im not I promise you. I want you to see I have changed. I know it’s my fault. I destroyed you but let me fix it.”

It’s all come down to this. You’ve wanted this and now is the chance to get it. Now is the chance to have what was once yours. But the feeling of doubt had taken its course on you at the worst time.

‘‘ Jimin.. how do I know that for sure?’‘ You say, unintentionally fluttering your eyes at him. To you it’s to prevent from letting tears fall.

Jimin see’s it as that specific thing you used to do when you wanted him. When you craved him and would drop hints. To be completely honest, you do crave him. You do want him. Make-up sex was something you two used to do often. It was your toxic way of saying im sorry.

Somehow you want to put that toxic thing into action right now. As fucked up as it is, that’s how you two know you’re sorry towards each other. Actions speak louder than words.

He closes his eyes for a quick second before clenching his jaw to contain himself. Your weak spot.

‘‘ Stop doing that. Unless you want to start something you don’t want to finish.”

You smile just a little, hoping he’d get the memo. “ What if I do want to start and finish it..”

As if a car alarm went off, Jimin’s eyes pop back open with a suprised look. That’s the last thing he’d thought he’d be hearing from you. “ Are you sure about that? I mean we don’t have t-”

You lean in closer to where you guys are inches apart, his lips softly rubbing against yours. “ I’m all for it.”

Within seconds, Jimin’s shirt is removed off of you only revealing your blue panties which have became a little soaked with your wetness. He takes in the scent of you before his mouth connects with your thighs, slightly sucking to leave bruises on you.

‘‘ Jimin.. don’t tease me.” You sigh, laying fully down to spread your legs even more. He hums against your skin making you catch chills up and down your spine.

‘‘ That’s my specialty baby. You know that.” He trails a kiss with each word all the way down to your core where he dips a finger inside. You tense up attempting to close your legs. He doesn’t allow it, spreading them open harshly again.

‘’ Jimin-’‘ You barely utter before he begins to move his fingers in and out of you slowly. You let out a whine to try and make him go faster but it doesn’t work.

He comes up to your mouth and plants a wet, sloppy kiss. “ No whining. You’re gonna get what you want. Just relax baby.”

Is all he tells you before he goes back down to your core to tend to your desires.

The first lick between your legs is ever so gentle. Too gentle for you right now considering that you want release badly and Jimin knew exactly that. He opens his mouth and swirls his tongue up and down your slit. A groan leaves his mouth once he gets a taste of you which sends a vibration to your sensitive bud.

Each time his tongue laps against you your body jerked and shook but that only makes his tongue go faster. Sending you into a moaning and groaning mess as you tug on his hair.

“Mmh you even taste the same like always.” He moans with a smirk.

“Jimin please-” you cry out, locking your fingers into his hair when a finger is inserted into your dripping wet hole.

‘‘ No whining babygirl.’‘ His voice gentle as ever when he removes the finger inside of you making you pout a little. But that pout soon turned into your eyes becoming wide when he starts to take off his shirt, then grey sweatpants, then his underwear where his thick cock springs up.

Your eyes can’t leave his body. God it’s been a while. He looks pretty damn good. You wan’t to take all of his length in your mouth right now. To hear him praise you about how good your mouth feels against him. God you want it right now.

He gives it a few strokes before walking over to you. Just before hovering over you, he gives you a passionate kiss while lifting up your legs and positioning them to his liking. Missionary.

The tip of him pokes at the entrance of you, teasing in and out. Soon enough he enters you slowly making both of you moan together.

You still wrap and fit around his member smug as ever, and he could not believe it. The feeling of familiarity of being inside you sends him into a moaning mess with each stroke. You can’t contain your moans and screams. He feels way too good.

Jimin begins to deep-stroke you by pulling all the way out and slamming back in. You scream his name out in pleasure as your nails scratch up his toned back. Wet sounds fill the room with him picking up his pace. You take a glimpse of him only to admire his figure right now. Forehead forming sweat beads while he groans and moans biting his plump pink lips.

Your breathing becomes faster when that familiar feeling soon starts to take over. You turn your head to the side and let out a string of moans. Jimin isn’t having that though. His hand grabs your face gently and makes you make eye contact with him. Your legs start shaking as your head tilts back moans getting more faster. You finally let out one last one in sync with him, his hot sperm shoots inside of you.

Jimin pulls out, breathing heavily and collapses ontop of you. You let out a small grunt with the sudden extra body upon you, then giggle at him when he lays his head lays against your chest. This is what you wanted. He’s true. He’s sorry.

‘’ I love you.”

That word surprises you. You weren’t prepared for it. Somehow though, you enjoy the fact that he’s said it to you. Love. Jimin’s love. Your love.

‘’ I love you much more Jimin.’’

296 notes · View notes

aminiatureworld · 3 years ago

Text

Enigmatic Feelings II

Characters: Beidou, Childe, Eula, gn!reader

Word Count: 5,402

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: In which the reader’s s/o is jealous

Author’s Note: Decided to tack on two characters to the request. This is my first time writing for Eula, and I think this prompt really fit her. She really reminds me of Kaguya Shinomiya in mindset, which is kinda hilarious. I hope I wrote her well!

In case you’re wondering, I kept all the NPCs gender neutral so that the reader might interpret them as they wish.

Beidou

Beidou and her crew tended to get drunk. Like, a lot. Rowdy parties soaked in alcohol, audible from Guyun Stone Forest to Qingce Village were simply part of ship culture. Though they might’ve been loud and somewhat disorganized, there was never any sense of overstepping boundaries, and things never ended up going too far.

Or at least that’s what Beidou would’ve liked to think. Watching you and another shipmate moseying up to one another was a surprisingly unpleasant experience, and Beidou took another swig of her flask to wash out the acidic taste in the back of her mouth.

What did it even matter if someone was flirting with you? It was the end of a long haul, emotions were running high, and everyone knew that you were the captain’s partner. Everyone knew that nothing serious would come of a little flirting, and the occasional compliment or teasing remark towards you here and there had never really bothered Beidou before. She wasn’t about to be jealous of a few flirty shipmates; after all, the ability to sweet talk should probably be a requirement for signing up for piracy anyways.

Maybe it was just how blatant the flirting was, so different than the usual passing, good-natured banter. Beidou knew how well each of her shipmates could hold their liquor. She also knew how quickly norms and rules tended to be thrown out the window the moment one got plastered. Even if the shipmate meant nothing truly malicious or devious in their words, Beidou couldn’t rule out the fact that they were probably genuinely flirting.

Neither could she ignore the fact that you were distinctly flirting back. Beidou wasn’t really surprised by this turn of events, after all you’d always responded with a good natured tease at the remarks flown you way and even engaged in some meaningless flirting yourself towards the other members of the ship. It was part of ship culture after all, to be so open and careless. The sea was never calm or placid, why should her voyagers be so? Still, Beidou couldn’t deny the fact that she was uncomfortable by the current situation, protocol be damned.

A part of her wanted to go up and tell you right out; you were her partner, and she was sure that you’d be able to understand what she was feeling. Yet pride kept her at her seat, downing more liquor to distract herself from her conundrum. After all, it’d be kind of hypocritical of her to cultivate a familiar ship culture and then turn around and revoke it at the drop of a hat, wouldn’t it? Nor would it feel right to enforce rules upon others that she herself didn’t follow. It’s not like Beidou hadn’t ever flirted with or teased someone else without thinking too much about it. How could she blame her crew for following her example?

Still the sight of you and your shipmate danced in front of her eyes, urging her to do something she’d surely regret. Beidou let out a loud sigh, something that wasn’t ignored by the people around her.

“You alright captain?” Juza eyed Beidou worriedly. One of the other hard drinkers on the ship, Beidou knew that she couldn’t rely on alcohol to allay her Chief Mate’s worries.

“I’m fine!” She spoke loudly, plastering a large grin upon her face. “I was just thinking about how proud I am of all of you! How much of a tight-knit crew we are!”

Beidou could tell that she was garnering the attention of the rest of the shipmates and stood up. She had neglected to make a speech so far, so wrapped up was she in the scene playing out before her eyes. Clearing her throat Beidou held up her flask, the eager anticipation of her crewmates combining with the liquid fire in her system, causing a wave of rash confidence to run through her. At least she was an entertaining speechmaker.

“I look out upon the faces of warriors now! We may be somewhat irregular, an anomaly of the seas. However, that doesn’t change our bond, our fierce loyalty, our capabilities. I look out upon a group of people closer than family! Perhaps you’ve had brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles, but tell me this! Could any of those members of your previous lives fight back to back with you? No! They could not! We are a special breed, and there will never be anyone who can understand us as we can understand each other! And we ought to never forget this! Do not forget the brotherhood forged by fire. I know that I never will!”

Cheers erupted from every corner as sailors drank gleefully. A few of the more out of commission crewmates were sobbing uglily, hugging whoever was in their vicinity and making slightly incomprehensible statements of affection and loyalty. Beidou sat down, smiling at the chaos in front of her. Yes, she really was part of a band of brothers, and there was no reason to forget or doubt that. Why was it then that she felt as if she’d been somewhat deceitful? And why was it then that her eyes once more drifted towards you and the sailor who was now enthusiastically slapping you on the back?

The rest of the night passed in a haze of alcohol, as Beidou downed drink after drink. She didn’t walk up to you, didn’t try to acknowledge the source of her unease. Why should she? It was a party after all, and there were other things to do. Passing out just as the sun was beginning its ascent once more into the sky Beidou wondered if she was always going to feel this way when anyone got slightly flirty with you. If so, well, she was in for a rough time.

The next day was greeted by a pounding headache. The sun was much too bright, and Beidou let out an annoyed yelp as she stumbled towards her window, trying to not fall flat on her face as she grasped for the curtains. Yanking on them awkwardly she had just managed to get them somewhat closed before there was a knock on her door. Cursing the captain drew herself up as much as she possibly could in her current state, hoping that her clothes didn’t look too much like she’d simply slept in them.

“Come in.”

“I thought you might want a pitcher of water.”

Your voice was soft and slightly apologetic. Letting out a sigh of relief Beidou nodded, allowing herself to stumble back towards her hammock and flop onto the blanket. Wow she had drank a lot last night. You walked over to her desk, steps too steady to be that of a hungover person. Pouring a glass of water you stared at Beidou as she drank, a question in your eyes.

“What is it? You seem to want to ask me a question.”

“Are you sure you’re up to answering?”

“Well now I won’t be able to rest until you tell me it.”

“Fair enough,” you smiled. “Was something wrong last night?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“I mean you didn’t even walk over to me once. I was kind of surprised, to be honest.”

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, I just want to know why you were avoiding me.”

“I wasn’t avoiding you.” Beidou wrinkled her nose. Her head throbbed in protest and she quickly dropped the expression, sighing before taking another drink of water. “Well, perhaps I was slightly avoiding; but it’s wasn’t your fault.”

“Whose fault was it then?”

Beidou paused, trying to gather her thoughts as she searched for an answer. “You know that I don’t mind some familiarity on this ship.”

“Yes, as you so eloquently put last night,” you giggled slightly. Ignoring the subtle tease Beidou continued on.

“Well, I mean it; but it seems like I’m not very good at following my own rules. That shipmate you were flirting with last night? I just, I don’t know. Normally I don’t mind, y’know? But this time, well, it couldn’t stop bothering me. Even though you didn’t seem to mind it at all.”

“I didn’t mind it because he was drunk off his ass.” You pointed out, voice still soft and understanding. Taking one of Beidou’s hands in yours you leaned over to press a quick kiss on your partner’s forehead. “I’m sorry to hear it was bothering you though.”

“It’s not just that,” Beidou admitted. It seemed the floodgates of her thoughts had opened, and now she felt the need to tell you everything. “It’s that I couldn’t even follow my own rules, that I couldn’t stop myself from feeling… almost resentful. A captain, a good leader, they follow their own rules. It’s the only way to whip all the idiots into shape. But I couldn’t do that, I failed last night; I failed as a leader, I failed as a partner. I couldn’t follow my own example. Some leader.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself,” you murmured. Squeezing Beidou’s hand you shook your head slightly. “I know that the people on this ship sort of see you as a goddess, which you are, to me at least. Still, even goddesses can sometimes have flaws. Besides, if a shipmate ever came to you with these fears you’d absolutely laugh it off, give them a pat on the back, and send them on their way. So maybe you should follow your own example in that way. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Beidou’s gut reaction was to contradict you, to point out once more how she had failed. However she was too tired, and your point was making a suspicious amount of sense. “Very well,” she smiled slightly, “you have a way with words darling. You sure you haven’t missed a career as a siren?”

“I already have a lovely sailor, thank you very much,” you giggled. Pressing soft kisses across Beidou’s cheeks you stood up. “Now drink a lot of water and get some rest. We can’t have our captain out of commission.”

“I trust I’m not the only one sleeping in today?”

“Oh definitely not! It’ll probably take a week before we’re in any shape to treasure hunt again.”

“Pity.”

“So greedy!” You gasped in fake surprise.

“As if you didn’t know that when you signed up.”

“I don’t know I never pegged you as the jealous type,” you said in a sing-song voice. Beidou felt her cheeks redden.

“Shaddup.”

Your laughter filled the cabin, bright and rejuvenating. Beidou couldn’t help but crack a small smile herself. How had she ever gotten so lucky in regards to her partner? Regardless of how, she wasn’t about to take you for granted.

Childe

Childe liked to think of himself as one of the “good ones” when it came to Harbingers to work under. Was he somewhat demanding and only expected the best when it came to combat? Well, yes. Did he regularly debase his coworkers and underlings? No, he wasn’t Scaramouche after all. As long as you were passionate in your drive to serve the Tsaritsa and as long as you never missed out on your training, well Childe was sure that he could never have a problem with you.

That was, in fact, not true.

One of the Fatui messengers had been talking to you for almost twenty minutes now, though about what Childe hadn’t the slightest idea. After all, he’d already gotten the message that he needed, and the messenger surely had no business with you – you didn’t even work for the Fatui. Still there the messenger stood and there you stood next to him, a small smile on your face as you let out a soft laugh in regards to whatever they were saying.

Childe knew that he had no reason to feel as he did, but that didn’t stop irritation from rising inside him, and a sudden urge to flaunt his superiority that he usually reserved for the field of battle rose up inside of him. He didn’t quite understand why he was suddenly struggling against the urge to run up to you and throw his arms around you, but the urge was certainly there. What in Teyvat were you talking to that messenger about? What could possibly take up so much of your time? Considering the small fragments of conversation that made it to his ears Childe ruled that it was nothing truly of importance.

Letting himself lounge even more across his office chair Childe let out a slight sound of annoyance. Weren’t the two of you doing something before the nuisance came along? Sure, it wasn’t necessarily the most important thing, but discovering the best place in Liyue to study the stars was hardly worthless. After all, being somewhere high up and with a good view meant a better survey of the land around you. Who knew when some pesky Millelith or intrepid adventurer might try to attack the Fatui members scattered across the plains and mountains in Liyue? It was imperative to have eyes on everything, certainly more important than whatever this was!

Finally giving into his rising irritation Childe walked over to the two of you. Slinging an arm around your shoulder, Childe tried to give the messenger a smile that didn’t convey ‘scram or I’m kicking you out’. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but my partner and I have business to do and I’m sure that your other messages won’t deliver themselves. To the Tsaritsa information is everything and all that, so you should probably make sure people actually get said information.”

“Oh, uh, yes my lord. I’m sorry.”

The messenger pulled himself up straighter, giving an awkward bow. Turning to go the messenger didn’t fail to turn back around to give you one last smile. Accentuating his smile once more Childe finally detached himself from you as the messenger walked out of the office, shutting the door softly behind him.

After that the messenger seemed to be showing up everywhere. Childe could’ve sworn he was getting more mail in a week than he had in all his previous months in Liyue. Not to mention how awkward the timing of the deliveries seemed to seemed to be. What was the point of getting “important” mail right before the Bank ostensibly closed? What was Childe supposed to do with the information now? Never mind the fact that the letters and notes he was getting seemed to be getting more and more mundane, even nonsensical. A shipment of weaponry to be picked up, that might be important. But specifications on the renovations Dottore was making on his lair? Why would Childe ever need to know something like that?

Nor did it escape Childe’s notice that these messages always seemed to come with at least twenty minutes of conversation with you. How was the Harbinger supposed to concentrate when someone was yakking away in his office? Besides, what did it matter to you what this person’s favorite flowers were? Childe knew that the Tsaritsa was often quite ingenious in her schemes, but he truly couldn’t see what relaying someone’s favorite flowers could do? Had he mentioned before that you weren’t even a member of the Fatui?

Every day the messenger would endlessly chat with you about the stupidest things, and every day Childe would end up interrupting the two of you. What started with slinging an arm around your shoulder was slowly escalating. First it was an arm, then two, then an arm around your waist, then a head on your shoulder. One time he’d even pulled you right against him, smiling slightly as you let out a squeak of surprise.

Of course Childe knew what he was experiencing, was not necessarily unfamiliar with the concept of jealousy. Still, he wasn’t about to tell you about it. After all jealousy was a shallow, grasping sort of emotion; something that caused generals to fight against one another to approach him or the Harbingers instead of tending to their own troops. Jealousy was a useless sort of emotion, and not one that a warrior such as himself ought to feel. Besides, did he really need to feel jealous about an annoyingly persistent messenger? They were hardly above a weed in the hierarchy of things.

Still, Childe couldn’t exactly deny that he was feeling jealous. Avoidance was one thing, deceit was another. Even if he didn’t want to tell you about what he was feeling, he would never lie to you about it. Which is why at the end of another tedious twenty minute conversation when the messenger had finally left and you turned around to ask him if something was wrong Childe found himself frozen, stuck between quite the rock and a hard place.

“Why would you ask such a question darling? Does something seem wrong to you?”

“Childe, please. You’ve been clingier than barnacle recently. Are you even supposed to be at the office today; weren’t you supposed to inspect an outpost in Dragonspine today?”

“I just wanted to spend some time with my wonderful, amazing partner! Is there something wrong with that?”

“For you? Yes, there absolutely is. Childe, are, are you upset about something?”

Childe stared at you for a moment, crumbling under your persistent gaze. He could tell that you were worried, could tell in the slant of your mouth and the furrow of your brow. He couldn’t very well say no. That would be lying after all. He was upset about something, even if it was something utterly beneath him. He was still upset.

“That messenger has been annoying me.”

“The one that just left?” You turned to look at the closed door behind you, a puzzled expression on your face. “But why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? They’re flirting with you.”

“They’re not!” Your expression was incredulous, but you paused for a moment, obviously thinking about something very seriously. “At least, I don’t think they are. Are they?”

“Yes,” Childe let out a snort. “I can’t believe you didn’t notice. Why else would they be delivering the most worthless information before chatting with you when they should be somewhere else?”

“I guess you’re right,” you admitted. “But Childe, it’s not like I’d ever be interested in them. I mean, I can see how it’d be kind of annoying to have someone invade your personal space, but why the clinginess?”

Childe stared at you for a moment. “You’re kinda dense you know.”

“I’m not!”

“Oh you absolutely are. How else would you not realize that I’m jealous?”

“Well, well because I don’t know. You just don’t seem the jealous type. Besides, it’s not like I’d ever have interest in anyone other than you. I don’t know, I just don’t see the point.”

“You really are dense.” Childe smiled a small, frustrated smile. Letting his head drop into the crook of your neck he let out sigh. “I know that there’s no reason that I should’ve be jealous. I just, am. I don’t know why, but seeing that messenger flirting with you for days on end, I couldn’t help it.”

“Hey, it’s alright.” Your tone shifted slightly as you reached up to card gentle fingers through Childe’s orange locks. “Sometimes we’re just weird like that. Just as long as you know that you never have reason to be jealous, then you can be jealous sometimes. Alright?”

“Alright.” Childe whispered, finally letting himself relax a bit.

Raising his head he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. You let out a small purr of happiness, gladly reciprocating. The weight on the Harbinger’s chest lightened, and he was finally met with the feeling of lazy contentment.

“Now, don’t you have an inspection to attend?” You smiled indulgently. “Go on, I’ve got errands to do anyways. As much as I appreciate the attention, you have to lessen the clinginess, okay?”

“Can’t make any promises darling.”

The sound of your indignant squawk, combined with Childe’s laughter, chased him out of the room and down the staircase.

Eula

As a member of the esteemed Lawrence family Eula was confident in the fact that such base emotions as jealousy were utterly beneath her. What did people take her for? A commoner? What a presumptuous line of thought!

No, it was certainly not jealousy that Eula was feeling right now. What a preposterous notion. She was simply irritated that a Guild member had forgotten all respect due to the Knights of Favonius. After all, you were a part of Mondstadt’s frontline protectors, a far cry from those poor fools who relied only upon commission to prove their worth. Yes, it was simply how presumptuous that lowly Guild member was being, taking up your time on your patrol across the parapet of the wall surrounding Monstadt, to engage in such a frivolous act as flirting.

Surely there was nothing more to it? No, it was not even worth it to pose such a stupid question. After all, what was a lowly adventurer to Eula? A nuisance, perhaps, but nothing more. Certainly nothing to be worried about. There was no reason to pause at the tower door, no reason not to simply walk over to you, her partner and coworker. Your time on patrol was done, it was time to come in. Why then was she hesitating?

“You must love the view up here,” the adventurer smiled widely.

“Yes, it’s very nice!” You were all smiles.

“I’m sure it’s made all the more beautiful by your presence,” the adventurer pressed on.

“Ah, t-thanks,” you replied, smiling again and reaching to grasp the back of your neck. “Really, you’re too kind.”

“Not at all!”

The adventurer appeared to want to say something else, but Eula had long ago decided that things had gone too far. Who did this mere Guild member think they were?

“Your time is up soldier, you are needed in the afternoon meeting.”

Eula tried to keep her posture as correct as possible, looking straight past the interloper to you. You seemed to brighten, rushing over to Eula and nodding enthusiastically.

“Eula! Of course! I’ll be down, right this instant.”

“Good,” Eula replied, giving a curt not. Glancing over towards the adventurer she crossed her arms. “As for you, layawaying a knight of Favonius is a blemish upon the Adventurer’s Guild. Such a discretion surely must be paid with vengeance. Mark my words, I will not let this deed go unpunished.”

The adventurer stiffed. Taking a step towards Eula their face contorted into a snarl. “Listen here you Lawrence –”

“We’ll be going now!” You jumped in, glancing at you Eula nodded. Turning around she kept her features neutral. However she noticed the way you gestured apologetically at the fool before going to follow Eula, expression one of undeniable embarrassment.

Perhaps it was too much to hope that the adventurer might’ve learned their lesson. There they were the next day, standing right in front of you, acting as if yesterday’s squabble had never happened. Talking your ear off just as before Eula couldn’t help but frown at how they were to you, how they always seemed just about to brush their fingers against yours. How crude to do such a thing to a perfect stranger.

“Dear, is everything alright?”

Your voice snapped Eula out of her reverie. The two of you were walking towards Headquarters to grab your extra equipment before heading home. Normally Eula cherished such quiet moments, feeling like they were the few times when she could be utterly confident, utterly herself. This time however she found the events of the week pressing on her. Only managing to nod Eula quickened her pace slightly, as if to outrun the feelings that were growing inside her.

“Hey, is something wrong?”

Eula lifted her gaze away from the papers she’d been halfheartedly scanning, her eyes meeting Amber’s. Eula would be the first person to admit that she wasn’t exactly sure how she had become friends with the eccentric Outrider. Indeed most of the things about Amber on paper grated Eula quite a bit. Still Amber was probably Eula’s closest coworker – other than you – and closest thing to a best friend that Eula had. It was perhaps unsurprising that Amber should notice something was wrong, and Eula was almost pleased by the fact that Amber was concerned about her.

“Nothing of great importance,” the knight replied. “There is only a nuisance which has been taking up a great deal of time and seems to still be interfering, despite all my efforts.”

“What kind of nuisance?” Amber tilted her head. Eula looked away, staring at the shelves that lined her office. She didn’t really want to look her coworker in the eyes.

“A, human nuisance. There has been an adventurer from the Guild who has been taking up a great deal too much of my partner’s time. They are utterly too presumptive in familiarity, and I feel that they are jeopardizing the Knights of Favonius with their irresponsible actions. Yet, despite all my efforts, they refuse to rethink their devious ways. It is no small problem.”

“That does sound very unpleasant.”

“Indeed, and yet I know not what to do. My reprimands have fallen on deaf ears.”

“Have you thought of maybe telling your partner.”

“Why would I ever reveal such feelings to my partner?!” Eula whipped her head around to look at Amber. The smile on her face was somewhat self-congratulatory.

“Eula, can I ask if you’ve considered something?”

“What is that?” Whatever Amber was about to say, it wasn’t going to be good.

“Have you considered the possibility that you might be jealous?”

“What, what nonsense! As if I should ever fall prey to such, to such base sensibilities!” Eula felt her face redden. Finding a particularly dirty spot upon the ground Eula stared intently past her friend. No, surely Amber was wrong.

“If you say so,” Amber shrugged. “But you might want to think about it. I mean, if I were feeling jealous I’d want to tell my partner. Besides, isn’t it the duty of a knight of Favonius to be honest and true?”

“You’re taking this awfully seriously,” Eula mumbled.

“Maybe,” Amber smiled, “but I do care about you. Remember that.”

With that the Outrider grabbed the paper she’d presumably been looking for and walked out the door before Eula could think of any sort of comeback. Turning her gaze back to her work Eula let out an exasperated sigh. Vengeance would be required against her coworker for such a ridiculous suggestion.

It was beginning to get on evening as Eula raced towards your regular guard spot. She’d worked later than usual today, probably spurned on by irritation at Amber’s ridiculous suggestions, and now Eula hoped that you hadn’t given up waiting for her and decided to go home. Climbing up the stairs her mind drifted once more to what Amber had said. Jealous? A member of the Lawrence clan was jealous? No, it was surely ridiculous. I mean, sure, she found the majority of her family members repulsive and vain and lazy to a fault, but surely she had to take something out of all the time she had spent within their midst. Besides, appearances had to be kept up, if only for the song and dance that the other people of Liyue insisted on continuing, long after it had stopped being of any use.

And yet, if she really was jealous, which of course she wasn’t, wouldn’t it be right to tell you? It was these thoughts that chased Eula. As she reached the top of the stairs to the opening of the parapet she decided that, if Amber’s theory were somehow proved right, she would tell you. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, the familiar silhouette of an adventurer meant it was the perfect time to figure this question out.

“It’s pretty late, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I suppose it is,” you smiled. “Still, Monstadt must be guarded day and night, mustn’t it?”

“Ah yes, the Knights must do all they can to protect our glorious city. Still, would there not be another reason for you staying up here so late?”

“Not particularly,” you shook your head.

“Are you sure about that?” The adventurer leaned towards you. Eula once more felt her heart seize up with that now all too common emotion. Was this jealousy?

“Uhm, I’m pretty sure.” The more that Eula had watched this song and danse the more she had realized how awkward you seemed around this person.

“Oh come on, a lonely figure looking out from on a wall, it’s sounds pretty story-like doesn’t it? Then again, you are straight out of a fairytale.”

“Thanks,” you replied, laughing somewhat awkwardly.

At this point Eula had come to a decision. Regardless of what this emotion was, and she was becoming increasingly worried it was, in fact, jealousy, you still seemed to be somewhat uncomfortable. Walking out onto the parapet she took your hand, glaring at the adventurer which stood across from you.

“I see you are once more distracting one of the Knights.”

“They didn’t mind, did you?” The adventurer’s mouth screwed up into something resembling a sneer. When you said nothing they shook their head. “You just had to come and make everything awkward; typical of a Lawrence member to be such a pain in the ass.”

“And now you insult one of the Knights! Indeed, the punishment will surely be great; and, until I decide what punishment is to be meted out, I suggest you take your leave.”

“You can’t tell me what to do!” The adventurer sputtered, but Eula merely smiled.

“Indeed I can. If I find you harassing one of our Knights one more time, know that I will not be so lenient as to merely give you a warning.”

“I wasn’t harassing anyone!”

“Distracting them then, making them unable to perform their duties, being a public nuisance. Do any of these serve you better?” Eula waved her hand. “Not that the terminology matters at this point. What matters is that you stop your current behavior.”

“Please just listen to what Eula says,” you piped up. Smiling a small smile you walked over to the adventurer. “I know that you were just trying to flirt, but I think that you should shoot your shot elsewhere now. Okay?”

The adventurer looked slightly red in the face, though whether it was embarrassment or anger was anyone’s guess. Slinking away, grumbling something under their breath, the Guild member was soon down the stairs and out of sight.

Sighing loudly you turned to Eula.

“Thanks for that. I mean, really! I don’t think they were trying to be actively malicious, but really sometimes you just have to read a room! I’m just glad I didn’t have to break it to them by myself.”

Staring at the stones under her feet Eula found herself mumbling something.

“What?”

“It, it wasn’t for your sake.”

“Ah yes, I know, it was for the honor and glory of the Knights of Favonius! Still, thank you.”

“No, I didn’t mean that. It was that, well, Amber’s been talking to me.”

“Amber?” You tilted your head, evidently confused by the sudden turn of the conversation. “What was she talking to you about?”

“About a very foolish emotion, one that I would never dream of feeling myself. And yet, I, I do believe that maybe, just maybe mind you, it had a factor in, in my actions.” Unwilling to come right out with it Eula found herself frowning. “The audacity of her really, to imply that a member of the Lawrence family might experience something as base as jealousy!”

Looking up towards you Eula saw recognition pass over your features. For a moment you did nothing, then suddenly a small, soft smile broke out on your face. Walking over to Eula, you gently enclosed your partner’s hands in yours.

“Thank you for telling me Eula, I’m sure it must’ve been difficult.”

“I-I’m not sure about it yet!” Eula stammered. “Only Amber wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

“That does sound like Amber,” you let out a soft laugh. “Still, thank you for telling me. It means a lot to me, okay?”

“A-alright.”

“I’m glad.”

You leaned over to give Eula a quick peck, before turning to walk down the stairs. Eula followed, one of her hands still intertwined firmly with yours. Suddenly her heart felt lighter than it had all week.

#Genshin Impact fanfiction #beidou x reader #childe x reader #eula x reader #genshin impact #genshin beidou #genshin childe #genshin eula #requested #scenarios #my writing

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pippytmi · 3 years ago

Note

Howdy! For the little au trope prompt ask. 2, 2, 39. Supercorp please. Thank you! (Hope it helps your writer's block!)

Everyone knows that when the Quidditch season starts, rivalries begin.

As a general rule, Lena doesn’t mind the Gryffindors. If she had to pick a house she hated, the Slytherins would be the unfortunate lot; Veronica Sinclair and Andrea Rojas alone give the group a bad name. (That could be Lena’s own personal bias, given the fact that both girls have broken her heart, but she maintains it goes far deeper than that). But the point stands—Lena isn’t a hateful person. Generally.

There is just something about Kara Danvers that brings it out of her. The one and only Gryffindor that Lena despises is that moronic, reckless Chaser who scores nearly every single goal she takes. The Ravenclaw team is nothing to sneeze at either, but Lena hates that of all people to throw her off her game, it is a girl who blew up her broom when attempting to fly on it during her first year. Seven years that she has known Kara, and still Lena is annoyed at the mere sight of those perpetually-askew glasses, those untucked robes, that undone tie; Kara Danvers is never expected to be poised and perfect, even with all the expectations on her shoulders. She’s just so...blasé. People talk about Kara like she is destined to join a Quidditch team straight out of Hogwarts and all Kara does is stroll into the Great Hall on game day with her head in the clouds.

So far up the clouds that she apparently can’t watch where she is going, either. Lena throws Kara the nastiest glare she can muster when they just about knock each other’s heads together, but all Kara does at the sight of it is grin. She always grins, not in a way that is arrogant or snide, but stupidly amused. Stupidly amused, as if everything Lena says or does is a bloody laugh, like Lena’s simmering hatred is nothing more than an inside joke.

“Hey, Luthor,” Kara says cheerfully, and there she goes, pushing those crooked glasses up her nose. There is a scratch on one lens, and Kara has either not noticed or not bothered to repair it. “Trying to take out the competition a little early, even for you.”

“You were the one in my way, Danvers,” Lena replies tightly.

“Was I?” And here is the kicker, that golden girl charm that fools everyone: bright blue eyes peeking out beneath those eyelashes, hand rubbing at the back of her neck, undone tie slipping an inch further. Kara tilts her head unassumingly as if that is even an actual question.

It makes Lena furious. “Here’s a tip,” she says, “for here and the Quidditch field. Maybe if you got your head out of your ass, you could actually see where you’re headed.”

Kara has the audacity to look affronted. “Is this because of the Brainy incident during training? Because he and I agreed that it was a joint effort. Joint…blame. Whatever you call it.”

Lena rolls her eyes. “Just keep your aggression to yourself, Danvers,” she mutters, and then she resolutely brushes past. She has no time for blank, witty banter, especially when this is the year’s first game and she has a team to rally.

“My—? Hey,” Kara’s voice rings out, louder than necessary, and that idiot is actually following her. “Hey, wait. Lena. Do you seriously think I’m aggressive? It was an accident! Both times!” A beat. “I mean both the Brainy thing and right now. I didn’t knock into Brainy twice. I did knock James off his broom once, but you probably don’t care about that since he’s not from your house, so…well anyway, just so you know, that was also an accident.”

“I have zero interest in your training squabbles,” Lena says exasperatedly, “and you’d do well to keep that in mind.”

“Oh so this is about the Brainy incident,” Kara says. “How many times do I have to say that the training pitch was ours?”

“According to you,” Lena counters. With that she whirls around, nearly colliding into Kara’s chest, but she still manages to lift her head up high and stare down that egotistical jackass. “I know you might think you’re entitled to any space you waltz into, but some of us mere mortals actually schedule training sessions. You know, like we’re supposed to.”

“I did schedule the—!” Kara has a tendency to become flustered mid-argument, it seems, because her mouth opens but no words come blustering out. Finally she settles on scowling when she declares, “You are a piece of work, you know that? Would it kill you to apologize to me once in a while?”

“That would imply that you have apologized to me at some point,” Lena scoffs. “Which you haven’t, for the record.”

“Yes I have,” Kara is quick to disagree.

Lena crosses her arms; it’s a challenge, and Kara immediately stands a little straighter when she notices. “Oh?” Lena prompts. “Like when?”

“Like…when I knocked into Brainy.”

“I fail to see how I fit in that scenario,” Lena says, “since you didn’t break my nose.”

Kara gives a little huff, as if this back and forth is all so inconvenient right now; as if she hasn’t instigated it. “Okay, but I apologized for disrupting your practice, remember? I took complete responsibility even though it was your fault you couldn’t keep track of when your team was scheduled—”

“That was not an apology. You literally said ‘Sorry Luthor, we need this more than you do’ and then refused to leave for the next half hour!”

“But I said sorry in there, ergo, it is an apology.”

“Well then, when my team beats yours to dust I’ll be sure to apologize properly for that in that exact same sympathetic manner,” Lena sneers.

Somehow, trash talk only makes that dumb, signature Kara Danvers grin come back, completely wiping away any sign of vexation. “Oh yeah? Tell me more, wise old Ravenclaw—”

Before Lena can even begin to dissect that childish comeback (and stupid sing-songy imitation of the Sorting Hat), other students come filtering down the hall and they are practically swept up in the masses. One kid completely shoulders Lena before she even realizes what’s happening; she stumbles to the left, nearly collides with the wall, and opens her mouth to shout, but then:

“Hey!” Kara is already brandishing her wand with one hand and catching the boy’s collar with the other. “Ten points from Hufflepuff! You could’ve hurt someone, walking around without looking where you’re going.”

Lena bites her tongue to stop from making a quip on how ironic that statement is, because Kara is engrossed in a stare-off with the pimply sixth year who is demanding to see her prefect badge to prove Kara can even take points. She would normally side with the kid—anything to knock Kara Danvers down a peg—but, well. For once, Lena can’t be bothered to actively hate someone getting into a heated argument on her behalf.

Two minutes later and the boy stomps off with ten points gone from his house and a detention to boot. Kara, meanwhile, is still frowning as he leaves. “Are you okay?” she asks absentmindedly, still tracking the kid’s every movement with her eyes. “I swear, if there weren’t so many witnesses I would’ve hexed him.”

“Winning move for a prefect, I’m sure,” Lena says dryly, and Kara turns towards her with that slow-growing buffoonish smile and another sheepish nudge of her glasses. Her next words kind of just fall out, almost as if she’d never formed them in her mouth but in the deep recesses of her subconscious alone: “You know, you confuse me.”

“Huh?” Another nudge. The smile slips a fraction, but just enough to show Kara is slightly confused by the change in subject.

You confuse me, Lena wants to repeat. You are the opposite of self-aware. You are messy, and reckless, and selfless whenever it counts and it’s confusing because all I can really hate you for is being able to get away with being imperfect and still be adored by everyone.

But none of those words, thankfully, leave her head. All she says is, “Your approach to discipline confuses me. It’s not like he purposely tried to run into me—ten points might have been too harsh.”

“This coming from the girl who once threatened to curse me into oblivion for tripping her when we were twelve?” Kara’s eyebrows shoot up. “Who are you and what have you done to Lena Luthor? No, hold on, I know. You’re really Jess in disguise, right?”

“Hilarious, Danvers. I wouldn’t quit Quidditch, it might be the only place you’re suited for,” Lena mocks, but all Kara does is laugh.

“Nope, definitely Lena,” Kara says, and the way she says it is almost…fond. Come to think of it, Lena can’t remember a time where Kara actually called her Lena. It’s always Luthor and Danvers and stop breaking the faces of my best players and never—never anything else.

Lena clears her throat and looks away; she can’t take another second of those warm, bright eyes. “Whatever,” she says. “I…guess I’ll see you on the pitch.”

“Sure thing,” Kara says, and she takes a step back, tucking her wand into her pocket. “I’ll be the one rocking the winning team uniform.”

Slowly, Lena begins to feel the corner of her mouth twitch. Completely unbidden, completely unpredictable. “Dream on, Danvers.” She allows the space between them to grow, but their eyes remain locked, and the air feels heavy—thick—and the weight of their shared gaze holds a meaning Lena can’t possibly unpack right now.

But Kara’s tongue pokes out between her teeth cheerfully, and she doesn’t appear half as bothered by this development. “Always, if you’re in them,” she says, twists a little on her heel to walk away, but she pauses while she is still in earshot. “You know—next time you can just thank me for defending you.”

“You mean abusing your power as a prefect,” Lena replies automatically even as her head is running a mile a minute; even as Kara is getting farther and farther away and the scratch on her glasses lens catches the light.

“That too!” Kara shouts as she gets lost in the crowd, and damn her, Lena has to put her hand over her mouth to hide the absolute idiotic smile that has formed on her own face.

(Joint blame indeed, Lena muses, and she figures that she might as well form a rivalry with the Slytherins instead of the Gryffindors after all).

#this is both a threat and a reminder that im still working on these #😌😌😌#supercorp #supergirl #bisexualgoof #i need a fic tag #disclaimer that i still do not know anything about hp #im doing more research on harry potter than i do writing smh

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averytiredfanfictionwriter · 4 years ago

Text

Sic Semper Tyrannis

A syndicate x Platonic! Reader/ Technoblade x Reader

Warnings: murder, kidnapping, blood, a somewhat graphic depiction of getting stitches

Word count: about 2800

Ao3 Link: wow.

I’m excited to share this. I did write a version with an angsty ending, which is up on my Ao3 account here if you want to read that one as well. Fair warning though, while writing it I found myself dying inside so I don’t know how you guys would feel. It was the original way I wanted to take the story but as I was writing I also created this one which is an alternate, fluffier ending. Reader is a raccoon hybrid in this one. Don’t forget to like and follow for more. Enjoy!

It almost seems to be a mistake, Techno thinks. The woman- no girl- standing in front of him never struck him as the anarchist type. She was always too soft, too nice for any of it. Yet here she stands next to Philza, shivering from the chill of the cave and rubbing her bare arms.

“This is the new recruit I was telling you about.” The winged man smiles at Techno.

“She seems… soft.” He mutters, taking in her shivering form before handing her a cloak.

She only nods, accepting the cloak gratefully and clipping it around her neck with ease before burrowing into the thick material.

“Trust me. You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew her how I do.” Phil mutters, rubbing at his shoulder.

“Fine. But do you swear to uphold the values of the syndicate? Do you promise that you’ll help in our mission to destroy the corrupted governments that threaten the freedoms of its citizens?” Techno stands over her, red eyes practically glowing.

She nods hastily under his seven foot tall frame and he seems satisfied as he backs away. “Okay then. Come take a seat. We have a lot to talk about today.”

Techno makes his way up the stairs to the table behind him, taking a seat facing the entranceway. Y/n looks up at Philza and he only shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about him. He seems scary but he won’t hurt you. In fact, that’s the nicest he’s been to someone that’s tried to join yet.” Philza says before walking towards the table.

“Wait- what do you mean ‘tried to join’? Phil, what happened to them?” Y/n says in a panic.

“We don’t talk about them.” Ranboo chimes in. “Now, come on. Don’t want to be late to your first meeting.”

Y/n scurries up to a chair at the table, taking the one across from Phil and next to Ranboo. She sits furthest from Niki and Techno who both seem to be scrutinizing her every move.

“Now, let’s get this meeting started. First things first, we have a new recruit. This is Y/n. You all know her, but she’s going to be joining us. You’ll need a codename.” Techno states, and Y/n thinks a moment as they stare at her.

“Dolos. I’ll go with Dolos.” Techno nods, eyes flashing with an unknown emotion before returning to their usual blankness.

“Okay. Now that that’s over with, is there anything in particular you guys wanted to discuss? Any new information or governments?”

Phil nods, standing as he stands from the chair and speaks to the group. Y/n zones out a little for the rest of the meeting, nodding along but not really listening. Soon, it’s time to go and they’re all standing, the sound of chairs scraping on the floor loudly and Ranboo’s laughter at something Niki said echoes through the small space.

“Y/n, can I speak to you alone.” It’s not a question, and the woman swallows thickly as she follows the piglin hybrid into a small room that connects to the main one.

“So why Dolos? I mean, of everything you could’ve chosen, why’d you choose Dolos?” He asks, standing against the door to the room, blocking her in.

“Ah, well- you see, I’ve been told I’m good at deceiving people and that I’m so good at it, no one ever knows until I tell them, and even then they don’t believe me. I think that it’s a good codename, that’s all.” She stutters out, and Techno’s eyes narrow.

“I’m not easily fooled. If you’re lying, or you’re here as a spy, I’ll figure it out. And then not even Phil will be able to save you. Do you understand me?” He grunts out, standing over her with his sword held in his hand.

She nods and all but teleports out of the room to get away as quick as possible. He looks after her, seeing the disappointed look on Phil’s face outside and the confused glances from Niki and Ranboo. He steps out of the room as well and leaves the meeting hall without another word.

It’s a week before anyone hears directly from Y/n again, and when they do it’s not for reason they would have ever expected.

“I need your help.” Techno takes in the sight of the blood soaked clothing that covers the young woman.

“What happened?” He’s bewildered, the first time he’s been surprised in a long time.

“It’s not my blood. Most of it’s from the people we were fighting, but some of it’s his.” She points behind her where Phil stands, holding up a severely injured Tommy.

“Come on.” Techno grunts, ears twitching. The voices chime in, but he pushes them aside.

“Set him on the couch.” Phil lays him down gently and gets to work brewing potions for the young boy.

Y/n sits next to him, clutching his hand tightly with one of hers as she continues putting pressure on the gaping wound in his stomach. Her striped tail swishes nervously on the floor behind her and the large black ears lay back against her head.

“Get his shirt off. I need to sew it up.” Techno has his sleeves rolled up to the elbow as he comes over with a small first aid kit.

Y/n uses her sharp nails to cut away the stomach section of Tommy’s shirt, revealing the ugly looking gash. She pales at the sight of it, getting up and running to the bathroom to most likely vomit. Techno only sighs as he gets to work, wiping off the dried blood around the wound and starting to stitch it up. Tommy shifts uncomfortably on the couch, crying out at the needle threading in and out of his skin.

Once done, Phil shoves the healing potion in Tommy’s face, which he drinks and then promptly passes out. Y/n comes back from the bathroom, hair tied back from her face.

“What happened?” Techno asks, standing in front of her.

“We were running through the woods, having fun- y’know, kid things- when we came across a small group of people. They started to attack us, and we started to fight back, thinking there weren’t anymore of them. Well, we were wrong. Very wrong. We wouldn’t have escaped if it wasn’t for Phil. Before we got away though, they said something like ‘down with the order’. I don’t know what they meant though. It was hard to understand them through their masks.” Y/n spews out and Techno only stares at her.

“‘Down with the order’? That sounds like they know something. What did they look like? Any distinct markings for kingdoms or anything?” Techno says softly.

She shakes her head. “Nothing that I could see, unless I missed it. I could probably lead you back to the place we fought at. I don’t know if more came to collect the bodies or not.”

“Take me there. But first, go get cleaned up. We don’t need you walking around drenched in blood.” Techno says, nodding to the bathroom.

One shower and change of clothes later, the pair are on their way to where Y/n and Tommy were attacked. Techno notices her fidgeting more than usual, constantly looking around them and watching as she jumps at the smallest of noises. He chalks it up to having been just attacked and they continue walking.

She stops in a clearing and he stands beside her. No sign of bloodied bodies is anywhere to be found. In fact, there’s no evidence a fight even occurred here. No blood spots on the ground, no scrapes in the ground, no disturbance of wildlife.

“Are you sure this is the place?” He turns to look at her, but she’s gone. Suddenly, something hits him from behind and the last thing he sees is Y/n, crying softly as someone holds onto her.

Techno slowly opens his eyes, registering the cold metal against his wrists and multitude of people surrounding him. The voices scream out in rage- rage at Y/n for getting them captured, rage at himself for allowing this to happen, anger for not trying to stop him and Y/n from being captured. They’re angry at a lot of things, and he grunts as he feels a headache coming on.

Y/n stirs in the chair across from him, whimpering softly and her tail waves behind her slowly. “Where-”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that you need to tell us who the rest of the members of your little club is, or else you both die. Tell us, and you live. It’s that simple.” A voice speaks out, a young man with brown hair and light eyes.

He rests a sword on Y/n’s shoulder and looks Techno in the eyes. He says nothing, glaring at the man instead.

“Are you going to tell me? If not, then I guess I’ll need to encourage you to do so.” The young man sighs, and takes out a knife, grabs hold of Y/n’s tail and presses the knife against the base of it.

Y/n screams loudly, and Techno hates the sound of it more than any other sound he’s heard. The voices seem to hate it as well, yelling at him to just tell the man the names of the other members to end it.

“Fine.” Techno gives in.

The young man smiles, dropping Y/n’s tail and wiping the knife off on her shirt. “Oh good! That’s very good.”

“Don’t do it. It’s not worth it. My life’s not worth it.” Y/n mumbles, tears falling down her face as she clenches onto the armrests of the chair tightly.

“You might know one of them. His name is Zephyrus. Has black wings, wears lots of green. Another one is named Lethe. He’s half enderman. Good luck catching him though. The last one is Nemesis. You might never find her though. She spends most of her time underground.” Techno states and Y/n almost laughs at the use of the codenames.

“You’re lying.”

The young man holds the knife to Y/n’s throat and presses gently, causing a small trickle of blood to run down her neck. “You have one more chance to tell me their names before I kill her and then you. I’ll give you to the count of ten. Ten…” Techno growls at the man before him, the sight of his knife pressed against the woman's throat more than angering.

“I told you. Those are their names. It’s not my fault if you don’t believe me. Now let her go. I don’t even like her. Killing her wouldn’t get me to reveal anything.” Techno says calmly.

The man considers this, pausing his counting. “You’re still lying. I saw you help her and her friend, the blonde. I’m surprised the cut didn’t kill him, to be honest. I think I’ll have to go back to your cabin when I’m done here and finish the job.”

Steam is basically pouring out of Techno’s ears and his eyes glow a bright red. “Don’t fucking touch him.”

“Yes! I will, unless you tell me the real names of the other members of your little club.” He releases Y/n’s head from his grip, and pulls his knife away from her neck.

“Phil, Niki, and Ranboo. Those are their names. Now let her go.” Techno growls and Y/n shakes her head.

“He’s lying. Those aren’t their names. There’s not even more than one other member of the group. The third member of the group is named Dream. He’s currently in prison for killing several people and blowing up a country not once, but twice as well as manipulating kids. He’s the only other member of the group.” Y/n says, hoping that they don’t know she’s lying and buy her bluff.

The god currently sits in prison, waiting out his days monotonously. They would definitely all die the minute they try and kill him- if they even do get to him, considering Sam would kill them the minute they step foot in the prison.

“Finally, someone here is telling the truth. You’re going to give me the exact coordinates of where the prison is, and then you two are going to stay here while we go kill him.” Y/n gives him the coordinates and the man is almost bouncing in joy. “For your sake, we better not be walking into a trap. Let’s go boys.” They leave the room and Y/n sighs, her head hanging forward heavily, as if her neck can’t hold itself up anymore.

“What was that?” Techno asks and she shrugs.

“I told you. People don’t believe I’m capable of lying to them. They’re all going to die trying to get to Dream, or he’s going to kill them himself.” Y/n yawns.

“Yeah, and we need to get out of here in case some of them survive.” Techno says, struggling against the restraints holding him to the chair and eventually manages to break them.

“Alright, let’s get you out of here.” Techno mumbles, picking the lock on Y/n’s restraints and lifting her up easily in his arms.

The maze of hallways is nearly impossible to escape, but they do it somehow and step outside to a snowy tundra. The wind blows frozen ice shards through the air and it bites at their skin. They were stripped of gear and their cloaks. The cold is no match for Techno, who produces enough body heat to stay warm enough, but Y/n shivers in his arms and presses her face against his chest in an effort to keep warm.

Techno’s communicator beeps as it regains signal, and he works it out of his pocket, seeing the messages from Phil and quickly shoots one back with their coordinates and a request for blankets.

Looking around, the only shelter Techno can find until Phil arrives is the building they came out of but that’s not an option in case the people come back. Techno settles for sitting on the ground and hugging the woman to his chest, doing his best to protect her from the wind and cold.

“Oh my god…” Phil says as he lands in front of the pair, quickly grabbing Y/n and wrapping the cloak around her.

“Take her back to my cabin. She needs to get warmed up and is going to probably need stitches in her tail.” Phil nods, passing his sword to Techno.

“Will you be fine walking back? I can zip right back here to get you. Tommy’s healed and can look after Y/n while I do so.”

Techno shakes his head. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. After all, you need to check on Ranboo and Niki. Make sure they’re okay. We’re not extremely far from the cabin, I’ll make it back before the end of the night. Now go already.” Techno says and Phil nods, taking off quickly with Y/n.

He looks back at the building they were in, and heads back inside. If there’s anyone left here, they’ll pay for what happened.

It’s a few days before Techno comes back and Philza spends the time either worrying over it or about the worsening condition of Y/n, who seems to have developed a bad cold or flu or hypothermia or all of it, really, as well as making sure Tommy doesn’t rip his stitches trying to do stupid stuff. When Techno does come back, he’s covered in blood and doesn’t even stop to talk to the members of the syndicate sitting in the living room or even wash up, instead going straight for the room where Y/n is sleeping and peeking in.

“She’s not doing well at all. I stitched her tail up, but she’s developed a fever and is still freezing cold all the time and isn’t getting any better, even with a ton of healing potions. I don’t know if she’s going to make it.” Phil mutters beside Techno and he only nods.

He steps out of the doorway and leaves to take a shower, taking extra care to scrub the blood out of his hair and changes into comfortable clothes. Peeking into Y/n’s room again, he sees her shivering underneath the blankets. Well no wonder she’s sick, she’s still freezing cold, he thinks to himself before opening the door further and stepping into the room. He climbs under the covers and Y/n instantly curls up to him, soaking in his natural warmth.

“Thank you, for getting me out of there.” She mutters, before falling back asleep.

“Anything for you.” He whispers, holding her tighter against him in an almost protective manner.

Phil watches from the doorway, smiling as he watches Techno fall asleep curled up with her.

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@thegeekisheere

#dream smp #dream #technoblade #ranboo #philza minecraft #technoblade x reader #philza x reader #anarchist #anarchy #lizzy writes

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